Chapter 4 #3
Nicolas and I exchange a look. We know about cold room accidents—they have definitely happened in some of our factories before, and it was a major issue every time!
Oh, that really cannot be good for all the desserts…
Cream, butter, mascarpone, milk, eggs, custard, all of those good things do not handle hot temperatures well!
Putting aside the whipped cream getting unwhipped and the ganache turning into gouache, if their fridge broke, everything must be spoiled, and possibly a health risk!
They definitely won’t be able to serve any of it now…
“Oh, gosh,” I mumble.
“Unbelievable,” Solange scoffs.
“Don’t worry, accidents happen,” Emi smiles at him. “So, no desserts then?”
“I’m afraid so,” the waiter admits. “All of our usual substitutions are ruined too, and none of our providers will be able to help us tonight, as you can imagine. But we are looking into a solution. We’re very sorry. …May I offer complimentary drinks for your patience? More cheese, perhaps?”
“We’ll take more champagne,” Solange grumbles, emptying her drink.
“Actually, I’ll have some herbal tea,” Emi sighs. “And don’t worry about the dessert; it can’t be helped.”
“Thank you, madam. Lady, sir?”
Nicolas and I also order some herbal tea before the poor waiter moves on to the next table to relay the situation. Well, that’s another twist…
“Oh, well,” Emi sighs, slowly rising from the table. “I’m sorry, guys, but the kid’s parked on my bladder, and the mocktails aren’t helping. I’ll be right back.”
“Do you need me to accompany you?” I offer.
“Thanks, Ophie, but I’ll be back in a minute,” she smiles at me.
I nod and sit back down, watching her go with an elegance that defies gravity.
“Unbelievable,” Solange scoffs again. “I booked weeks ahead for this! For such a fine establishment, no dessert!”
“It’s not their fault,” I shrug. “Kitchen mishaps happen. My dad burned himself really badly once, we had no choice but to close the shop for two days—”
“This isn’t some small shop, this is a respectable establishment with a high standard they should be able to uphold!” Solange exclaims, loud enough for the tables nearby and the poor waiter to hear. “Really, for the prices we paid for this evening, I expected better!”
I sink into my seat and quietly try to borrow some of Emi’s fortitude. The situation is upsetting enough as it is; I’m not going to let Solange make it worse. Not that it’s a contest, but I wanted those desserts more than she did, and I’m not making a fuss!
So, I opt not to feed into her negativity and decide to quietly do a breathing exercise instead. Four-second deep breaths in, and four-second deep breaths out. It might not work every time, but at least, while I’m breathing, I’m not focused on Solange’s rant, even as she keeps going in French…
“Maman, you’re behaving rudely,” Nicolas says while I exhale, his tone firm for the first time that evening. “I think you’ve had enough to drink.”
Oh.
Now that he says it, Solange has had quite a bit.
She had champagne, white wine with the starter, some more with her main dish, and then red wine with the cheese…
I don’t think I’ve seen her touch her water all night, either!
Nicolas had a single glass of red wine after his champagne he’d been slowly nursing with the main dish and cheese, and he’s been diligently drinking sparkling water with us too; we even ordered a second bottle a while ago.
His mom scoffs.
“I’m a grown woman, Nicolas, I can drink however much I want!
It’s not like I’m driving anyway, my room’s upstairs.
And I am only being honest! We pay for an exceptionally high-quality service, which should be delivered as promised!
I picked this establishment because of its standards, and they’re certainly not met! ”
“A cold room breakdown is not an accident any kitchen can anticipate,” Nicolas insists, unshakable.
“They simply cannot mend the situation on such short notice, especially on a holiday. At best, they might offer us fruit or tea biscuits. But I suggest we help ourselves to some more cheese before the other customers do.”
“I don’t want cheese,” Solange scoffs. “Well, if this is how it’s going to be, I guess I’ll just go to bed!”
Because she’s not moving, I’m pretty sure she expects us to try and hold her back, but Nicolas nods, and I suppress a smile. Ophelia from two hours ago would have definitely tried to politely hold her back, but I don’t. Instead, I channel my inner Emi and keep smiling politely.
“Great idea,” Nicolas declares. “Do you need me to walk you upstairs?”
I wait, a bit curious as to Solange’s reaction, but after a few seconds of confused silence, and when she realizes neither of us will stop her, she just stands up.
“No, Nicolas, I can walk back to my room perfectly fine,” she snaps. “I bid you two goodnight, since clearly, there’s nothing more to expect of this establishment. I can’t believe this…”
And then, she leaves, without waiting for Emi to come back or for her champagne to be served. We watch her walk away with a slight wobble in her step, but not enough that we’d be worried. I allow myself a little sigh. Was it that easy? Turns out actively choosing to be a spectator has its perks!
“What did I miss?” Emi asks when she returns, her eyes on the empty seat. “…Did she ask for the manager yet?”
“Nope, she went to bed,” I admit.
“Did she?” Emi beams. “Well, that went better than I would have hoped…”
I’m about to reply when, out of the corner of my eye, I catch some sudden movement.
I barely have time to turn my head when someone suddenly jumps toward us, wrapping Emi in a hug from the side!
“Surprise!”
“Antoine?!”
Nicolas’s twin brother is grinning at us. I can’t believe he’s here! Emi is the first one to be surprised, twisting around to look at her husband, her eyes teary.
“What are you doing here?” she blurts out as he moves around her chair to face her.
“Bernard’s flight got canceled, so he came back early and took over the rest of my shift,” he grins before placing another big kiss on her forehead. “Told me to go enjoy Christmas with my missus since he can’t make it to his!”
“Oh my God,” she cries. “I mean, I’m sorry for him, but I’m so glad you’re here!”
He laughs, and they hug once more before he turns to us with a big smile.
“Hi, big brother, hi, Ophie,” he beams. “I’m so glad I caught you guys!”
We take turns hugging him, and then, grabbing his wife’s hand, he takes his mother’s seat, eyeing the champagne as the waiter pours it.
“Perfect timing,” Antoine grins.
“Your mom just went to bed,” I say.
“I know, I saw her leave,” he confesses with a wink. “I admit I might have waited until I was sure she missed me to come here.”
“You don’t want to greet Maman?” Nicolas frowns.
“Nah. I’ll see Maman plenty tomorrow,” Antoine shrugs. “I’ll surprise her for breakfast. Tonight, I get to enjoy you guys.”
I’m a bit surprised by his answer, but then he and Emi exchange that big, conspiratorial smile. And that’s when I really understand what she meant when she said they were a team.
Antoine had seen his mom; he could have stopped her on the way to her room and brought her back to the table, and no one would have blamed him for it. But he didn’t. He chose to have this moment with Emi first, without his mom. He just chose Emi.
It’s such a small decision for him, but I’m sure it means a lot to her, and maybe that’s exactly what makes them strong. Because love isn’t about winning arguments, keeping the peace, or trying to please everyone; it’s about choosing your person, here and now.
It’s knowing when a fight isn’t worth it.
When to toss the scale, when to ignore a rant.
It’s flying 500 miles, 5 hours late, and smuggling hot cocoa through security.
It’s giving up the green suit to wear matching Christmas jumpers.
It’s losing the desserts you dreamed of, and still choosing to laugh and eat cheese.
Maybe love is just that: choosing your person, again and again, in the small moments…