"I know."
"You were at Magnolia House the twelve years. You were there four of them."
A pause. Then he asked the question he had to ask, the one he had been preparing the words for during the eleven minutes he had not stood up: "How many times did I tell you you weren't ready?"
"Twice."
"Was I right the first time?"
She finally looked at him. Her eyes were not angry; her eyes were steady. "You knew the answer the first time, Garrett. You knew it. The second time, the answer was no. The second time, you brought in a 26-year-old from a Charleston kitchen who had never run a service. The second time, you knew you were keeping the job from me. I left three months after you signed his offer letter."
Garrett did not look away. To his credit, he did not look away. "I am sorry."
"Today is not the day, Chef."
"I know."
"Then go back to your fryer. We have a final round in forty minutes. You are going to do that round. You are going to do it like you know how to cook. And after the judges decide, we'll see what you have left to say."
He looked at her one more second, turned, and walked back around the fountain to his tent.
At 12:20, Vanessa stopped him at the entrance. "Where were you?"