Melinda’s eyes were on the pastries in front of her, though she was listening to Tate and nodding to show that she had heard him. The chefs she knew and had met through her work all had one thing in common: they worked hard to keep up with demands of working in a kitchen. Some managed, some barely so, and some not at all. Having to deal with that and contend with keeping sober? Tate had some hard work ahead of him. Still, the way he handled the berries and his optimistic view on his situation spoke legions for him.
“On dogs?” she chuckled. “Uhm… never had a dog in the flats before, though Cho had a cat, so I’ll say that the same rules apply for that: keep it clean and out of the kitchen.” She called out for a new tray and wiped her hands on the towel attached to her apron.
“Tate…” she started hesitantly, not because she was uncertain of the offer she was about to make, but about how Tate as a chef, view working as a pastry chef. “Would you be interested in working here? Right now, I don’t have any full-time positions, but come July with the weddings and vacations I’ll have a spot. Until then, you’d be welcome down to help out and get to know the place and the people.”