"Hé, mon Chef," Colette grinned one day, observing something she hadn't noticed before. "You been to the Ecole des Hautes Études Culinaires de Paris?"

The Chef grinned at her, shrugging "no, why?"

"It's the way you hold your arms," she motioned. "Like this, elbows in to your sides. They taught it to us there. It's the safest thing for a kitchen. Who taught you that?"

He pointed at her, and there was only one meaning: "You did."

She stood stock still, everything forgotten. "Moi?" she repeated, stunned. "When?"

And with a smile, Rémy 'told' her.

He felt it was time, after all. It was hard, but with gestures he told her everything: how he'd been under the toque, how the bread had made a 'symphony of crackle', how she'd sliced vegetables faster than the eye could follow; how he'd learned to get the best produce, how he'd learned to 'keep your station clean'.

Her mouth was hanging open as she tried to take it all in. "You were listening to all that?"

"Listening and learning," Rémy smiled, but then his face became serious. He wanted her to know how much he valued his apprenticeship. How could he tell her in a way she'd understand? Finally, he scampered over to the well-worn copy of Anyone can Cook they always kept around. "Everything I ever learned about cooking I learned from two people," he said sincerely, looking straight at her, never breaking eye contact. "Gusteau," he pointed to the jovial, rotund chef on the cover, "and you." He pointed at Colette.

Overwhelmed, all Colette could do was stare as le petit Chef came running back to her and took her hand in one tiny little pink rat paw. She moved with him as he raised it to his lips and kissed it. Thank you for teaching me.

Deeply touched, she felt her eyes sting. "N—on," she said slowly, her hand still in his, her heart full of wonder and affection... and the corners of her mouth turned up, eyes suddenly gleaming as she remembered whom a certain long-ago phrase should really have been meant for.

The little Chef looked at her quizzically. Taking his other hand in hers, she bent to reach his eye level. Knowing he would understand, she said deliberately, with only a hint of mischief: "Thank you… for taking it."