Twenty-eight #2
“I took a moment to connect with a customer,” I say with a shrug.
Papa looks quietly proud. Heather looks like she’s sucked a lemon. She’d never stoop to assist a walk-in. That kind of humility isn’t in her DNA.
“Sometimes,” I add, “the best way to lead is to listen first.”
As Duane drives me to the restaurant, I text Sophie and Patrice:
Me: Wish me luck. I’m off to a tête-à-tête with Dad and Heather.
Sophie: Call me tonight! I didn’t know this was happening!
Patrice: Make her give you the dress back.
Me: Heather invited me this morning and then I invited my dad.
Patrice: You’ve got this.
Sophie: Oh gawd. Good luck.
We arrive at Soleil. Duane trails behind me like always.
“She’s bringing him?” Heather hisses.
Papa pats her hand. She looks ready to detonate. For someone who thinks she’s in charge, she sure hates being challenged.
At the hostess stand, she announces, “Reservation for Olivier,” like she’s royalty.
I cringe. Always performing.
We’re led toward a quiet table in the corner by the window.
Heather stops. “This table’s drafty and forgettable. Can we sit over there?” She points to a central spot in the heart of the restaurant.
“I assure you,” the hostess replies politely, “you won’t be forgotten.”
Heather smiles tightly. “We prefer the center.”
She nods and heads off to “check with the front.”
Let the games begin.
“I’d prefer privacy for this conversation,” I say softly, aimed at Heather. “The corner table is perfect.”
“I didn’t bring a cover, and I don’t like being cold,” she snaps.
It takes everything in me not to bite back. I won’t embarrass Papa, not here. Heather’s already doing an excellent job of that herself. I pull a ten-dollar bill and discreetly fold it into my palm.
The hostess returns and leads us to the center table. I press the folded bill into her hand. “Sorry we’re being difficult.”
She tucks the tip into her pocket with a discreet smile. “Not a problem.”
Heather watches the exchange with narrowed eyes. As soon as the hostess walks away, she leans in. “You didn’t have to tip her. She’s doing her job. That’s ridiculous.”
I don’t open the menu. I haven’t decided if I’m staying.
“It was my money. Why do you care? I just prefer they don’t spit in our food.”
Heather sighs like she’s doing damage control. “This,” she says, all false concern, “is what your father and I wanted to talk to you about. You’re reckless with money. That dress, the bodyguards—don’t you think you should be more responsible? You don’t know how long your money will last.”
I turn to Papa. “Where exactly do you think it’s going?”
Before he can answer, Heather jumps in. “There’s always the possibility your father makes other plans for the company.”
She sits back, expecting him to back her up.
He doesn’t.
Instead, he studies the menu like it’s suddenly become the most important document of his life.
Coward.
“And what plans would those be, exactly?” I ask, keeping my voice even.
Heather straightens in her seat. “He didn’t want to be the one to tell you because he loves you, of course, but he’s asked me to take over the company. When he retires, you’ll step down.”
I glance at my father. He says nothing.
Heather presses on. “And the rough diamond boondoggle ends immediately. It’s bad for the brand. Tasteless, really.”
I arch a brow. “And he agrees with you?”
Still nothing from him.
Heather gives me a pitying smile. “He believes you’re hurting the company, even if he can’t bring himself to say it.”
She wants a reaction. A scene. To paint me as emotional, irrational.
“You picked this table,” I say, voice low, “because you thought I’d cause a scene. You’d love that, wouldn’t you?”
Her smile doesn’t move. “Not at all. But perhaps it’s time we discuss a timeline for your departure.”
Finally, my father looks up. “I don’t think that’s necessary.”
I sip my water, then glance at him. My pulse is steady. My voice is calm. But underneath, adrenaline hums. This is the moment we stop pretending. “Papa, are you going to tell her, or shall I?”
He clears his throat, gently sliding his hand over hers. “Heather…when Odette and I divorced, there were stipulations. Her father funded the business in the early days and—”
“What he’s trying to say,” I interrupt, “is that the divorce agreement guarantees me a position at Olivier for as long as I want one.”
Heather’s face goes still.
“And here’s the kicker,” I continue. “Even though I’m the minority shareholder, he can’t name a new CEO without my consent.”
Her expression turns to stone.
“And unless we both agree to sell, all of his shares will pass to me. No gifts to second wives. No inheritance for…close companions.”
She whips her head toward him. “How long has this been in place?”
“Since the divorce,” he says quietly.
I shrug. “This is why I want him to retire. Travel, spend his money, be happy. I don’t care. But the company stays with me.”
Heather slams her hand on the table. Glasses rattle. Diners look up.
“You’re going to ruin everything he built!” she spits.
“I disagree,” I reply calmly. “So does the board. I’m taking it into the future.”
“You’ll burn it to the ground.”
I smile. “Then I guess it’s mine to burn.”
My father winces but says nothing.
Heather shoots to her feet. “I don’t have to sit here and be disrespected.”
She storms out.
For a moment, I feel a flicker of sympathy. Then I remember, this entire lunch was her coup attempt.
I turn to my father. “Are you unhappy with the direction I’m taking Olivier?”
He shakes his head. “Not in the least.”
The server approaches. “Can I get you something to drink?”
“I’d like a glass of Prosecco, please.”
My father gives a faint smile. “Make it two.”
The server glances toward the empty seat. “And for your other guest?”
I glance toward the door. “I don’t think she’s coming back.” I should feel victorious. Instead, I feel the weight of everything she almost took from me.
“So just the two of you?”
We both nod.
After the server leaves, I look at him again. “Do you think she’ll be at the house when you get back?”
He sighs. “I should’ve told her the truth from the beginning. I thought she’d let it go. She seemed so committed to the stores. I admired that.”
I reach across the table and take his hand. “You’re one of the most eligible bachelors in San Francisco. You don’t have to settle for someone who only wants your company.”
“She meant well.”
“Maybe. But if she’s still there, talk to her. And understand, she has every right to be angry. You let her believe in something that was never yours to give.”
He looks away, eyes clouded with quiet regret.
And for once, I let him sit in it. He made his choices. So did I. And today, I walked away holding the legacy he almost gave away.
Papa and I have a wonderful lunch.
“I like when we eat out just the two of us,” he says.
“I’m glad we’re doing it now.”
“Any news about the dress?”
“Actually, Jim called on my way in this morning. They found it on the dark web. They’re trying to locate it and figure out how it got there.”
He reaches for my hand. “Heather swears she had nothing to do with it.”
“I guess we’ll find out. But I’m getting nervous. They’re already taking photos for the ad campaign next week and the dress was a pivotal part of that.”
He nods. “Hopefully they’ll find it soon.”
“I hope so too.”