Chapter Text
Clarke Griffin had dreams.
Ever since the first time she’d helped her dad make a birthday cake when she was 5 … the magic of cooking had called to her …
Converting simple ingredients with mixing and heat and technique into delicious meals had always felt like a sort of magic.
She’d been cooking for her parents since she was 10. By the time she was 12, she had taken over making breakfast, lunch and dinner for her family …
Tried out new recipes on them … Worked on her skills in the kitchen …
Spent hours watching cooking shows and pouring through cookbooks in her free time looking for new skills to master and new recipes to try.
Her parents had thought it was cute … her little hobby …
And they loved her cooking.
Everyone did.
But … when her last year of high school rolled around, and Clarke told her parents that she’d been accepted at a prestigious culinary academy and would be going there instead of attending university … well … they didn’t think that was cute at all …
She’d had nearly perfect grades in school … and according to her parents … would be wasting her talents and intellect as a cook …
But the dream of owning her own restaurant … a Michelin Star restaurant … a whole chain of them … where she could spend every day whipping up her creations and delighting customers with her creativity and her mouthwatering recipes … with her new takes on classic dishes that delighted the palette and warmed the soul …
What career could possibly be more fulfilling than that?
None that Clarke could think of …
But she didn’t just have dreams.
She had the work ethic to match those ambitions.
And when her parents cut her off financially until she “came to her senses”, Clarke took the savings she’d managed to squirrel away working part-time as a barista in high school, took out student loans, moved hours away to the big city, and got a part-time job as a waitress to help support her as she pursued her dreams as a full-time student at the culinary academy.
There, she worked her ass off to hone her craft, to expand her repertoire of culinary skills and master the various arts of cooking … from knife skills to baked goods, from main courses to soups and sauces, from appetizers to deserts, wine pairings and even a bit of mixology. Her mind was a veritable library of poultry, beef, lamb, pork, fish, crustacean and even venison dishes … And she knew dozens of preparations for whatever fruits and vegetables were in season.
The teachers at the academy were demanding, the curriculum rigorous, and she’d spent countless hours in the academy’s professional kitchens perfecting her craft.
And it had paid off.
She had distinguished herself not only with her grades … but with a reputation among her teachers and the other students as a particularly gifted aspiring chef … ‘a natural’ … Picking up skills by instinct that took others years to learn …
She took her classes seriously.
Took her perfect gpa and reputation seriously …
Which was why she was having so much trouble in Chef Titus’ class …
“The reason Chef Titus pushes you is because you have talent Miss Griffin …,” the Dean sighed at her from behind his desk.
And it was all Clarke could do to not roll her eyes.
Chef Titus was an asshole.
Pure and simple.
He wasn’t pushing her skills …
She would’ve been fine with that.
Would have welcomed that.
But no …
He was pushing her buttons.
And this was the third meeting she’d had with the Dean about Chef Titus …
“His sauce was bland …,” Clarke said with as little venom as possible, “He gave us a bland recipe … and then chewed everyone out for making a sauce that was too bland … I improved on the recipe and he chewed me out for deviating from the recipe to make it less bland … There’s no winning with him … And he’s wasting our time teaching us bland recipes to do it. Unless his real lesson is teaching us to put up with a head chef who’s on a power trip …”
The Dean sighed, obviously as tired of having these conversations as she was, “But was calling him a ‘fraud’ and a ‘pompous asshole’ truly necessary?”
Clarke bit her lip, “He started it … He pretended to gag on my sauce … Which is such bullshit because it was worlds better than the recipe he gave us … And everyone else was too afraid to try it to see that he was lying. He said he wouldn’t trust me to run a hotdog stand and not screw it up … in front of the whole class!”
The Dean sighed again, “I assure you … Chef Titus is not a fraud …”
Clarke snorted.
He wasn’t gonna refute the ‘pompous asshole’ part …
“Chef Titus has three highly successful restaurants Miss Griffin,” the Dean arched an eyebrow at her, “We’re fortunate to have him teaching for us … And he wants his students to reach their potential … which comes not only through creativity, but through discipline … and following instructions … as we have discussed several times now …”
Clarke sighed and folded her arms.
“I’m sorry but …,” the Dean sighed again, “Chef Titus is no longer willing to teach you … Which means you’re no longer enrolled in his class … Which means-“
“Wait,” Clarke looked back at him with wide eyes, “I need this class … It’s a mandatory class for-“
“Yes,” the Dean looked back at her, “I’m afraid you won’t be able to continue your studies with us.”
“But but …,” Clarke sputtered, “It’s too late to drop … I already paid … and … I’m one semester away from graduating …”
He shook his head sadly, “Not from here I’m afraid.”
Clarke sat back in her chair as a weight settled onto her chest like a brick, “No … That’s … not possible …”
All her other teachers liked her.
Her baking instructor had said she was the most talented baker he’d ever had the pleasure to teach …
He’d had tears in his eyes over her cinnamon rolls and croissants …
And her grades were exceptional in all of her classes except Titus’ …
Her parents already weren’t onboard with her becoming a chef and … now she’d … failed at that?!?
“You’ve had fair warning Miss Griffin,” he looked back at her.
Clarke could barely shove down her anger, “Are you joking? I’ve been coming here to report him.”
“I am sorry to be the bearer of bad news, truly …,” the Dean looked genuinely apologetic, “The registrar has already entered your ‘withdrawn’ status in our systems … which I thought you would find preferable to ‘expulsion’ on your transcript.”
Clarke shot to her feet, jaw clenched, glaring.
But she didn’t say anything.
Didn’t explode with rage like she wanted to.
She’d need letters of recommendation to try and get into another culinary school … when she could afford it … and she definitely couldn’t afford to torch this bridge entirely …
But she did grab her backpack and storm out.
Titus must’ve pulled all his strings to get her kicked out …
All the fucking strings … to get a talented, straight A student kicked out …
And now … she was so completely fucked …
Her brain flitted through the math as she walked to her apartment … the student loans she had to pay back … which she’d thought wouldn’t be a problem … because she’d have a proper job as a real chef by the time she graduated from a highly prestigious culinary academy that would all but ensure that she would have a well paying job upon graduation …
But now she was … so totally fucked …
Clarke was sweating even before she started her long walk up the seven fights of stairs to her apartment …
She texted her boss halfway up …
Maybe … she could get more hours?
Pick up more shifts at the restaurant where she waitressed to help keep her afloat until-
Even though the pay wasn’t nearly enough if she was gonna have to start paying back her student loans now that she wasn’t enrolled anymore …
And she’d been hoping to save up enough to be able to afford to move out of her current apartment … where she lived with her ex-boyfriend …
Finn had agreed to let her stay and keep splitting the rent for a few months … till she’d saved up enough for a deposit on a new place …
A favor he was doing for her that she strongly suspected was motivated by his guilt over cheating on her … because his new girlfriend started dropping by just a week after they broke up …
Though … she really did need that favor from him …
Couldn’t afford to move out …
Which meant that she couldn’t really complain about the whole cheating / new girlfriend always hanging out at their place now thing …
Even though it was uncomfortable as hell living there with him and with her hanging around all the time …
But … how the hell could she afford to move out now?!?
Clarke shoved the door to her apartment closed a little too forcefully.
Gave Finn and Christine a cursory nod from where she’d obviously startled them from their makeout session on her couch …
Walked straight past them to her room and shoved her door shut behind her, dropping her backpack on the floor.
Fuck …
She was … so fucked …
Needed to figure something out and soon because-
Clarke’s phone pinged with a text …
Her boss …
Telling her that due to road construction on the street in front of the restaurant, their foot traffic was way down and everyone’s hours were being cut to avoid layoffs …
Clarke’s jaw clenched as she read the text.
Fuck!
What now?
Search for a second job where she could pick up some shifts?
How long would that take?
Or … beg her parents for money?
Capitulate to whatever strings they put on her in exchange for that support?
Give up culinary school?
Her dream …
Clarke heard a quiet knock on her door.
Christine …
She was sure it was Christine …
And … she really wasn’t in the mood to talk to anyone … much less her ex’s new girlfriend …
Though … it wasn’t like her day could get any worse …
Clarke sighed and opened the door.
“Hey Clarke,” Christine gave her an oblivious smile, “Mail for you …”
She held out a thick, legal-sized envelope.
Clarke took it from her, murmuring a barely audible, “Thank you.”
And immediately closed the door and slumped down in her desk chair.
Looked at the envelope.
It looked official …
Had her full name and address written on it in neat, flowing handwriting …
And a return address she didn’t recognize …
Anya Woods, notary, CPA …
Who was that?
The envelope was sealed with thick tape.
So thick that Clarke had to cut it open with scissors …
And when she pulled out the big pile of stapled and binder-clipped papers … skimmed through them …
What was this?
Doris Griffin … who was apparently her great aunt … had passed away … four months ago …
And … she was next in the line of succession?
Doris Griffin …
Clarke didn’t recognize the name.
Though, her own name was quite distinct …
As far as she knew, she was the only Clarke Griffin in the country.
This … couldn’t have been sent to her by mistake could it?
Clarke kept reading through the documents … slogging her way through all the legalese as best she could …
Doris Griffin’s last will & testament …
The names of the three other Griffins who had declined the inheritance … resulting in the inheritance coming to her … should she choose to accept it …
Clarke’s forehead furrowed as she read … parsing her way through the documents until she came to an itemized list of the contents of the inheritance …
A coffeeshop … along with the apartment above the coffeeshop …
And a special provision … that whoever accepted the inheritance must operate the coffeeshop …
Clarke pursed her lips …
Huh …
A coffeeshop?
And an apartment?
That … would belong to her?
Clarke kept reading, her heart beating a little faster …
The building, the business was located in … Achewillow?
Where the hell was that?
She’d never even heard of it …
Clarke opened her ancient laptop.
Searched 'Achewillow’ …
The town was small … just a dot on the map … 10 miles from a highway …
In the middle of nowhere …
Surrounded by forests and … what looked like … farmland maybe?
There was so little online about the town … no pictures at all …
No pictures of the coffeeshop online either …
Hmm …
Property though …
If … she could find a way to sell it … maybe it could help her pay off her loans?
Help keep her afloat?
Help her pay her tuition to a new culinary school maybe?
She doubted that a business in the middle of nowhere was worth much …
But … she was way too poor not to at least investigate the possibility of making some quick cash …
And … her hours at work had just been cut … she had time to investigate the possibility …
Had nothing but time now that she had no classes to go to …
She checked the name of the contact person again …
Anya Woods, notary, CPA … and her office was also located in Achewillow …
The instructions said to come to her office with two state issued IDs to claim the inheritance should she choose to accept it … or to call to decline if she didn’t want it …
How would she get there?
According to her laptop … Achewillow was a five hour drive away … if she had a car …
She looked for a bus to Achewillow …
No luck.
She opened the ride-share app she’d used to find a cheap lift home last Christmas …
Posted a request for a ride from her city to Achewillow … offering to split the gas bill …
There was no way in hell anyone was going to Achewillow …
There was nothing there as far as she could see …
But … maybe someone would be passing by Achewillow on that highway near the town … on their way to a real city?
Clarke laid down on her bed and stared up at the ceiling …
Contemplating the direness of her situation …
Her expulsion …
Her student loans …
The need to find another job …
What her parents would say if they knew about her situation …
They would happily welcome her back … fund her going to university … studying for a “more professional” and no doubt soul crushing career that she didn’t want …
Last Christmas, she had taken particular pleasure in showing them her grades … in whipping up incredible meals for them that she had hoped would finally help them see that cooking was her gift … her calling … her destiny …
But now …
Clarke looked over at her desk … at the stack of papers from Anya Woods …
Thought about those 3 other Griffins who had declined the inheritance …
That was odd …
Right?
Who said ‘no’ to free property?
A free business?
Or maybe … Clarke swallowed … maybe all those other Griffins had their lives together …
Had thriving careers they loved and plenty of money …
Weren’t splitting rent with their cheating exes because they were to poor to get their own place …
Maybe it wasn’t worth their time to leave their perfect lives and drive out to the middle of nowhere to visit a small town that was just a name on a map with no pictures …
Maybe … she was the biggest failure in her entire bloodline?
Clarke sighed and closed her eyes …
Could feel the headache forming behind her eyes …
Sleep …
She just needed sleep …
To put this awful day behind her for a little while …
And tomorrow … she could start looking for a new job … start figuring things out …
—-
Clarke startled awake to the sound of her phone pinging two hours later.
She blearily reached for it …
Hoping it was her boss asking her to pick up a shift …
Hoping that it wasn’t her parents …
And it wasn’t.
It was a message.
A reply to her post for a ride.
Clarke’s eyebrows raised.
Already a reply?
To Achewillow?
“Happy to give you a lift. Headed out to Achewillow tomorrow. Can pick you up from the central bus station at 7 a.m. - Gus”
What were the odds?
She’d thought it would take maybe a week … maybe more to find someone headed that way …
They were going to Achewillow … tomorrow … and just happened to be looking for a passenger on the same ride-share app she used?
This ‘Gus’ person was for sure gonna murder her right?
If … that was his plan … maybe her name would scare him off …
Without fail, everyone who learned her name before meeting her assumed that she was a man …
Though she loved her name, ‘Clarke’ wasn’t the most girly name …
She replied:
‘Cool. I’ll pay half on gas. How do I know which car is yours? - Clarke”
His reply only took a few minutes.
‘Red delivery truck. You can’t miss it. See you at 7 Clarke.’
Hmm …
Not scared off by her name …
An equal opportunity murderer?
A delivery driver going to Achewillow was plausible though …
And she did need that ride …
Had to at least meet the man and suss out any murderer vibes before she could afford to refuse such a convenient offer …
And even if he seemed okay … she’d take a picture of him and his vehicle and send it to someone just in case … and let Gus know she was doing that … so he knew she wasn’t an easy target …
He’d have to be crazy to murder her despite having his picture taken and shared …
Clarke messaged back:
‘See you then.’
Either tomorrow she would be getting murdered at the bus station by a crazy person … or she’d be on her way to becoming a property owner …