right then and there. Another night like this one and she’d crawl home over glass to her grandparents.
Nick appeared from the back and drew out the chair at the table next to theirs. He straddled it and smiled at Sunny. The smugness in that smile made her grit her teeth, but she knew she looked like over-boiled pasta at the moment, so there was little she could say in her own defense. In his place, she’d probably be a bit smug, too.
“Good thing we were quiet tonight,” Nick said smoothly. “Gave you a chance to break into the routine slowly.”
Slowly! That was slowly? She downed the rest of her water.
“She did a good job, Niccolo,” Mama Bennie said. “She’s a sharp one. She’ll learn quickly, you’ll see.” At a shout from the back, Mama Bennie excused herself and left them alone. Together.
Sunny felt that itch again as he stared at her. She figured her night was about to get worse. How that was possible was beyond her.
The argument with her grandfather seemed like two lifetimes ago. She’d started working this afternoon bent on proving her grandfather wrong. But after Nick’s fifth or sixth visit to the kitchen, she realized she was also doing it to prove Nick wrong. His opinion of her ability to function outside her rarefied world wasn’t much higher than Edwin’s.
Well, her stubbornness had gotten her through one endless shift. But at that moment, she was pretty sure she’d rather eat crow in front of Nick, Edwin and the entire Chandler Enterprises board of directors than attempt to survive another shift. She opened her mouth, prepared to give him the words he wanted to hear and deal with his humiliating I told you so, but he spoke first.
“I talked to Carlo before he left. He isn’t happy with me for hiring you at the moment.”
She looked at him. “I did everything he asked me to do.”
“His main concern is speed. When this place is full, we’re going to need someone who can do what is expected, do it well and not take all night to get it done.”
A slow burn started, making her stomach jumpy and her nerves even more ragged. “I wasn’t going slow to make anyone angry. I was doing my job to the best of my abilities.”
“Well, Carlo says he appreciates that you are a perfectionist. He understands pride in a job well done. However, washing vegetables isn’t an art form. If you want to continue here, your speed will have to improve.”
Sunny opened her mouth to tell him what he could do with his vegetables, clean or otherwise, but to her surprise, what came out was, “What time do I start tomorrow?”
She took a measure of pleasure in the obvious surprise that lit his dark eyes. Good, she thought. “I didn’t graduate in the top ten in my class by giving up when the going got tough,” she said, enjoying his sudden consternation. It was likely the only reward she would get for her hard hours of labor, so she decided to enjoy it as fully as possible. “If you think that Carlo’s bullying tactics will make me run home to Granddaddy, think again.”
Dear God, what was she saying? She was going to do this? Again?
She looked at the frown pulling at the corners of his oh-so-incredible mouth. The same mouth that had been smiling smugly at her moments before. Yeah, she thought, that was exactly what she was doing. She made a mental note to get up in time to find some comfortable shoes, extra padded bandages for the blisters on her heels and something to securely pin up her hair.
“Your shift starts at four,” he said tightly.
“I’ll be here at three.” At his raised eyebrow, she added, “I will use my own time to familiarize myself better with what is expected of me.”
“I have no time to train you. You’ll have to ask—”
“I’ve already talked to Romano. He’s going to come in early and help me.”
“I’ll just bet he is,” Nick muttered darkly. He shoved his chair forward and stood. “I still have paperwork to do. Use the rear employee door to come and go from now on.”
She resisted the impulse to salute him. “Yes, sir.” He turned away, but stopped when she added, “Thank you.”
He turned to face her. “For what?”
“Giving me a chance,” she said sincerely. “I know you don’t understand why this is important to me, but I promise I won’t make you any sorrier than you already are for letting Mama Bennie talk you into this.”
His stiff posture relaxed a fraction. “It won’t be the last time I do something foolish because she wants me to.”
“I’ll make Mama Bennie proud.” And you, she thought, then rapidly backtracked. What he thought of her wasn’t important. “You’re lucky to have a grandmother who loves you so much.”
He looked at her. “You say that as if you don’t have the same. Your grandmother would be…” He paused, then said, “Frances. Frances Chandler.” He laughed. “Don’t look so startled. I may not have the fancy degree, but I do read the papers.”
Sunny wished she hadn’t guided the conversation in such a personal direction. She smoothed another loose strand of hair and sat up straighter. Her lower back screamed in protest. She ignored it. Chandlers never let the opposition see their weaknesses. “My grandparents love me very much. It’s just…well, they show it in a different way than yours.”
She stood as a discouragement to further conversation, then swallowed a groan when the arches of her feet relaxed against the wood floor. No way was she going to be able to get into the heels she’d been wearing. Maybe ever. She’d have to fake it across the back alley to her—
Car. She had no car. And at one in the morning, getting a cab in this neighborhood wasn’t going to be easy. “Can I use the office phone? It’s a local call.”
He didn’t say anything for a moment, then relented, sweeping his arm in front of him. “After you.”
It took all her waning willpower to walk down the hall in front of him without limping. “I’ll get my things from my locker.”
“I’d rather you make your call first, so I can get back to work.”
She nodded, too busy trying to figure out where she was going to sleep tonight to argue. One thing she couldn’t argue was that, for all Nick demanded a lot of his employees, he appeared to work just as hard, if not harder.
He opened the door and ushered her in, flipping on the light as he passed her. She looked around Nick’s cramped office. An antique oak desk piled high with papers, books and file folders dominated the room. The walls were covered with pictures of Nick with family and friends as well as with some local and national celebrities. There were also a couple pictures of an older man who could have been his father or his grandfather.
“Salvatore D’Angelo,” he said, apparently catching her interest. “My grandfather. Bennie’s husband. He came over from Italy when he was only twenty. Started this restaurant before he turned thirty. He passed away five years ago.”
“I’m sorry,” she said. “I bet he and Bennie made a great team.”
Nick came
