The Directions

Diyaris Fernandez looked up at the digital clock on the wall. 12:28 PM. She lifted her left forearm and confirmed it with her watch. Her focus returned to the kitchen. The island layout gave her an easy view of the process as she started to walk from the left side against the wall, from the entrance toward the exit. On her right, Bryson and Pamela were focused on their task at the cleaning stations. Bryson was washing and Pamela was drying, and Phillip had just arrived to carry clean utensils back to their stations as Jerrod brought another load that needed to be cleaned. In the middle, Douglas, Byron, Christina, Naomi, and Patricia were cooking and assembling orders in their responsible areas, with Rachel, Diana, and Ryan standing by ready to give each dish a final inspection before passing it out to the waiting servers. She stopped as she came near the exit door into the dining room. Her gaze reached the food preparation area around the corner of the service bar. She was able to make out the silhouettes of Jenna, Christina, Marty, and David as they printed out and read the order tickets, gathered the needed ingredients from storage and prepared each order for cooking. Every person was focused on their task at hand and communicated clearly with one another as the lunch service continued. 

Diyaris Fernandez nodded her head as she watched each member of her restaurant’s kitchen staff excel in their roles. Everyone was doing what they were supposed to do, when they were supposed to and how they were supposed to. Except one person. He walked into view between the staff members in the food preparation area. He was a towering man, and his impressive belly indicated he was someone who enjoyed his cuisine. His black button-down long sleeve shirt stretched over the front of his khaki pants and the brown belt he’d used to secure them looked like it had almost had enough. He continued to watch the staff around him until he was clear of them, then pulled a stack of papers under his right arm and made a few notes. When he was done, he pulled out what looked to be a freezer bag from under his left arm and put it on the stack of papers. He walked towards Diyaris a moment later and nodded just before he reached her. She returned the gesture. 

“I’ll be out in the dining room when you’re ready,” he said in a deep, scratchy voice.

               “I’ll meet you when we settle down,” she replied. 

               The man walked out of the kitchen, and she returned her attention to it. 

               Forty-five minutes later, Diyaris walked out of the kitchen and into the dining room. She grabbed the towel hanging on her left shoulder with her right hand and her black rimmed glasses with her left. She wiped off her face then replaced both the towel and glasses before she looked for the man. She spotted him a long minute later sitting at a table near the entrance. He was scribbling on the stack of papers in front of him. She walked up to the table and pulled out one of its three remaining chairs and took a seat across from him.

               Walt Devers health inspector badge sat beside the stack of papers he was finishing up. Diyaris hadn’t spent much time with him yet, but one of the hostesses filled her in after he’d left the kitchen. He had apparently been a health inspector for almost three years, but not in this area. He had moved recently with his wife for her latest promotion in the Air Force. Once Walt was done with the papers, he took the time to neatly stack them in front of him before he looked across the table. 

               “I heard about this steakhouse even before I moved here,” he said.

               “And?” She asked.

               Walt stared at her for a minute before he smiled. “This is a wonderful place, one of the best I’ve ever been to. And one of the cleanest, you had a great inspection. I only found one,” his gaze flipped down to his papers then back up, “maybe two issues.”

               “I appreciate the compliments, but two issues are two too many.”

               “Ha, well played,” Walt said as he turned the stack of papers around to Diyaris and pushed them toward her. “First, there was a little bit of food debris on the base of one of the kitchen sinks. It’s nowhere near the prep surfaces but must be addressed.”

               “I’ll have them all cleaned right away. And the second?”

               “I don’t think it’s a violation, but it’s a foreign object. And I’m honestly not sure what it’s supposed to be.”

               “Foreign object? Like what?”

               “This,” Walt said as he lifted his immense left elbow and handed Diyaris the plastic bag she’d seen earlier with his right hand.  “I found it in the walk-in freezer.”

               “Ok,” Diyaris said as she took the bag from him. Just then, one of the servers, Chris, happened to walk by their table. Diyaris waved him over. 

“Chris, I need you to do something for me.”

               “Yes, ma’am?” The stocky young man stopped and asked. 

               “Please go tell one of the cooks to clean the sinks in the kitchen. The health inspector found some debris on one and they need to be spotless.”

               “Done,” Chris said and immediately headed towards the kitchen.

               “Thanks.” Diyaris turned her attention back to the bag. 

               “I can say it’s something that I haven’t seen before, so I really wasn’t sure how to address it.”

               “Where’ did you find this?” Diyaris asked as she turned her gaze from the bag back to Walt.

               “On the bottom of one the cookie dough boxes. I saw it after I checked it and was about to put it back. At first, I thought it was a packing slip.”

               She looked back down at the paper and smiled. “That’s where she put it. But how did she even reach it?”

               “Where who put what?”

“A map.”

“Map to where?”

“Our deceased owner’s home,” she mumbled.

“Pardon?”

               Diyaris looked at Walt and straightened up. “Our deceased owner’s home,” she clearly said this time.

               “Why would that be around the cookie dough?”

               “His wife, Corina, likes to come by the restaurant sometimes and make sure that Patrick’s passion is being maintained. They built this business together, and this was the place where she perfected our famous cookie dough chocolate cheesecake. She won quite a few awards for it and even made her way into a few prominent food magazines before she sold the rights to the recipe.”

               “That’s impressive. How do you know she drew that map?”

               “That’s her handwriting on it.”

               “Why would she make that?”

               “Up until last month, she drove herself around because she didn’t like anyone to think she wasn’t capable. She only lives about five miles away, so she figured it wasn’t a big deal.”

               “Until it was.”

               Diyaris nodded. “She had drawn herself a map when she’d came in here before. I’d seen her with something like this but didn’t say anything. Last time, she misplaced it.” 

“What happened?”

“Her daughter, son-in-law, and their three grandchildren moved back to the area to be closer to her. It was the middle child’s fourth birthday, and she’d never had her grandmother’s cheesecake. Her mother said it had too much sugar in it and didn’t want to have to deal with her daughter’s sugar crash until she was ready.”

“So, this time she made it for her.”

“Yeah. They all came in here and ate together. After a few hours, the daughter and her family went back home but Corina decided to stick around. She likes to keep up with the staff, even though she really can’t remember their names and needs help getting around from time to time. She hasn’t fallen yet, but she’s came close a time or two.”

“Then what?”

“After discussing pleasantries with the staff, and begging me to stop working so hard, she decided she wanted to go home and watch some football,” Diyaris said with a smile. “Which is her code word for taking a long nap.” 

               They both laughed. 

               “Just like my old man,” Walt said. “Did she make it home alright?”

               Diyaris sighed. “No.”

               “No?” 

“She called the restaurant about an hour after she left crying. Said she didn’t know where she was, and she was scared.”

               “Why did she call the restaurant? Why not just call her daughter?”

               “Because she didn’t want to be a burden. And she has the restaurant’s phone number programmed in her phone as home.”

               “Did she manage to get home safely?”

               “Yeah. Chris, who stopped by a minute ago, was able to have her give him a description of where she was. He had a friend drive by and take him out to find her.”

               “Where was she?”

               “About ten miles up the road.”

               Walt shook his head. “Thank goodness she’s ok. How did she accidentally put this map in the cookie dough? And why is it in a freezer bag?”

               “I figure she had one of the staff members get a box down for her and it stuck to it. I guess she put in a freezer bag to make sure the directions didn’t get stained from any thawing water.”

               Walt nodded. “My mom did the same kind of stuff before she passed about a year back. She put a stuffed cat she’d had delivered in a room and shut the door so it wouldn’t escape.”

               “Really?”

“Yeah. Alzheimer's runs on both sides of my family. Since mom passed away, dad’s been doing similar things. He doesn’t try to give things back though. He just misplaces them.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Me too.”

“The sinks are being cleaned, ma’am,” Chris said as he approached the table. “Do either of you need something to drink?”

Walt rubbed his eyes. “No, thank you. Looks like I better get going,” he said as he looked down at his watch before he stood up, picked up his badge with his left hand, and extended his right.

Diyaris followed his lead, and they shook hands. “Thank you, Walt.”

“Great job,” he said. “I look forward to next time.”

“Me too.”

Walt smiled before he turned and walked out of the steakhouse.