Fifty Two

Fifty Two


Marinette's point of view

When I got to the Restaurant, the kitchen was already well into its familiar chaos: the steady hum of simmering pans, the rhythmic noises of chopping and the occasional steam hiss cutting through the air. Consistent in the turmoil that was my life, it was a symphony I had grown to appreciate.

I adjusted my apron and took to immediate focus once stepping through the door, just as I had every intention of immersing in the day's work only this time, I saw her standing there.

Lucy.

Next to the prep station stood Lucy, eyeing her environs with a bit of disdain, her immaculately manicured nails tapping against the countertop. Her tailored clothes seemed perfect, her hair entirely immune to the chaos created by cooking, and all too over-dressed to be in the kitchen at all.

I stammered a little, but before I was able to turn back, Terry saw me.

"Marinette!" he called, gesturing that I come over.

I hesitated and pushed the unease wriggling in my gut aside. "Good morning," I responded flatly. My eyes turned to Lucy, and she gave me a slight smile, one that was not from the heart, just a facade.

Terry responded very brightly, "Morning. Star girl." with a smile on his face.

"Why is she in this place?" I tried to bring my voice down to Terry's level and whispered. I shot a gaze over to Lucy, who surveyed a line of knives on the counter as if choosing which to go best with her manicure.

Terry scratched at the back of his neck and let loose a deep breath-an unmistakable sign this was something he had wanted to steer clear of with me. "I wanted to talk to you about it, before making the decision but."

I crossed my arms over my chest and arched an eyebrow upward. "So, talk."

His eyes scrunched as his glance bounced around the crowded kitchen; he nodded for me to follow him. The din of clanging pans and steaming dishes proved a good backdrop against what I felt would not be an agreeable explanation, as we moved on to quiet environs near the storeroom racks.

Once we were out of where people can hear us, Terry folded his arms and leaned against the counter. The usual humor was missing, his look somber.

With a careful tone, he said, "I have decided to let Lucy join the Restaurant as one of my students too."

I blinked. "What?"

He hastened to say, "Look," raising a hand as though to forestall my immediate objections. "It is temporary."

"What could be the reasons for that?" I crossed my arms tighter and ordered.
Terry exhaled and ran his fingers through his hair. "She has been more insistent than usual. And I figured it would be better if she remained close after everything."

"Have her near you?" I echoed back astounded. "After having lied to my grandmother, after coming to my home uninvited and after what playing in such a familiar way as if this is normal with my son, you think calling her to the place where we will have to share the same space is okay?"

Terry locked gazes with me, wincing slightly. "I do." Marinette, it is not just a matter of her insistence. It's about control. I can keep an eye on her if she is here. I can keep her occupied and out of your business."

A frown creased my forehead as my chest started to tighten. "What is 'out of my personal life' mean to you? You mean this is about what happened at my house?"

His face loosened; he nodded. "Yes. I'm worried about Moon and you. Lucy is unpredictable. And as she is getting worse, I'd rather not risk it. Letting her in, even for a little while, might prevent her from going to an extreme. I said, my tone edged a little." "So this is about keeping me safe."

"It's a part of it," he returned calmly, but firmly.

"What is the other part?"

He answered with an ironic lift of his lips, "She is not as good as she thinks she is. I shall take advantage of that. When she makes a slip, I will find an excuse to get rid of her without any further trouble."

I stared at him, following this for all I was worth. "So what you are saying is that this is a plan to hold her back?"

"Right," he said.

I shook my head and groaned. "And prior to her showing up in the kitchen, you didn't think this was something to mention to me?"

In a contrite tone, he said, "I did not have the time, it was an impromptu decision I had to make. She showed up this morning unannounced, and I had to make that decision to stop all the dramas. I promise, I was going to talk to you first."

I rubbed palm on my face, easing up slightly on my chest. "This is a terrible idea, Terry. What if it doesn't work out the way you imagine?"

"It will," he said. "I'll see to that."

I gave him a narrowed look. "You sound so confident."
He explained, "Because I've worked with people like Lucy before. You can trust me, Marinette. I will not let her hurt anyone."
I let out a sigh again, unconvinced. "Fine. But don't expect me to keep an eye on her."
Terry chuckled softly as a flash of his real self came back. "I wouldn't dream of it."

I tried to push down the rising anxiety in my chest as we walked back toward the main kitchen. Lucy stayed at the bar, now holding a paring knife delicately between her fingers, as if it were a prop in some play.

"Are we ready to begin?" She asked casually, though there was something beneath that I couldn't quite place.

Terry nodded toward the prep station. "Let's get to work."

We tried to settle into our rhythm, or at least we tried. But Lucy was like trying to focus on something with a bug buzzing in your ear. Every few minutes, she'd ask a question. Her voice would veer wildly between genuine curiosity and mild ridicule.

As Terry sprinkled a pinch of salt into the pot in front of him, simmering, she asked, "Why do you add the salt now instead of later?"

"To create layers of flavor," Terry responded.

"What is the reason behind the small cut of the carrots?"

"Even cooking," he continued, keeping a measured tone.

She looked at me next. "And why are you in charge of the cutback? That's a little advanced for one who is still learning, isn't it?"

I kept eyes on the task and gave a neutral expression. "I've practiced it before, so Terry trusts me with it."

A slight smile hinged on her lips, she muttered, "Interesting. He seems to have a lot of faith in you."

I turned a deaf ear to her and gently poured the cuts into a pan.

The interruptions continued. If anything, they became more frequent, slowing down our usually brisk pace and diverting Terry away from teaching me.

Terry finally said, "Lucy," with a harder edge in his voice than before, "let's keep the questions to a minimum for now. We have a lot to get through."

Lucy's face faltered for a moment before she masked it with a well rehearsed smile. "Of course, didn't mean to disturb."

The mood was tense in the kitchen, like a string stretched too tight, but we continued to work. A waiter came into the room for Terry, leaving Lucy and me to ourselves, and I was partly relieved, partly nervous.

There was silence between us at first; heavy silence, other than the bubbling of pots and clattering knives. It didn't last very long, though.

"So, what is your relationship with Terry?" Lucy asked, breaking the silence.

Taken aback by her question, I didn't bat an eyelid. In a flat tone, I spoke without removing my gaze from the subject matter. "He is my mentor."

"Just your mentor?" She sounded disbelieving as she probed on.

I raised an eyebrow for her as I turned toward her. "What do you mean?"

She said that with piercing eyes, although the rest of her body stayed calmly leaned upon the counter. "I am just wondering, you two seem to be pretty close."

I finally put the knife down, looked her right in her eyes. "Terry has provided me with quite some support this while. He guided me for developing as a cook; he believes in me, and that is all part of a mentor's job."

A wry little curve twisted her lips. "Helpful, eh? That's one way of saying it.

I had to make a conscious effort not to lose my cool, clenching my jaw tight. "Lucy, what are you trying to imply exactly?"

Her grin grew a little as she cocked her head. "Oh, nothing"