Chapter Eighty-Six
“And that’s it. The last ticket.” Aidan speared the paper, checking out the orders on the metal spike. “You see this, peeps? These are all from tonight.” He wiped his forehead of sweat that had built up over the stove. “How are you doing over there on desserts?”
“We’re on the last two tickets, Aidan,” Philippa answered.
Stepping back from the line after switching the heater light off, Aidan surveyed his kitchen. They’d successfully cooked for a hundred and twenty-six diners, with several tables turning over twice. The place looked like a bomb hit it. “Well done, Chef. Couldn’t have done it without you.” He signed, then shook Chef’s hand.
‘Yes you could. This is all you,’ Chef signed, patting him on the back.
“That’s lovely of you to say, but you’re the reason everyo
