The okra recipe was one Ashna’s friend DJ had created when he helped her come up with a menu to resurrect her failing restaurant. Why oh why did her friends have to be so good at what they did?

The couple blinked up at her, matching pleading looks widening their eyes.

“Of course.” Ashna smiled, even as her heart raced. “We can prepare the okra for you. I’ll send out jal jeera. My cousin says the mint and cumin settle her nausea. She’s pregnant too.”

The woman jumped up and hugged Ashna, then sat back down and dabbed the sweat off her husband’s forehead with her napkin.

Any other time, Ashna would have found the man hilarious. But as she hurried back into the kitchen, she could barely breathe. Fortunately, her sous chef hadn’t left yet. Ashna had promised Mandy that she could leave early today, but seeing that she was still here filled Ashna with relief.

Mandy paused in the act of putting on her jacket and the attention in the kitchen shifted to them like a spotlight. Two line cooks, the prep staff, the dishwasher, the bussers carrying trays, everyone pretended a little too hard to focus on their tasks.

When Ashna had returned from culinary school in Paris ten years ago and taken over the restaurant, she’d been buzzing with new recipes. But the first time she’d tried to cook something that wasn’t Baba’s recipe in this kitchen—his kitchen—the panic attack had knocked her off her feet, literally. It had felt like a truck driving onto her chest. Fainting and waking up surrounded by her staff staring down at her on the kitchen floor was an experience she’d sworn she would never risk repeating.

Then a few months ago DJ had helped her revamp her menu and she’d forced herself to try again, only to find that nothing had changed. For a month Ashna had relied on Mandy to prepare DJ’s new recipes. Then her sous chef had asked for a day off and Ashna realized that she had to be able to cook her menu herself, without passing out. She had reverted to Baba’s original menu.

Now, the panic truck revved close to her chest as she retrieved okra from the pantry and turned to her assistant. “The customer’s pregnant. Can you take care of the okra?”

Mandy took off her jacket and tied her smock back around herself just a little more forcefully than necessary. “Sure, boss.”

Ashna resisted the urge to fall to her knees in relief. Instead, she put her heart into a simple “Thank you,” and got back to the next drop.