Page 6 of Keepsakes and Kismet

“Ask you what?”

“‘How are you, really?’”

Carter blinks. “Why?”

“Because I’m no longer fine.”

He shoves me so hard I fall back on the bench.

Chapter 3

Callum

Icheck the contents of my waist pack—thermocouple thermometers (check), water activity meter (check), pH test strips (check), flashlight (check, and working), measuring tape (check)—then grab my aluminum storage clipboard and pop it open to review the paperwork one last time before entering MingHin Kitchen.

Food service establishment. Opens tomorrow. Run by Yan and Mei Chung.

Most people assume health inspectors thrive on surprise. In reality, it brings me no joy to low-grade a restaurant because there’s no splash guard on their handwashing sink. With new family-owned joints, I like to come before opening day. It gives the owners a little time to fix something major before customers arrive.

I step out of my government-issued car and adjust my lightweight plastic cap. A heavenly garlicky scent wafts through the air, reminding me I’ve only eaten a strawberries-and-cream protein bar today. It really did taste like chalk. Chalk and regret.

I’ve never arrived at an establishment the day before a grand opening and not found the owners scrambling around, trying to get everything ready, but when I push the front door open, it’s empty inside. If they’re unavailable, I’ll jot down a note and come back next week.

Weaving through the small tables in the main dining area, I arrive at the front counter and tap on the service bell. I set down my clipboard to rummage around my waist pack for my Registered Environmental Health Specialist ID, pulling my thermometer out to see better. Just as I retrieve my ID, a blonde woman who looks to be about my age walks through the kitchen door.

“Hi there!” She gives a small wave.

Objectively, she is one of the most beautiful people I’ve ever seen in my entire life. Her fair skin glows beneath the dim restaurant lighting. The bow in her hair matches the bow earrings she has on, which match the small bow on her bracelet.

“Um, Mrs. Chung? I’m Callum Galvin, Toledo-Lucas County Health Inspector.” I flash my ID. “I wanted to stop by before your opening day to make sure everything is operating smoothly from a food safety perspective.” I hold out my hand for a bump.

Her eyes dart to my fist. “Oh, I’m not Mrs. Chung. And, I was just…” Her gaze drifts to the bell on the counter, like she’s the one who needs assistance. “…handling raw meat. I wouldn’t want to get, um, germs on you.”

I raise an eyebrow and lower my hand to my side to conduct a quick visual inspection.

No hair restraint. Long fingernails.

Food safety certified? Unlikely.

“There shouldn’t be pathogens on your hands if you follow proper washing protocols, which you should know if you’re handling food.”

She frowns. “But I’m⁠—”

“How long have you worked here?”

“Not long.” Her purple dress swishes side-to-side as she sways on her feet, like she can’t help but move.

Before I let my gaze linger more than it already has, I train my focus back on the clipboard in front of me and clear my throat. “Can you tell me the temperature zone for hot holding foods?”

“Can I tell you the what for huh?”

“The zone. Or, since you’re new, I’ll take the internal cooked temperature for poultry.”

“You tell me.” A smirk plays at her full lips. “You’re the one with a metal box and the pokey thermometer.”

Pokey thermometer?

I put my thermometer away. “Employees should be trained on this information. Staff knowledge is a key component of my inspection.”