Chapter 3
When the last two-plate order had slid across to Luisa, Sam was ready to collapse.
Someone slapped him hard on the back and shoved a cold beer into his hand. A round of applause sounded down the line.
And across the cook line from him, even the bane of his existence was applauding with those elegantly fine hands of hers. He tipped his bottle to her in silent salute; they both knew he couldn’t have done it without her help.
“So,” Angelo and Manuel came in through the back door which had been left open to the warm spring night, “Let’s see how you did.” He took up the two plates of the final order and handed one to Manuel. A test? Tonight had been a test?
For what?
The two chefs tasted, chewed, swallowed, and then tasted each other’s dishes.
“He didn’t follow your recipe,” Ma
