Chapter 44 Ivy
Ivy
I’m doing a final restaurant walkthrough with the contractor, and everything looks like a dream. It’s so much more than I could have ever imagined.
“Tom. This is …” I shake my head, not knowing how to reply. “Thank you.”
He waved me off. “We did quality work, but I think it was the decorator that made it look so great. I’m going to have to try to work with her again.” Tom said that last part mostly to himself.
“What decorator?” I ask, then watch as the color drains from Tom’s typically rosy cheeks.
He doesn’t answer.
“You never mentioned a decorator. And I know I didn’t pay for a decorator. What’s going on, Tom?”
“I wasn’t supposed to say.”
I turn to face Tom fully. “Well, you have to now.”
“While you were in England, I was contacted by a man who said he had extra money to put into the project. He wanted to pay for a decorator, and he wanted me to hire extra workers so the project would move faster.”
“So all the emails you sent with options and things for me to approve were things from the decorator?”
“Yes.”
“And the only reason we’re ready to open so much sooner—”
“Yes.”
I am flabbergasted. “Was the person’s name Alexander?”
“No. His name was Mark.”
Mark. That must be Alex’s assistant. I’m about ten percent mad that Alex did this, but then I look around with fresh eyes at the gift he gave me.
And then think about the income from opening early and being able to get my employees back to work.
Surprisingly, most of them waited for us to reopen rather than getting other jobs.
I’d been so relieved for them when it was clear they would get to come back sooner.
All thanks to Alex.
“I’m sorry about keeping this from you, Miss Hawkins. I was afraid if I said anything, the money would be gone, and I really wanted this to be the best it could be. And to be able to get you back open as soon as I could.”
“It’s fine, Tom. I’m glad I know now, though. I’m just grateful to be ready to open this beautiful restaurant.”
“Me too. I’m ready for one of your breakfast bowls.”
I smile. “Come for breakfast tomorrow. It’s on the house.”
“Na uh,” Val says, a forkful of spaghetti paused on the way to her mouth. I’m at Val and Micah’s dining room table having supper with my family.
“He’s the only reason I’m able to open tomorrow.”
“And that it’s so gorgeous. Man. Is his assistant like a private investigator?” Val finally takes her bite.
“I don’t think it would be terribly hard to figure this out.
The location of my restaurant would be a simple Google search, and Tom is one of only two contractors in the area.
” I take a sip of my water, unable to eat.
The missing of Alex and feeling like I’ve made a huge mistake have my stomach churning.
“Still. And to have the audacity to hire a designer behind your back for your restaurant? Why did he think that would be okay?” Val sets down her fork.
“I had told him my vision, and Tom emailed me options and had me approve everything. I’m not upset about it.”
Val’s gaze slides to her husband. “You’re being suspiciously quiet.”
Micah looked at Val for a moment, then turned his gaze to me. “I’m glad you’re not mad. I helped coordinate things and approved the designer’s idea.”
“Micah!” Val yells.
“Dad’s in trouble.” Peter laughs, and Juniper joins him.
“He wanted it to be a surprise. He told me about their plan to communicate with Ivy about the design, that it would be something she would love.”
Honestly, I’m not upset. Should Micah have told me, or stopped it in the first place? Yes? No? I don’t know. I’m happy with how everything turned out. The only unsettling thing is, once again, the feeling of possibly making a mistake by leaving him.
“Guys, it’s fine. Everything turned out for the best. I’m sorry to leave y’all with the dishes, but I think I need to go on. The morning’s gonna come early.”
“What time are you getting up?” Juniper asks.
“I have to get up by five to have time to get ready and get down to the kitchen to have everything ready to open at seven.” I have two kitchen staff who will be there at five-thirty, and three servers arriving at six-thirty.
It may be overkill for the early breakfast crowd, but I’d rather be prepared in case people are excited for the reopening.
I’ve been all over social media, hyping it up. I’m so excited to be back in business.
I’m so far out of the habit of getting up early, that the walk from the bed to the bathroom feels like I’ve been covered in mud and wrapped in weighted blankets.
I showered last night and did my curly hair routine, complete with the new addition of sleeping in a bonnet.
I love how smooth my curls are now in the mornings.
They’re still wild by the end of the day with the humidity here, but I’ll take what I can get.
I make quick work of getting ready, wearing my cutest working-hard-but-also-talking-to-customers outfit. I chose jeans and a sheer black top covered in tiny white hearts over a tank, complete with red flats that are nearly as comfortable as sneakers.
I head down to the kitchen, make a pot of coffee, and start the grits—they have to cook the longest. I’m cracking eggs as my kitchen staff arrive and I’m surrounded by the familiar kitchen bustle that I love.
It isn’t long before the servers step into the kitchen.
I’m taking a moment to sit on a stool and sip my coffee, and I grin when they walk in.
“Welcome back,” I say to the two girls, Tilly and Jess, who’ve worked here since I opened. “And welcome,” I add, to the man I hired last week.”
“It’s so good to be back,” the girls say in unison, and we all laugh.
“I’m gonna check on things out front,” I say, standing from my stool.
“No. You relax and enjoy your coffee. Everything is perfect out there. We’re ready,” Tilly says.
“But you should come out to flip the sign and unlock the door when it’s time,” Jess adds.
I relax back onto my stool, deciding to trust them—and myself, because I was just out there last night—and enjoy the last few minutes of relative peace.
Twenty minutes later, I step onto the restaurant floor and head to the door to officially open, when I notice two things at once and gasp.
Small vases filled with peonies in pinks and corals on all the tables, and my first customer is somehow already inside, sitting with his back to me.
He must have heard my intake of breath because he straightens, then he stands. When he turns, I stop breathing.
“Hello, darling.”