Cook the Books

restaurant?” I asked.
    “Unfortunately, it’s not ready. They’re still installing the new equipment and painting. Digger has been doing everything here, from his apartment. I’d let him use mine, but my kitchen is even smaller than his, so you two would have to come here.”
    I was disappointed that I couldn’t take Kyle to a more impressive setting than Digger’s home kitchen for our first collaboration. Young chefs like Digger, even at high-end restaurants, earned low salaries; they made far less than the servers did. He probably lived in a cheap apartment. His kitchen was sure to be old, small, and ugly, but it would have to do. Besides, I knew that his food would speak for itself no matter where we were, and Hank would never have to know that his son had sampled Digger’s food in a crummy apartment rather than in a luxurious dining establishment. Once the Penthouse opened, Kyle and I could go there for the full experience.
    “That sounds fine. Do you know when he’ll be free?” I asked. Ellie was, after all, Digger’s manager, or so she said. Maybe she was entitled to pencil us in.
    “I’m sure that Digger will want to talk to you himself since you’re a friend. But let me give you all of my contact information so you’ll have it for later.” Ellie began reeling off cell and fax numbers, e-mail addresses, and the best hours to reach her. “And now let me get your number and address so that I make sure you get an invitation to opening night.”
    As I dutifully dictated my information, I wondered whether the Penthouse’s owner knew that Ellie was taking it upon herself to invite people to the restaurant’s big night. “Thanks so much for your help,” I said. “It was nice to talk to you. And I hope I’ll meet you soon.”
    “Of course. I’ll see if I’m free to be there when Digger cooks for you and Kyle. It’ll be like a double date!”
    “Kyle is—” I was on the verge of explaining that Kyle and I had a strictly professional relationship but then thought better of it. What did I care if Digger and Ellie thought that we were dating? And if word got back to Josh that I was seeing someone, then fine! Let him stew on that one. “Sounds great.”
    “I’ll page Digger right now and have him get in touch with you. Bye, Chloe.”
    I hung up the phone. It was obvious that Ellie was enthusiastic about Digger and his career, but she sounded like a strange match for Digger, too bubbly and positive for the sarcastic, pessimistic, tough chef. But what did I know about love?
    I was foraging in the fridge for the makings of dinner when the phone rang.
    “Chloe!” Digger shouted at me. “What’s up, babe?”
    “That was fast,” I said with a laugh.
    “Yeah, my girl has me on a short leash. She just called me and instructed me to call you immediately. She says you have a PR opportunity for me, and I’d better get my ass in gear and get ahold of you.” Metallic noises echoed through the phone so loudly that I had to pull the receiver away from my ear.
    “Where are you? What is that racket?” I asked.
    “Sorry. I’m at the restaurant tonight, and they’re trying to get the new stoves in here. It’s a goddamn nightmare. Christ, this sucks. Hold on. I have to stop these guys.” Digger began yelling and cursing in his usual colorful manner and ended with, “How do you jackasses think you’re going to move that stove in when you haven’t taken the other one out yet? Evolution in reverse, right here, huh? Sorry, Chloe. So what’s up?”
    I quickly described Kyle’s project. “So, do you think we could meet up with you to taste some recipes? Maybe do a short interview?”
    “Did you even turn the frickin’ gas off, you morons?” Digger screamed. “Chloe, I don’t know. I’m mobbed here these days.”
    “Please? It’s Hank Boucher’s book, after all. How could you not want to be in that?”
    The chef said something that I couldn’t hear because of the banging in the background, but I did catch him saying, “How about Saturday morning? Ten o’clock at my place.”
    “Awesome. Thanks so much. It’ll be good to see you.”
    I scrawled down the address he gave me. Just before I hung up, Digger let loose a stream of four-letter words. I smiled. I missed that guy. As crass as he could be, he had a wonderful heart and a gooey soft spot that I adored. I’d last seen Digger in August, when Josh and I had gone out to dinner at a Brookline restaurant, but I could tell that