POTHOLE DINNER

It was another bustling, brisk Manhattan morning. The sun was shining brightly, but its limited warmth was unable to penetrate the shadows thrown by the high rises lining the streets. Sarah shivered as a gust of wind swept down the street and she pulled her scarf closer around her neck. She loved fall in Manhattan but was not a fan of the frigid wind that often accompanied it. She stopped outside the doors of her office building and pulled her shoulder bag around so she could reach inside. She pulled out a simple pair of brown heels and quickly traded them for the Uggs she was currently wearing. Stuffing the Uggs into her bag, she gratefully pulled opened one of the heavy glass doors to the office building and drank in the warmth.

“Good morning, Carl,” she said as she greeted the burly security guard at the front desk.

The guard hardly even looked up at her from his desk and gave her an uninterested nod. She sighed, unsurprised at his reaction, and continued to the elevator. Ascending to the 8^th floor, she exited the elevator and walked through another set of glass doors into the office where she worked as a secretary for the CEO.

“There you are!” exclaimed her boss, Robert Hescham, suddenly appearing in the lobby with a young bespectacled man and middle-aged woman behind him. “We need to leave now!”

“Now? Mr. Hescham, we weren’t scheduled to leave until 10:00. It’s barely 8:00,” Sarah replied, feeling bewildered. After all, she was the one who had scheduled their departure.

“I changed the time. I want us there early. You, Joseph, and Elaine are coming with me now.”

Without waiting for a reply, he shoved his briefcase at Sarah and strode out the doors with Joseph and Elaine scurrying behind him. Sighing in defeat, Sarah adjusted the strap of her bag on her shoulder, gripped the heavy, Italian leather briefcase in one hand and followed them back to the elevator. The elevator was packed, and she was barely able to squeeze in between Elaine and Joseph, who were busy having a conversation and continued to talk around her as if she were not there.

Sarah was so accustomed to this treatment, of people ignoring her presence, that it did not even phase her. The only time anyone ever acknowledged her was when something went wrong and they needed someone to blame. Even Mr. Hescham, whom she saw and interacted with daily, barely seemed to see her until he required her to do something for him.   

The elevator dinged as it arrived once more on the ground floor and the doors opened to spew out its human contents. Mr. Hescham shoved past Sarah, not looking twice at the slight brunette whom he practically knocked over. Try as she might, she could not keep from bumping into Elaine, who scowled at her with disgust as she swept past, stiletto heels clicking on the highly polished floor.  

Taking a deep breath, Sarah regained her footing and followed the glaring Elaine out of the elevator and back into the biting wind.

A shiny black limousine waited at the curb, a uniformed driver holding open the rear door for their party. Mr. Hescham climbed in first, followed by Elaine and Joseph. Sarah brought up the rear and slid onto the leather seat, huddling close to the door and trying to be as inconspicuous and unobtrusive as possible. The other three occupants struck up a business conversation, making no effort to include Sarah, as they wound their way through the financial district and up to the Lincoln Tunnel.

Finally leaving the traffic of the island behind, they continued into Connecticut for the top executive day retreat Sarah had spent the past 3 months planning. Sarah sat silently, trying not to think about the many things that could go wrong despite all her hard preparation, but it was hard not to stress with Mr. Hescham only a few feet away, ready to pounce at any sign of a mistake.

After what felt like an eternity, they exited the main highway and drove down a single lane road, full of potholes.

“Where are we?” Elaine demanded shrilly, as she bounced on the seat, “This road is terrible.”

“Obviously, the kind of roads we would have to drive were not taken into account,” Mr. Hescham scowled in displeasure at Sarah, blue eyes flashing angrily.  

Sarah cringed as they hit another huge pothole. “We are almost there, Sir. I promise it will be worth it.”

“It had better be. And it had better not ruin my limo.”

With that, he turned back to Elaine.

After several more agonizing potholes, the limo pulled up to an enormous picturesque cabin. Huge pine trees towered over the three-story roof casting their shadows across the yard. The driver stopped the car and as soon as he opened the door, Sarah gratefully scrambled out.

She waited until Mr. Hescham, Elaine and Joseph had climbed out of the car before she gestured toward the front porch.

“This way, Sir,” she said.   

She led them up the broad wooden steps and into a huge living room with a roaring fire encompassed by a massive stone fireplace to greet them.

“If you will just have a seat, I will go talk to the kitchen and have them prepare some refreshment for you,” Sarah said.

Mr. Hescham seated himself in one of the huge leather chairs near the fire and crossed his legs. “Briefcase?” he asked.

“Right here, Sir,” Sarah said placing his briefcase on his lap.

Elaine and Joseph sat down across from him on a long leather sofa and almost instantly, all three of them were on their phones and laptops.

Rolling her eyes, Sarah went to the kitchen to talk to the catering staff. As soon as she entered the kitchen through the swinging door, she could feel the tension. Her heart instantly began to pound anxiously. Two chefs were talking and gesturing animatedly to each other and several others were darting pointlessly around the kitchen.

“Excuse me?” Sarah said. As usual, no one even acknowledged her.

“Excuse me!” she yelled it this time and suddenly the commotion ceased.

“Who are you?” the big man on the right demanded.

“Sarah Desmond. I am here with your clients. Mr. Hescham’s party?”

Instantly, their attitude toward her changed. “Ah, Ms. Desmond. Uh, you’re here early. We weren’t expecting your party for another hour at least.”

“Is that a problem?” Sarah asked.

“No, no, of course not. It’s just that…” He glanced at the blond woman beside him.

“Just that what?”

“We are having a tiny delay.”

Sarah’s heart beat faster. “What kind of delay?”

“We have most of the food for the menu, but our head chef is stuck on the side of the road with the steaks and the rest of the staff. They hit a huge pothole and went off the road. We don’t know when they will make it here.”

“Are you telling me you can’t make the menu we agreed upon?” Sarah asked, trying to remain calm.

“No,” the blonde woman replied, “I suggested we reorganize the menu and work with what we have, so we have something to serve, but Tony here just wants to tell you we can’t do it at all.”

“Look, my boss is not the type of man to not receive a service he paid for. He paid for a three-course meal for twelve and we have to give it to him.”

“Without a main protein?” asked the blonde woman.

“Yes, we will just have to recreate the menu.”

“We?” Tony asked skeptically.

Sarah nodded, feeling both excited and nervous. “Show me what you have.”      

Two hours later, Sarah watched from the edge of the dining room with bated breath as the wait staff served the appetizers to the twelve executives around the huge reclaimed wood table. Mr. Hescham inspected his plate with great interest before he took his first bite.

“Who made this?” Mr. Hescham asked, turning to the nearest waiter.

“I did, Sir,” Sarah replied hesitantly, stepping forward and waiting for the scathing critique.

Elaine let out a laugh of disbelief. “You?”

Several others around the table chuckled at the thought of this young, plain, simply dressed secretary creating the amazing dish before them.

Sarah clenched her jaw. Of course, they would not believe her. Why would they? Not one of them had paid the slightest attention to her since the day she started. They could not possibly believe someone of her position capable of anything praise-worthy.

Mr. Hescham cleared his throat and the laughing stopped. He looked up at her, as though seeing Sarah for the first time. “Why have you been working all this time as my secretary when you can cook like this?”  

“I couldn’t find a job as a chef after culinary school, so I had to try something else to pay the bills,” Sarah replied, unsure what to make of his reaction.

“Well,” Mr. Hescham replied, “You have a job now. I’m hiring you as my personal chef.”

Sarah stared at him in astonishment.  “Are you serious?” she asked.   

“Just name your price.”

A satisfied grin spread across Sarah's face at the looks of astonishment on the faces around her.  Vindication is truly sweet. She thought. Thank you, potholes!