“He went off menu complètement,” Francois said in his own mix of English and French. “Qui pense-t-il être?”

Andrew heard the clatter of pans. François was on another rampage. He hated that he wasn’t there to shield his team from Francois’ wrath.

“Sneaky. Defiant. Ungrateful. He’s sabotaging my business!”

Occasionally Andrew would offer advice, but he’d learned early on Francois didn’t want that, and it usually left Andrew in the wake of the angry explosion too. He kept his opinion to himself.

“I fired him on the spot.”

Great. Francois was talking about Victor. He’d only been with them a few months, but he was a great asset to the team. He’d warned Victor to stick to the menu.

“Yes, sir. I understand.” Thankfully, Francois bid adieu and disconnected the call. No doubt when Andrew got back in town, Francois would want him to rehire him. It wouldn’t be the first time.

Andrew turned down the ringer on his phone and set it aside.

“Sorry about that,” he said. “What were we saying?” He shook off the remnants of the call. “Oh yeah, opening a restaurant in the United States. It’s just different. You wouldn’t understand.”

Dawn must’ve picked up on his mood shift. As loud as Francois had screamed and bellowed, she may have even heard the conversation.

“Here’s what I do understand. You’ve earned your stripes. You’ve done the training. You’ve proven yourself. If you have dreams, then make them happen. None of us knows what tomorrow will bring.”

“That was deep.”

She slapped him on the arm. “Shut up. It’s sincere. Mom and Dad are getting older. Things are changing. Even this town is changing, even though most of us would’ve been happy for it to stay the same forever. Maybe you’ll bring a little something special and different back here.” She cocked her shoulder. “What about your dream of owning a restaurant?”

“I still plan to do that. I’ve saved quite a bit of money.”

“I guess you have. Aunt Claire seems to love having you in the guest house.”

“She does put me to work when she has parties, but I don’t mind. It’s a nice trade-off. I’m just waiting for the right time and opportunity.”

“Sometimes you have to make your own opportunities.” She leaned in closer. “There are opportunities here too. You can make your dreams happen anywhere. Why not here? Don’t say anything. Just tuck it under your toque.”

“I don’t wear a toque.”

“I thought all the famous chefs did,” she said, poking him in the ribs as she moved by.

“I’m famous enough to do what I want.”

He was so close to telling her why he was really back in the States, but he couldn’t. Not after putting his whole career at risk by leaving on such short notice.