Chapter 8
8
Nick
I walked into Petite III and immediately realized I should have made a reservation. This place was always packed, but I figured off season, later at night, I might have had some luck. I knew Nora had been working here for a few days and wanted to see how it was going. If I came too soon, I’d make her nervous, but by now she should have been settled in.
In town, no one was talking about her working here – which was a little odd. Sheriff Bobby liked to wander past my open bays and give me all the gossip I did not care about, but he hadn’t been around for days.
When I saw Jolie, owner of Petite herself, the other day at the gas station and I asked her how things were working out with Nora, she got very flustered and drove away with the door to her gas tank open.
So, I came to see for myself.
A young man, I’m pretty sure was Ani Wong’s youngest son, stood behind a sleek podium. It had one of those pen lights curved over a book which I knew was filled with actual reservations.
“Can I help you?” he asked me with a smile. There was a tremendous crash in the back and he flinched. “Apologies for the noise.”
“I thought Nora was working the host station?” I craned my neck, trying to see what that crash had been about, but the place was too busy.
“Oh, well. Ha. I mean. Sometimes? Tonight she’s ah…. pouring water.”
“Is that like a promotion?” I asked.
“It’s not, not a promotion,” Sunny said, with a cough. His pinky finger was bandaged to his ring finger.
All my Nora senses were tingling.
“Don’t suppose you can fit me in?” I asked,
“No reservation?” he asked.
I shook my head.
“I’m sorry, but we’re full up tonight.”
“What’s the occasion?”
“Oh,” Sunny laughed awkwardly and glanced behind him. “Just a lot happening here.”
“He can eat with me, Sunny.” I turned to find Mal Bettencourt, standing in the corner patiently waiting for a table. “I have an in with the owner.”
I snorted. “You mean your wife?”
“I’m in the mood for her finer cuisine. The kids are at a friend’s overnight, so I’m solo. And I, unlike some, had the forethought to reserve a table for this evening.”
Mal wore a suit jacket and white shirt unbuttoned at the neck beneath it. The scars that licked up from his neck to his face were no longer the most eye-catching thing about him. The guy exuded happiness. Contentment. He stood there like the Cheshire Cat with all the secrets to a good life. “You sure this isn’t a set up for all that money I took off your hands at poker last month?”
“Oh, you’re absolutely paying for the privilege of eating at my table. Are we dining or not?” He gestured towards the restaurant.
“Yeah, that works if you can stand my company.”
“Nick, having observed your company these many years, I don’t imagine you’ll be talking my ear off.” Mal leaned forward and had a word with Sunny who nodded and made a note in his book.
I wasn’t known as much of a talker at poker. I was, however, known as a winner. I was surprised the group still let me play when the odds were good I would win the night every time.
What they didn’t know was that every once in a while I would tank a hand because nobody wanted to play with the guy who always won, and I wanted them to keep inviting me.
But as I once told Antony, winning came to those who wanted it more.
“Any chance we can sit in Nora’s section?” I asked Sunny as we followed him through the small restaurant to a two top near the back.
“Ah, I see. An ulterior motive,” Mal said.
“Just want to make sure she’s fitting in. What does Jolie say about her?”
“That she’s had some adjustments but remains optimistic.”
“That doesn’t sound good.”
Sunny put down the menus. “I’d like to remind you both we have a strict no video policy.”
“What in the world would we video?” I asked Mal as we sat down.
“ Bon soir mes amies ,” Nora said as she approached our table, a glass pitcher in her hand. She stopped when she saw me. Blinked rapidly. Like she was glitching.
“Hello, Nora,” Malcolm said as he folded his white cloth napkin over his lap.
I gave her a chin nod.
“What are you doing here?” she asked.
Now it was my turn to blink at her. “Eating.”
“Wouldn’t you rather go to Pappas?” She bent closer to me and whispered. “Go get a burger. Everything here is really…”
“Nora?” Mal said, a rebuke loud and clear in his tone and she straightened right back up.
“ L’eau ?” She asked with this bright fake smile on her face.
“Nor, you know I don’t speak French.”
“I’m just trying to make the entire experience seem more French for you,” she said between clenched teeth.
“Swell. Can you do that in English?”
“Fine. Water?”
“Please.”
She filled our glasses with water.
“Are you certain I can’t translate the menu for you in French so you can appreciate the nature of the cuisine?” she asked hopefully.
I opened the menu that had been set in front of me.
“ Pour example, Ca c’est steak frites. ” She pointed to the top item on the entrée side.
“You mean the steak and fries? You know I can read, right?”
“Nick” she huffed with a little stomp of her foot that I would never admit, but always found adorable. “You’re not helping me.”
“Am I supposed to be?”
“Nora?” Rebecca Hernandez, who had just returned from college, and was wearing a server uniform, graced us with a wide smile and sharp eyes. “This is my table.”
“Can I just…?” Nora whispered.
“You heard Jolie,” Rebecca whispered. “No stories. No free food. No changing orders because you think you know better.”
Nora went bright red and I bit back a smile. All of that stuff – stories and knowing an order better – it tracked.
There was a whole silent conversation with lifted eyebrows and pursed lips and finally Rebecca sighed. “Enjoy your dinner and good luck,” she said to Mal and me as she walked off.
Nora took a deep breath and turned to us with a smile so forced, both Mal and I sat back. “Can I interest either of you in an amuse bouche?”
“Nor,” I dropped my voice and leaned forward. “You don’t have to keep doing all this in French-.”
“No, Nick. That’s actually English,” Malcom corrected. “Well, French-slash-English. It’s a mini-bite meant to tease our appetite, and yes, we’ll take whatever the chef is preparing this evening.”
Nora gave me an evil glare before walking away and I shook my head. “She’s trying too hard.”
“Yes, she is,” Malcom agreed. “I find it absolutely delightful, but she’s giving Jolie a fit.”
“Who needs a minor in French anyway?” I grumbled.
“Someone, I imagine, with dreams beyond their small town.”
That didn’t sit right. She’d been so excited about college, but she’d never pretended that she wasn’t planning on coming back. To Calico Cove. To her family. To me.
“So, what looks good to you?” I asked, holding up the big menu to cover what felt like a flush across my whole body.
“Nick, why do I feel like you’re hiding something?”
I wore my best poker face when I looked up. “What would I have to hide?”
His eyes narrowed, but he slowly shook his head. “I wouldn’t know,” he said and went back to looking at the menu. Then he laughed as he closed it. “I don’t know why I’m looking at this, Jolie’s going to serve me what she thinks I’ll like best. I’m ten years older than her but she is older and wiser by far. Did you know that?”
“Huh?” I hadn’t been paying attention. Petite III was the kind of restaurant that had one of those open kitchens, so I was watching Nora get into an argument with the line cook as he pushed the plates onto the counter to be served. I did not like the look on that guy’s face as he talked to Nora. Like she was a problem. If he was being disrespectful to her I was going to have words.
“Interesting,” Mal said.
She must have won the argument, because the cook was redoing one of the plates. I turned my attention back to Mal. “Sorry, what’s interesting?”
Mal grinned, the scars lifting near his mouth. When he first moved to town everyone called him The Beast of Calico Cove and avoided him. Jolie came along and changed all that. “I was just making the comment that my wife is ten years younger than I am, but infinitely wiser.”
“Really,” I said. Had I known there was that much of an age gap between Mal and Jolie? Never really thought about it much. Antony and Birdie were about the same. Ten years. Didn’t seem like that big of a deal between them.
“ Voila! C’est magnifique. ” Nora set two small plates in front of us. She was flushed and her hair was coming out of her ponytail.
“One of the chefs giving you trouble?” I asked her, as I looked at what appeared to be a fancy deviled egg.
“He tops the eggs with an olive,” she said. “I told him to take it off.”
“Ooh,” Mal crooned. “Never tell a chef what to do with food. I’ve learned that the hard way.”
“Nick despises olives,” Nor said.
Just as I said, “I hate olives.”
Mal looked between the two of us, his eyes sparkling in the candlelight. The guy looked like he had another secret. “Interesting.”
“Anyway. Bon appetite,” she said and lifted her arms and nearly smacked a server coming up behind her. He glared at her and she winced.
Mal popped the egg into his mouth and closed his eyes, very much enjoying his wife’s creation. “Delicious. As always.”
“Mal,” Nora said. “I keep asking Jolie if the restaurant gets its name from Bon Appetit, but she won’t answer. What’s the story there?”
“No stories,” Rebecca hissed as she crossed behind Nora.
“Ignore her,” Nora said.
“No, that’s not where it comes from, my dear. Once upon a time I was a frightful beast of a man and I liked to tease my then housekeeper by mispronouncing her name. Petite III is an homage to how we fell in love.”
Nora sucked in her breath, while I rolled my eyes.
“What’s the matter, Nick? Don’t you believe in love?” Mal asked with a smirk.
“Sure,” I said, then shifted in my chair. Why were we talking about this with Nora right there? We were keeping her from her job. “Of course. If you have time for that kind of stuff.”
“Don’t mind Nick, Mal. He is allergic to feelings.”
“I’m not allergic,” I grumbled. “Just busy. Speaking of busy, don’t you have water glasses to fill or something?”
“I do,” she said, and I watched as she bounced - there was no other way to describe it - off to another table.
That’s how Nora used to walk. That’s how she approached everything. With an energy that was unmatched by anyone I knew.
If she was back to bouncing, then she was healing.
The asshole con man hurt her by humiliating her, but he didn’t touch her heart.
Nora just needed time home, with her parents, her siblings.
Me.
Suddenly, there was a squeal and a thump and Nora practically ran past our table, a huge smile on her face like she’d just seen Santa Claus. I turned to see if maybe her parents had stepped in for dinner. But all I saw was Nora flinging herself into the arms of a tall guy who lifted her up off her feet. Around us, all the servers rolled their eyes and turned away to protect their plates and tables.
“Oh, look who is back in town,” Mal said casually. “It’s Peter.”
“Peter?” I asked, like I’d never once heard of a man named Peter in all of Calico Cove.
“You know, Peter. Peter Tanner. He’s Ed Tanner’s younger nephew. From a half-sister, I believe. Peter used to spend summers here when he was a teenager and would babysit for Bobby and Mari’s kids when they were younger. You remember. Handsome kid, who sometimes worked the counter at the Common Grounds.”
“I don’t ever buy fancy coffee drinks. I make it at home. Black.”
Why the hell did I sound defensive?
Peter Tanner. Sherriff Bobby Tanner’s younger cousin. Who spent summers here.
He knew Nora. Knew her well, if the way they were chatting and laughing at the front of the restaurant was any indication.
That figured. Nora loved fancy coffee drinks and knew everyone in town.
“You know he’s a best-selling author now? Police thrillers. Can you imagine that? Before he’s thirty years old?”
Now that Mal had mentioned it, it all came back to me. A few months ago, Sheriff Bobby had said how his cousin had hit the NYT list. Asked me if I had remembered him. I hadn’t really.
I also hadn’t realized he’d been tight with Nora. Although at the time, Nora was still in France running around with her con man boyfriend, so I’d been distracted.
“I can’t,” I said. I couldn’t imagine hitting the NYT list and I couldn’t imagine Nora being friends with the tall, smiling, handsome, successful author who was holding onto her shoulders and smiling down at her face like she was the best thing to ever happen to him.
“Nick,” Mal said, pulling my attention back to him. “You all right?”
“Fine,” I said, and drank the last of my water. Nora should be focusing on her water job and not Peter, the tall successful author.
“I heard Wyatt Locke is considering moving to Calico Cove and is looking for some property so he can build,” Mal said.
“What about it?” I was watching Mr. Author Man squeeze Nora’s hands. There was a lot of squeezing happening over there.
“You know I have a stranglehold on most of the property surrounding the Cove. I hate the thought of corporate developers coming into our town and ruining its charm. But I’d be willing to part with some land for a private investor. If you think Wyatt would make an excellent addition to our community.”
“Why are you asking me about Wyatt Locke?” I asked.
I’d kept the truth about the Locke brothers as secret as I could. As secret as I’d kept the night of Nora’s birthday, as secret as I kept everything about myself.
“I heard you were half-brothers. Was that wrong?” He asked, so polite, like he wasn’t lobbing grenades at me.
“No,” I muttered. “But I thought it was a secret.”
But maybe I shouldn’t be surprised. Wyatt wasn’t trying to hide or anything and Liam had spent the whole summer here. Word on the street was Le Coeur had already agreed to sell Liam his grandmother’s old house because Liam had loved it so much.
Liam, who had recently discovered that he was the father of a little girl named Tess. His press conference had been short and to the point. He was a father now. He would share joint custody of his child. All of them together, including his girlfriend Kit, would be a family.
A family. Just like that.
It was practically a Calico Cove tradition.
“Oh, Nick. Things don’t stay secret just because you want them to,” he said. “Not in this town. The Locke brothers both seem to have found love for the Cove. My question is…do you want them here?”
The man sitting across from me had the power to make sure Wyatt didn’t have any property to buy.
I reached for my water to give myself a second to think about it, but I’d already emptied it.
Damn. What was the point of a water person if water glasses never got filled? She was still over there talking to Peter and drawing the angry gazes of every other server in the place.
The idea that I could stonewall Wyatt’s attempt to buy property in the Cove was tempting. It was bad enough I was going to be seeing Liam around town in his off season. But both of them?
It’s not like there was animosity there. I didn’t hate them. I just…didn’t know how I felt. Which Nora would say had something to do with me repressing my emotions. Nora said a lot of things.
“The Cove is a great place to live,” I said eventually. “I wouldn’t stop anyone from settling down here.”
Mal nodded. “Enough said.”
“Hi!” Nora said, coming back to the table to fill up our water glasses. She was all sparkly, oblivious to her angry co-workers. “Did you see Peter is here?”
“The tall guy who couldn’t keep his hands off you?”
Nora didn’t even bother to dignify that little dig with a response. “We hung out all the time when he spent his summers here.”
Not possible, I wanted to say. You were hanging out with me all the time.
“I’ll tell him you both said hello,” Nora said.
“If I want to say hello,” I told Nora. “I’ll say hello. Don’t really know the guy.”
She put her hands on her hips, her lips pursed. “Well, maybe that’s because you don’t make an effort to get to know anyone in the town you live and work in.”
“I know him,” I said, pointing to Mal.
“Yes, but most consider me rather reclusive,” Mal said. “Nora, please offer Peter my sincerest congratulations on his success.”
“He’s working on another book and staying in town for a few months. Can you believe it?” She put her hand on her hip. “So many authors in one tiny town.”
Antony wrote cookbooks and Stockard Bartlett famously had written her fantasy novels here. And now Peter. Considering the population of the town, three authors was a lot. Three authors and one mechanic. Hardly seemed right.
“Did you read his last book?” Nora asked, like she was settling in for a long chat. “I swear I didn’t figure out the killer until the last possible minute.”
“Can we order or do you need to hug other guests?” I asked her.
Nora getting distracted by chatting was very Normal Nora. Although I completely understood why all her coworkers were annoyed by her distraction, I was relieved to see her chatty again.
“Oh,” she waved her hand, knocking the little bud vase in the center of our table into the candle. She quickly set it right before the blooms caught fire. “Whoops. Can’t have that happen again. I already ordered for you.”
“What?” I asked. “You don’t know what I want.”
“Of course I do,” she said. Rebecca stepped to the side of the table with plates in her hands. “And here it is,” Nora cried. “Thank you, Rebecca.”
Nora reached across the table to help with the plates and Rebecca shot her a poisonous look. I smothered a laugh, because I could see how that might go. Food all over the table. Plates on the floor. Nora ran back to grab a few more dishes and a basket of bread.
“Who ordered the bouillabaisse?” Rebecca asked.
“Oh, that would probably be me,” Mal said, putting his napkin in his lap. “I adore Jolie’s bouillabaisse.”
“And the steak au poivre?” Rebecca asked, and I had to admit, that was what I would have ordered.
“I also ordered you the mushroom duxelles and the lyonaise potatoes,” Nora said.
“I like frites,” I said.
“You’ll like these better,” she said. Rebecca laughed like she couldn’t help it and left. “Of course here is a baguette with Jolie’s fresh made butter.”
She stepped back to admire her handiwork and collided with another server who just managed to save the wineglasses on his tray. There was another scowl directed towards Nora. She wiped her forehead with her hand, but shot us her best smile.
“I didn’t think Petite was a place you would come to a lot, Nick,” Nora said with a fake smile. “But Jolie says you like to bring your fancy out of town dates here.”
“Jolie’s got a big mouth,” I muttered and took a bite from one of the plates Nora recommended. It was a mushroom soaked in butter and garlic that was amazing.
“My wife’s mouth is sufficiently sized. Thank you,” Mal glared at me as I snatched another mushroom. He turned his attention to Nora. “My compliments to the chef.”
“Of course, Bon Appetit,” she said and whirled around and immediately smacked into another waitress, who, thankfully, had a good grip on the tray she was carrying.
“Sorry!” Nora exclaimed to her co-worker, who was clearly not happy. “It won’t happen again.”
“Oh, it will happen again,” Mal said as he took a bite from the plate closest to him.
“What does that mean?”
“According to Jolie, Nora is an absolute delight, but a bit clumsy.”
“It’s because she’s always rushing to the next thing. She’ll settle down. You’ll see. Nora can do anything she sets her mind to.”
“Yes. Very interesting.”
“What’s interesting?”
“This dish,” Mal said. “What else?”