Page 127 of Cooking Up My Comeback
“Yes, chef,” Benji says with mock seriousness, then grins at Bernice. “See? Told you this place would be more exciting than the diner.”
“Mama! Daddy’s here! Can we go say hi? I want to tell him about the fish and chips!”
Amber’s face goes carefully neutral—the expression every divorced parent perfects when they need to protect their children from adult complications.
“That’s nice, sweetheart,” she says, smoothing Mason’s hair. “But Daddy’s having dinner with his friend right now. We don’t want to interrupt.”
“But it’s our restaurant!” Mason protests. “We should say hi to everyone!”
“Later, okay? Right now, Mom needs to check on the kitchen.”
I can see the internal war she’s fighting—wanting to shield her kids from whatever Chad has planned while not wanting to dim their excitement about their father’s presence.
“I’ll handle it.” I start toward his table, but Amber catches my arm.
“Don’t,” she says quietly. “That’s what he wants. He wants you to react, to cause a scene.”
“I’m not going to cause a scene. I’m going to handle our customer service issue.”
“Brett—”
But I’m already walking toward table twelve, every eye in the restaurant following me. The conversations have died down to whispers. Everyone’s waiting to see what happens next.
“Good evening,” I say pleasantly when I reach Chad’s table. “I understand there’s an issue with your service?”
Chad leans back in his chair with the satisfied expression of a man who’s gotten exactly what he wanted—attention, drama, and the chance to be the center of the universe for five minutes. “Wondering if this is typical for new restaurants. Long waits, inconsistent service...”
Right. Because Chad’s an expert on restaurant service, having spent most of his marriage asking Amber why dinner wasn’t ready while he sat on the couch watching sports.
“Actually,” his date interrupts with obviousembarrassment, “our food came out fine. Chad, maybe we should?—”
“I’m sure there’s some confusion,” I say, keeping my voice level. “Your server will be right over to check on you.”
“No confusion,” Chad says loudly enough for the neighboring tables to hear. “Concerned about whether this place is really ready for prime time. Seems like maybe you opened too soon.”
And there it is. The public challenge. The attempt to undermine our credibility in front of half the town.
I’m about to respond when Amber appears beside me, her chin up and her eyes blazing.
“Is there a problem with your meal?” she asks Chad with perfect professional courtesy.
“Amber.” Chad’s smile is all teeth, no warmth. “Congratulations on tonight. Though I have to say, I’m surprised you went ahead with the opening. Given our pending business discussion.”
The surrounding tables go quiet. Everyone’s listening now.
“We don’t have any pending business,” Amber says clearly.
“Really? Because my lawyer seems to think we had a settlement offer with a deadline.”
My hands clench into fists. He’s doing this here, now, in front of everyone.Making their private business public, forcing her to defend herself in the middle of our grand opening.
“Your lawyer can contact mine,” I say before Amber can respond. “Davidson, Reeves & Associates. They’re handling all restaurant business matters now.”
Chad’s smile falters slightly. “Is that so?”
“That’s so. Along with the harassment complaint we’re filing with the sheriff’s department.”
The threat hangs in the air between us. Chad’s date shifts uncomfortably in her seat, clearly wanting to disappear. The nearby tables are watching this like a tennis match.
