Meat by Opal Carew Page B

distance between them.
    “I’m so sorry,” Gretchen said. “We had an appointment this morning, Chef Rex, and when you weren’t in your office, one of the staff told me they saw you come in here.”
    There was no explaining what Gretchen had just seen. The two of them so close together, clearly locked in an emotional discussion.
    “Should we move our meeting?” Gretchen asked.
    “No,” Rebecca interjected. “I have to get to work, so you two should carry on.”
    Rex sent her a sharp glance. “We’ll continue this conversation before you leave today.”
    Then he turned to Gretchen. As soon as the door closed behind them, Rebecca sank into her chair, and sucked in a deep breath.
    “Hey, want some coffee?”
    Rebecca glanced up to see Diane standing at the door to the office, holding a thermos of coffee and a mug.
    “Oh, that would be great. Thanks.”
    Diane entered and set the coffee on her table, then poured a cup and put it in front of Rebecca on the desk.
    “I saw the chef leave here a few minutes ago. He looked steamed. Is anything going on?”
    Rebecca glanced at her, wondering if she’d heard rumors about her and Rex.
    “Not really. He wants to talk to me about something … probably a new menu. We were interrupted because he had a meeting with Gretchen.”
    Diane sat down in the guest chair. “I doubt he’s spending any time coming up with a new menu for us.”
    Rebecca’s gaze jerked to her friend. “Why do you say that?”
    Diane’s tight-set features sent Rebecca’s anxiety level spiking. Diane pulled a piece of paper from her pocket and unfolded it, then set it on Rebecca’s desk.
    “Because of this.”
    Rebecca glanced at the paper, which seemed to be a report of some kind, with names and lists and …
    Oh, God. It was something Rex had written up. Obviously a work in progress. But in it he had started making recommendations and listing people. It was a rough draft and …
    As her gaze scanned the sheet, it locked on one sentence.
    Her heart crumpled.
    Rex was clearly advising that The Lavender Rose be closed, a recommendation he’d backed up with various figures comparing it with the other restaurants in the hotel.
    She sucked in a deep breath.
    Farther down in the report was a list of valued people. Probably people he felt should be kept on.
    Her name was
not
on the list.
    Everything around her seemed to stop. As if time itself had been suspended.
    “I don’t get why a chef is making recommendations like this,” Diane said, “but I get the feeling Chef Rex isn’t what he seems. That maybe he’s a consultant hired by the new owners.”
    Rebecca’s gaze shot to Diane, but she said nothing.
    “Can you talk to someone?” Diane asked. “Surely Benjamin could do something?”
    Rebecca shook her head as she gazed at the paper again. “I don’t know.” Then she dragged herself from her daze. “Where did you get this?” she asked.
    “I found it on the floor. It must have slipped out of Chef Rex’s folder.” Diane bit her lip. “But if you show it to anyone, please don’t tell them it was me who gave it to you. I don’t want to get in trouble. I should have just returned it to him, but”—she pursed her lips—“I’m sort of afraid of that guy.”
    Rebecca nodded. “I’ll take care of it.”
    Rex walked through the kitchen, hands linked behind his back, checking what each of the staff were doing. Some glanced nervously as he walked by, but he gave everyone nods of approval. They were all doing fine.
    As he approached some staff members who were slicing vegetables for salad, he noticed Rebecca enter the kitchen.
    “Chef Rex. May I have a word with you, please?” she asked, her tone very businesslike.
    “Of course.” He moved toward her.
    He was pleased she’d come to him rather than him having to chase her down again, but that pleasure faded when he noted the distress, tinged with anger, in her brown eyes.
    When he was a few steps away, she turned and walked toward