Chocolate for a Woman's Courage by Kay Allenbaugh

Author:Kay Allenbaugh
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Simon & Schuster
Published: 2002-07-15T00:00:00+00:00

Fired into Heaven

For seven years I’d been crewing yachts as a cook, cruising both coasts of the Americas, along the Mediterranean, through the Caribbean, and into the Pacific. By the time I reached the Virginian —a 204-foot Dutch-built yacht out of England—I was tired. She was my third boat in a year.

On the Virginian my position as second chef was hard, but I had a large, appreciative crew, an open kitchen budget, and a beautiful galley. Often after work I’d go to the gym with the deck crew, go out with the girls, and swap philosophy books with the engineers. I felt that I’d finally found the right job.

Three months into the job our new schedule indicated we were going to have a very busy summer with many highbrow clients. My head chef left for personal reasons, and the Virginian ’s owners launched a full-scale search around London to find a replacement of his caliber. In a pub one night, over a pint, the captain said the owners thought my presence might be an obstacle for some of the candidates under consideration. But under the haze of thick English beer, I didn’t pay him much mind. So a few weeks later when I was summoned to the captain’s office, handed a month’s salary and written notice, I was stunned. The captain explained the owners had found a chef who came with an assistant in tow.

“No big deal,” he said, shrugging, “we just don’t need you anymore.”

My heart fell as if I’d stepped out of the crow’s nest into thin air.

“Oh, by the way,” he said, cutting a glance out the door, “your replacements will be here in an hour.”

My body hummed the way the refrigerator did right before it went on the fritz. In fact, the fridge was full of half-done projects, just like the rest of my life. I’d just moved into a cabin with my best friend and had just started a “special” friendship with another crew member, and here I was being fired.

The English steward, the one crew member I’d never hit it off particularly well with, found me in the fridge sobbing fiercely over a pot of steaming boeuf bourguignon. Too distraught to hide my misery, even in front of his hard, incredulous face, I wept harder.

“Look,” he said, “this has absolutely nothing to do with you.”

I cried harder.

“Mishele,” he shook me by the shoulders, “stop this! Go to your cabin, put on your street clothes, and make yourself up. Walk off this boat holding your head high.” He pulled me from the fridge and pointed me toward the door.

The captain said I could stay on board and promised to help me find another job, but I just wanted off. My cabin mate Anna packed my bag and sneaked my stuff out, promising to break the news to everyone else later. I just couldn’t handle the goodbyes. Besides, I’d see them all in the South of France, where the Virginian was headed, because it was also where unemployed crew found jobs.

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