Chapter Text
2026
When your dear friend Mia called you while out on an errand, sounding urgent as she asked you to help her with her coffee shop’s booth at the weekend market in your little town, you agreed half heartedly. Only because it would take up a good chunk of your Saturday and also because you had zero knowledge about coffee, the beans, the roast and whatever it was that made coffee…coffee.
To you, it was just something you drank to stay awake. It was either that or some sugary, caffeinated energy drink. The former seemed like the healthier option.
But she was your friend and it wasn’t her fault that her staff had a medical emergency. You had also recently taken up residency in her guest room, but that was not the point.
“It’s gonna be so much fun!” Mia said, taking the containers from you and arranging them at the booth. “Are there any more stuff in the car?”
“Just another couple of boxes of paper cups, the trolley wouldn’t fit them.” You shrugged. One would have thought that Mia was preparing to cater to a wedding with all the paper cups she brought. “I’ll be right back with them.”
“I think we’re good for now, but maybe just one more box.” She patted your back, “go get some breakfast while you’re at it. Just be back here by opening. Get me a snack, too!”
You gave her a thumbs up and turned to leave, pausing when Mia called out for you.
“Don’t you need the trolley?”
“Nah, it’s fine.” You waved her off, “I can handle paper cups. It’s all that,” You pointed at the coffee machine and bags of coffee beans that were already set up on the booth. “that I cannot handle. Those are heavy.”
Mia cast you a toothy grin and shooed you off. You were a few steps away when your phone buzzed, an incoming notification from the bank. You narrowed your eyes at the message and turned back to glare at Mia.
“What is this for?” You asked, holding up your phone.
“For breakfast! My treat!”
You wanted to argue but she waggled her finger at you, dismissing whatever it was you were about to say.
“Let me buy you breakfast, you stubborn ass woman!”
“Alright! Alright!” You chuckled. You already turned down her offer — multiple times actually — to pay you for your help this weekend. If this could help Mia feel a little better about taking up your time, then why not. “Thanks in advance!”
You stuffed your phone back into your jacket pocket and slowly made your way to the food section of the market, conveniently located at the next aisle. Thank goodness because hauling everything from the car and unpacking them made you hungry.
The market was held in an open field where multiple large canopy tents had been permanently erected for the weekend market. The hustle and bustle had already begun even though it was not officially opening hours yet. Booths were being set up, the food trucks were already in place and ready for business, selling food to their fellow vendors who came early for the set up.
You helped yourself and ordered a cheese and ham toastie from a food truck you were familiar with, together with a fruit cup and a tuna melt for Mia. The vendor greeted you with a nod and packed up your order swiftly, thanking you when he heard the beep from the cash register signalling that your payment had gone through.
You glanced at your watch, it was almost opening hours. Best be on your way back to Mia. You unwrapped your toastie and took a bite as you walked, Mia’s breakfast swaying in the takeout bag. You took in the market. It has been a while since you visited. There was something heartwarming about being back here again and having people greet you. It was like you never left.
The faint scent of roses wafted under your nose, a wonder that you even picked out the scent when you were stuffing your face with cheese and ham. You looked up from your breakfast, your eyes squinting as your gaze darted across the market.
“What was that?”
You were left alone to man the booth while Mia went for a little break during mid-morning. She had shown you how to work the coffee machine earlier and the recipes for the drinks — a scrawl of ingredients and some vague steps — were taped to the side of the booth for your reference.
Thankfully the customers seemed to understand that you were new at this and hadn’t made a fuss when they had to wait a little longer than necessary for their coffee. And thankfully, no complaints have been received yet.
A rich, feminine laughter in the crowd caught your attention as you were pouring an order into the cup, nearly scalding yourself when you tried to see who it was. You gave the customer a nervous smile, handing the drink to them before waving them goodbye.
You craned your neck to take a look around, huffing when the crowd in the market prevented you from spotting what was happening.
“What are you trying to see?” Mia came back from her break, bumping her shoulders with yours.
“Nothing.” You shook your head, swapping spots with Mia so that she could be front and centre while you tidied up at the back, “thank god you’re back. I don’t know how you guys do this. Also, your handwriting is…something…”
You made a face, gesturing at the note you had been trying to decipher.
“I was almost a doctor so there’s that.” Mia shrugged, donning her apron once more.
You hummed, her explanation somehow made all the sense in the world.
The food and beverage section of the market began to pick up business as the morning progressed. The crowd gradually shifted over from the produce section — families of young and old window shopped for snacks and even lunch. They kept you both plenty busy since Mia’s little coffee shop was a popular spot for the locals.
You felt Mia nudge you with her elbow some time nearing noon. Her brows furrowed as she tried to estimate how many she needed to last the next few hours till it was the market’s closing time.
“Can you get another box of paper cups from the car?”
“Sure, right now?”
She flicked her wrist to readjust her watch face.
“Yeah, you can go for lunch then bring the paper cups on your way back.”
You agreed, you were getting hungry and there was a wurst truck nearby that had been tempting you with its aroma for hours. Odd, you weren’t able to recall if that truck was a regular at the market before you left, but you were definitely going to check it out.
Untying the knot that held your apron together, you folded it up neatly, leaving it on one of the boxes and skipped your way to lunch. You snorted when you read the truck’s name, the words “The Wurst Day Ever” painted on its sides in black and red.
You were about to make your way to the truck when a familiar red head popped out from beyond the counter of the ordering window. You stopped dead in your tracks. What was she doing here?
Oh.
The laughter, the roses.
Oh.
Would they want to meet you after a few years of absence? Would they tell you to get lost? Would they greet you civilly?
There was no time to think of the answers to those questions, you did the best thing anybody in your shoes would do — you did a sharp u-turn and high tailed it back to Mia.
Or so you thought you could get away.
Your hasty exit came to a halt when you collided with another person, effectively creating a scene. You heard the rustle of a paper bag followed by the dull thud of something falling and rolling onto the ground.
“Hey, watch it!”
“Sorry, I wasn’t…” You locked eyes with whoever you collided with and froze. “Looking…”
A familiar pair of hazel eyes stared straight at you, boring deep into your soul. You gulped. The last time you saw them, she had clung onto you, begging you ‘please don’t go’.
“Clearly,” She took one good look at you and rolled your eyes. “Long time no see.”
“Cassandra…”
“Does mama know you’re back?” Cassandra asked as the two of you gathered what she dropped — a bag of potatoes.
“I…I don’t think so” You placed them into the bag. “I just got in a few days ago.”
“Whatever,” She brushed past you once every potato was accounted for, bumping into your shoulder with a little too much force for it to be unintentional.
Mia raised her brow when you returned empty handed.
“What happened to the hotdogs?”
“Uhm…” you scratched the back of your neck. “I saw some familiar faces and bailed.”
“Oh Jesus, you’re hopeless.” Mia rolled her eyes, untying her apron and tossing it to you, “stay here, I’ll go get us those hotdogs.”
You laughed nervously, thanking her. “You’re the best!”
“And you’re the wurst.” she stuck her tongue out at you, laughing at her own pun.
You watched her leave, grateful that she volunteered. You had been curious about the wursts. The smoked, cured meats smelled delicious even from a distance. Expectations were high but now that you knew who were manning the food truck, somehow the bar had been raised. They were, after all, girls you helped raise for a bit.
Cassandra had always said something about following in your footsteps to take up culinary arts, having constantly hovered around you while you were cooking. You could still recall the look on her face when you presented her with her own apron and a little chef’s hat. She took it upon herself to help you in the kitchen ever since, much to her mother’s surprise.
A food truck was a good place to start for them. Bela always had more interest in the business operations end of things. Something simple like a weekend food truck was good practice to help her learn how to manage a business before eventually taking over her mother’s wine empire.
Daniela? Well, Daniela was mostly there for the vibes. From the looks of it, she was doing a great job as the cashier, no doubt doing her best to charm customers into upgrading their orders.
“She sure is taking a while,” You wondered out loud, craning your neck to spot Mia in the queue. The line at the food truck was sizable. Impressive even.
You laughed when Mia returned with two full sets of wursts, sauerkraut, fries and drinks.
“Dani got you good, huh?”
“Oh yeah she did,” Mia rolled her eyes good naturedly, setting the takeout boxes down on the little picnic table where your earlier sandwiches sat. “That little shit went ‘Aw come on Mia, a little upgrade would be so satisfying!’”
Mia batted her eyelashes dramatically, you could already picture Daniela doing the same. And when you laughed harder, Mia glared at you, crossing her arms.
“Did you teach her that?”
You took a long sip of your drink, wouldn’t deign to look her in the eye.
Mia gave you a shove that almost toppled you off your little chair, catching you by the sleeve before you could actually hit the ground.
An audible groan escaped you when you took your first bite, the meat was juicy and tender, perfectly seasoned. It was good. 10 out of 10 would buy again. You popped another piece into your mouth and sighed.
“That good, huh?” Mia shook her head at your reaction.
“Oh yeah,” You picked up another piece, dipping it into the mustard before holding it up to examine it. “I might be biased, but these are really good!”
“The court finds you guilty of being biased.”
You smiled sheepishly, “Guilty as charged.”
“Do you think you’ll go say hi?” Mia reached over to you and swiped a bit of mustard off your takeout box.
“I don’t know…” You stared at the general direction of their food truck, slowly munching away. “They might not want to see me after all that,”
“What about Alcina?”
“I don’t know about her, either.” You reached for your drink, grimacing when the condensation around the cup dripped onto your pants. “I’ll let you know if it happens.”
Mia shrugged, deciding not to press further about a plan that you so obviously did not have.
You ate in comfortable silence, with the occasional customer walking up and ordering something. Mia was ever ready to take an order while you kept your eyes on any ingredients that were potentially running low.
It was late afternoon when Mia decided to call it a day. The others have begun packing up as well with customers and vendors both gradually emptying the area. Another fruitful day. You were packing up the last of the items from the booth, folding the table and carefully arranging it onto the trolley.
“Okay, now please don’t fall out.” You said a mental prayer as you began to wheel the trolley out from your booth area towards Mia’s car.
You were a few steps away when somebody called out to you from behind.
“You didn’t tell me that you were back,”
You didn’t freeze this time, you were a lot calmer than you thought you would be. Perhaps bumping into Cassandra earlier helped.
With a wry smile, you turned to face her, seeing her in person for the first time in years.
“Hello, Alcina. Long time no see.”
2019
Sweat dripped from your scalp, catching at the bandana you secured under your hat before service started — a tip given to you by your seniors back in culinary school. It will save you a lot of trouble, they said. And they were right, the chef’s hat could only take that much before beads of sweat started to drip down your face.
The clock struck 9:30pm, the moment you had been looking forward to all evening, for the moment when the last orders came in and the kitchen crew would be free to start cleaning up for the day afterwards.
“Another day, another dollar,” your colleague gave you a nudge when he saw you smile as the clock continued to tick. 9:32pm. Nothing still.
Running a towel under the running tap, you wrung it dry to begin wiping down the counter tops of your station. The others have begun as well. Typically you tried your best to clean as you went about during service but sometimes a few stray drops of sauce escaped your initial wipe downs.
The squeaking of the kitchen door brought your attention away from your stoves. The head servers entered the kitchen, her expression grim and that’s when all of you halted your cleaning prep.
“Sorry, Chef Redfield…” she looked at your head chef, “but a lady just came in with her three kids and is asking if it’s still possible to order.”
“It’s past 9:30, we’re done for the day,” one of the boys hollered from the back.
“Come on, guys,” he tried to placate the lot of you. “She’s got kids, let’s do her a solid.”
He laughed when your replies came in a chorus of grumbles. He turned to the head server, who had been awkwardly rocking on the balls of her feet the entire time, “Let her know we can only do pastas now, those are quick.”
She nodded and left the kitchen. You tried not to make a face, you were in charge of the pasta station. There went your hopes of getting home before eleven.
“Aaw come on, stop it with the face.” He came over and patted your back heavily, taking the wind from your breath. “One day you’ll be thankful you stayed back to make the lady some pasta.”
“Whatever you say, Chris…” you mumbled, clearing your throat as he raised a brow. “I mean, yes chef.”
“That’s more like it.”
He looked up and gave orders to the others to start cleaning up whatever stations that are not involved. Your colleagues cast you a mix of snickers and sympathetic looks. You sighed and went to wait for your last orders.
They had the decency to order some of the simpler pastas at least — a pesto, a classic meatball marinara and a seafood aglio olio. You got to work quickly, eager to get off the clock.
“Don’t rush through them,” Chef Redfield reminded you when he saw the look on your face. “Handle each dish with care.”
With a heavy sigh, you muttered, “Yes, Chef.”
The three pastas were done with as much care as you possibly could and in quick succession, each plated within seconds of the other. You carefully arranged the sprigs that garnished each dish, wiping off any excess sauce that dripped onto the rim of the plates.
They were sent out after Chris gave his approvals, you took off your hat and bandana, giving your forehead a wipe before cleaning up your station.
Now you could finally go home. Tomorrow is another day.
As you were done scrubbing down the countertops, Chris appeared with the three empty plates, loading them into the awaiting dishwasher. He signalled for you to come with him.
“What’s happening?” You whispered as he guided you out into the restaurant, towards the table where a woman and three little girls sat.
“The lady wants to thank you personally.”
“What?” You hissed. This family seemed to be hell bent on keeping you from going home that night.
Chris gripped your shoulder and put on his best customer service smile, introducing you to her.
“This is the chef who made your pastas, ma’am.”
“Ah, so it is,”
You suddenly felt self-conscious as she quietly appraised you, wishing you hadn’t taken off your hat so quickly. Your hat hair must be abysmal at the moment. You tried to pat your hair into place, to be a little more presentable as covertly as possible. She cast a well meaning smile your way.
Mission: failed. So much for being subtle.
“I’ve already told Chef Redfield this but he insisted that I told you,” She graced you with a smile that had you holding your breath. “Compliments to the chef.”
The appreciation in her eyes and her smile was enough to throw you off. It was far from the snobby woman with three fussy kids you were expecting.
“Girls, say ‘thank you’ to the chef for staying late for us.”
When the girls chorused their thanks, you forgot all about your earlier annoyance of not being able to go home on time. The girls were adorable, their mouths still stained with the remnants of your pasta, beaming up at you. They must’ve enjoyed their dinner.
“All in a day’s work, ma’am” you replied, as sincerely as possible, hoping that none of your earlier sarcasm seeped through.
“Alright, get back to cleaning.” Chris patted your shoulder and you quickly excused yourself from the table.
As you retreated, you could hear her converse with Chris and the few polite, social laughs from them. Whatever went on over there, you did not know nor did you want to know. Your shower and bed were calling you.
Consciousness began to creep in, you groaned at the realisation that your alarm hadn’t gone off yet. If only your younger self could see you now — waking up early before the alarm. She would be horrified to learn that your circadian rhythm had been adjusted to fit the early hours you had during your days as a prep cook. Taking a peek at the time, you buried yourself under the blanket and went back to sleep.
Your phone eventually buzzed on your nightstand, you rolled over to tap the alarm. Bringing your phone under the covers with you, you squinted at the bright screen before adjusting the brightness levels to see if there were any pressing messages to respond to.
None. Thank goodness.
Sighing, you tucked your phone under the pillow and pulled your blankets up to your chin to try and sleep for a little more. There was still time. A little more rest would do you good after getting back late the night before.
The rumbling of your stomach woke you up. You felt about for your phone to look at the time — 8:30am, it had only been half an hour. Annoyed at your body, you hauled yourself up and shuffled to the kitchenette of your tiny studio apartment.
“I forgot to buy some buns yesterday…” You realised when you were staring at the empty fridge.
Contrary to popular belief, chefs do not feed themselves particularly well at home, especially those who lived alone like yourself. You went to wash up a little and changed out of your pajamas and went out to look for breakfast.
The farmers’ market was still bustling when you arrived, god bless. You had already snagged some fruits to-go while you slowly browsed the aisle of produce, greeting the familiar vendors as you passed their booths.
You spotted a woman with a sun hat standing tall, examining and comparing some squash, indecisive about which to purchase. You glanced at the produce in her hands, watched as she put one down to pick up another. Your eyes followed her hands as she continued to select.
And when she eventually settled on one of them, you gave her a small nod, she did choose the better of the two she was considering.
“Did I pick the right one?”
You blinked. Oh, you were caught staring. You let out a nervous laugh, your cheeks colouring slightly.
At least she sounded amused.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to—” You blinked again as your eyes met. “Oh, you’re the lady from last night.”
She chuckled as the gears in your head spin, reflecting perfectly on your expressions. “And you’re my daughters’ new favourite pasta chef.”
“I’m honoured to receive that title,” You joined in on her bit.
“So, I take it as I picked the right squash?”
You gave her a little nod, still embarrassed at being caught staring.
The two of you chatted by the squash booth as she continued surveying the spread, eventually moving along once her purchase was completed. You learned her name, Alcina Dimitrescu, liking the way it rolled off her tongue. There was something familiar about her last name that your uncaffeinated mind could not recall.
You were half way through telling her about a squash soup recipe when you recalled her name. She chuckled at your reaction.
“We have some of your wines in the restaurant I think,” You tried to save the conversation. You knew not what happened in the beverage section of the restaurant but you did help them receive some of their deliveries from time to time.
“Yes, Chef Redfield mentioned last night.”
You excused yourself for a moment as your regular ham and cheese toastie food truck came into your peripheral vision. Could you have made it at home if you had bread? Yes, absolutely. But has it ever stopped you from buying one? Never.
Alcina waved you off, chuckling when you jogged towards it with a spring in your steps. She seemed pleasantly surprised when you returned moments later munching away on your toastie with two iced coffees in hand.
“Thank you for the coffee.” She hummed as she took a sip, appreciating the aroma of the roasted beans, “I should be buying you coffee for having to stay late last night.”
You shrugged, taking another bite of your toastie, gesturing to her to continue shopping.
“It happens and honestly? Getting called fav pasta chefs makes it worth it.”
She stopped by another booth, asking for your opinions on which to pick and kid-friendly recipes to recommend. You went along with her as she strolled down aisle upon aisle of produce, happily offering your insights and even telling a few stories about the fussy kids you had had to serve in the past, not realising that it was already late morning and you had actually wanted to nap a little before having to clock in for your shift.
“Where are my manners? Am I taking up your time?” Alcina asked when you reached the end of the farmers’ market.
“Not really,” you glanced at your watch, “I’m not needed at the restaurant for a bit more. But I think I should get going,”
“Alright, thank you for accompanying me,” she rested her hand on your forearm. You followed the path from her arm to meet her gaze. There was that smile again. “And for the recipes,”
“It’s nothing,” you laughed — nervously. Odd? “Those are just some recipes I learned from here and there.”
You bid her goodbye and other pleasantries, bewildered when she said that she would see you soon. Another visit to the restaurant perhaps? You would have to stick around and find out.