THE RICH BILLIONAIRE'S SECRET

Daisy

“Now, spill. Why are you here drenching my sofa? Do I need to hire someone to beat the hair gel out of James?” she finally calmed herself enough to ask.

Daisy couldn’t help but laugh at her friend’s antics, which brought on the tears again. “I’m pregnant and mom just kicked me out and I don’t know what to do. I told her I could do it on my own, but I don’t think I can Emma, what am I going to do? How do I raise a baby on my own?”

She spoke between sobs, and it was a wonder that her friend even understood her at all.

“James?” was Emma’s only question, and Daisy shook her head.

“It was just a one-night stand; I don’t even know the guy’s full name.”

“I thought that was my thing!” Emma exclaimed, feigning outrage.

Daisy managed a smile, but it was difficult to maintain with the general gloominess of the past hour dragging her mood right back down. She told Emma about what her mother had suggested, including the plot to trick James into supporting her child.

“Is that something you’re still considering?” Emma’s voice was neutral, as if she was carefully navigating the conversation.

“Of course not,” Daisy said with a frown. “We had a whole fight about it. That’s why she kicked me out. I am officially banned from my mother’s house because I won’t agree with her on this.”

“I’m glad. Who would want scumbag James as a dad, anyway? All those hair products cannot be good for a baby!”

Daisy chuckled at Emma’s attempt to make her feel better. She could see the love and determination on her friend’s face. Her child might not have a dad, but one thing that Daisy could promise them was the best aunt ever.

“I’ll babysit as much as you need me to, and you are more than welcome to stay with me as long as you want. Just don’t leave dirty dishes in the sink.” Emma said.

“Even when the baby wakes you up every night? Dishes are all you’re worried about?” Daisy asked with a small smile.

“Oh please, you know I sleep like the dead. You’re on your own during the nights.”

“Thank you.” Daisy said, sincerity dripping from her voice.

Emma always knew just what to say to cheer her up. While Daisy was typically more serious, Emma brought an important balance to her life, complementing her in the way only a best friend could.

“I know this won’t be a walk in the park, but we’ll just have to take each day as they come?” Emma blinked quickly at what she had just said before continuing with a deep grin. “And look at me, being a wise aunt already. I’m going to be so good at this!”

“I really think you will,” Daisy promised, leaning back against Emma on the couch.

“And you are going to be the best mom ever, Daisy. You’re already the most caring person I know. I’m here for you. We can even go to those birthing classes together if you want me to.” Emma punctuated her statement with a wink.

“I couldn’t ask for anyone better to hold my hand through this,” Daisy said, winking back. “Again, thank you Emma.”

“Just take care of your kidneys in case I need one in a few years. We can call it even.”

Daisy laughed. While Emma certainly enjoyed a good night out, she really wasn’t that heavy a drinker.

“At least tell me the father was cute so that my nephew will be cute too,” Emma wheedled curiously.

Daisy playfully punched her friend in the arm, “All babies are beautiful!”

“We’ll see.” Emma teased, making Daisy feel a thousand times better than when she’d arrived.

Everything is going to be okay, she thought. Emma would step up and help her out. They would all be fine. And, for Emma’s peace of mind, good genes would be the least of their worries. Conrad had those in abundance.

“Pasta’s done, Chef,” Jeff yelled from the opposite end of Marcella’s busy kitchen, the sound echoing across the big room.

Daisy grabbed the ticket from the counter as she wiped the sweat from her brow with the sleeve of her chef’s jacket. Adrenaline pumped Daisy’s body. This was dinner service, and she expected a spot-on performance from the new sous chef, Jeff. She always told her crew to put food out like there was a food critic at a table. She stood next to the silver counter next to the kitchen window.

“Behind,” Sharon, another sous chef, yelled as she rushed from behind Daisy and placed a colourful-looking dish next to a plate of appetisers.

Daisy scanned the ticket before glancing at Sharon. “Amazing looking Insalata Caprese, Sharon.”

“Thanks, Chef.”

“New ticket. I need one Parmigiana, two Vitello Tonnato and three Malloreddus alla Campidanese. How many minutes on ticket ten?”

“One more minute, Chef,” someone yelled.

“You’re amazing guys. Keep pushing it.” Daisy smiled before she turned her attention to the waiter standing on the other side of the window. “Table thirty’s appetisers are ready.”

****

Daisy removed her hair clip as she sighed. Her body ached, as usual, from running around the kitchen, cooking and overseeing the kitchen staff. Daisy’s shoulders slumped, but she still smiled. I can’t wait to do it all over again.

She ran her fingers through her long hair and used her back to push through the double doors and into Marcella’s dining area. The darkly lit, authentic Italian five-star restaurant’s green and red decor with lacquered wood looked hauntingly beautiful after hours. Daisy buttoned her jacket and swung her purse over her shoulder while heading towards Mr. Carda.

Mr. Carda, a pudgy, elderly, kind-hearted man with a thick moustache, stood behind the bar, mindlessly wiping the counter.

Daisy frowned as she watched him. “Mr. Carda, you wanted to see me?”

Mr. Carda looked up, rattled. He shook his head, then warmly smiled. Mr. Carda’s blue eyes weren’t warm or friendly. After a moment, he looked down and threw the towel into the sink behind him. He flashed a smile but didn’t make eye contact. Mr. Carda said, “Great dinner service, Daisy.”

Daisy relaxed and sat at the bar. She placed her purse on the barstool next to her. “Thank you. I know Jeff will make an excellent sous chef.”

“I’m glad. You are a fine executive chef, Daisy, truly a rare find.” Mr. Carda nods but doesn’t smile. “I’d be honoured to provide a recommendation for you—wherever you go.”

Daisy c****d her head to the left and studied Mr. Carda. When he finally made eye contact with her, she smiled. “I’m not going anywhere soon, Mr. Carda. I enjoy cooking here too much. Besides, we’re all like family.”

“I,” Mr. Carda started, before pausing and grabbing two glasses. “How’s Leo?”

Daisy grabbed her phone from her purse and searched for her latest photographs of Leo. “He’s great. I think he’s five going on thirty-five. Emma says I’m exaggerating.”

Mr. Carda poured orange juice into the glasses. “I know you don’t drink alcohol.”

Daisy watched as Mr. Carda lifted his glass and did the same.

“Salute,” Mr. Carda said in a low, sad tone.

The sound of glasses touching breaks the loud silence.

Daisy smiles. “Salute.”

****

The smell of orange-vanilla scent greeted Daisy when she entered the apartment’s living room. She stretched. Emma’s obsession with the orange-vanilla scent always made Daisy want to sit on the couch with a good book and a blanket and vanilla ice cream with orange sprinkles.

“Hey, you’re back late,” Emma walked into the kitchen, carrying her tablet.

“Do you think Mr. Carda will fire me?” Daisy places her purse and jacket on the coat hook next to the front door.

Emma sat in the chair closest to the hallway and gave Daisy a questioning look. “I read that review in the Times. The critic raved about your food. Why would he fire you?”

Daisy shrugs. She walked into the hallway, still thinking about Mr. Carda. Shake it off. Emma’s right. The Times review isn’t the only great food review I’ve received. Maybe it was an off night for Mr. Carda. He was so happy last week when his daughter arrived in New York. Maybe he’s sad she’ll be leaving soon.

Daisy opened Leo’s bedroom door, expecting to find him peacefully sleeping. The lights were off, but his night light shined brightly, which allowed her to see. She gasped, “What are you doing awake, young man?”

Leo, who sat at his small desk, dropped his tablet, and scurried to his bed. He pulled the blanket over his chin, closed his eyes, and remained very still.

Daisy pressed her lips together and tried not to laugh. You do stuff like this all the time. I don’t know where you get it from, Leo. I used to daydream until I fell asleep. You do this. With a sigh, Daisy enters the bedroom and grabs the tablet. A spelling game is on the screen. Well, it could be worse.

She places the tablet on his desk before she studies him. Leo’s not giving up the act. Daisy shook her head, took a deep breath, and scowled. After she sat on the bed, she yanked the blanket down and tickled Leo until he had no choice but to giggle.

“Leo Lang, I’ve told you before to rest in bed until you fall asleep.” She stopped tickling him.

Leo, however, kept giggling. “Mommy, I’m not sleepy.”

Daisy kissed his forehead and placed the blanket to his shoulders before smoothing out the wrinkles. She told him in her best authoritative tone, “Now, go asleep.”

She grabbed the tablet and left Leo’s bedroom.

****

Daisy learned early that there were no calm days in the restaurant industry, and today was one of those days. Sharon was late, the prep cook called off and two chefs on the lunch crew went home early. Jeff jumped on the appetiser station while Daisy rushed, calling orders and filling the gaps at the cook stations.

Daisy rushed a plate of pasta to the kitchen window where a waitress stood in the dining area. “Come on guys, I need to see some hustle. We’re two tables behind on two appetisers.”

She hit the bell and said, “Order for table forty-five.”

“Behind,” Jeff yelled and rushed to deliver a salad. “Oh, I forgot the dressing.”

Daisy grabbed the salad, ready to place it on the tray when she looked at it. Jeff hurriedly placed the dressing cup on the plate as Daisy sighed.

“No, no, no Jeff, please, pay attention to the ticket.” She dumped the salad in the garbage. “The ticket calls for one salad without onions--”

“And pepperoncini,” Jeff quickly interrupted before cursing. “Damn. I could have picked them out.”

“Remember, Jeff, always make the ticket as written. We never know if the subtractions or substitutes are preferences or because of allergies. Understand?” Daisy watches Jeff hurriedly remake the salad.

Jeff’s head snapped back, and he stomped his foot like he remembered something. He quickly blurted, “Yes, Chef.”

Daisy returned to making food when she heard Mr. Carda enter the kitchen.

“Daisy, uh, can I speak with you for a moment?” Mr. Carda stood near the door.

“Mr. Carda, would you mind giving me twenty minutes?” Daisy said, walking a plate of lasagna to the window.

Mr. Carda wrung his hands and nodded. He told her, “Well, no.”

“Behind,” Sharon shouted, before glancing back at Daisy. “I’ll take over until you get back.”

Daisy nodded, grabbing a towel and wiping her hands. She walked past the dishwasher as she entered the kitchen with dirty dishes. Daisy stood in the hallway between the dining area and kitchen and looked from Mr. Carda to a well-dressed woman in her forties.

“Ava,” Mr. Carda pointed at Daisy. He cleared his throat. “Do you remember, Daisy? Daisy, this is my daughter.”

Ava’s ruffled blue dress glimmered under the dim hall lighting, and with her hair down and nose stuck in the air, she looked very intimidating.

“It’s nice to meet you again,” Daisy tried to sound like she remembered meeting Ava. She extended her hand.

Ava shifted her Prada purse from one arm to another before crossing her arms over her breasts.

Daisy straightened her chef jacket and forced a smile.

“Ava, Daisy has a son. He’s adorable and has the cutest dimples.” Mr. Carda looked from Ava to Daisy and back again. “We’re a family here.”

Daisy looked at him. She could swear that his expression looked more like he was pleading with Ava. After a long, painful silence, Daisy pointed to the kitchen and excused herself. “We’re short-staffed.”

****

It was a chilly morning in New York. Remnants of snow on the ground had turned black and icy. Daisy gripped Leo’s gloved hand while they walked down the street, rushing to Leo’s school. Today was Tuesday, Daisy’s favourite day of the week. Marcella’s was closed Tuesdays. This meant that Daisy would drop Leo off at school and go to Marcella’s to do some weekly housekeeping like menu changes and taking stock of food items. What made this day her favourite was picking Leo up from school. Emma usually picked him up and stayed with him until Daisy returned.

Today, Daisy would have the pleasure of listening to Leo go on and on about the day’s events in real-time. There was no hearing the stories second-hand from Emma. Sometimes Daisy asks Leo about what happened at school the day before and got disinterested answers or had to play twenty questions. Yes, Daisy loved her career and felt blessed to have it, especially with a boss like Mr. Carda. However, she’d love to enjoy the mundane tasks of picking Leo up from school and reading him bedtime stories.

“Do you want to say the alphabet before we go inside?” Daisy asked as they approached the Federalist-style red brick building on the corner.

“Um, no, I think I got it.” Leo skipped and jumped along and clasped her hand. “Uh, Mommy...”

“Yes, Baby.”

“When I grow up,” Leo paused, stopping to jump over a crack in the sidewalk. He stared up at her before finally finishing his thought. “Will I meet my daddy?”

Daisy’s grin faltered. They stopped in front of the door. She frowned as children and parents approached the school.

“Mommy?”

Oh s**t, what am I supposed to say? Do I lie? If I say yes, I’m setting my son up for disappointment. If I say no, he’ll be devastated.

Daisy bent down to his level. His beautiful, wide eyes looked curious. Daisy kissed his cheek and forced a smile as she made eye contact with him. “Maybe you’ll meet him sooner.”

Leo pursed his lips and looked to the left. After a few minutes, he said, “I think I should practise my ABCs. Daddy might ask if I know them.”

****

Okay, Leo asking about his father is something I’ll think about while doing inventory. How could I be surprised about this? I knew it would be coming. It’s completely normal for a child to ask about their father.

Daisy opened the backdoor of the restaurant, her mind still on Leo and what to tell him about his dad. Suddenly, she came to a halt, backtracking to peak back in the alley. Where’s the delivery truck?

The backdoor slammed behind her. Daisy jumped as she looked from left to right. The kitchen was empty and dark. The dishwasher came in on Tuesdays to help stock the inventory, but she wasn’t here. Their kitchen should be well lit and ready for her to start.

What’s going on?

There was an eerie silence that made Daisy’s breath catch in her throat. Daisy thought about leaving. Maybe she should walk around the front and see if anyone is out there. If the doors were locked, she could always knock.

Suddenly, she heard a noise come from the dining room area. Daisy took a step back. The door opened.

“Daisy?”

Daisy exhaled as she touched her chest. “Mr. Carda, you scared me?”

Mr. Carda stared at the floor. “Let’s sit for a minute, Daisy.”

****

The brightly lit dining area looks old and small. The tables weren’t as shiny, and the red walls weren’t as bright. Daisy sat in a booth and stared to her left at a picture of a younger Mr. Cards and his family proudly standing in front of Marcella’s three decades ago. Daisy clasped her fingers together and moved her hands up and down, stretching her fingers out with a nervous energy.

In the background, Daisy guessed somewhere near the bar, she heard glass hitting wood. About fifteen minutes later, Mr. Carda slid into the booth across from her. He slid a wrapped cheese plate across the empty table.

“I want you to have this. It’s not much,” Mr. Carda cleared his throat. He slid an envelope next to the plate. “This too.”

There was silence.

Mr. Carda pushed the envelope closer to her. He said, “It’s everything and one month more. I’m sorry.”

“Sorry?” Daisy placed her palms flat on the lacquered table.

“Ava was my last hope,” he told her. “I’m getting too old for the day-to-day stuff around here.”

There’s more silence.

She slowly reached for the envelope but didn’t open it. Her mind flashed back to her mom and the moment she left home. She felt a weird sense of freedom and a huge overcast of fear. Is this my last check? This is my last check? This is my last check. Mr. Carda, are you firing me?

Daisy looked at Mr. Carda watching her. She broke the silence and asked, “What are you telling me, Mr. Carda?”

“Restaurants are a young man’s game, Daisy. I’d love to keep this place open, but none of my children want to step up to run it.” He shook his head, his eyes sad. “I’m sorry, Daisy. You deserve better.”

Daisy sat back and stared at the envelope under her right palm. Mr. Carda, you don’t understand. I have a son to raise. This isn’t an economy that will let me find a job tomorrow. Mr. Carda, what are you doing to my life right now? I maybe have a month of funds in the bank, and I have to write Emma a check tonight.

She chewed her bottom lip.

Maybe I can get a loan. I won’t tell Emma. She does too much for me already. If I can get a loan to help me for a few months, then I can...

Daisy leaned forward, her expression brightening as she thought over the plan. “Keep Marcella’s open, Mr. Carda. I’ll buy it. My credit is good and—”

“It’s a family business, Daisy. Marcella was my grandmother’s name. These are her recipes. My grandfather opened this restaurant in her honour.” He shook his head with a grimace. “Thank you so much for going to culinary school in the day and working here at night. You’re trained in fine cuisine; you can go anywhere with your skill set.”

“Mr. Carda—”

He pushed the plate toward her, silencing her with the scratch of ceramic on wood. He forced a smile, gesturing to the food below him. “I made this dish myself.”

****

Tears stung Daisy’s eyes as the frigid wind slapped her face. She stood outside Leo’s school fighting the tears that threatened to spill. Daisy paced up and down the sidewalk, hoping to stop the tears. It’s been three hours since her meeting with Mr. Carda. Daisy gave herself an hour to cry. It was New York. No one looked at her twice while she cried at the train station.

Daisy’s phone rang. It was Jeff.

“Hey,” she answered, voice quivered. “I should have called you. It’s just been a long day.”

“We know. Well, I knew before I saw the notice on the front door this morning.” Jeff quickly added, “I had a feeling. But I’m calling to thank you because I know with all the training you gave me, I’ll get a good job somewhere soon.”

Daisy removed her right glove to wipe the tears from her face. “Oh Jeff, I’m so sorry. I wish I’d known. It’s not fair to you to be hired and laid off within two months.”

“Don’t sweat it, Chef. I started saving money the first week I was there.” Jeff chuckled, “I guess finally listening to my mother’s nagging paid off.”

She nodded and tried to smile.

“I called to see if I could use you as a reference,” Jeff asked

“Yes, yes, of course you can.” Her shoulders sagged. “You have great culinary talent.”

Daisy listened to Jeff’s kind goodbye before ending the call. She immediately called Sharon.

“Hi, Sharon—” Daisy listened to Sharon’s voicemail recording and frowned. Once she heard the beep, Daisy restarted. “Sharon, this is Daisy. I spoke to Mr. Carda, and he said he’d give you the news in person. I’m so sorry. Well, if you need a reference, put my name down because I’m happy to help you find another job.”

****

Daisy calmed down slightly while helping Leo with his homework. She kept busy that afternoon, cooking dinner, watching television, and finally tucking Leo in with a bedtime story. He wants Daisy to read two books about funny vampires.

At midnight, she double checked Leo’s room to make sure he was still sleeping. Then, she sat on the couch, crossed her arms, and let the tears slide down her cheeks.

Daisy took a deep breath. She was tired of the tears. She’d faced worse than this. Her world turned upside down and sideways when she learned of James cheating. Of course, her pregnancy didn’t make things right.

Click.

The bright light from the hallway spilled into the darkened living room. Daisy hurriedly wiped her face as Emma walked to the bathroom. The bathroom door opened but didn’t shut. Daisy bowed her head.

“What are you doing sitting in the dark?”

Daisy looked to her right to see Emma in the doorway.

“I thought you went to the bathroom.”

“I was, but I thought I saw you in here.” Emma settled down on the love seat. “You’re not thinking about James, are you? Oh, wait, did Leo ask you about his dad? He asked me, but I figured you already had a plan, so I brushed him off.”

Daisy covered her eyes when Emma turned on the table lamp.

“You’re crying. Why?”

Daisy covered her face for a moment as she tried to say the words without weeping. What am I going to do? What am I going to do? This is New York, the city that never sleeps and has a million people trying to become executive chefs and open new restaurants. I don’t want to do the latter. Why am I thinking about cooking? I need to take the first job I can get until I figure things out. Leo...

“Well?” Emma prodded.

“Do you know anyone looking for a chef or a cook?” Daisy shrugged. “I’ll sweep floors or wash dishes. I don’t care.”

Emma sat on the couch next to her, crossed-legged and confused.

Daisy quickly told her, “The check I gave you last week for rent is good. I have enough for next month, too.”

Emma waved her left hand and looked disgusted. “You know I don’t care about the money, and my parents don’t either. What’s wrong with the restaurant?”

“Mr. Carda closed the restaurant today. He didn’t let us know until we were already out of a job.” Daisy shook her head as she ignored the anger bubbling inside her. “He could have told us he was considering closing; any type of notice would have been better.”

Emma crossed her arms over her chest and looked deep in thought. “I could see if Dad would buy him out and keep the place open. I mean he’d just write it off as an investment like a lot of his businesses.”

Daisy shook her head. “He’s not selling. It’s a family business.”

There was a notable pause, and she could see the gears turning in Emma’s brain.

“Before you start thinking about moving to New Jersey and finding a new career, let me see if I know anyone looking for a chef.”

Daisy nodded. The hopelessness felt stronger. Emma had helped her get out of a lot of trouble, but this time, Daisy was positive Emma couldn’t help.

****

Daisy heard a bustling kitchen in the distance. Her nerves were on edge, and she needed to stretch to relieve the tension. I need this job so much. I know I’m qualified. Please, to anyone listening to this prayer, give me this job. Daisy tugged at the lapels of her suit jacket.

“Thank you for meeting with me, Ms. Lang. I wanted to squeeze you in today because of your impressive resume.” Mr. Hoff, a middle-aged man dressed in jeans, a dress shirt, and a red tie, flopped down in his chair behind his desk.

Mr. Hoff’s restaurant, Salute, an Italian-Southwest fusion, was in the Tribeca district. To Daisy, Mr. Hoff seemed like a pleasant boss. She liked his background. He started in the industry because, like her, he loved cooking. Daisy frowned. Mr. Carda didn’t have a love for cooking. It was his family business.

Mr. Hoff looked around his messy desk until he found a pen. He looked at Daisy from her resume before he asked, “I know the job opening was for an executive chef, but I just filled that position.”

Daisy shook her head, feeling disappointed.

Mr. Hoff looked up and smiled. “I have another position as his assistant opening up. It’s fewer hours, but because of your experience, I’m willing to pay at least two dollars more. Are you interested?” he offered.

Daisy smiled and nodded. “Yes.”

He leaned back in his chair and grinned. “Good. It’s mainly on call, but I’m thinking about having the assistant work nights and weekends.”

Her shoulders sagged, but she flashed a fake smile. The last thing I want to say is that those hours don’t work for me. Well, Leo will be sleeping nights and I could be with him in the morning. I can do that. I don’t want to, but I can. I’m already asking Emma to do so much.

“That sounds great, Mr. Hoff.”

He slapped his hands on his desk and laughed. “Good. No, great. Let me iron out a few details and get back to you.”

****

The weekend was finally here, and Daisy wasn’t used to having this much time on her hands. She’d cleaned the house twice. Emma threatened to hide all the cleaning supplies if she cleaned today. So, Daisy decided Saturday would be dedicated to bringing two things together: Leo and her love for cooking.

In the pink and yellow decorated kitchen, they stood at the island sink. Leo stood on the step stool, washing his hands.

“Okay, baby, what do you want to make for lunch?” Daisy asked as she handed him a towel to dry his hands.

“Pizza, mommy, of course.”

She chuckled. “Of course. What was I thinking?”

Daisy placed the dough ingredients on the island table. She instructed Leo on which ingredients to place in the mixing bowl.

“This is fun, mommy.” Leo used his hands to mix the ingredients.

“Baby, let’s use the mixer—” Daisy stopped when she heard her phone ring. She hurriedly grabbed it after seeing the name on the caller identification. “Mr. Hoff, how are you?”

“Good. Good. Uh, well,” Mr. Hoff paused, “I could be better. Unfortunately, the job fell through Ms. Lang. I will keep your resume on file and the best to you in the future. Again, I’m sorry.”

Daisy turned to look at Leo and watched him smile back at her. She exhaled before smiling back. Daisy rubbed her forehead and turned away. With her eyes squeezed shut, Daisy bowed her head and cheerfully exclaimed, “Thank you, Mr. Hoff, for the opportunity to meet with you. Have a good day.”