give love, get love

"I try not to think about why they come back too often," Nani replied, now earnest. "If you worry too much you start counting how many aren't there instead of how many are. I guess they come because they like it? We're a little dance family." Nani pursed her lips. "Bribery works for the kindergarteners and the teenagers. Getting those kindergarteners and teenagers out of parent's hair for two hours really sells it to the parents."

Tiana couldn’t help but beam at Nani’s description of her “dance family.” “I would’ve loved going to Ohana if I were into dance as a teenager,” Tiana told Nani earnestly. “You guys are so genuine as a business. Makes me wish I were younger so I could take advantage of that. And I do wonder—Nani, what makes you so strong as a business owner like that? What quality do you think you have that speaks to children that way?” Tiana had had a pen pal in middle school who’d shuffled between dance studios because none of the studios she danced at were “the right fit.” Tiana paused, then relayed that to Nani: “My old pen pal from Redwood’s middle school pen pal program never found the right dance studio for her—said that the instructors didn’t understand her style of learning, described times she’d danced and had people at the studios try to take credit for her individual practice time. So you’re obviously not that way. How do you reach those problem kids—not saying my pen pal was a problem kid, but the question’s still valid—those kids who just don’t mesh with you and Ohana?” Tiana bet Nani had a good answer for that question.

"Oh, don't worry, you're doing great!" Olivia smiled. "And even if we both sucked at this, the important thing is to have fun, just like you said." She knew she wasn't a very talented dancer, but as a starter, DDR was the perfect way to start getting into focus and adjusting their eyes to the bright screens in the buzzing darkness of the arcade. Losing didn't bother her much, especially in a game that was more about earning points than about competition.

Though, she had to admit, winning (or, in this case, reaching a high score) often felt much more satisfying than losing.

Olivia leaned forward and fidgeted with the game screen, looking for somewhere where she could change the game difficulty. Once she found it, she doubted for a second before choosing the middle option, hard but not too difficult yet. She likes a good challenge as much as anyone, but she wasn't exactly looking forward to end up exhausted and on the floor from too much stomping and jumping around.

"By the way, what kind of music do you like?" Olivia asked. "In the sense of, like, what music you listen to most often." As much as she wished it was not true, she had found out that you could rarely guess someone's personality or what type of person they were based on their music tastes. Regardless, Olivia was curious to know more about Tiana, and asking about music seemed like a good way to do so.

Tiana saw that Olivia had amped up the difficulty a little bit on the DDR screen—perfect! Tiana told her, “Okay, let’s start dancing again! I’m ready to prove myself, I think.” She smiled over at Olivia contentedly. Something about Olivia’s reassurance to her just now had given her the boost in confidence she’d dearly needed. Olivia was many qualities, not just good-intentioned…but she sure was that!

As Tiana waited for Olivia to hit the start button on the screen, she overheard a couple laughing over at the game next to theirs—Mortal Kombat. The man was telling the woman he was with, “You’re even better than I am, Opal!” Or at least the name sounded like Opal. Tiana wished she could have someone to share moments like that with…someone special, like she’d wanted her crushes in high school and culinary school to have turned into. Olivia might be able to hear her thoughts on this topic…once they finished their upcoming dance, that was! Tiana was excited again, and she turned back to the screen.

"Ready!" Olivia exclaimed, rubbed her hands, and hopped lightly from one foot to the other, as a sort of warm up. The screen lit up with bright colors, Olivia smiled a little wider, and bent her knees just a little, as if preparing to start a sprint. She picked the first song that popped up in the screen, confident that any would do. To her surprise, though, it started just with a few arrows pointing at the corners of the dance floor in rhythmic, if rather slow, order. Her excitement lasted a bit longer, as she followed the directions, but not much. She soon huffed loudly, wanting it to speed up already.

Regardless of what she actually wanted, Olivia kept the rhythm, stomping to the front, then to the right side, then to the front again, sometimes, perhaps, even to the left... Then, surprise, the arrows asked to step on both left and right at the same time. She doubted for a moment (her only mistake so far, a few arrows slipped right past her) but she quickly wised up and kept dancing, or rather, following the instructions in the screen, doing something more or less like a very simple dance. Once it was over she relaxed her shoulders and stared at the menu screen for a couple seconds, wondering if they should give it another chance, before turning back to Tiana.

"Is this the basic level?" she asked her, leaning forward to try and read what the screen said. "It's kind of boring. I want it to go a little faster, you know? Do you think there's some more challenging tracks we could choose?" Olivia had already got the hang of it, and whatever song they had chosen was, definitely, too easy for her. "What about you? How are you doing so far?"

Tiana was just beginning to gain confidence when a pair of arrows, left and right, approached the top of the screen where Tiana was supposed to match her feet to the rhythm. She jumped…and she barely made it! The points weren’t stellar, she assumed—but she’d made that jump! And she made another soon afterward! This was shaping up to be a fun-filled—

Wait. Was she staring at her side of the screen or Olivia’s?

Hers! It was genuinely hers! Tiana almost missed an arrow in her panic, but she’d clean forgotten to check if there was some trick to the game that she’d completely missed. Being left-handed meant that Tiana often thought in weird ways like that; like, was the left side of the screen meant for the left-sided player, or not?! Of course it was. She was being silly.

Now Tiana wanted to spice things up. She was surprised at herself—spice things up? She’d only gotten started. But Tiana had a penchant for a challenge that somehow sat at odds with her penchant for taking things slow at first, and the challenge lover inside her won. She was just leaning forward to adjust the difficulty when Olivia voiced Tiana’s thoughts exactly. “Yeah,” Tiana replied to her, “let’s look for something harder. I’m ready for it, I think. Even though I’m a little nervous.” It felt good, admitting to Olivia that Tiana wasn’t the gamer superstar that other people in this arcade were. Olivia understood; and Tiana appreciated that tremendously about her.

“I’m doing okay!” Tiana told Olivia as she leaned away from the screen for Olivia to select the next song. She smiled a little and added, “I’ve never been to an arcade before. My middle school took an end-of-the-year trip to the kids’ arcade the next town over, but I was out sick with the flu! So I’ve never, you know, danced-danced-revolutioned before, or done, what was it, Food Party? The game you were talking about? I really want to be good, like the other people here, but…well, I’m a rookie. Through and through. I’ve gotta accept that if I want to have fun. So—” and Tiana gestured toward the DDR screen— “crank up the heat, if you wanna! I want to, too! I just don’t want to lose, but there’s no losing on this one, so I’m okay.” Tiana smiled bigger now. “I really am.”

And Tiana prepared herself for the next, more dangerous selection…the one that might make or break this trip to Litwak’s Arcade… She held her breath, then let it go. Held it, then let it go. Held it…

Remy listened to Tiana explaining her experience in Enchanted Rose, He wasn't such a fan of fairytale stuff as Tiana, but he could definitely see its appeal.

Proficiently, he repeated under his breath. He liked to believe he was proficient, but he hadn't been through a real kitchen job: that was the trial by fire he was so excited, and so nervous about. "Now I really want to try that crab cake," Remy chuckled. "And that curry lobster with quinoa. I'm not very experienced with seafood, to be honest." And it made him truly happy to know that Tiana had been properly appreciated by her employers, so much so to be so warmly complimented. "But these sound just great. I mean, great enough to be given a job for it." But he frowned when she said that, after all that recognition and applause, she was still left to sides and strict menu orders. "I mean, I get that sides are important and you want the best of the best to take care of that... But to never even suggest giving you a promotion? After they knew firsthand how good you are?" It sounded callous of them, of course, but also stupidly wrong from a culinary perspective. If you got someone that blew your socks off, why leave them following the recipe, when the potential was there? "I'm so glad you asked for that promotion, Tiana. You'll finally get that real recognition you deserve."

So. Bullies. Remy thought about it for a minute. He used to be bullied sometimes when he was younger, first by a few girls, then by a few boys. Emile almost always had to intervene, which was only even more embarrassing. That didn't happen anymore: he didn't interact much with people outside of his family, after all, and abuse of any kind was not tolerated in the Reinhardt clan. But in a kitchen? Where everything had to work smoothly and everyone had to be able to work as one? No, bullying behavior there (or anywhere, but specifically there) could not be allowed to even rear its ugly head.

"I don't know... R&T has a nice ring to it," Remy smiled. He did have to wonder if keeping such a vibe in the restaurant was possible. Remy could try his best to keep everyone in a good mood, to not get too tyrannical: but when the chips were down, the orders were piling up and there was just a few too many slips, who knew who he might turn into?

"You are a great chef, Tiana. I'm just reminding you of it. So don't you ever forget about it." He thought about when his family complimented him, or rather, his cooking. That wasn't the problem for him, not really. The real issue was that they valued his abilities, but didn't have enough faith in him to think he could really reach as high as his dreams wanted to take him. Now, with that dream being so close... How could he have ever doubted himself? How could his father even have doubted for a second that Remy could not achieve this? "And I know you'll get that restaurant you've always dreamed of. It's just a matter of time... And I have a feeling it's gonna be sooner rather than later."

And Tiana beamed when Remy said that Tiana herself deserved recognition! “Thank you again, my friend,” she told him, taking the pan of beets off the burner. “You’re kinder than anyone I know.”

As Remy spoke on the future restaurant—R&T, he wanted to call it, which Tiana actually quite liked when he said it—Tiana said to him, “It’ll be sooner, if I have anything to say about it now.” She turned to her prepped ingredients for the avocado soup. “Now… The power of now. How I wish that my ‘now’ just last week had been this powerful!” She chuckled. “I didn’t have the confidence, you see. Didn’t think I could be the person I’d always wanted to become: a restaurant owner. A fancy chef and a restaurant owner, that’s what I was afraid of deep down. Even though I love that life so much! What would I have done, if I hadn’t had so many good friends in my life, telling me I could do this? I’d have kept working, turned that loan meeting I was planning for years down the road into something it wasn’t: a hurdle. But I’m ready now, Remy. You and I will get that restaurant up and running within 2025, I’m positive now. Now that I have the faith in myself.” Tiana looked at her reflection in the silver pot she was placing on the stove. She looked just like she did at Third Street, when she saw her reflection in similar pots on similar stoves; but she was happy. She could tell that right away, and that made her happier. “We just have to think of ourselves as leaders—the leaders we really should be right now!”

Tiana listened as Remy responded to her birthday party conflict the following Friday. She nodded when he said he’d be able to make it to other gigs of his cousin’s…and she grinned when he offered to get her a present! “Remy,” she told him, “the only thing I’ve been wanting is a really good cookbook. Like the ones my dad used to read to me for bedtime stories. I’ll take anything you think is creative, comfortable food…like the food you were telling me you like to make yourself! I need something just like that for my bookshelf. That way, when I want to try and get better as a chef, I’ll just think, ‘How would Remy make this dish?’ And I’ll look up something like it in your cookbook, that you’ll apparently be bringing me Friday—” and she laughed happily— “and I’ll broaden my horizons. Make that good comfort food. I need to do that for myself, you see.”

And when Remy offered to go to the music gig at Mulligan’s with her after her birthday party…well, she couldn’t stop the smile that broke across her face. “That’s a genius idea,” she told him, “and I think we should try and make it happen.” She knew Remy would hear her gratitude for his flexibility.

"Yeah, I'm sure!" Olivia said excitedly. Arcade games sounded like such a wonderfully retro thing to do. "My friend Kylie said that Food Fight is a piece of cake, and super fun." In all honesty, she didn't have much experience with videogames apart from some old Nancy Drew CD-ROM games she got from a cousin. She hoped this trip to Litwak's would change such things, especially since Olivia loved games and puzzles of all kinds –and wasn't half bad at them, if she may say so herself: surely that meant that she was going to be a natural at this!

"Ah, and I also want to try out Dance Dance Revolution! I see people playing it all the time in movies!" Olivia exclaimed, pointing at the game. She looked back at Tiana's face, happy to see her smiling and clearly excited about the fun they were going to have. "Where would you like to go first?"

The first thing that Tiana laid eyes on inside Litwak’s Arcade was, indeed, the aforementioned Dance Dance Revolution. She first wanted to watch somebody else doing it so that she’d know exactly, literally what to do when the game turned on and she and Olivia got their turn (because that was Tiana’s intention now—try the game that Olivia wanted to play, so they’d start the trip off right). But as Tiana stood at the counter right next to Dance Dance Revolution and changed her cash out for some arcade tokens, she realized that no one was going to play it before her and Olivia. It was going to be them first…as expected from Tiana’s personal quest for video game redemption. Hard way or bust, right?

Tiana approached the game and watched the giant screen preview the experience ahead. She wondered if Olivia had observed those movie characters playing a whole lot of Dance Dance Revolution or if she’d only seen snippets. Tiana herself knew precious little about Dance Dance Revolution—actually, that high school birthday party she’d been to had featured some of it, but Tiana had been in her fellow student’s kitchen at the time, helping her parents with the birthday cupcakes. (Even at that age, she’d been too responsible for her own good.) The arcade version looked a little different, with giant rails behind the dancers’ backs for them to presumably hold onto when the dancing got fast. Tiana felt very nervous.

“Okay,” she said at last, and she inserted a couple tokens into the DDR machine’s token slot. “Let’s try this baby out, okay? Put those movies to the test and all.” She hopped up and down a couple times, trying to jump the anxiety out of her system. She was a pretty good dancer, actually, if her school dances had had anything to say about it. And Tiana did something now that she never did, ever—she told herself, “You’ve got this, Ti-Ti!” (Ti-Ti was an old, forbidden nickname. Tiana had hoped never to hear it again, but she needed something to boost her spirits just like the summer camp chants that had given her so much confidence as a high schooler.)

Tiana looked around for Olivia. “You ready, girlfriend?” she said to her, and something about the adrenaline in Tiana’s veins let her smile widely.

"Great," Remy nodded. "Need a hand with either one?" He had been working so quickly, caught up in the fast rhythm of the kitchen, now his hands were tingling to keep on being occupied. "Or I can get started on the tarte tatin."

If Tiana said the Café was easy, then he trusted her on that. He couldn't remember the last time he had visited the place, but he did remember there was sometimes a line outside, waiting to be seated. It was probably a very high-energy job... Not that he couldn't handle that, obviously. "What did you mean, your style doesn't match theirs? I bet you're versatile," he said, washing his hands. "Or at the very least, a fast learner. I mean, I bet you got enough already with the Diner and Third Street... I just wanted to say, I bet you could work Enchanted Rose just as well as you do everywhere else." An awkward compliment, but really, he was out of practice. All he wanted was to make sure Tiana was as aware of her outstanding abilities, as much as Tiana was insistent on Remy being aware of his. At least he had made the effort?

She said he was the best kind of friend to her. That couldn't be true. He had not done even half of the things she was promising him she would do for him. So much help, and they knew each other so little... He was learning more and more about her, about her family life and her passion for her job. Regardless, she was the best kind of friend. Certainly not him, at least not yet.

Tiana sighed as she prepared to answer Remy’s question and simultaneously pulled the bread bowls out of the oven. Perfect! They looked just as Tiana had envisioned them in her mind when planning out the day beforehand—light in color and just thick enough to make them tasty to eat in their own right. “Enchanted Rose was the best kind of employer when I was job-hunting toward the end of culinary school. They seemed to have the best hours, the best clientele, the best atmosphere. You should know one thing about me if you know anything, Remy—I love the fairytale stuff. That restaurant is my dream from high school, when I was devouring those real fun fantasy books for teens.” Tiana sighed again, this time with delight. She was still planning to thank Remy for his extremely kind compliment, but this story was long. “But they didn’t want me. I actually came down to Redwood Hollow from school one day and did a demo in the kitchen, and one of the staff members told me, ‘You’d be a much better fit for a seafood restaurant.’ That took me way, way by surprise. I’d chosen a crab cake to show off just my cooking skills, not as a suggestion for what I wanted to make. But that intelligent woman turned out to be right. The crab cake was the best thing I made that afternoon by far. And I started to think of places that would have dishes like that, and that same woman told me, ‘Third Street Restaurant in town has some knockout fish specials. You’d be a hit over there.’”

Tiana continued, “I did a demo for them the very next weekend. They were a little different in style. They told me up front that I wouldn’t be making the big dishes, because they already had people to do that very proficiently. That was the word they used, ‘proficiently.’ So I figured they still saw me like a culinary student, and I told myself, I’ll make something that proves once and for all that I’m a chef like these people, not only a student. And I made them my curry lobster with quinoa. This was the best possible choice I could have made. They went crazy. One of the chefs, might’ve been the head chef, I can’t remember, said that if I’d made that at Third Street’s opening, they would’ve taken the town by storm and been the name they’d always tried to be in Redwood. I loved hearing that from him. And I loved the way my food had made them feel—both enthusiastic about their restaurant and hopeful for a future that had different possibilities in it. They hired me then and there, with the disclaimer that I’d be making side dishes for the other chefs but I could use that style of mine however I felt was best.” Tiana sighed for the third time during this story. “Needless to say, that’s not how restaurant life rolls, Remy. I ended up doing the side dishes the way they had them on the menu, instead. I don’t know why that happened, how communication got mixed up between the demo and my first day on the job. But I graduated from culinary school, showed up to Third Street the very next day even, and I heard from a senior chef, ‘Just stick to the Third Street legacy and you’ll be in the clear.’ By Third Street legacy, he meant what was explicitly printed on their menu. And I just did it! I just copied what the other chefs were doing! I didn’t think about it, didn’t even consider trying to spice things up every once in a while to see if the other chefs wanted to stick it on our specials menu! I just…followed orders. Literally, followed what the orders from our clientele said, rather than ever make that curry lobster with quinoa again. It was a fun job at first. Got more difficult, when chefs learned I liked to follow rules; got tiring, when they stuck me with some of the kitchen cleanup when I wasn’t cooking. And now that I’m making the street food, which is very much my style… I can say that I was taken advantage of. One hundred percent. Chefs at that restaurant were basically bullies. And that’s why I can appreciate kindness in a chef, why I love what we’re doing right now more than any shift I’ve ever, ever had at that restaurant, or even at Enchanted Rose!” Tiana sighed for the fourth time. “I love what we’re doing, Remy. And I don’t want it to stop here. No matter what, we have to keep this spirit alive. At my future restaurant—we could call it T&R’s, or R&T’s, whatever sounds better—actually, someone might try to pronounce R&T’s like ‘rats’, let’s scratch that one—we’ll make every day in the kitchen feel like this. Welcoming, fascinating, fun!”

And Tiana added, after this story was finished and a silence had materialized in the kitchen, “I hear your kindness, Remy. Thanks for calling me a good chef.”

Remy started to talk about recreation rather than work, and the instant he said the word “Friday”, Tiana wanted to moan. She and Audrey’s birthday board game party would be that Friday night! But Tiana listened as Remy described the mood, the music, the fun. This would’ve been the perfect way for them both to relax and just talk about their lives, no pressure, no distraction. But Tiana was glad that he’d brought it up, because she wanted that to be the norm for her and Remy. She earnestly wanted she and Remy to hang out in places like that, to be able to just down a beer and unwind.

“Remy,” she told him, “I haven’t sent the invitations around yet—and I’m not sure I ever got your phone number, actually…” She started to write hers down on a kitchen sticky note. “…But my birthday was this past Wednesday, actually. It was very low-key, and I didn’t even tell the girl I was hanging out with that day, but I really, really enjoyed my birthday! But the party for my birthday—what I really care about—is going to be this upcoming Friday. The very same night as your cousin’s show at Mulligan’s!” Tiana added as she stuck her phone number sticky note on Remy’s side of the kitchen, “We’re playing board games and eating shrimp and grits. It’ll be a good time, and Audrey’s breaking out her record collection for it, which will be fantastic. And you can get a free paper party hat!” Tiana had purchased them just the previous morning. They were stored in one of the lower cupboards in this kitchen, actually… “Look!” Tiana said to Remy, opening up the cupboard and gesturing to the stack of purple party hats.

“Now I’m torn, because I—wait, have I officially invited you to this party?” Tiana chuckled. “I’m getting ahead of myself. You can see I really want to go to this Mulligan’s night. It’s got me in a tizzy. I invite you to my party, Remy! And I’d go to this show of your cousin’s, really, I would… And you should go, too, if you want to show your support! But I’d love it if you could come to this.” Tiana remembered that she’d also intended to ask Remy if he wanted to help at her and Sofia’s graduation-day bake sale. But she’d save that for later in the day—she wanted to focus on everything she’d just told Remy.

“If you can’t make it to my birthday party,” Tiana told Remy with a half-smile, “I can bring shrimp and grits to the bakery the next day, and you can eat it for lunch. That’s my other offer.” She let herself smile fully.

Sally nodded, picturing the costume already. She smiled and gave a little scoff when Tiana said that Halloween was half a year away: when did that ever stop Sally, used as she was to be already planning the next costume as soon as the fake cobwebs were taken down and the jack-o-lanterns began to rot?

"Sure, that sounds alright to me," Sally said. Fabric shopping was an exciting thing for her, and since Tiana was so eager to learn, she was willing to teach her how to properly choose while keeping quality and price in mind. It was an art she had perfected over the years... Besides the fact that she already knew the family that owned the fabric store, already quite used to her passing by every couple of weeks or so.

"I don't know yet... But if you'd like, you can help me choose," Sally suggested, smiling at her new friend.

As the two women approached the bookstore, Tiana felt both new confidence and renewed strength. The confidence was from Sally’s enthusiasm about Tiana’s creativity and original ideas; but the strength was from Sally’s easy company, from her friendship without expectation, without qualifier. Tiana knew that Sally would become one of her very close friends in no time; and as the bookstore’s front doors appeared in front of them, Tiana was grateful that she’d met someone who liked the world the same way she did—one day at a time.

end

"Oh, big concerts, for sure," Berlioz chuckled. "Big orchestras, concert halls... The whole nine yards." He was helped every step of the line, and he fully recognized it. He had a passion for music, ever since he was very, very young: and that passion was properly nurtured, and cared for, and he had everything he needed to become successful. To become the best pianist he could ever be. But now that he had reached the summit (rather, he had reached it three to four years ago), where could he even go?

He finished playing. The song had become rather repetitive, which basically meant that he had to recognize his own lack of creativity. Berlioz huffed. "Yes, I guess so." There was still too much of the original melody to truly call it improv, in his opinion. Exactly where did 'performance liberties' end and 'improvisational skills' begin was not clear enough to him yet.

Tiana asked Berlioz, tucking her braids behind her ear, “How is it that you can play like that for me here—in the music store, with maybe two or three other people a ways away, listening in, probably!—and still not show some real pride? You say your background’s in big, big concerts—that’s outstanding, and that’s one thing you’ve got going for you. And you come here, do something different for once—play me some improv jazz, play me some fancy, happy music—and you’re still telling me, ‘I suppose it’s real improv.’ Or ‘I used to be a prodigy.’ Berlioz, you’re a prodigy now. If you’re not still hearing it, you’re hearing it from this woman here—you remain a prodigy, and you have the soul of a prodigy when you play such beautiful music. You’re a superstar, and that right here—playing music a way you just started to learn how to do—is a real, real superstar move. You’ve got more than you think. And you’ve got people on your side now.”

Tiana walked around the back of the piano to stand beside Berlioz. “I want you to be the kind of prodigy you want to be, Berlioz. You said you were the kind to play big recitals. But I want you to live like the prodigy you feel like inside. Like the kind I heard just now. That’s everything I believe—people using their gifts like they want to, like they actually feel like. You have the gift of music; and I hope I’m giving you a gift of self-assurance, too.” She smiled earnestly at him. “Now play me that real fancy orchestra hall stuff. I wanna hear you blow me away…” She pulled up a stool from the piano beside Berlioz’s and leaned forward.

Obviously, he smiled to himself when Tiana complimented him. That really was how a pro does it, even though it wasn't as 'pro-ish' as it could have been. "I know I got passion," Berlioz frowned, staring down at the keys. "I've been called a prodigy, you know. And I was one... I was."

Anything he wanted? Well, he wanted to impress Tiana even further. He could have gone with something really complex and difficult, something to show off. But there was also the option of practicing a bit more of this 'improvisational jazz' thing. All he needed was a stron base.

Berlioz began playing Dvorák's Humoresque in G Flat Major, a basic exercise he used to play when he was about four or five, as a warmup. He added a few little flourishes, a little bit of 'extra flavor', but nothing too radical. Certainly nothing as rhythmic and, honestly, fun as the song Tiana had played for him. He tried stopping and resume playing periodically, over and over, in an attempt at making something of a fixed rhythm: first slowly, then picking up the pace. Hey, this was actually fun! It sounded weird, yes, but it sounded different from what he usually did. Realizing he could produce music so different from his usual fare was a strangely satisfying feeling.

The song Berlioz began to play next was something cheerful, and Tiana leaned further over the piano to watch him do it. His hands were so steady, so sure; when he began to repeat parts of the song, Tiana had a suspicion about what he was actually doing. “Improv,” she said before she even thought the word. She listened as Berlioz made beautiful music, and she pondered what he’d meant when he’d said that he knew his own passion. Did he know it enough to wield it like this? Or was it making its mark on the music through his imagination, his flexible stylings? He was either taking on this piece of music very boldly or very ingeniously, and Tiana intended to ask him exactly which it was, once he’d ended the music and looked up.

How did I end up here?, Berlioz asked himself, automatically going to sit on the piano stool. How on Earth did he end up being led to a music store and convinced to practice improvisational jazz with a woman he had never met before? This is exactly what stranger danger was all about. He was lucky he wasn't being kidnapped and drugged for his organs to be harvested and sold in the black market, or something like that. Though Tiana seemed nice enough to trust.

Most importantly, now he had something to prove. There was little faith that he could do something to really wow her, but at the very least he had to try. After all, he had to prove he was a 'music person'. Hell, if Berlioz wasn't a 'music person', then he was absolutely certain nobody in the world was.

He put his hands on the keys and pressed lightly, having a feel of the piano's sound and tuning. It sounded alright. Berlioz played the simple chord Tiana had played, slowly, trying to think of something to build off of it. He invented a little melody, more or less alright, to go with the chord he continued playing on a loop with his right hand. Where to go from there?

Tiana marked the tempo. That was at least something. He continued that little melody, adding a little more movement, moving a little farther. He felt like a child, ignorant as to how to read partitures, just pressing keys to giggle and laugh in delight at the basic sound of standalone notes. The embarrassment made him falter, slow down, and finally stop. He played the chord a couple more times, but whatever initial, weak enthusiasm had been there was snuffed out by the sudden, self-conscious awareness of how amateurish he looked.

And then he stopped, and Tiana did, too. Immediately Tiana rose from the drum set and said, “So is that how a pro does it? I told you, Berlioz! I told you you could do real jazz!” She approached the piano and leaned over the back of it. “All right, that was probably the best music I’ve heard in a long, long time. So I’ll offer you this: I can keep playing my drum kit and you can play along with me, or…you can play something you actually love to play. Not jazz, literally anything.” She grinned. “I’m a fan now.”

Tiana added, “I know passion when I see it. You’ve got passion, and you’ve got something else, too… I just need to hear more to know what it is.” Empathy, she wanted to tell herself. The way Berlioz was playing, the way he was building off that base she’d made, told her he had empathy in some way. That empathy had to go her way right now, had to incline him to play her just one more song… Or, if it didn’t, it had to incline him to tell her how he’d done what he’d just done. That jazz had been masterful. Tiana would be more than pleased either way.

"Okay, okay, I didn't mean to undervalue Mr Charles," Berlioz apologized, raising his hands. "I just tried to remember where I knew him from! Sheesh..." But he listened to the song Tiana played on her phone. He played close attention to the piano style, the rhythm, the speed. It didn't sound too difficult to play, though he had to admit the feeling the music gave him was unlike what he had ever played before. It was smooth, a little playful, and most importantly, it made Berlioz want to tap his feet. He half smiled, nodding along.

"Hey! What do you mean, I'm not a music person?" he said with a frown, just short of shouting. Her words had Berlioz increasingly incensed, so when she said to follow her into the music store, he only debated on whether to walk away of the situation entirely or make the effort to show her exactly how much of a 'music person he was' for a couple seconds.

Tiana sat by a little piano while Berlioz looked around himself. He had never set foot in the music store, mostly because there was already a beautiful, expensive grand piano at the Beaumont mansion, and because he already had books, folders and boxes full of all the sheet music he could ever wish for. He turned his attention back to Tiana when she began playing, first a few scattered notes, then a simple chord. Out of a sudden Tiana seemed overjoyed. Berlioz then became sure there was something he missed.

"Huh? What did you do?"

“Oh, Berlioz,” she told him with a smile. “Did you hear? Did you hear that little number?” Tiana played her improvisation again, making sure to add feeling this time. Heavy E-flat, light G and B. Again. Heavy B, a D, a heavy E-flat. “That’s something I just came up with! I thought, these are the notes I want to play, and what do you know? They sound good for real!” She wanted to do more. What could she do in the music store that would build on her achievement just now, in improvisation and in music itself? “Berlioz, why don’t you try doing improv on the piano now? I warmed us up—let me go over to this drum kit here…” Tiana snatched the mallets sitting on the little stool beside the drum kit and played the kick drum a couple times as she sat down. “Okay, now go.”

She didn’t know what Berlioz would do—if he’d insist on holding back, or if he’d go for the same feeling that Tiana had gotten from her little melody she’d made. But as Tiana started to play the drums, she hoped he’d at least try to have fun. After all, fun was what made music what it was for Tiana; she wanted to share that with her new friend, if he was open to feeling the things Tiana felt when she sat down with an instrument. She prayed that he was.

Remy was taken by surprise by the hug (he couldn't remember the last time someone outside of his family had ever hugged him, if at all), but he chuckled and gave Tiana a couple little pats to the back. He remembered too late that he had his hands dirty with olive oil and smelling of garlic.

Tiana told him her idea, and the way she described it, it really sounded like the restaurant was just within their grasp. "I mean... Two years just might pass us by in a flash," Remy smiled with a shrug. Her suggestion of taking out a loan, though, wasn't really what he expected. "I... Um, I don't know. I don't really like banks..." He had never had the opportunity to talk directly to one, apart from helping his dad file some taxes and get some paperwork done once or twice; but he had heard a couple horror stories, and he wasn't eager to become part of one himself. "And I can't say I got any credit to my name. You sure that they would just approve me based on my cooking?" Would they even give him a chance, with how little experience he had as a cook? There was probably something Terence could do, like write a letter vouching for his skills and diligence, perhaps... But was that enough? Was Tiana's dream and her determination enough for the both of them? "But I'll... Yeah, I'll go with you, of course." He wasn't completely sure this was something he wanted, but it was clearly something Tiana had faith would speed up the process. Even if her father's experience with the same bank, and his own bad luck, weren't very encouraging.

At the same time, Remy couldn't deny that 'business partner' and 'head chef' both had a very nice ring to it.

He took a moment, after dumping all his explanation of his love of warm food and cozy cooking to Tiana, to check on the pork chops and turn them around to make sure they were cooked evenly. "Okay, this is almost ready to go in the oven. How's the bread bowl and the soup going, chef?"

Once the pork was nice and brown and cooking in the oven, he had another sip of lemonade, and tried to breathe as he really let it all sink in. He had never felt this close to actually realizing his dream of being a head chef. Even when working with Gusteau, he had the feeling he would have to start from the ground up, maybe work as a saucier or a grillardin and slowly make his way into becoming the one in charge. But this, this seemed almost too good to be true.

Remy had been hopeful about getting a job at Enchanted Rose, one of the most popular, if not the most popular place in town. The opportunity never showed up, though. But now that Tiana was offering to help him get a foot on the door, who knew? Maybe this was finally the opportunity to really start his life as a chef, even before heading an entire kitchen. "If you could do that, Tiana, get me an interview at Enchanted Rose, I would be forever in debt with you," he said. He would do anything, really, for everything Tiana was doing for him: wash her dishes every night, pick out her trash, bake her fresh croissants for her daily breakfast, or really, anything she ever asked of him. "I mean it. You just tell me, and I'd do it." Not that there was much he could offer, but he could try.

At Remy’s question about the bread bowl, Tiana told him, “Bread’s in the oven! Two bowls, ready to be turned into bowls, so to speak, once they’re finished baking. I prepped the ingredients for the soup—” and she gestured to the left side of the counter— “but as you can see, I’m getting these beets ready for the pan.” She had opened up Remy’s little jar of sumac and used her dropper of lemon juice on the raw beets. That would ensure the smoothest flavor.

Tiana laughed when Remy said he’d be indebted to her. “Enchanted Rose is easy-peasy,” she told Remy, winking at him. “It just wasn’t right for me—that’s why they didn’t want me. But I’ll talk to Mr. Legrand, like I said. And he’ll want you to cook for him and the rest of their team, for sure. You wait and see.” She wanted to dance again—Remy liked her idea! She’d talk to Mr. Legrand as soon as she saw him next.

Tiana blushed herself at Remy’s kind, thoughtful words. “You’re a gem, Remy,” Tiana said warmly, “and you have gifts aplenty. I can’t believe we’re alive at the same time. Has anyone ever said that to you? That it’s cool that you’re alive at the same time as them?” It sounded like something Tiana’s good friend Ollie would say. “And you need to be exactly what you’ve always dreamed of being: well-known and well-loved. That’s the life you’ve earned. And I hear you so clearly, when you talk about food that makes you comfortable. Warm things, really really good things. Those are the best things in life. So that must be what you are best at: being the best yourself.” She beamed. “You’ve been the best kind of friend to me. And the best baker when I didn’t know you yet. What I keep coming back to is, you’re a strong chef, and your feelings, your passions, are strongest of all.” Tiana scraped her beets into the pan, where chicken bouillon was already sitting. “Those feelings mean something, Remy. It’s in your future.” That was a promise.

Tiana's description of that menu really got Sally's stomach grumbling just a bit, but the idea of going back to the Enchanted Rose was particularly appealing. "I think I'm going to invite her to the café. We met there, after all... A few years ago." How time did fly. "And also... It was there where we were honest about our feelings for each other. Yes... I suppose Enchanted Rose Café really was the backdrop of our lives together."

Teaching someone anything, but especially something that came so naturally as sewing, felt quite daunting. What if she got frustrated, or didn't know how to help Tiana do something, and end up losing her temper? She liked to think of herself as a pretty level-headed person, but she hadn't ever done something like this. Her repeating the same technique until it came out right wasn't really the problem: it was more like fearing Tiana wouldn't listen to what she had to say.

"I like that idea!" Sally nodded. "Combining different holidays... It can be a bit risky, since one can end up overpowering the other. But if we can strike a balance... I can clearly imagine it. It doesn't sound very difficult, at all: we sell bat wings at the store, but I bet I can spruce them up, maybe elongate them a bit or paint them in some way to really make them stand out." Her mind was already disassembling the outfit, thinking about each individual garment and their construction. "The corset's the trickiest part, and that would need to be custom made so it can fit you just right. It's not exactly beginner's material, but I can show you how I make it, in case later down the line you'd like to give it a try, too."

Sally gave a hearty laugh when Tiana suggested they go fabric shopping. "Yes, I'd love to! But I'll have to see when I can take a little break from work. I'm so busy lately, I'm also costuming for a production of Our Town for the community theater. I've been thinking about getting some newer plaid fabrics for the costumes, though..." Tiana was a very enthusiastic person, which Sally found rather funny: she wasn't that excitable, at all, but she liked that high-energy, go-getter type of people. Something about them could brighten up any room. It was different from herself and Ella: while they liked to cozy up and spend a quiet evening at home, these sorts of folks seemed as they were always ready for a taste of everything.

Tiana nodded at Sally’s suggestion for the bat wings and said, “Yes, yes! That’s the perfect way to go with the costume!” When Sally discussed how to make the corset, Tiana added, “I can see it now. You’ll help me out so much with that part of it, I’m sure of that. I want it to be a scarlet color, with very light pink details; we’ll have to brainstorm the exact design for it!”

Sally talked about her work with the community theater for their upcoming play, Our Town. Tiana knew how that was, to be committed to something that mattered so much to you that it dictated how you spent your days. She told Sally, “Listen—Halloween is half a year away. You focus your energy on Our Town, make those costumes so plaid and cool. And when you get time off—maybe time you could use to buy that plaid fabric, if you decide on that!—give me a call! I’ll go fabric shopping with you anytime. That I’m not working, that is.” She chuckled. “Like I said, I’m usually available in the mornings, so if it’s around nine-thirty one morning in the near future and you want to go shopping with your new friend Tiana, just drop me a line!” Tiana smiled at Sally, then looked up at the store that rose in front of them. “Look, Sally! We made it! You have to tell me what books you wanna buy today!”

Sally smiled. "I like that idea." Both of them liked to cook, but it would be nice to leave that to someone else for a night. She wasn't sure of the best places in town for that sort of thing, though... But she had Tiana to ask about such matters. "Which restaurants would you recommend for that sort of dinner?"

"I think I got a few on my computer," she said. "A friend took them, though I wish I had some on my phone. I'll send them to you, if you'd like." Sally could easily imagine what her father would say to that. 'Vanity is not something to be proud of, child'. But she wasn't a child anymore, she reminded herself. She didn't have to listen to that little voice in the back of her mind anymore.

"Some people go all-out on Halloween here," Sally chuckled, knowing herself to be one of those people. "But a lot of people also just dress in something that gives them freedom of movement, something comfortable to dance and have fun. As long as you have a good time, I don't think it matters much what you choose to go as." She blinked in surprise at Tiana's request, even though, actually, it made a lot of sense for her to do so. After all, Sally had been boasting non-stop about her costuming skills for the last five minutes or so. "Yes, of course! I could help you make a costume, no problem, and... Well, I don't know if I'd be a good teacher," she said with a little nervous laugh. "But, I mean, I can try."

When Sally offered to send Tiana pictures of her epic Halloween costume, Tiana nodded eagerly and gave Sally her phone number, writing it down on a piece of notebook paper from her backpack so she’d be able to use it. “I can’t wait to see those pics!” Tiana told Sally.

Tiana gasped and said to Sally, “You’ll really help me with my costume?! You’re the kindest! You are so, so cool, Sally!” Tiana did a half-skip, half-jump on the sidewalk with glee. “So I try to be a really good student, no matter what it is I’m doing…but for whatever reason, I have to repeat things sometimes. Like if you taught me a certain stitch, I might have to do it three or four times so I’d be able to do it decently all alone. If that’s okay with you, then I think I’ll love working on a costume with you, Sally!” Tiana added, “And I’m coming up with some ideas as we speak! I can’t seem to shake the idea of celebrating a different holiday with my costume as well as Halloween, for whatever reason… What if I did, like, a Valentine’s Day homage mixed with Halloween symbols? So I could go as, like, a cupid or a Valentine’s angel…but do a really gothic dress and have one of those corsets tied around me, plus light-colored bat wings! I’d do everything real simple, of course, because I know so little about making costumes. And I might have to find the bat wings online somewhere, maybe at your store Jack’s Attic, if you carry things like this! But I do want to make the dress myself. Hopefully in pinks and reds.” Tiana was grinning. “Would you want to go fabric shopping with me, Sally?! Sometime next week, in the morning?”

"God, I've been looking for an open call for cooks here in town for a long while... But for some reason they never come," Remy huffed. "I don't know if it's all a matter of connections, of who you know, of nepotism, or doing other people favors... But I just can't find a way to get in." He had thought that knowing Gusteau would give him a leg up. Of course, nobody had any evidence that he was really his protégé. Nobody, especially Remy, could prove that Gusteau had considered taking him under his wing. He had learned so much in the little time he had known him, but now that Gusteau was gone, there was nothing that Remy could do to show all he had done for him.

Remy blinked when Tiana made her proposition. It didn't sound quite real. "I... I mean, I'd... I'd love to!" he exclaimed. "Of course, yes, I'd love that! Head chef!? Of course!" Tiana was an excellent cook, and truly determined, and he had faith she could achieve her dream of her own restaurant. But now, now there was an additional incentive for him to invest in this project. "God, I'm... You won't regret it, I swear." Now, in his mind, the restaurant was a given. It had to become a reality, it just had. It was as if it was already being built as they spoke. "Yes, yes, we should definitely think about the menu. I don't know a thing about Cajun cuisine, but I'd be glad to learn!"

Tiana’s cheeks hurt with the huge smile that spread across her face. “Remy, I’m so happy you want that,” she told him happily. She abandoned her nearly-finished bread to cross the kitchen and give Remy a big hug. “And you’ll take to Cajun cuisine like a fish takes to water. And I’ll be helping in the kitchen, too! Just not the entire night, so you’d have to be able to give instructions to everyone in that kitchen. But you’ve got the personality that the less-experienced chefs could really benefit from. I mean it—you calm even me down, and I’m always buzzing.” She smiled contentedly. “Now all we need to do is…get a loan for the restaurant.”

Saying those words, Tiana felt her stomach twist. Getting a loan for the restaurant—was she ready, and was the restaurant itself really ready? What going to the bank to have a loan conversation meant was, Tiana had funds of her own saved (which she actually did, now) and she had the answers to all the bankers’ questions. Those questions could be tricky. Because those questions could be so tricky, Tiana wanted to err on the side of caution and save even more of her own money to fund the establishment; that way, the bank would know that Tiana was very responsible. But what if she went to the Redwood Hollow bank this month, even, and proposed her restaurant, without that additional money from three years’ more work, like she’d been planning? Would this go Tiana and Remy’s way?

Then a thought occurred to Tiana. Her conversation with her brother (as she liked to call him) Ray the other day had already presented her with the means to get this loan! All she needed to do was explain to the bank that Tiana was part of the town culture already—she was intending to keep making quality food at Third Street (and, from Guinevere Bạch’s comment at Sofia’s and her house that week, the food was indeed of a high quality), and she was going to be part of a restaurant slash bar slash planetarium that would soon be the talk of the town. If Ray’s place was built within the next eight months or so, and Tiana helped open it for a good half a year…then Tiana’s Palace could be built in a year and a half. As long as she got that loan from the bankers.

“So,” Tiana told Remy, “I’m thinking through the details.” Now the bread for the bread bowl was done, and she split the loaf in two and opened up her kitchen’s small oven. “What if I told you I could have Tiana’s Palace—or whatever name we choose together, because it’s you and me at the helm now—in business within two years’ time? Less than that, actually?” She paused. “I’m going to go to the bank in the next week and a half to try to get a loan. They’ll like me because I’ve never done things halfway, and that’s the kind of person they give out loans to. But they won’t want to change the dining culture in Redwood Hollow.” Tiana gazed at Remy with the weight of her question: “Would you come to the bank for that loan conversation with me? You’d only need to talk about your style of cooking. That’s it—nothing about your history in Redwood Hollow, nothing about your current work. Just what you’d be doing at the restaurant. I know this because my dad had to do a loan conversation at this very bank with his own head chef he’d befriended, back when he planned to open a restaurant himself.” She added, “My dad never got there—he passed in the night just a day later—but I know we can. Please say you’ll be my business partner at the bank in a week and a half.” Tiana gave Remy a small smile.

Tiana closed her eyes with bliss at Remy’s explanation of his cooking style. He was a true chef—not the “top chefs” in the magazines who did what they thought was cool, but a chef who followed his heart in the kitchen. “Remy,” Tiana finally said after a silence had descended over the kitchen, “you’ve got the magic touch. You could do anything with that vision of yours. Create timeless cookbooks, open Michelin-star restaurants one after another… Your Nana would be so proud if she could’ve heard you talk about food just now. My dad would’ve loved you, bless his soul.” Tiana smiled. “I want to talk to my boss at the Enchanted Rose Cafe. I’ve never been able to cook at Enchanted Rose because my style doesn’t match theirs. But what you just described to me, Remy—that’s exactly what they told me when I had a conversation with them four years ago. They’re looking for chefs who can make comfortable-feeling foods. If you go into the restaurant itself, it’s like that—very comfortable-feeling, very much a place you can feel good inside. What do you think about this—I get in touch with the owner of Enchanted Rose, Adam Legrand, and maybe he gets you an interview, a demo in their kitchen? Would you be on board with just a talk with the Enchanted Rose people to see if your style would work out there?” Tiana remembered what she’d just told herself ten minutes before, that Remy was in charge of his own story in life. But this felt like something that Remy would want to add to his story, if he knew the environment at Enchanted Rose, if he got to know Mr. Legrand, maybe.

Tiana added, “I’d love to see you shine, Remy. If it’s not Enchanted Rose, it’s Third Street Restaurant, where I also work. And Third Street’s kitchen isn’t ready for someone like you, because some of those chefs think they’re pretty impressive stuff.” Tiana just laughed. Maybe they deserved someone like Remy to turn the tables.