Chapter 22
D ELANY WALKED INTO HIS OFFICE the next morning and raised his hand hello to Katy, who was talking on the phone. He reached to start his computer. The short bookshelves across from the couch were filled with what Katy took from his apartment. She had done a masterful job at combining books with items from his playing days and small touches from Comida, highlighting his various accomplishments and what he held important.
“Good morning.” Katy came in with a cup of coffee and a stack of papers. “The head of the construction company is awaiting your call.”
“Did you figure out who talked to The Post ?”
Katy sighed and looked down. “Yeah, it was Bobbie. I asked him about it, and he told me to get back in my lane.”
“I’m sure that is not what he said.” Delany laughed.
“Okay.” She walked out of the office. Delany called and left a message for the foreman, still unable to believe they got the Old Post Office Pavilion. He hired the best design team to return the space to its glory days. The designer did her homework, bringing him images and ideas that harkened back to the 1920s, when it was D.C.’s premiere hotel.
He saw it walking around one night after practice, the tower catching his attention. Inside was nothing but a sad food court and some offices on the floors above. The main hall opened to the skylights ten stories above, flooding the space in natural light. It’s what got him interested in venture capitalism. He financed other hotels, done other remodels. It was all leading to this. He planned to live in the penthouse suite. The idea of it being so close made him giddy.
“Are you free for lunch?” Bobbie came into his office. “I want you to meet the chef I hired for The Cora.”
Delany stood and reached for his jacket off the chair beside his desk.
“I’m not ready to make a final decision on the chef yet, regardless of what you tell The Post .”
Bobbie laughed him off. “Trust me, Bulldog. This man will have the restaurant booked solid before we open.”
They got into a cab and rode into The District. Delany watched the city outside. He wanted to keep Bobbie out of the renovation, but then Bobbie showed up at meetings and acted like Delany was going to hand it off like any other project. Bobbie tried to hire the construction company, then tried to bypass him to approve the plans. His latest stunt involved telling The Post Jonas was going into the space. Delany wanted to make him clear out. The Cora was his shot to take, but he did not want to deal with another one of Bobbie’s tantrums.
They stopped outside of Marigolds, the restaurant Alice cut her teeth at. He ate there a lot when Cornelia ran it. At the time, it looked like a Parisian café. Now there was boring off-white paint, all the chairs gray and totalitarian. Where was the art? The color ?
The host led them to a table by the windows. Delany sat and looked at the menu. After eating Alice’s food, it all sounded plain and predictable. He told Bobbie to hold off asking for the chef, wanting to try the food without the man knowing they were there. Bobbie sat back and looked over the space. The server came to greet them. The special was the Weeknight Cioppino, made with a white wine base, featuring shrimp and tilapia. Delany asked for that. Bobbie, never one to try something new, got a hamburger.
“Cioppino?” Bobbie asked. “When did you get so fancy?”
He reached for his water. Alice said once that chefs try to get rid of their excess via specials. They would give it a special name, but really, it was what they couldn’t sell over the weekend. Seeing what this man could do with the leftovers in his fridge would give Delany a glimpse into his creativity.
The server brought their beers and a calamari appetizer. The breading looked wet. Delany sniffed one before dipping it into the red sauce.
“Are you coming to the fundraiser tonight?”
Bobbie laughed and took a long drink of his beer. “You know my heart is far too small to pretend to care.”
"It’s for the Eubie.”
“You know my opinion—bulldoze it and let something else come in.”
“I own part of that theater.”
“Yes, but you often get hooked on lost causes. Besides, I got a hot date with my girl tonight.”
“How is that going?” Delany sat back. He didn’t care, but it was a safe topic. What did they talk about before he retired? His game, who Bobbie just met, some girl Bobbie thought he should notice, highlights from Macon. Only now Delany knew about work and the list of interesting people around had dwindled. He wasn’t going to ask Bobbie about horse racing or whatever game he just bet on and lost.
“She’s great. Nice rack. Great in bed. ”
“Perhaps the next Mrs. Dunn.”
Bobbie laughed. “I learned my lesson. Three is enough.”
The server put their meals down, Bobbie asking if Jonas was there. Maybe he’d gotten spoiled by Alice who seemed to care about how every dish looked. Her dishes felt like masterpieces, collections of color and texture carefully plated. This felt dull and routine, broth with bits of shrimp in it. But maybe the taste made up for it. He ran his spoon through the soup and took a bite before reaching for the salt.
“Bobbie!” An overweight man in a white chef’s coat walked toward them. Jonas Executive Chef embroidered on the left chest. Bobbie stood and shook his hand. Delany forced the bite down with a gulp of water and stood.
“Delany Clare, I’ve heard a lot about you.” Jonas shook his hand. Bored brown eyes and a salesman smile that reminded him of the men who came to his house to be his agent. Quick talking, full of promises, and made of nothing but bravado. “How is the food?”
“Fantastic!” Bobbie jumped in. “I wanted to give Delany a sample of what you can do for the hotel.”
“I wish I’d known. The soup is just a clearing of what we had in the back. I can get you something else.” He started for the plate. Delany moved his hand toward it.
“Nonsense. I wanted to see what you do with your leftovers.” He held his gaze. Jonas forced a smile and leaned back.
“The designer came by yesterday.” Jonas looked at Bobbie. “I was wondering how much control I have over aesthetics. Cute ‘20s style isn’t my bag.”
Delany saw the plans for the restaurant, and that wasn’t how he’d describe it.
“She’s open to ideas,” Bobbie said.
“I wanted to talk about doing a bar on the top floor. I think that would help us move our vision for this place forward. ”
“And what would that be?” Delany said. The men looked at him. Bobbie closed his mouth and buttoned his jacket.
Jonas chuckled. “Sorry, I’ve gotten used to dealing with Bobbie on things.”
“What would you do with the restaurant?” Delany’s body tensed.
“Something more modern, more like this place.” Jonas motioned behind him. Cement flower boxes, boring black chandeliers. Totalitarian was not an aesthetic Delany appreciated.
“I’m hoping to put my sous chef over there. He’s talented…”
“So you wouldn’t even be there?” Delany asked.
Jonas studied him. “I heard you’re working with Alice Gibson. How is that going?” He smiled. Delany shifted his weight. Alice would never serve the bland slop he just ate. Her food truck held more sophistication and culture than this bleak excuse for a restaurant.
“You get what you pay for.” Bobbie rolled his eyes.
Jonas laughed and tilted his head. “Alice can be cute to look at, but lacks the talent I expect from my staff. I tried my best.”
“We should get back.” Delany reached to finish his water.
“If you want me to cater your events—I can do better than that Cuban drivel. We’d provide more than cheese boards and frozen yogurt bars. Believe me.”
“I’ll let you know.” Delany buttoned his jacket and let Bobbie pay for the meal. The less time he spent in this desolate place the better.
The drive home was quiet. Bobbie got on his phone, singing along with the radio in the cab. Delany left Bobbie at the elevators, walking to the head lawyer’s office. The man motioned him in while he talked on the phone. Delany paced the back of the space. No way that chef was going to anchor his hotel. He was not going to settle for boring, overpriced cliche hotel food when he tasted better food on Alice’s off days .
“Everything okay?” the lawyer asked when he hung up his call.
“How far are we on the Jonas deal?”
“I am working on a contract…”
“Why?” He shifted his weight and crossed his arms.
“Mr. Dunn said he’s the choice.”
“I’ll tell you who I want for The Cora. Mr. Dunn doesn’t speak for me.”
The man paused. “But he has for the last two years, Mr. Clare. Mr. Dunn claims he is your voice in the company.”
“Well, I’m here now. If it’s a decision you need my approval on, get my approval on it.”
“Of course.” The man smiled politely.
Delany started for the door. He paused, debating whether to ask if there were other things he should know about. But he had to trust Bobbie. It was one impetuous choice.