Sarah Morgan - Snow Crystal Trilogy

“I’ll reconsider if you’ll talk to her.”

“You threatened to walk out in the middle of service. I accept your resignation.” The softness of his voice was a contrast to the flint in his eyes, and Darren’s expression was wild.

“No one can reasonably expect me to work with that woman! Do you know what she said to me? She told me to get out of her kitchen because male chauvinist pig wasn’t on the menu.”

Kayla kept her head down and focused on her phone. She mustn’t smile. There was nothing to smile about.

Jackson’s chef was about to walk out and the restaurant was fully booked.

Darren was still blustering. “If you fire her, I’ll reconsider.”

“Élise has a job and a home here for as long as she wants.” Something in the way he said it caught Kayla’s attention, leaving her with the feeling that there was more behind his words, but Jackson was already walking the man to the door and she could no longer hear the conversation.

When he returned, she could sense anger simmering beneath the calm. “You’re going to have to excuse me for a moment while I go and talk to my remaining chef.”

At that moment a young woman with short dark hair emerged from the kitchen. She walked with the energy and grace of a dancer, head held high, eyes gleaming.

Assuming this to be Élise, Kayla braced herself for another explosion, but instead, the woman approached a young couple dining at one of the tables by the window. “You wanted to see me, non? You enjoyed my langoustines.” She spoke with only a trace of a French accent, her movements fine and delicate as she used her hands to illustrate her speech. “You will come back again and I will cook you my pot-au-feu. It is perfect for this cold weather. When you ’ave tasted it you will never want to eat anything else.” She beamed at the dazzled couple and then virtually danced across the restaurant to where Jackson and Kayla were sitting.

“Jack—” She softened the j , turning it into the French Jacques , and he rose to his feet, controlled and professional.

“Élise. Darren won’t be coming back.”

“Vraiment?” Something that looked suspiciously like happiness brightened her eyes. “He has decided he can no longer work with ‘that French bitch’?”

Jackson had clearly decided to be economical with the truth. “I’m going to try to get you some help in the kitchen for tonight.”

“There is no need. The French bitch can manage perfectly, thank you. You just sit down and enjoy your meal with your beautiful friend.” She beamed at Kayla, but Jackson wasn’t smiling.

“You can’t manage on your own, Élise. We’re full tonight.”

“And each person will enjoy the best meal they ’ave ever eaten. I can ’andle it. I will promote Jeff for the night. He is excellent chef de partie . He will be excellent sous-chef . I ’ave—have—” her cheeks dimpled as she corrected herself “—taught him to swear in French so the customers aren’t offended.”

Kayla gave a choked laugh, and Élise looked at her with that bright, direct gaze. “You have ordered your food?”

Jackson picked up a menu, but Élise leaned across and removed it from his hand.

“I will decide. If you want to help me, you could find me one more kitchen assistant. Someone willing, with a good work ethic and strong, because a chef spends long hours on their feet.” She eyed his shoulders and her eyes sparkled. “You are strong. If you are bored being the boss, I can find a use for you.” Without giving them time to respond, she walked back through to the kitchen with that same lithe, catlike stride that made Kayla wonder if she’d had ballet training.

“I like the ‘French bitch.’” She reached for the water that had been discreetly placed on their table while Élise was talking. “Where did you find her?”

“In Paris. She was cooking in a tiny restaurant on the Left Bank.” He hesitated, as if about to add something, but then smiled. “Luckily for me it didn’t work out for her so I gave her a job. She cooked for me in one of my hotels in Switzerland and then joined me here six months ago. She’s a genius in the kitchen and very professional. You might not guess it, but she was upset tonight. You can always tell how upset Élise is by how French she sounds. In the right mood, her accent is virtually undetectable.” He reached for his glass. “Bringing her in was the right thing to do, but it’s shaken up a few people.”

“I don’t see you as a man who would have a problem shaking people up if there was a purpose to it.”

His gaze held hers. “Then you’d be right.”

Even in this moment of tension, the chemistry was still there.

She felt it, pulsing between them, and she knew he did, too.

“Darren didn’t look too pleased.”

“His ego is bigger than his talent. And he and Élise don’t share the same vision for the restaurant. His objective is to feed people. Hers is to serve a meal you will always remember. That’s what I want for this place.” He sounded sure. “I want people going back to New York, or Boston or wherever it is they’ve come from and I want them talking about the Inn at Snow Crystal. I want them planning their next visit and sending their friends.”

Kayla watched him across the table, thinking that he was as comfortable in these elegant surroundings as he was in the wild outdoors.

He’d chosen to wear a jacket and tie but those outward trappings of sophistication did nothing to disguise the strength and power of those shoulders. Did nothing to detract from that raw masculinity that was part of him.

“Will your grandfather be upset about losing Darren?”

“Probably. He wants me to go back to Switzerland and stop meddling.” He seemed relaxed, but she knew he had to be feeling the pressure. The future of this place, the future of his family, rested on his shoulders.

She wondered how he coped with it. Just one meeting with Walter had been enough to send her running. The fact that the reasons for that had been personal didn’t change the fact that Walter had been difficult, abrasive and combative.

It didn’t make sense to her. “Without you, Snow Crystal would definitely go under. Surely he’s pleased you’re back to help.”

“He’s not pleased.”

“Why? It isn’t as if you’re inexperienced. You have an impressive track record. I would have thought he would have been relieved to hand it all over to you.”

He stared into his glass and then gave a humorless laugh. “I guess to understand that, you have to understand what this place means to my grandfather. His father, my great-grandfather, built Snow Crystal. Met my great-grandmother on a ski slope, and they decided that was what they wanted to do. And it was a tough life. They built it from nothing. Walter was born right here, in the house. Lived here all his life.”

“Which should mean he wants to protect it.”

“I guess it’s hard to hand something over that means as much as this place means to him. He wants it to stay as it was. He resents the changes I make.”

“But you’re here anyway.”

“They need me.”

And that, she thought, said everything about him. He was a man who believed in family, and stuck by them even when things were difficult.

Something tightened in the pit of her stomach. “There’s no way he can argue that what you’ve done here isn’t a good thing.” Glancing to her right, she saw elegance, polished silver and a room full of happy diners.

“I expect he credits Darren.” Jackson picked up his wineglass. “If you hear an explosion tomorrow, it won’t be avalanche blasting. And I am going to have to find more staff for the kitchen because, no matter what Élise says, she can’t manage the holiday season on her own.”