Tilly Auriel, Chef de Cuisine (A Romantic Comedy)

By James Piper

Kendra and James just got married.

Kendra hires Tilly as their personal chef.

Their lives will never be the same.

• Language: English
• Publisher: James Piper
• Release date: Jul 25, 2012
• ISBN: 9780987815880

James Piper

James Piper was born in Ottawa, Ontario. A graduate of Wilfrid Laurier University, he has worked and lived in Ontario, Sweden and Nigeria. In 2007, he successfully completed the writers' program at Humber College's School for Writers. David Adams Richards (Governor General Awards, 2000 Giller Prize, Order of Canada) was his mentor.

Book preview

Chapter One

Box Cut Winery & Estates, Napa, California

Meet Tilly Aureil. That’s her in the chef’s whites. If she slowed down for even a second, you might be able to read her name embroidered in blue letters on her jacket next to a patch of the American flag. Underneath, in black lettering, it’d say: Personal Chef because it’s true. In her mind. She wants to be a personal chef, but today it’s Tilly Aureil, freelance caterer to one of the biggest freaking weddings in all of the Bay area. She took the job because it might lead to something better like being the full-time personal chef to Kendra Livingston.

Kendra’s the one getting married. She’s going to marry some Silicon Valley freakoid. She’s beautiful. He’s a spaz. She works as a model—on the cover of this magazine and that magazine. Tilly’s not sure what he does, but it has something to do with gadgets that don’t exist. It never concerned her. She only has to deal with Kendra. Hell, she hasn’t even met him. Can’t remember his name. He is rich. Monster rich. Knows that much. Spaz-something. That’s his name. No that can’t be it.

No, Tilly never met him. She knew Kendra, who introduced the wedding planner. One short meeting was all it took and the terms of the arrangement changed.

I’m not working for her. I’m working for you. Okay? It’s simple. You tell me how many people, what courses, what special requests. You give me that, I’ll get it done.

She did. She was. But four hundred people!

It helped that money wasn’t an issue. Fifty thousand dollars just for the champagne. Twice that amount for the finest French and California wines for dinner. Add in the cost of the food and her staff, well, you could easily buy a nice house overlooking the Pacific Ocean.

Tilly loved the fact they weren’t spendthrifts. They could afford to hire a personal chef. They could afford to hire a whole ship full of chefs.

Just pull it off, she told herself over and over until the words lost all meaning.

She’s worked in restaurants where the days are long, the pay shit and her feet throbbed from having to stand all day. Catering any wedding isn’t any easier, but it will be worth it. Four hundred people are coming to this reception. Four hundred freaking people.

With that many people to feed, Tilly wasn’t a chef today. She’s the general of a small army of other chefs. She’s so busy, she doesn’t even have time to think about what it’d be like to be a personal chef.

Just pull it off.

Chapter Two

Grace Cathedral, San Francisco

Meet Kendra Livingston. She’s not hard to spot. She’s sitting in the horse drawn carriage as it arrives at the church. Okay, technically, it’s a cathedral, but you know what I mean. Big pointy building with God, burning candles and pews made out of cold steel. I guess they don’t want you to stay so they make it uncomfortable and I’m not talking about the seats.

Her father, a dignified, handsome man helps her down to the sidewalk. There’s the designer wedding dress by Dellio. Handmade in Milan with fittings done in New York City. A photo spread will be in the next issue of U. S. Vogue. Copies of the dress will sell for—well, do you really want to know?

Kendra could afford to buy the dress and many more like it, but she didn’t have to pay for it. She was the one getting paid. Product endorsement 101.

Her father offers his arm and says, you do look ever so lovely my dear.

Kendra is anxious and smiling.

Thank you daddy.

She fights the urge to give him a kiss on the cheek. No time for touch-ups.

Her bridesmaids and maid of honour, their dresses in a pale yellow motif, gather round. Smiling, cheerful, tanned, slim and just as lovely as Kendra.

Kendra’s two nieces, aged three and six, are lost in the crowd. They are so small and adorable. They have none of the confidence or excitement the women share. Any minute they might wander to the curb to pick up a stone, lift up their dress or hug a passing dog.

Are you ready? Kendra’s dad asks.

She takes a deep breath and nods her head.

_____

Meet James Edwards. The spaz. The freakoid. The one about to marry Kendra Livingston. He’s wearing a tie for the first time since his high school graduation. He would have ditched the tie on his graduation from the start, except, at the time, he was seventeen and his parents were still the boss. He would have ditched the tie for this affair except her highness wanted a big splashy wedding. He wanted something simple on a beach in the Caribbean. She wanted hordes of her friends to watch this Broadway production. Most of the four hundred guests were hers. He only invited a handful of his immediate family. His best man, Ralph Amos, was the exception.

Ralph wasn’t family, he was closer than family. They’ve known each other from school and have worked together ever since. He could have invited a horde of geeks, nerds, multi-millionaires, but what would be the point? He was only getting married. Beside everyone could watch it on video.

Yeah, did you know she hired four videographers to record everything? One has been following James and Ralph ever since they got up this morning. Late morning, because last night was a bit late. They even taped him shaving. He was standing in front the vanity shaving away when he spotted them. He reached his leg out to close the door and managed to nick his chin. A red line is still there, but the bleeding stopped.

No, if James had his way. There’d be six to ten people all told involved in this wedding. Everybody would wear casual clothing, drink straight from the bottle and listen to Frank Sinatra and Tony Bennett sing a few songs. He can explain the first two, but not the later. His parents were from the 70s. Hotel California and all that. He can’t remember once seeing a vinyl album of Frank or Dean or Tony.

Hmm. How did that happen?

It was all her doing. Not the music. His outfit. His monkey suit. He did get to pick out his suit, a nice blue number, but not the silver tie, not the shoes with the square front, not the belt with the platinum buckle, not the white handkerchief and not even the rose boutonniere. Oh, yeah, he did get to keep his haircut. It is what it is.

James peeked out from the side of the altar, saw the massive crowd and spotted two of the other videographers. The din of the guests started to settle down. The minister motioned to James, now is the time. They proceeded to take their spots up front.

Many times in James’ life he wished he had a special remote control. You know the one. With one tap, you pause life, stop time altogether just to take it all in, savour and enjoy everything about it. This is not one of those moments.

Ralph is dishevelled, confused and distracted as ever. He keeps his head down looking at his smartphone watching a video. Somehow he was getting a feed of the camera following Kendra.

I think now would be a good time to put that thing away, James says to Ralph.

James could stand up in front of a thousand people at a tech conference and talk about the implementation of the latest iteration of an AES algorithm at his company, answer questions and never once feel the least bit nervous.

How could he channel that energy today?

I’m doing the right thing, right? James asks Ralph who stands to his right. Their backs to the audience.

What? Ralph looks up from his smartphone.

Would you put that away. You’re making me nervous.

Ralph pockets the phone.

What’s to be nervous about? Gotta get married some time.

You’re next, right?

Notta chance.

The guests get to their feet as the organ music of Mendelssohn fills the cathedral. No canned music in this place.

James wants to turn around, to watch Kendra march down the aisle.

Am I supposed to look now, he wonders.

We didn’t rehearse that part.

I can, can’t I?

He nudges Ralph with his elbow, how does she look?

Who?

Chapter Three

Box Cut Winery & Estate, Napa, California

Can you turn people away from a wedding reception? You can, but when the uninvited women won’t touch the food and simply stick to bottles of champagne, does it matter?

For Tilly the day had already been long and exhausting. Mentally exhausting. There was no time to relax. Delays, of course, but not a single moment to release her tense muscles or think about a long, hot bath later in the evening. Who was she kidding? She’d collapse on her bed the minute she walked in the door of her apartment.

But it was downhill now. The wait staff are in the process of clearing the tables after the main course. Her sous-chefs are plating the dessert. It’s a vanilla cake with strawberry puree, shavings of Belgian chocolate and a sprinkling of icing sugar. Tilly oversees the assembly line. Two are cutting the cake, two are plating the cake, two more add the puree, two add the chocolate shavings and two sprinkle the icing sugar with a flick of their wrist.

More puree please, Tilly says. Her eyes continually scan the servings as they come down the line. She hands the plates to wait staff who load up trays.

The ding, ding, ding sound of tapping wine glasses grows and that haunting whine builds as some guests rub a finger on the rim of their wine glass. Tilly hates that sound, but knows it might be the last time today. Hopefully. Finally. She glances over her shoulder. Yep. They’re kissing again. At the dais. James and Kendra.

At least they’re happy. Happy means no complaints. Happy means she might just pass this audition and get the job as personal chef.

Then she has a startling revelation. What if they throw big parties all the time? No. Best not to think about that right now.

Let’s keep it moving, Tilly says to her staff, only a hundred more to go.

They haven’t had it easy either. A non-stop, stressful day. Go. Go. Go.

In the space of twenty minutes they will plate over four hundred desserts all looking pretty much the same. In an hour, some of the plates will be completely empty and several will look as if they were never touched. It wasn’t her money. Nothing she could do about it.

She hears someone tapping on the microphone.

It’s on, don’t you know!

Why do people do that, she wonders.

She glances over her shoulder at the dais.

She sees the best man standing with the microphone.

Oh, no. He’s going to speak again.

At this point, and I think you’ll all agree, the food was fu—was fantastic. So I’d ask the kitchen staff to come out and take a bow.

We’re not done!

Tilly throws darts at the best man with her eyes, but he’s too far away.

She sees Kendra tap him on his leg and whisper something.

Oh, yeah, and the waiters. They were— Ralph pauses, looking at Kendra who doesn’t see him. And the waiters.

Tilly claps her hands. All the chefs bop their head ups and look at her.

All right. Out for a count of ten and back in.

Tilly leads them into the banquet hall.

_____

It was the first time James had seen Tilly. No. He thinks about it for a second.

Did I? Maybe.

But this was the first time he paid any notice to Tilly. It was the first time he noticed how attractive she was, how confident she was. Look at her in charge of all those people.

Who was this woman?

Tilly Auriel. Chef extraordinaire.

I’m married. I am now officially married.

James reaches over and grabs Kendra’s hand. Their fingers intertwine.

Yes, he reassures himself, she is wearing a wedding ring. The one he put on her finger.

And her hand is warm. Soft skin.

I’m not dreaming.

His eyes follow