Julien exhaled and sat back in his chair. “Sorry, I don’t mean to grill you,” he said with a grin.
“Ha-ha,” she said. Lumi couldn’t hold the eye roll any longer. Julien broke into a wide, unrestrained smile for the first time since she came in. She felt something do a flip in her belly.
“Please, go on,” he said in a measured voice.
Lumi frowned. She hadn’t thought of what her answer would be to this question if she were to be asked it in the interview. “Well, I can see you guys need a little color around here!” she joked.
Julien glanced around his office. “Not too much color, though,” he replied. “I run a tight ship, Ms. Santana. We do traditional French fare with a little flair. But not too much flair.”
He studied her reaction. Lumi smiled and nodded.
“And all recipes in the DAX kitchen must be memorized. Any chef who does not know the classics by heart does not belong here.”
“That’s fine,” she said. She knew the classics by heart, even if they bored her to death. “So, um, who’s your chef de cuisine now? I mean, you must be busy managing this place.”
“Oh,” he said, straightening his posture. “It’s still me.”
“Right,” Lumi answered.
“Yes,” he added, “can’t trust anyone with my baby . . . just yet.”
His face shone with pride, and Lumi felt her stomach sink a little.
There was a moment of awkward silence as he looked at Lumi and she stared out the window.
“Okay! That’s all,” he said.
She gaped at him. “That’s all?”
He nodded. “Yes, I’ve heard enough. Thank you,” he said.
She pressed her lips together before her face could falter.
“Th-thank you,” she said, and made a beeline for the door.
Lumi fluffed her scarf as she rode the elevator down to release the heat that was rising under her collar. That’s all? What a waste of time. In all of her dreams and most carefully designed plans for Caraluna, there had never been a scene of her pounding the pavement after it had failed. If she had known Julien Dax was the man from the wedding, she never would have scheduled the interview. A surprise job interview with the seventh-grade teacher whose desk she’d glued a plastic spider to would have gone better.
Now what would she do? she pondered as she descended to the subway platform and rode the train uptown. There was always her habichuela stand, and she could send her résumé to every restaurant in the vicinity.
The train roared out from underground onto the rickety raised tracks, and a submissive ding sounded on her phone as service was restored. Her jaw fell open when she read the message.
MS. SANTANA. Please report for first day of work on Thursday, 2/1. Thank you, DAX Enterprises.
She stared at it as if it were written on self-destructing paper and would wisp into colorless smoke at any second.
8
Julien
Framed in the doorway of his office, Julien watched as Lumi headed for the elevator. She seemed to drift off, floating farther and farther away from him, until Esme, his secretary, cleared her throat loudly.
“How’d it go?” she asked.
He knew the polite thing would be to look at her as she spoke, but he was rooted in place, unable to turn away from the elevator. “Good,” he said.
“Did you still want to grab a coffee?” she asked.
“Uh, you know what, Esme? I’m going to take my coffee at my desk so I can finish looking over these hiring papers,” Julien said.
“S-sure,” she replied, and went back to the typing at hand.
He went back in his office and sat, and the words on his computer screen blurred into a single swath of gray. He was going to need something stronger than coffee. Julien pushed his chair back and put his computer to sleep.
“Send all calls to voice mail, please,” he said to Esme as he walked out the door, and punched the elevator buttons as fast as he could. There was a little bar on Fiftieth Street where he could sit down for a quick drink . . . something to calm the faint thrumming in his veins and help him refocus.
A brisk walk brought him to the establishment, whose wrought-iron fence protected the café tables and chairs. He strode to the bar and ordered an old-fashioned, thanking the bartender with a nod and settling onto a barstool. He let out a slow exhale as his body relaxed into the seat.
Just as he was about to take a sip, a melodious voice sounded from behind him. “Julien! I didn’t think I’d find you here,” the voice said.
He groaned inwardly. He would recognize that voice anywhere. He was in the mood to be left alone, and there was no way the owner of that voice was leaving him alone.
“Hello, Shayla,” he said as he forced himself to turn around.
A burgundy-haired woman with round glasses, a camel-colored coat, and a sparkling diamond ring stood before him. She smiled as they exchanged a quick air-kiss.
“Still drinking old-fashioneds, huh? How have you been?” she asked, her green eyes zeroing in on him.
“Quite well, thank you. And yourself?” he asked.
“Never better,” she replied, brushing her bangs off her forehead with the hand that bore the dazzling gem.
“Congratulations,” he said, the light refracting off the diamond catching his eye.
She giggled out loud as if she couldn’t believe he noticed. “Oh, thank you, Julien! We met about eight months after you and I, you know, ended it, and we got married a year later. It’s been three years now.”
Julien stifled a yawn. “How wonderful. Happy for you, Shay.”
She bowed her head in faux humility, and he knew what the next question would be.
“How about you?” she asked. “Still sowing your wild oats?”
He waved her off. “I was never sowing my wild oats, Shayla. I just—”
It was her turn to wave. “Yeah, I know. We don’t need to have this conversation again. The first time was enough.”
He took a swig of his drink.
“I just . . . hoped I would be the one to make you want to change that, Julien. But now I’m sure that that woman doesn’t exist,” she said.
Julien downed the remainder of the drink in one gulp. He saw no need to have the conversation again either.
“I’m sure you did. It was nice seeing you, Shayla,” he said. “Give my regards to the lucky man.” He set the glass down on the bar, and with a quick bow of his head in Shayla’s direction, he hurried back onto Broadway.
9
Lumi
On Thursday of that week, Lumi stood before her mirror, tucking the stray hairs into the French braid she had styled her mane into to keep it out of her face. She liked the texture her tight curls gave the style, although she knew the crown would be mussed by her chef’s hat.
Later that day, Lumi rang the bell at the service door of DAX. She had ridden up to the fifth floor in the service elevator, which was surprisingly spotless, considering the boxes of produce, fish, and meat that she was certain took the same elevator ride every day. After waiting for several moments, she was about to start knocking when the door opened and a round-faced smiling woman with an olive complexion and husky build stood before her. Lumi estimated that the woman was in her early fifties.