Chapter Nine #5
“Everything. He was the coolest guy, laid-back and earthy. He came from France with nothing more than a backpack full of money and a dream and made the Bistro a place where everyone felt like family. And he was always happy. You could tell how much he loved what he did.”
“Paint me a picture so I can imagine him.”
I love that that’s becoming our thing. “He had long white hair and a scraggly beard, and he spoke with a thick French accent. Every morning he’d drink coffee and read the newspaper on the patio of the restaurant, which is right on the beach not far from the Silver House.
Sometimes he’d set up an easel and paint.
When I was a kid, I’d ride my bike down there just to be around him. ”
“I bet he enjoyed that.”
“I think he did. When the restaurant was open, he’d take breaks from cooking to walk around and talk with customers.
He’d sit right down at their tables and chat with them.
It didn’t matter if they were tourists or locals.
Everyone loved him, and the way he loved his family and the people around him was everything .
I wanted to be him when I grew up. I wanted to create a place where people wanted to bring their friends and family, and I wanted to help make people as happy as he did and connect with them in a memorable way. ”
“Well, you definitely have a knack for making people feel special and included. I think as far as business goes, we have that in common. I try to make an appearance in every department every week, just to touch base and say good morning. I never want anyone who works for the company to feel like they’re just a number. ”
“That’s exactly why I do it. It’s that extra connection.”
“I get it. But your parents own a resort,” she says carefully. “When my family stayed there, we saw your parents at the resort often and they were friendly. Didn’t they make people feel welcome back then?”
“Sure, but it was different. My old man was running a whole resort, managing dozens of staff.”
“I get it. You liked the intimacy of the restaurant. How did you end up with Rock Bottom?”
“You want all the gritty details?”
She smiles. “Didn’t you?”
“Ah, fair’s fair. The restaurant was called Topside back then, and it was going under.
The service was crappy, the food was subpar, and the owner was kind of a dick, but the location was great.
I had access to my trust fund, so I made an offer to the owner, and he accepted it on the spot.
He couldn’t wait to get off the island, but I pissed off my parents pretty bad. ”
“Why? Did they want you to work at the resort?”
“No. They knew I’d never work at the resort. It wasn’t my thing. They thought I was too young, too unsettled, and it was a bad investment. Their first two concerns were valid. I was right out of college, and I’d enjoyed four wild years.”
“So you were a wild child?”
“I guess you could say that. For the first time ever, I wasn’t seen as a Silver.
I could blend in and be a normal guy, and I took full advantage of that freedom.
I was a party boy and gave zero fucks what anyone thought about me.
I drank too much, my grades weren’t great, and I was everyone’s friend.
But when I bought the restaurant, I was determined to prove my parents wrong, and I did. ”
“I’d say so. I’m sure they’re very proud of you, and Olivier must be, too.”
“Thanks. I’d like to think so. Unfortunately, Olivier passed away when I was young, and he is sorely missed.”
“Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t know.” She yawns. “Sorry about that , too. What do you miss most about him?”
Nobody has ever asked me that question before, and I know she’s tired, but I like that she wants to know about Olivier, so I try to keep my answer brief.
“I miss being around him. He was the most authentic person I’ve ever known.
He didn’t try to live up to anyone else’s standards by dressing to impress or making the Bistro glamorous.
It was a renovated boathouse, and he kept it rustic.
He was all about good food and real relationships.
I miss his cooking, too. Especially the tarte tatin. That was my favorite dessert.”
“What is that?”
“Caramelized apples with butter and sugar in a pastry dough.”
“Yum. That sounds delicious.”
“It’s heaven on a plate. Abby is a great chef, and I’ll never admit to saying this, but I’ve never had French food as good as Olivier’s.”
“Maybe because he was from France? Or because you adored him so much. How long ago did he pass away?”
“It’s been more than twenty years. I was nine or ten. His wife, Ava, never got over losing him. She lost herself in alcohol.”
“That’s so sad.”
As she says it, I realize talking about Ava losing Olivier might stir hard feelings for Victory. “Shit. Sorry, Vic. We shouldn’t talk about this. I wasn’t thinking.”
“No, it’s okay. People die. It’s an unavoidable part of life, and Olivier was special to you. Please, go on. That must have been awful for their girls.”
“It was. They basically had to raise themselves after Olivier died, because Ava was like a half-functioning alcoholic. We all tried to help.”
“Your family?”
“Mine, and the Remingtons and the Steeles. When Ava went downhill, all of us kids took turns working for free at the Bistro, and we did it for years. I helped on college breaks, too, and our moms helped the girls however they could. After I opened the restaurant, I hired Ava to cater small events that I knew she could handle, and I paid her three times what it cost, to be sure she could make ends meet.”
“That’s amazing, but didn’t she realize you could have catered them yourself?”
“No. I always had an excuse. We all did things like that. Our moms had her cater lunches and birthday parties, and they’d do the same thing, overpay to be sure she could keep food on the table for the girls and the Bistro open.”
“Wow. She’s lucky to have lived in such a great community.”
“That’s what I love most about living here.
Usually when kids go to school in a city or town, most of their friends are from that school.
But on the island, all three K through eight schools feed into one central high school, Silver Island High.
It doesn’t matter whether you grew up on the wealthier part of the island or an old fishing town.
The kids you go to school with end up feeling like family, and everyone comes together for those who need it. ”
“I miss tha—” Her words are lost in another yawn.
I want to ask if she misses a sense of community, or misses living near the families she grew up with, but it’s late, and I’ve kept her up late every night this week.
I tuck those questions away with the many others I have and say, “As much as I love talking with you, it’s almost midnight there.
You need to get some rest. You have a long flight tomorrow. ”
Her brows knit. “I didn’t realize it was that late. It’s three hours later where you are. You must be exhausted.”
“I’m fine. I had fun tonight. I like talking with you.”
“Me too. You’re a fun friend, Wells, but you’re a sucky playboy.”
I scoff, more at her use of friend than sucky playboy , but I’ll play along. “You and I both know that’s not true.”
“You’re not supposed to become friends with your conquests.”
“I don’t. One day you’ll realize you’re a hell of a lot more than a conquest.” Before she can argue, I say, “I’m sure you’ll see me in your dreams tonight. G’night, sweet thing,” and end the call.