Marlow's Place

Harrison, a world-renowned chef from Savannah, Georgia, loves cooking for large groups of people. He is a hopeful romantic, full of enthusiasm and passion about food. When people met him, it was obvious that he had seen a lot in his lifetime. There were rumors and jokes made at his expense about what happened to the old man, but the truth had never been told.

A new sous chef came into Marlow’s Place, bursting with joy to begin her new career working alongside Chef Clarke. He appreciated Katy’s wealth of knowledge, and how she sprung new ideas upon him. The old man could be taught new tricks, after all. He gave her a blank recipe book for Christmas and welcomed her new recipes and ideas. She was a great addition to the restaurant he named in his wife’s honor, and the customers loved the menu changes.

On a day like today, she took it upon herself to ask the old man every question that came to mind during their lunch break. She was curious about the lonely chef and wanted to know if someone loved him. Katy said,

“Thanks for the help during lunch rush, Chef.”

She tossed her spatula into the dish water, heading over to Harrison with a bowl of Tuscan soup.

“I have always wanted to ask you if have any kids, or if there is a Misses Clarke.”

The old man took a hard pause, and gave her a crooked smile.

“Is everything okay, Chef?”

“Yes. No worries. I’m just an old man is all, never had any kids. To your question about Misses Clarke, my dear Marlow is no longer with us. I have never told anyone about her, because no one has ever asked. So, I was a bit startled by your question.”

She could see the skin tightening around his eyes, as if he was about to cry. In an attempt to take back whatever wrong she had done by asking the question, she said,

“Well, I am sure she was a lovely lady. Let us return to prepping the Chicken Vesuvio.”

“It’s okay, Katy. It’s about time I told someone about her. She was the love I never had, until I had her. Take a seat. Be cautioned, our story is like none other.”

“Well, tell me all about her. I bet she had really great taste in food, like you do.”

He looked back at the broom closet in the kitchen’s corner and began to tell her Marlow’s story.

“I met Marlow at a party that was being hosted by a local singer named Guru Hicks.”

“Really? I love Guru Hicks! They have that one song about pineapples at Tybee.”

The old man giggled, “Yep. You got it. They had a few parties at Tybee back in the day, and I was a sous chef, just like you. At the end of our shift, we shut down the kitchen to return tomorrow for clean-up. I managed to step out on the balcony to rest my tired feet on some expensive lawn furniture, and that’s when I saw her. Marlow was leaning against her car, long braids down her back, dark brown skin that glistened beneath the stars. I thought she was an angel or something magical. I had to meet her, so I ran down to walk her way. Playing it cool, I did not get too close. I did not know if she would speak to me, but it was worth taking a chance.”

Katy leaned in closer to hear the story. Her elbows ached on the hard countertop, but she did not mind.

“So, what did you do next, Chef?”

“I walked past a few palm trees and noticed that she was looking up at the stars. She had been crying, because some loser stood her up on their date. She had driven from Augusta to Savannah, Georgia to see him off for a deployment overseas, but he never showed up. So, I goes,”

Is everything alright, miss?

“She didn’t seem to notice that I was there. Her heart was broken, and the last thing she needed was some guy stalking around. I did not pester her, but continued walking by. That’s when she stopped me and said with sass.”

“No! Everything is not alright. All of y’all got a big scheme or something. You following me around, man? Keep it moving. I’m done with the games brothers play.”

“I was stumped. I did not know what to say to her, but I sure as hell did not want her to clump me in with the pool of other men she had dated. I could tell she had not been treated well by others, so I turned around and told her,

Wait. I’m not here to play games on you. I noticed you were crying and wanted to help, but I will leave you alone, miss. No harm, no foul. I hope whomever you are waiting for shows up.

Harrison straighten his back and grinned underneath his heavy beard, making more wrinkles on his nose and forehead.

 “From then on, I made sure to treat her delicately and to prove myself to her. Every day, I would invite her into the kitchen to learn a few of the recipes that I had learned from momma. She loved to cut little tally marks into the wall there, but we had to remodel.”

The old man looked back at the broom closet in the corner of the kitchen, again. His gaze was locked on it, and the tears he had been holding back were free falling down his wrinkled face. They clung to his mustache, making it wet, and loosening its coils. Katy looked back at the broom closet in wonder, but did not want to ask more questions. She was still star struck, but knew when to stop.

He got up from the table, and went into his office to be alone for a while. He said to Katy, who was packing up her belongings for a shift change,

“If you have more ideas for some new recipes, feel free to share them with me. Everyone is crazy about your Chicken Parmesan changes. Good job and thank you for your hard work today, see you tomorrow.”

Curious about the closet that no one ever used, because they had vacuums and other tools for cleaning with no use for a broom, she opened the door. The spider webs clung to her twisted hair and tight curls. At first, she wanted to scream because she always feared baby spiders would creep into her thick hair and hide out. She did not want spider eggs hatching in her ears, or something horrifying. However, she kept quiet so she wouldn’t disturb Chef Clarke.

It was too dark to make out the scary shapes she saw in every corner. She tried pulling on the shoe string to turn the closet light on, but nothing happened.

Old man never replaced the light bulb. I had better go grab one.

She returned to the dusty closet and screwed in a new light bulb. When she pulled on the purple and gray shoe string, that’s when she saw a ragged book on the top shelf.

It’s a recipe book. I should take a look at some of these and try to put my spin on them. I know Chef will be excited to see what I come up with.

Katy ripped out a few blank sheets from the book for scratch paper, took a seat in the dining area and started working on the chef’s recipes. She made changes to his signature lasagna, Florntina steak, Ossobuco, and rissotto. She added in a few truffles and different ingredients to elevate more of them. She came across a sheet of scratch paper that had already been written on. There were some faded tally marks on it that had been written in pencil, so she erased them and continued editing his recipe for Carbonara.

               Chef Clarke walked out of his office and into the kitchen to prepare the evening crew, who had not arrived yet. He planned to talk about the sales from the morning and lunch rush, as well as his expectations for New Years. That is when something caught his attention from the corner of his eye.

               It’s open. Who went into the broom closet? Why is it open?

               He grabbed a flashlight from his office and raced back to the open closet. Looking around, he couldn’t find it.

               Thief! Someone has stolen Marlow’s recipe book!

               His heart had not raced in years, he was out of breath and looking everywhere he could think of, but there was no trace of Marlow. The tally marks she had written in the book for every new recipe, and every special occasion was gone. The memories of her and how their love grew with every new tally mark, the time they spent together cooking to their heart’s content, the day he proposed to her, married her, all of it was gone. The old man fell to his knees in the middle of the kitchen, crashing onto himself.

               Katy had worked on the recipes, tirelessly. They were perfect. After the dinner crew had taken their last customers and started wiping down and restocking for morning crew, she headed through the kitchen, but did not make it down the hall, and straight for Chef Clarke’s office.

“Chef? Chef Clarke? Are you alive?”

               She reached for her phone, almost dialing 9-1-1. He looked up at her with squinting eyes, and saw she was holding Marlow’s book and a bunch of ruffled papers in the crease of her elbow.

               “I’m okay, but-.”

               She cut him off with her flamboyance and sunny disposition. She was glad to see that he was okay, but decided to take a nap on the floor. It was his restaurant, so he could do whatever he wanted, she thought.

               “Chef, you scared me. Guess what? I have some great ideas for you. You won’t believe what I have come up with. Take a look!”

               Dusting off the flour she had on her apron, she beamed with pride, handing over the recipe book she had taken from the broom closet. She handed him the single sheets of paper that had her handwriting on them, with a few scribbles here and there.

               The silence returned. Harrison, who could run in his aged state, rushed over to the countertop that had been stained over time, rummaged through Marlow’s book and the individual sheets Katy had ripped out.

               Looking down at the tattered pages Marlow had written in over the years, he could not find it. He writhed from the pain, yelling at the top of his lungs,

               “Katy! What have you done?”

               A single sheet fell to the ground, it was stuck to the back of her elbow. She hadn’t noticed it there. Picking it up from her shadow on the floor, she read the words,

               This tally mark is for baby Harrison. He’s due in September.