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“This week we have four different orzo salads to choose from,” Bob began, pointing to the plates in front of me. “A caprese with mozzarella balls and a hint of dijon, a spinach and cilantro, a classic Mediterranean, and a mixed Greek.”
Each plate had a fork in front of it. Apparently, it wasn’t cool to use the same fork for the different dishes.
After making a show of tasting them, I agreed with Nicole that they were all good. “Chef Bob, I think we’ll go with the Greek. I particularly like the mixture of black and Kalamata olives.”
Bob beamed. “My favorite as well.”
I smiled back. I’d passed my first test and won over at least one employee, er, associate.
Another tray appeared, this one with soup bowls and spoons.
“Also, we have three new chili choices,” Bob announced.
They smelled great.
“The first is a two-bean with sausage, the middle one is three-bean with mini meatballs, and the last is a meatless four-bean with corn.”
After tasting them, I asked, “Is the most recent one with or without meat?”
“Meatless,” Bob answered.
“Then, the middle one,” I told him.
Two of Bob’s helpers at the end of the table started dishing out plates, and we handed them down the table. The plates each had a sandwich, a dollop of the orzo salad I’d chosen, and a cup of the chili. Apparently, runners-up weren’t good enough for our meal.
Nicole elbowed me and leaned in after tasting her chili. “Good choice.”
I’d done something right. The warmth of her leaning into my shoulder diverted my attention, and I missed the next question Wanda asked.
I smiled at her. “Sorry, this chili is so good, I missed that.”
“When do you think we can start the remodel?” Wanda asked.
“Uh, I’m not up to speed on things like that yet,” I explained lamely.
“Redondo is up next,” Nicole answered. “But the scheduling is up to Mr. B.” She laid a hand on my shoulder, once again slowing my brain to a crawl. It had to be pheromones or something.
I shrugged. “Give me a little time to figure things out.” I had to get it together and get back into business mode.
Wanda bit her lip, probably dissatisfied with our vagueness.
The conversation around the table wasn’t as reserved as I’d expected. The question I’d anticipated came up quickly. “I heard somebody say we were joining Smith’s,” a voice at the end of the table said.
I should have, but I hadn’t prepared an answer for that one.
After a pregnant pause, Nicole jumped in. “No truth to that rumor at all.” She looked to me. “Steady as she goes, right, Mr. B?”
I had zero room to maneuver here. “Yup. Steady as she goes is the order of the day.”
“Rossi’s has been here for fifty years, and it will be for another fifty,” Nicole added.
That comment garnered a warm reaction from the crowd.
Partway through the additional comments and questions about daily operations from the group, my phone buzzed with the text.
Deanna: Gary wants to know when you’ll be back?
Me: later
