On the drive to work, she even rolled down her window and sang along to the music without worrying whether any passing drivers would laugh at her. The traffic gods had smiled upon her today. There were no accidents or traffic jams and she hit every green light between home and Basecamp.
She strode through the restaurant with an air of confidence she didn’t realize she possessed. She was going to try again to speak to Joe. She’d even come up with an idea on how to improve the meatloaf recipe without ditching it completely if he was too afraid to make a drastic change, although she truly felt that a drastic change was what Basecamp needed to survive. She’d heard enough customer feedback and listened to Joe’s complaints about profit and losses to know that much.
“Hey, Libbie,” Luis greeted her.
“How are you today, Luis? Is Joe around?” she asked.
“Not yet.”
Libbie set aside her disappointment and got to work. She decided to make one of her own recipes before the kitchen got too busy, so that Joe could sample it for himself and decide. She figured he’d be more receptive to actions than words.
By the time business picked up, Libbie had managed to finish her spin on meatloaf and kept it warm for whenever Joe decided to grace them with his presence. She brightened when he finally entered the kitchen on the way to his office.
“Joe, do you have a minute?”
He halted to look at her. “What’s up? You’re not going to ask for another day off, are you? Because I don’t have time to fiddle with the schedule.”
“No, I’d like you to try something.” She grabbed a pot holder and removed the dish from the warming drawer. “I’ve been working on some new recipes that I think would be great additions to the menu.”
His gaze darted to the dish in her hand. “What is that?”
“It’s a new take on classic meatloaf. I thought it might be nice to shake things up a little. Excite the customers’ palettes.” She set the plate on the counter between them. “Try it and let me know what you think.”
Joe didn’t move for a fork. In fact, he didn’t move at all. “What’s wrong with classic meatloaf?”
At this point, Luis and the dishwasher took the opportunity to slide out of Joe’s view.
Libbie stood her ground, determined to get through her pitch this time. “Nothing’s wrong with it. It’s just that I have a lot of exciting ideas for the menu, and I think it would be a nice change to stretch our limits a little. See what the customers think, but first I’d like to know what you think.” She nodded to the meatloaf, which looked pretty damn good from where she stood.
Joe folded his arms and pinned her with a menacing look. “Listen up, buttercup. I’m the king of this castle, you get me? If I tell the serving wenches to deliver ale, they deliver ale. If I tell the kitchen wench to make my meatloaf my way, she makes a goddamn meatloaf my way, and she doesn’t say boo about it.” He shook a chubby finger at her. “Seen not heard, remember that.”
Libbie didn’t hesitate. Maybe Joe was afraid to make a drastic change, but she wasn’t. Not anymore. “I’m nobody’s wench.” She removed her apron and tossed it at her boss. “I’m done.”
“You’re not done,” Joe said. “I own this place, and I say when you can leave.”
“You own this place, but you don’t own me. I quit.”
Joe gaped at her. “You can’t quit.”
“Of course I can. I just did.”
He glowered at her from beneath his prominent brow. “When you finish your shift, then I’ll fire you. In the meantime, put your apron back on. There are customers out there waiting for their food.”
“Then I guess you’d better figure out how to make it because I’m no longer employed here.” Libbie walked straight out the kitchen door that emptied into the parking lot and up to her car, her legs moving with long, confident strides. When she opened the door and slid behind the wheel, she expected her hands to be shaking, but they weren’t. They were perfectly still. Libbie was in control of her body. Of her life.
She sat in the car and replied to Chris’s earlier text. Not a mood swing. A mood makeover. Btw, quit my job. See you at home.
Smiling, she started the car and drove away, leaving Basecamp behind.
Chapter Seven
Libbie stopped by Kate’s on the way home, desperate to share the news with her best friend. She barely made it through the door before the words came tumbling out. By the time they reached the kitchen, Libbie had finished. It was only then that Libbie noticed Kate’s perfectly styled hair and makeup.
“I didn’t interrupt a recording, did I?” she asked, not that there was anything she could do about it now.
“No, it’s fine. I’d just finished.”
Libbie stood on Kate’s brick patio with a glass of unsweetened iced tea and admired the view of the lake. It didn’t matter how many times she’d been here over the years, she always stopped to appreciate the unique vantage point. Kate’s house was nestled on an inlet between two of the lake’s ‘clover leaf’ formations, so she had a more expansive view than most.
Libbie drew a long breath to make up for the breaths she’d failed to take while speed-talking her way through the story. “Sorry, I know I should’ve texted first. I was just so amped up.”
“That’s understandable. I mean, it’s a big deal. You’ve worked there for years.”
“I know, right? How many years have I wasted on Joe? On Chris?” Libbie had spent years trying to make herself count. To be seen and heard. No more.
Kate leaned her elbows on the island. “I don’t mean to burst your bubble, but I’ll ask you what I ask all my clients when they want to make a life change—how are you going to pay bills? Insurance?”
“The kids and I are still covered by Nick’s insurance,” she said. That was one good thing her lawyer had insisted on during the divorce proceedings. “I’ve been making regular deposits into savings. It’s not a lot, but it should be enough to get me through the summer while I get set up.”
“Set up? You sound like you already have something in mind.”
Libbie squared her shoulders. “I do. I thought of it on the drive home. I’ve been wanting to create my own dishes for ages, right?”
Kate nodded. “You must have an infinite number of menus by now.”
“Right, so I’ll start my own catering business. You know how busy summers are at the lake. Families don’t want to cook. They’re here to relax and enjoy their time together. I can help them with that.”
Kate studied her. “Is this because of Inga’s death? Are you having some kind of midlife crisis?”
“No, why would you even suggest that?”
“I don’t know. You’re fighting with Chris. You quit your job. What’s next—a sports car?”
“I don’t know what’s next.” Libbie flung out her arms. “Isn’t that exciting? I don’t know what’s next, and I’m not panicking! I’ll try the catering thing and see what happens. If it fails, I’ll figure out something else.”