Page 86 of Single-Minded
“Here you are,” she says.
“Oh no,” I say. “We’re happy to sit at one of the interior tables. This is the best table in the house; we should save it for a VIP at tonight’s event.”
“Chef Daniel was very specific.” She smiles. “Veryspecific.”
“Thank you,” I say. Carter and Darcy make themselves comfortable. I sit down and hang my clutch. Everything is so beautiful, I can’t stop gazing around.
“Look at this,” says Darcy, pointing to a silver-framed photograph on the wall behind us.
“Oh my God,” says Carter.
I turn to look to see what the two of them are so enamored of, and I’m stunned to see a black-and-white print of the photograph that Cliff Roles snapped of Daniel and me while we were dancing—that very first night we kissed. The vintage globe lights strung along the deck shimmer in the background. Daniel and I are both smiling in the picture, completely entranced by one another.
Daniel had it framed in silver like the others, the photographs of his beloved family and their culinary legacy, and hung it right next to our usual table. I’m touched.
“I told you,” Carter says. “Smitten.”
“I’ll say,” says Darcy.
“I’m going to the bar,” Carter announces. “Does anybody want anything?”
“I’d just like some Perrier with a twist of lime for now, please,” I say. “I need to do a quick walk-through to make sure everything is in place before the event starts.”
“Do your thing,” says Darcy. “You know where to find us.”
“Yes,” teases Carter. “AtAlex’stable.” Smiling, I roll my eyes at him and excuse myself to do the walk-through.
I’m so thrilled by how everything has turned out. Both decks are flawless, and the inside bar area has been reconfigured according to my plan. One of my signature red binders sits open on the bar. I close it and stow it on the shelving underneath. The mermaid statue with the verdigris patina we found in storage is elegant in her permanent place near the inside entrance. My Yahtzee victory the other night assured her a home in the restaurant, rather than upstairs in Daniel’s studio.
Cliff Roles arrives on board around six forty-five and I ask him to please take as many shots of the decks and bar area as he can before guests arrive. Cliff and I have a standing deal when he photographs my events. In addition to the work he does for the society pages, I pay him extra to shoot the rooms themselves. It works out well for both of us. Cliff makes some extra cash for taking photos at an event he was shooting anyway, and I get some amazing photographs for my portfolio. Boudreaux is the most stunning restaurant I’ve ever done, and I want to capture every exquisite detail for posterity.
“I’m so glad you’re here tonight,cher,” comes Daniel’s unmistakable voice. “It wouldn’t feel right without you.”
I turn toward his sweetly melodic tenor, a masculine siren song in the key of Louisiana drawl. He’s debonair as you’d expect culinary royalty to be; his dark hair urbane, his cleft on stun, and his charisma at full wattage. He looks polished and dapper in a slim cut navy suit. It’s all I can do not to just rip it right off him.
“You’re breathtaking,” says Daniel.
“Thank you,” I say. “You’re pretty breathtaking yourself.” Jesus, I can hardly contain myself. I give myself a quick reminder of what transpired the morning prior.
“You’re wearing the same dress you wore the first night we met,” he says. His deep-blue eyes are so intensely captivating, I can hardly focus. The fact that he remembers what I wore the first time he ever saw me makes me blush.
“Before everyone arrives, I hoped you’d allow me to explain about yesterday,” he starts. I think about what Michael said about giving Daniel a chance. Actually, I’ve been thinking about it all afternoon.
“Okay.” I nod.
“It was not what you thought—” he starts to say, as he’s interrupted by a cohort of Southerners crowding around him, blessed with the same movie-star chins, dimples, and bourbony New Orleans accents.
“Cher,is this her?” asks a striking older woman with dark hair pulled back in a sophisticated chignon.
“Daniel, Daniel, are we finally meeting your Alex? We’ve waited all day, son. Where is she?” says a man in chef’s whites.
Daniel’s skin flushes a little, which I find completely endearing.
“Yes, this is Alex. Alex, this is my family,” he says. “I’d like to introduce my mother, Genevieve Boudreaux; my father, Etienne Boudreaux, who everyone calls ‘Chef’; my brother and, as you know, wardrobe consultant, Gabriel.” I smile a little when he mentions the wardrobe consultant bit. “And this is my grand-mere, the incomparable Miss Georgina Boudreaux.”
“So nice to meet you all,” I say, shaking hands all around. It’s so lovely that they’ve all made the trip from New Orleans to support Daniel on his opening night.
They’re a gorgeous bunch, dressed mostly in kitchen clothing, with the exception of Gabriel, Daniel’s brother, who’s nattily turned out in a linen suit, bow tie, and a straw fedora—every inch the Southern gentleman.
