He Gave Her My Kitchen. I Took Everything. novel · Chapter 3 of 16

Chapter 3: No Duck on Friday

With her suppliers pulled, Neil accuses Holly of theft in front of a full dining room, Ezra Lyons stands up for her, and Brittany announces she's carrying Neil's baby.

The produce supplier was quiet on the other end for a second.

"Stop it how, Chef? All the way?"

"All the way. The contract's with me, not the restaurant. You know that."

"I know that," he said. "I wrote it. I just wanted to hear you say it."

Neil stopped smiling.

"What are you doing?"

I held up one finger.

"Can you call the fish supplier for me?"

"He'll cancel before I hang up," he said. "He can't stand your husband."

"Thank you."

"Holly." His voice went gruff. "You find a new kitchen, you call me first."

I hung up.

Neil came out onto the porch in his socks.

"Those are my suppliers."

"They're mine. They always were. You never read a single contract."

"You can't just take the food out of my restaurant."

"I didn't take anything," I said. "I gave you my kitchen. Remember? You were very happy about it."

I rolled my suitcase down the driveway.

He shouted something after me.

I didn't hear what.

I slept at Katie's apartment on a pull-out couch with her one-year-old son babbling through the wall.

Friday afternoon, my phone lit up with her texts.

"No duck."

"No halibut."

"Brittany's screaming at the produce guy."

"Neil's calling the produce supplier over and over. He won't pick up."

At seven o'clock, Neil called me himself.

"Get down here," he said. "Right now. Or I call the cops."

"For what?"

"You stole my recipe binder."

The line went dead.

I should've stayed on Katie's couch.

I went anyway.

Ellsworth House was full.

Friday night, ninety seats, every table taken.

The room was loud and gold and smelled like bread.

It did not smell like duck.

Neil met me at the host stand in a navy suit.

He didn't lower his voice.

"There she is," he said. "Everyone, sorry for the wait. This is my ex-chef. She's the reason your entrees are late."

Heads turned.

Forks stopped.

Brittany came out of the kitchen in my coat.

The name over the heart had been picked out.

You could still see the holes where the thread used to be.

She had her phone up.

"Guys, she actually showed up," she told it.

"Give back the binder," Neil said.

"I don't have your binder."

"It's gone from the office. Every recipe on this menu. You took it last night, and then you called my suppliers and cancelled every order out of spite."

A woman at table four covered her mouth.

"Sabotage," Brittany said to the camera. "Literally sabotage."

I looked around the room.

Ninety people, most of them regulars.

People who'd sent compliments to the kitchen for five years.

They were all looking at me now.

"The binder is on the shelf over the dish pit," I said. "Where Brittany left it Wednesday when she was filming a TikTok."

Neil's jaw worked.

"And the suppliers?"

"The contracts are in my name. I left. They left with me. That's not sabotage. That's what happens when you don't read what you sign."

Somebody laughed, and then smothered it.

Neil turned red from the collar up.

"She thinks she's the whole restaurant," he told the room. "She thinks nobody else can cook a duck."

A chair scraped back at table nine.

Table nine was the counter by the pass, where you could watch the line.

The man who stood up was tall and dark-haired, in a charcoal coat.

Ezra Lyons.

He owned four restaurants in this city.

He'd sat at that counter every Thursday for three years.

He'd ordered the duck every single time.

"I'll settle it," Ezra said.

His voice wasn't loud.

The whole room heard it anyway.

"I've eaten here a hundred and fifty times, Neil. Every plate I ever loved came off her station. I watched her make it."

He looked at Brittany.

"I watched you tonight too. You burnt the shallots twice and plated a cold risotto."

Brittany's mouth fell open.

"Excuse me? Who even are you?"

"Somebody who knows what he's eating."

A few people clapped.

Then more.

Neil's smile was stretched so tight I thought it would split.

He grabbed Brittany's wrist and pulled her beside him.

"You know what? Fine. Holly wants to make this public. Let's make it public."

He put his arm around Brittany's waist.

Brittany put her phone down for the first time all night.

She looked at me.

Her hand slid down to rest flat on her stomach.

"I didn't want you to find out like this," she said sweetly. "But I'm pregnant."

The room went dead silent.

Neil kissed the top of her head.

"Twelve weeks," he said. "We're keeping it."

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