The Chef's Mail Order Bride: A Sweet Western Historical Romance (Wild West Frontier Brides Book 1) (5 page)

“
Y
ou did well in there
,” Tripp said as they shut the door of the bank behind them. “I was a little worried beforehand.”

“Why do you say that?” she asked, turning toward him.

He put his hat on and untied the buggy from the post outside the bank. He helped her in, got in himself and waited until he was a block away from the bank before he spoke again.

“Mr. Brady told me when I first discussed the loan that the marriage had to be a real one, not just an arrangement. That was why he was at the wedding yesterday.”

Her hand flew to her chest. “A real one? How could that be?”

He shifted a bit in his seat and squeezed the reins a little tighter. “I might have told him that you were my sweetheart from long ago and had decided to come out to Arizona when your parents died.”

She let out her breath and sighed with relief. “Oh. Well, that’s not too far from the truth.”

She suddenly felt her heart speed up as she went back over the conversation with the banker. Tripp had asked her to say very little during the signing of the documents, and after he’d presented the marriage license to Mr. Brady, it had been over very quickly. She couldn’t think of anything she’d said that might be a problem.

“If you’d told me before, I would have been extra careful,” she said.

His grip on the reins loosened a little and she could feel his relief. “I’m glad you’re not upset about it. I didn’t want to tell you beforehand as I thought it might make you
more
nervous.”

She laughed as she felt her heart settle. “You may be right. I might have blurted out something I didn’t mean to. I do that sometimes.”

She smiled as she turned to him. “Probably better this way. And I didn’t say much at all. Thank goodness.”

His head fell back as he laughed so loudly it made her laugh, too. He stopped, and said, “I guess it’s probably not that funny, but I am just so happy that this is all moving forward. We’ve got the loan, and I have a beautiful, new wife.”

Her eyebrows rose and she considered what he’d said as he pulled up outside the mercantile. He’d never yet said anything about how he felt about her one way or another, except to thank her for helping him out.

She wondered what else he thought about her as he hopped down and tied the horses to the rail outside their new restaurant.

Our new restaurant,
rolled around in her head as she looked up to the sign over the door.

Adjacent to James’s mercantile, it was a lovely building with a wide porch out front and shuttered windows. He’d painted the shutters a lovely shade of green and Sadie thought it looked very sophisticated, like it was in Chicago. It suited his concept.

She shook her head, remembering that she was just a helper, this was an arrangement, and in no way was it
their
restaurant, but his.

“Welcome to the
Occidental,”
he said, sweeping his arms grandly toward the building and reaching out his hand for her to step up onto the boardwalk. He squeezed her hand before he turned to the door, taking a deep breath as he unlocked it and swung it wide open, waiting for her to enter first.

She crossed the threshold slowly, her eyes adjusting to the light. She gasped and her hand flew to her mouth as she surveyed the beautiful interior. Her eyes were drawn to the ceiling, which was covered in copper tiles, reflecting light back onto the shiny, polished mahogany floor.

To the left, along the wall, sat a beautiful bar with brass runners all across the bottom and gorgeous, etched glass covering the wall behind it. The windows lit the room beautifully, and the reflection of the sunlight streaming in made the room seem to glow, and she was sure that when the candle arrangements on each table were lit, it actually would glow.

In front of her, at least ten tables sat between the bar and the windows on the right, all with beautiful tablecloths and dark wood chairs upholstered in rich, green velvet. It was a beautiful shade and matched the curtains hanging on the tall windows, which were also lined with beautiful braiding.

“Tripp, it’s beautiful,” she said quietly.

He grabbed her hand and she hurried behind him as he said, “Wait until you see the kitchen.”

She smiled at his excitement, thinking he was like a little boy in a candy store.

She almost ran into him when he stopped short after entering the swinging door of the kitchen. “This is amazing,” she said when her voice returned after her surprise at seeing such a beautiful, well laid out kitchen.

She clasped her hands in front of her, imagining what fun it would be to help cook in it. Her chin dropped as she rounded the cooking counter and spied the brand new kitchen stove, complete with the auxiliary air chamber for stoves that she’d only heard about. She’d read about it, but had never seen one.

“I can’t believe you have one of these,” she said as she turned to Tripp.

He leaned against the counter, his arms folded over his chest. “Nothing but the best. Had it shipped from New York. Supposed to be the best thing to bake in with its two separate chambers. Provides even heat.”

She brushed her hand over it as she passed. “I had planned to get one for the bakery, but…” She stopped, leaving those memories behind.

She noticed another full set of copper pans hanging from the ceiling and a big stove with an open, flat surface for several pans. She’d never seen a restaurant stove before and ventured toward it.

“How do you keep this at an even temperature?” she asked.

“Ah, it’s quite complicated. I’ll have to show you, and the first person we should hire is a stove-tender.”

He pulled open the door of one of the ovens. Everything was nice and clean now, with no soot covering anything. She imagined that soon it would look very different.

She took a walk around the entire kitchen, asking him for explanations about various things she saw. There were quite a few items still in boxes, both in front and back where they were in the kitchen.

She wasn’t surprised at all when he said, “We’ve taken a leap of faith and started advertising for an opening on Friday night. And the dishes don’t even come until tomorrow. We’ll really have to hustle to get this all ready in time.”

“Well, count me in,” she said, smiling as she took off her gloves and coat, resting them on a bar stool out in the main dining room.

Tripp followed her and set his own coat beside hers. Rolling up his sleeves, he said, “Okay, let’s get started putting things away, arranging, and on Wednesday, we start to cook.”

T
he next few
days flew by as Sadie, Tripp and sometimes Suzanne washed, pressed, stacked, moved, polished and organized every last thing. Each night, they’d stopped by Suzanne’s afterward and grabbed a quick bite to eat, too exhausted to cook for themselves.

“Ironic, isn’t it?” Sadie said as they pulled up to the
Occidental
the day before the opening.

“What is,” he asked, securing the buggy in the back of the building.

“That you’re a chef, we’ve been married for almost a week and we have yet to eat a meal at home.” She laughed as he turned quickly around toward her.

“Oh, I didn’t think. I…do you…is that okay?”

Sadie patted his shoulder. “Of course it’s okay. This is a big thing to do, and I’ve been too exhausted to cook anyway. I’m sure you have, too.”

“Yes, I have been,” he said. “Thank you for that, but I promise you’ll be very pleased with what you’ll be eating soon enough.”

He certainly has no lack of confidence
, Sadie thought as she followed him into the kitchen. Today was the day that they’d get down to the cooking part, and she’d come prepared.

She set her things down in the small pantry to the right of the kitchen were they kept the larders and most of the dry goods. James had helped build shelves before they’d started, she was told, and everything was easy to find. She was glad of that.

She took her favorite cornflower blue apron—her “lucky” apron from the bakery—and placed it over her head, tying the big bow behind her. She smoothed it over her dress and checked to make sure that her hair was tucked under the cap she’d brought from the bakery as well.

As she walked back out into the kitchen, Tripp was tucking his apron into his belt again, and had donned a chef’s hat.

He turned and looked when she came in, and said, “What’s that?”

She felt her cheeks burn as she looked down at her apron. “It’s my lucky apron from the bakery. I thought it might help, and I brought it all the way from Chicago.”

Her hand went up to the cap on her head that he seemed to be looking at next. “What? You don’t like it?”

“Well, I suppose it’s a good idea, but not exactly what I had in mind. You can keep it if you want, while we’re prepping.”

“I don’t know what you
did
have in mind, but this suits me just fine, thank you.”

She turned back to the pantry, grabbing a bag of potatoes that he’d mentioned. She took a deep breath and remembered that she was there to help, and that she would do it gladly. But she would
not
take off her apron. Not for anybody.

“So what are you starting on first?” she asked, looking over his shoulder.

“Today is just prep. I’m so glad you know your way around a kitchen. I don’t have time to teach anyone how to peel potatoes.”

Here eyebrows rose as he turned back to his menu list and recipes that he’d brought from the house. She’d heard that New York chefs could be a little…well, full of themselves, and she’d noticed the looks her sister and brother-in-law had given each other.

Time would tell, though, so she picked up a knife and began to peel potatoes and place them into a large pot of water.

They fell into a rhythm, her prepared ingredients ready and in the icebox where they had placed the ice that was delivered earlier from the ice house the next town over. As he gave her another task to complete, she realized that they’d been working for hours and hadn’t eaten a thing.

She wiped her hands on her apron and turned to ask him what they could have for lunch, but his head was over a steaming pot and his eyes traveled back and forth from his recipe book to the shelf of spices.

Sighing, she walked to the icebox to see what she could come up with. In just a few minutes, she’d put together a plate of sliced meats, cheeses and a few olives she’d found, along with a jar of mustard that she’d thought looked good. She’d rummaged through the pantry and found a loaf of bread and she set it on the plate after slicing it.

“Tripp,” she said as she set it all on a butcher block table and sat down on a kitchen stool, pulling the other one closer to their lunch.

He hadn’t looked up and she said his name again, a little louder. “Tripp, lunch is ready.”

The sound of the copper pots clanking together as he started and hit his head on them made her laugh, silently to herself, of course, as she didn’t want to offend him.

“What? Oh, yes. Food. It’s so strange. I get so lost in my creations that I forget to eat myself. Thank you for getting this together. I guess I am hungry after all.”

He pulled out the stool and sat down, handing her a napkin and a knife for the mustard. As he slathered some on a piece of bread and added some sliced roast beef and cheese, he said, “I think we’re making great progress. Preparations are going very well, and tomorrow, we cook.”

Her heart fluttered a bit as she looked forward to something different than cutting potatoes and mincing carrots.

“I can’t wait to see how you do it, and to help,” she said as she rolled up a slice of sliced roast beef and took a bite. She hadn’t realized quite
how
hungry she had been and tried not to gobble it down.

“Yes, it will be very helpful to have you as a sous chef. I really am fortunate that you know how to chop.”

She narrowed her eyes at the pot on the stove that was still steaming. “Chop?” she asked. “What exactly is a sous chef?”

“It’s a fancy name for a chopper,” Tripp said, laughing as he took another piece of bread. “It’s really the chef’s assistant that does all the prep work.”

She suppressed a groan as she tried not to imagine days and days and days of…chopping. She loved to cook and so was well aware of the necessity of preparations, but his recipes seemed to take so much
more
preparation than she’d ever seen before. She wondered how he would even have been able to do it on his own.

She picked up the empty plate and took it to the wash basin, cleaning it and placing it back on the stack. She turned and leaned up against the counter, watching him throw spices into the steaming pot as he quickly got back to work.

Well, I guess I’m a chopper,
she thought as she picked up her knife and dove in to the bowl of onions.

She stifled a laugh as she said under her breath, “Oh, excuse me. A
sous chef.
”

A
fter two days
of being a sous chef, Sadie was pretty much chopped out. She enjoyed seeing Tripp create his dishes, and she was anxious for the opening of the restaurant, but she was feeling a little anxious.

They’d had dinner at Suzanne’s again for two nights in a row, and Suzanne had pulled her into the kitchen to “help” her make tea to go with dessert and had pinned her down. “So, tell me everything. How’s it going?”

“I believe I’ve chopped enough food to feed Chicago. For a week,” she said, stifling a yawn. “I love to help, but he is very protective about his ‘creative process’ and I don’t get to participate too much in that.”

Suzanne wrung her hands as the kettle came to a boil. “Oh, dear. Is it too much? How are you faring?”

Sadie poured the boiling water into the teapot as Suzanne put some brownies on a plate. She’d grown up working in the bakery, too, and hadn’t forgotten a thing.

“It’s okay, really. I don’t mind. But I’m getting a little bored.”

“Even with the opening tomorrow night? You know I’ll be there to help.” She placed the teabags in the pot and set the mugs on a tray. Adding a bowl of sugar and pot of cream, she said, “Is there anything you can do to…make it more fun for you?”

“I’m not sure. I’m just trying to help, right now. It’s very important the
Occidental
is a success. I’ll manage.”

“Well, you know how you love to bake. And that it makes you happy. Why not go in a little early and have some fun? It certainly couldn’t hurt, and Tripp isn’t going in until around noon, right? You’d have the place to yourself.” Suzanne winked at her sister as she picked up the tray. “It’s close enough to walk, and you could make some fun things. Maybe he’ll even put them on the menu.”

Sadie’s eyes widened at the prospect. It had been a long time since she’d baked…or at least it seemed like it, although it had only been a little over a week.

“Okay, I’ll do it. He has some leftovers in the icebox that I could use to make some more of those meat pies. Everybody seemed to like them, and it would be fun. I wanted to try a different kind this time, with a few different ingredients.”

“Perfect,” Suzanne said as she pushed through the door into the dining room and was met with delighted squeals as soon as Lucy and Lily saw the brownies.

Sadie took her place by Tripp, giving him a smile as she grew excited about the prospect of having some alone time in a kitchen again.

S
adie had told
Tripp of her plans on their way home from Suzanne and James’s house. He’d turned toward her when she’d asked, looking her straight in the eye for a second.

“Are you sure? You’ve been working pretty hard lately, and tomorrow’s a big night. We need to be fresh and ready.”

She laid her hand over his, thinking that might be a way to reassure him. She’d seen it work for her sister with James.

“I really do think it will do me a world of good. I’d like to bake some bread to offer the customers while they wait for their food. We can serve butter with it.”

He frowned, shaking his head slowly. “I don’t want their appetites to be ruined. Their meals will be delicious.”

She really wanted to sigh, but didn’t. “I think they might like my bread, too, and we won’t give them too much. Does that work? Plus, it’s your first night, and things may take a little longer than you anticipate. This way, they’ll have something to nibble on and won’t get impatient.”

She smiled sweetly as she squeezed his hand. She’d seen that work, too. She was still new to being married, but she’d been paying attention and was willing to try just about anything.

“Well, I suppose that wouldn’t be a really bad idea, if you’re sure you have the time. I won’t be in until around noon. I have some measurements to plan out at home before I go.”

Now she did breathe a sigh…of relief. “That’s perfect,” she said, trying not to sound too enthusiastic.

She cared very much that Tripp was successful, but she’d been running the bakery on her own for so long that she needed to be in charge…of something. And baking was just the thing.

As she quickly got dressed and remembered the conversation from the night before, she smiled in anticipation. She could almost smell the meat pies baking—as well as the bread she’d said she’d prepare for the dinner customers. Maybe she’d try some macaroons, too, if she had time.

Her smile was as big as it could be by the time she’d reached the Occidental a few streets over. Tripp had given her the key the night before, and she slipped it into the lock, the click sounding loud to her in the early morning quiet. It was so early, in fact, that there were very few people about and it had just started to get light.

It felt familiar—these were the hours she kept at the bakery. She breathed in deeply, feeling comforted by the sense of her old routine.

She quickly donned her lucky apron and cap, pulling it over the bun she had put her hair into immediately when she’d gotten up. It had become a force of habit, and she couldn’t remember the last time she’d worn her hair down. But while she was baking certainly was
not
the time to do it.

She stoked the stove, letting it heat up as she kneaded the dough and almost closed her eyes as she felt the familiar rhythm. With her experienced feel, she knew when the dough was ready to be set aside to rise, and after making a quick bowl of pastry dough, she set to chopping up the ingredients for the filling. She laughed out loud as she realized that chopping for her own creations didn’t seem nearly as tedious.

As she sautéed the beef she’d chosen for these meat pies and the onions, potatoes and spices together, she even started to hum her favorite tune that she would hum over and over in the bakery…much to the chagrin of Clara. It struck her that she was feeling a little homesick and hadn’t realized it.

She shook the feeling off and rolled circles of dough, placing the meat filling on half, folding them over and crimping the edges. Satisfied, she placed them on the pan and slid them into the oven.

She wiped her hands on her apron and looked around, grabbing the ingredients for the French bread that she was actually supposed to be making.

A light knock on the door startled her as she was just taking the last of the meat pies off the trays and getting ready to replace them with the loaves of bread that were ready to go into the oven.

She stood slowly, not sure who could be at the restaurant this early in the morning. She took the few steps to the door and pulled it open, wondering as she did if it was actually a good idea or not.

The man on the step outside the kitchen door jumped when she did, dropping his hat and stumbling back onto the dirt at the bottom of the steps.

“Oh, my goodness, are you all right?” Sadie cried as she bolted down the two steps to help the man up. As she did, she noticed his graying hair, blue eyes and slightly hollow cheeks.

He stood with her help, placed his hat back on his head and brushed the dust off his already dusty pants. He shifted from foot to foot, and she noticed that his shoes had definitely been his for a very long time.

Once he’d steadied himself, she asked, “I’m sorry to have startled you, Mr.—”

“Lewis. Marvin Lewis, ma’am. And I’m sorry to have troubled you so early in the morning. It’s just that I was on my way to see if they needed any day laborers over to the mine and there was this most delicious aroma…”

His stomach growled so loudly that she could hear it from where she stood, and his face reddened as he placed his arm over his belly.

“I’m so glad that you think they smell good. They are an experiment, so I can’t promise anything, but I’d be grateful if you’d volunteer as my taster. I really need an opinion.” She smiled and gestured for him to follow her into the warm kitchen.

This also felt familiar to Sadie, who’d gotten great joy from feeding people who needed it. And Mr. Lewis clearly did. Her heart swelled with gratitude that she was able to help him, and she picked up a meat pie that had cooled by now and handed it to him in a napkin.

“Have a seat, Mr. Lewis. My name is Mrs. Morgan, and this is my husband’s new restaurant. We open tonight.” She kept talking as he ate the meat pie as fast as anyone she’d ever seen, so that he didn’t think she was watching.

“It is a beautiful kitchen, Mrs. Morgan,” he said, trying to catch the crumbs of the meat pie that had settled on his lap by brushing them into the napkin that he’d noticed too late. There hadn’t been much time
to
notice as the pie disappeared quickly.

“Thank you. We are happy with it and excited to open the restaurant. I’m hoping it goes well.”

“I’m sure you’ll have lines out the door with those pies of yours, Mrs. Morgan. I think it’s one of the most delicious things I’ve ever tasted,” he said, his eyes inching toward the pan of pies.

Sadie laughed as she reached for another pie, handing it to Mr. Lewis. “Oh, no, these aren’t what we’re serving. This is just something I like to make. In fact, since they’re not on the menu, let me get you something to carry some in. You can take some with you.”

“Oh, no, Mrs. Morgan, that’s much too generous. They are delicious, but I wouldn’t want to take what you’d planned for someone else.”

“I have no plans for them, Mr. Lewis,” she said as she wrapped up several of the pies and handed them to him.

“If you’re not serving these delicacies, what
are
you serving here,” he asked, his brows furrowed.

Sadie stood, looking about the kitchen slowly. “I’m not exactly sure, Mr. Lewis, but I’m positive it will be delicious. I know one thing is Cream Fricassee of chicken with asparagus, but there are more things planned. My husband is a wonderful chef, and I have no doubt that it will be delicious.”

Mr. Lewis continued to frown as he took the meat pies from Sadie. “I’m not sure what that is, Mrs. Morgan, but if you say it’ll be good, I’m sure it will be. Thank you much for your kindness,” he said as he walked out the door and placed his hat back on his head, tipping it slightly to her as he headed off toward the mine.

As she began to shut the door, another quick knock had her pulling it back open before it even latched. Standing on the stoop was a tall, young cowboy. He looked up and quickly took his hat off, holding it against his chest.

“Oh, hello, ma’am, I hope I didn’t startle you.”

Sadie looked at the man in front of her, noticing his dark hair and blue eyes with laugh lines surrounding them in his rough, tanned skin. “No, you didn’t startle me at all,” she said.

“Oh, good,” he said, his eyes twinkling along with his smile. “I’m lookin’ for Tripp Morgan. Is he here?”

“No, not at the moment, but I’m Mrs. Morgan,” she said, extending her hand. He took her hand in his briefly as his cheeks turned a little pink.

“Oh, I’d heard he’d gotten married, but I refused to believe it. Guess I have to now,” he said, a little chuckle escaping his lips.

“Would you like to come inside, Mr.—”

“Archer. Hank Archer. I’m a friend of Tripp’s from the ranch. We rode the trail quite a bit together. I was his assistant from time to time when he needed help.”

She laughed, her hand on her cheek. “Oh, so you’re a sous chef, too. I hope you liked it more than I do.”

“A sous chef, ma’am? Not sure I know what that is. Been out on the trail for a while and haven’t seen Tripp since he got back from that chef school.”

Her eyes softened as she realized her mistake. “Oh, Mr. Archer, I’m sorry. I’ve been helping my husband get ready to open the restaurant and my sense of humor has been a little tried,” she said as she led him into the dining room.

He whistled while he looked up at the ceiling and around to the mahogany bar and brass rail. “This is quite a place you have here,” he said after eyeing the room. “You must be mighty proud.”

She ushered him back into the kitchen. “Yes, we are, and pretty excited. I hope you’ll come to opening night tonight? It’s just for a few people, but I bet Tripp would love to have you here.”

“I think that would be great, ma’am. Thank you for the invite. Okay if I bring a guest?”

She thought he probably had a special lady that he’d like to bring, and the thought pleased her. She’d likely be impressed with the new restaurant, and she always liked to ease love along if she could.

“That would be lovely, Mr. Archer.”

“Oh, please call me Hank, ma’am. And if you’d give my regards to Tripp, we’ll see you later tonight.” He turned to walk through the kitchen, his boots clunking on the kitchen floor. He looked like he’d spent a great deal of time outdoors, his rugged good looks adding to the appeal of his easy-going nature.

“I will do that, Hank.” As he had his hand on the door, she spied the remaining meat pies and realized she needed to get them out of the kitchen before Tripp came in. “Are you hungry, Hank?” she said, grabbing a napkin and piling some meat pies into it, tying the ends like a knapsack.

“I did just ride in from the trail. Came straight here, so I guess the answer would be yes, ma’am,” he said as he turned from the door.

“Take these. Tripp would want you to have them. They’re something that I like to make, and I hope you like them,” she said as she placed the pies in his hand.

He continued down the steps, and turned and tipped his hat to her, just as Mr. Lewis had done.

“Thank you, ma’am, and I’ll see you later tonight. Thank you for your kindness, and don’t forget to give my regards to Tripp.”

She sighed with satisfaction as she leaned against the door after she’d closed it. She loved her new town, her new life…and couldn’t wait to tell Tripp about the morning’s events.