Anyone Can Cook

Colette sped recklessly away from the restaurant, hoping to outdistance the painful blow she had taken from Linguini. How could she have seen anything worthwhile in that gangly, awkward, red headed…boy?! Tears began to stream freely down her cheeks.

She'd thought him different.

She'd pegged him as unique.

She'd hoped that maybe he and she could have….

Colette brushed angry tears away, trying to wipe away her train of thought along with them.

A car horn blared at her. She looked up and had to squeeze her brakes hard to stop at a red light. Her motorcycle skidded dangerously and threatened to tip over onto the cobblestone street.

She managed to stop before her bike slid into the busy intersection. A relieved sigh mingled with the anger and hurt she felt. Cars zipped past with lights that seemed too bright. So she turned her gaze away and instead looked to her left.

The sale window of a small bookstore caught her eye. In it, she saw many books she already had read. A racy thriller, a boring autobiography, some fashion magazines, and…a Gusteau's Anyone Can Cook cookbook. Colette stared at the cookbook and its title.

"Anyone…can…cook…" she murmured.

Colette looked down in shame at the pavement. No one had believed she could cook. Her parents hadn't, her friends hadn't, and her culinary instructor hadn't.

But Gusteau had.

Even after her parents had scorned her; even after her friends had left her; EVEN when her instructor had failed her because she was a woman... Gusteau had given her a chance because he believed that anyone, could, cook.

Colette swallowed the lump in her throat and decided that she would go back. She would go back and help Linguini. Not because she loved him. Not because she liked her work. Not even because she was concerned for the restaurant. She would go back because she was no hypocrite.

Anyone could cook, and she would uphold the motto of the man who had believed in her when no one else had. She would believe that Linguini's rat could cook.