Page 140 of The Promise Of You

Kiara turns to her. “Honey, did you look at her? She’s everybody’s style. Guy like Justin who didn’t want to commit, he still had needs. We all know he just got them taken care of out of town, and he was out of town a lot. She’s all tits and ass and legs and her hair is fabulous. I know you’re his sister, but even you must know the guy is sex on wheels. Of course they did it.” Then she turns to me. “No offense, boss girl.”

I feel like I’m dying inside. “None taken.”

To further soften her blow, she explains, “Sex is only sex. Makes babies. Doesn’t make a man happy more’n few minutes. You make Justin deeply happy. You’re at another level. He’s in love with you, boss girl.”

“I know,” I whisper back. Still, it’s hard.

“You got nothing to worry about.”

“I know,” I whisper again.

“He’s yours.”

“I know.”

“Now, can we talk about the dessert menu?”

“Yes,” I whisper even softer. “Thank you.”

“Good.” She shows me pictures with descriptions and pricing while I nod absentmindedly, replaying in my head what just happened. Am I going to be able to follow through on what I said? Can I even be the mature adult I’m talking about? It might be partially a Fake it ’til you make it situation.

“Each delivery, I’ll bring extra for your servers so they know what they’re selling,” Kiara says.

I nod. Okay, Chloe, back in the game. “Appreciate that.”

“Make sure they sell.”

“Yup, none of that ready for the bill? business.” I’ve already trained my staff to upsell, and as if on cue, Abby comes up to us, plops her fist on her hip with an attitude directed at Kiara, and says, “For dessert, we have our three-tiered chocolate cake, which is to die for (rolls eyes), comes with a side of homemade whipped cream. Or a traditional apple pie with apples from the Chandler’s orchard, a flaky crust, touch of cinnamon, served a la mode with ice cream made at King’s Farm with milk from their Jersey cows. Our pastry chef also made her pear and ginger souffle served lukewarm with a cardamom custard cream. You will not believe your taste buds if you order this one. She’s won an award in France with that souffle. So what will it be? My favorite is the chocolate cake, but I’m always partial to chocolate. Yesterday we almost had a riot when we ran out of the pie. I can also ask the kitchen to do a sampling plate for you, if you think you’re full, but honestly, I know you’re going to want to go for more. So, what will it be?” she finishes by mimicking taking out her waiter’s pad.

I laugh and clap at Abby’s spiel. “You go, girl, that’s the spirit. Don’t give them an option not to have dessert.”

“Holy cow, Abby! I didn’t know I’d won an award,” Kiara says, visibly pleased as well.

Abby flips her hair. “That was just filler text, obviously. I’ll need a full prompt.”

“Will do.” Kiara says. “We’ll go over those when we do the tastings each week.”

Later that day, showered and dressed for evening service, I take a look at our guest list for the evening. “Lynn and Craig are coming?” I ask Shoshana.

She nods. “They’re pass holders.”

I missed that. Too much has happened, with Gisele, the meeting at the bank this morning which got the ball rolling on the renos—not to mention Samuel giving me weird vibes—I haven’t taken a moment to go over the list and know who in the community has been my primary supporters. “Thanks for pointing that out,” I tell Shoshana. “Table eleven, good call too. Great. Thank you. Their drinks will be on the house.”

“Of course,” Shoshana says, making a note on their reservation.

“They’re coming late, second service. Good.” That means I’ll be less rushed. I’ll have time to chat and apologize for missing dinner at their home the other night.

Lynn is the opposite of Mom. She hugs the staff (she knows them, of course) and makes everyone feel comfortable. She’s smiling and laughing at Craig’s jokes and clearly having an awesome time overall, her good vibes radiating through the entire restaurant.

Lynn and Craig are also obviously very-well respected in the community. People stop to say hello and talk with them. Their presence, I understand immediately, is a stamp of approval for the restaurant, and that is going to be another huge help in our midweek traffic.

Alex came in, took pictures of the dishes, of some patrons who waved at her, and tag notifications are starting to flow on my phone. I’ll respond later. Lynn and Craig are wrapping up their dinner. I want to go and thank them properly.

“This was lovely, darlin’,” Craig tells me, and it hits me how his use of the moniker is entirely genuine, the opposite of when Mom calls me dahling. “Gave me a reason to take my wife out. Can’t pass on an excuse to save money and make Lynn happy. Double win.” He smiles at me and taps my forearm. “Well done, Chloe. Very proud of our son’s girlfriend. He did good.”

He winks at me and stands. “Ladies, if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to go have a nightcap at my son’s establishment.” He leans toward me and stage whispers, “I hear he got himself into a situation and needs emotional support. That boy always had to do and have more’n the others.”

Lynn rolls her eyes at her husband’s last remark and taps the place left vacant in front of her. “Sit for a moment?” The dining room is empty, save for the two ladies who were at Easy Monday the other morning. We chatted briefly earlier, and it warmed my heart at how happy they were to be here. They’re sitting at the opposite side of the dining room, out of earshot.

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