Chapter 14
“How are the wedding plans going?” Bruno talked into his Bluetooth, leaving his hands free as he moved around The Wine Cork’s kitchen.
Taking advantage of the strawberries he picked from his mother’s garden last time he visited the house, he had prepared the batter for a strawberry bread as dessert. He would top it off with a glaze after the loaf came out of the oven and cooled.
“Thank goodness for wedding planners,” his older brother, Ethan, a real estate developer, said. “The closer we get to the wedding date, the more interesting issues crop up.”
“Such as?” Bruno poured the batter into a loaf pan.
“Skye invited everyone at the community center where she works, except for one person she doesn’t like. A co-worker who more or less rubbed her nose in it when her boyfriend proposed and Skye and I were still living together. She asked Skye about her wedding invitation, saying the envelope must have gotten lost in the mail.”
“What did Skye say?” Bruno asked, placing the loaf in the preheated oven.
“She felt guilty and agreed the invitation must have gotten lost in the mail. She handed her one the next day.”
“A woman Skye dislikes is coming to her wedding,” Bruno concluded.
“Yes,” Ethan said, sounding as perplexed as Bruno felt. “Her name is Janelle. I told my future wife she didn’t need to feel guilty, but of course she didn’t listen to me.”
“I can definitely see her not wanting this woman to feel left out, though she might deserve it. There is no way I would ever invite someone I didn’t like to my wedding, but women are different from us, and Skye is a sweetheart. What about the car?”
Ethan had purchased a blue 1956 Bentley coupe convertible. There weren’t many left in the world. He had paid a high six-figure cost and was having the vehicle restored, and he and his bride planned to drive away in it after the wedding. When the restoration was complete, the car would be worth over a million dollars and continue to appreciate in value because of its rarity.
“I was assured the Bentley will be ready in time.”
Knowing Ethan, it better be, or there would be hell to pay.
“Speaking of weddings, what’s going on with Executive Match? Is the matchmaker working out?” Ethan asked.
Bruno wiped the counter. “Marissa—the matchmaker—organized a mixer for me and I’ve gone on two dates.”
“How were they?”
“Not good, but not completely bad, either. I’m optimistic and trusting the process.” He gave his brother a brief rundown of each. “Marissa said I should give her a year to help me find the woman of my dreams, and that’s what I’m doing.”
He tried not to think about Marissa in that red lipstick and red dress with a great view of her legs. She had captivated him, and he’d been equally captivated by her big Afro, nude lips, and casual shirt the last time they talked. He was looking forward to tonight way more than he should.
“I’m glad you’re thinking about settling down. For a while I thought you’d be single forever,” Ethan remarked.
“You are talking to me about being single?”
“Skye and I aren’t married, but I haven’t been single since she and I became a couple.”
“True,” Bruno conceded.
Ethan had been totally committed to Skye despite his initial refusal to marry her.
“I’ve accomplished everything I wanted to in my career. Now is the right time to get married,” Bruno said.
In the distance, the front door rattled.
“Marissa is here. We’re going to talk about more of my options tonight.”
“Good luck. I don’t envy you.”
After hanging up, Bruno set down the Bluetooth and walked to the front door of the restaurant. Marissa stood outside with her messenger bag on her shoulder. She wore a colorful short-sleeved blouse with a pleated front, tucked into skinny jeans, and her hair smoothed in the usual bun.
Simple and exquisite, like a perfect truffle in a humble dish.
He opened the door. “Welcome to The Wine Cork.”
She slipped inside, bringing the subtle scent of perfume with her.
“Watch your step.” Bruno pointed at a patch of torn up tile near the entrance.
Her eyes scoured the interior. “When will the renovations be completed?” she asked.
The restaurant was in a state of disarray, with tables and chairs stacked in the middle of the dining room and covered with dust cloths. Half the walls were painted, while the other half had color swatches attached to them where he and his team were testing new looks. Some of the light fixtures were missing, wires hanging from the ceiling where they’d eventually be installed. A faint smell of paint and sawdust filled the air, interrupted by the aroma of the meal he was preparing for their dinner.
“Not for a few months, and I’m in no rush. I want everything to be perfect when I reopen. I have big plans for my little bistro, including a brand new marketing campaign.”
The Wine Cork was the type of place where patrons came to see and be seen. The open design included bistro tables in the dining room and a bar where patrons could watch the chefs as they cooked. Several of his restaurants had a similar layout because for him, cooking was a performance art. It made sense they should have an audience to the intricacies of creating each dish.
“You can place your bag there,” Bruno said, pointing at the bar, “and join me in the kitchen. I’m going to put you to work.”
She let out a moan that should have indicated displeasure but came out sounding sexy as hell. The sound arrowed to his groin and gave him pause. Damn.
Completely unaware of the impact she had on him, Marissa added an exaggerated sigh. “I should have known there was a catch to the invitation for free food.”
“Don’t worry, I’ll take care of the hard parts, and you’ll be assisting. By the way, I’m using you as a guinea pig. I’m testing new menu items for when the bistro reopens. Normally, I try new recipes on my family, and they give honest answers that help me make final tweaks or eliminate dishes that don’t work. I expect the same honesty from you.”
“Don’t you have an executive chef for this location?” Marissa asked, washing her hands.
Bruno pulled ingredients from the cooler to make a dressing for their salad. “I do, but I like to experiment and push my creative boundaries. I can’t ever completely give up my time at the stove, though I work much less in the kitchen now than at the beginning of my career.”
“Well, I have good news for you,” Marissa said, as she dried her hands on a paper towel. “I have a new list of women. A couple I pulled from the database, but I also conferred with my colleagues at the office and Rick—one of the other matchmakers—said he has someone you should meet. After reviewing her profile, I agree. She’s a model by the name of Yanique. She’s currently out of the country on a shoot but will be back soon.”
The last thing Bruno wanted to do was discuss potential dates. The very idea bothered and annoyed him.
“Let’s hold off on discussing my options for a wife until after dinner.”
“Oh, okay.” She sounded surprised but folded her hands in front of her. “What’s on the menu tonight?”
“A chicken sandwich with a homemade sauce, served between brioche buns from the bakery I own.”
“I didn’t know you owned a bakery.”
“I do. They supply bread to my restaurants and have contracts with others in town. The bread will be accompanied by an arugula salad with a simple mustard dressing. We’re also having house fries with Parmigiano-Reggiano, grilled romaine hearts, and ribeye steaks. Strawberry bread is in the oven for dessert.”
Her face lit up. “You’re feeding me good tonight. I can’t wait.” She rubbed her palms together.
He found her excitement endearing. Adorable. What would kissing her be like? he mused.
“You’re going to make the dressing while I plate the first meal. Would you hand me four plates from over there, please?”
He spread out the dishes on the stainless steel countertop and then gave her instructions on making the mustard dressing. While she worked, he topped a sandwich with lettuce, tomato, and his homemade sauce and sliced it in half. He placed a half on each plate with arugula salad. He topped the greens with shaved Parmesan and then Marissa spooned the mustard dressing on top.
Bruno walked to the cooler. “What would you like to drink?”
“Water.”
“I have wine and beer,” he offered.
She wrinkled her nose. “Water is fine.”
He handed her a bottle of water and took a bottle of beer for himself.
They carried their plates to the stainless steel prep table and sat on stools.
“This looks good,” Marissa said, examining the sandwich.
“Time for the taste test. After you.”
Bruno watched her take a bite and waited for the verdict. She chewed slowly, as if savoring the flavors.
“This is good.” Marissa spoke with her mouth full, pointing at the sandwich. She finished chewing and swallowed. “I can’t find anything wrong with this sandwich. The bun is perfectly toasted, the chicken patty is delicious and cooked to perfection.”
“Not too much cilantro?” Bruno asked.
She shook her head. “Perfect.” She took another bite.
Satisfied with her answers, he took a bite himself.
“This is good,” he agreed.
“You should definitely add this combo to the menu.” Marissa ate some of her salad.
Her reaction pleased him.
“I know this sounds crazy, but this is some of the best chicken I’ve ever had,” Marissa said.
“You don’t sound crazy. Quality ingredients are important because they impact the taste, nutrition, and overall dining experience. We put quality materials in our cars so they will run more smoothly and last longer. How much more important is it to take the same care and put quality ingredients in our bodies?”
Marissa nodded. “You sound passionate about it.”
“Damn right, I’m passionate about using the best ingredients. Right now, my team is negotiating with a manufacturer on a line of high-end spices, sauces, dressings, and marinades for grocery stores using my name. But, the manufacturer wants to cut corners and doesn’t want to use produce from the organic farmers we recommended.”
“And Bruno does not cut corners.”
“Never,” he said in a hardened voice.
Marissa lifted a piece of cheese into her mouth. “Why high-end?” she asked.
“There’s more money in it, obviously, and the higher quality necessitates higher prices. Otherwise, the margins will be extremely low.” He took a sip of beer.
“But you can negotiate based on volume, can’t you?”
“Yes,” he said with a nod.
“Which will make your margins better, and the more you sell, the more money you make.”
“Yes, but these are exclusive products we’re making. They’re not the average item you pick off the local grocery store’s shelves.”
Marissa fell quiet, but the crease in her brow indicated thoughts running through her head. Finally, she spoke again.
“I hope I’m not overstepping,” she said carefully, “but I think you should reconsider your market. As someone who didn’t grow up wealthy and ate most of her food from a can or box, I think—no, I know—convenience foods made from the best ingredients while being priced right, would be greatly appreciated by people outside the demographic you’re targeting. A few minutes ago you mentioned the importance of quality ingredients and how they can impact not only the taste of a dish but the nutritional value. Quality, healthy food shouldn’t be out of reach for the average consumer. Just something to think about.”
She continued eating her salad, leaving Bruno to ruminate on her words.
His only concern had been about how much money he could make related to keeping his high standards in place, but what if he could do his part to help people in a lower income bracket?
People like his stepmother, who had struggled as a single mother before she met his father. People like Marissa too, apparently.
She was right. Good, healthy food should not be withheld as some kind of prize. Everyone should have access.
He would do his part to help make that a reality.