At least it was clean, she thought as she looked at the large wood grill, the steamer, the eight burners, the ovens. There was the prep area, a long, stainless counter with a sink for salad, stacks of pots, sauté pans and bowls. She didn’t even have to close her eyes to know what it would be like. The blinding heat from the grill and the burners. The hiss of the steam, the yells of “order up” or “ready to fire.”

Because of the age of the restaurant, the kitchen was large and well ventilated. The mats looked new and when she picked up one of the pots, it was heavy and of good quality. Now for the storeroom.

“You could pretend to be interested,” Cal said from just inside the kitchen.

She turned to him. “In what?”

“The front of the store. The color scheme and how the tables will be set up.”

“Oh, sure.” She thought for a second, not sure what to say. “It was great. Impressive.”

“Do you think I’m fooled?”

“No, but you shouldn’t be surprised, either. The only thing I care about is how big the dining room is and the table configuration.”

It was important to know how many tables of six and eight and the policy on large parties. There were few things a kitchen staff hated more than a surprise order for twelve.

“I’ll get you that information,” he said. “So what do you think?”

She grinned. “Not bad. I’ll need to take a complete inventory. How much is my budget for new equipment?”

“Get me a list of what you need and I’ll get back to you.”

She wrinkled her nose. “I’m the executive chef. I should have final say on what I buy.”

“You forget that I know you. You’ll be online picking up God knows what from Germany and France and sucking down twenty grand before I blink.”

She turned away so he wouldn’t see her smile. “I’d never do that.”