Chapter 7
7
DARIO
Dario felt weirdly detached from the world, as if all the business and action going on outside his office door was unconnected to him in some way. Usually, when they had a big night ahead, he’d be out on the floor, excited, making sure everything was set up and perfect, laughing with his staff and raising their spirits. Just like his dad before him, he never lost sight of the fact that their employees were working on the special occasions, when their families and friends would be celebrating without them, so he wanted them to feel that this was more than just a job. It was a family, and they were all part of it, related or not. He wasn’t sure they’d feel that way after the news that he was going to have to deliver to them at some point soon.
He could hear Katie, the youngest member of the team, on the phone at the ma?tre d’ stand, running through tonight’s reservations and calling them all to confirm the booking. Sonya was still out there, barking out warnings to ‘watch that bloody floor, I’ve just washed it. You’ll end up on your arse if you slip on it.’ The sous-chefs were already in the kitchen, starting the preparations for tonight’s menu. His son, Matty, would be here soon to oversee the rest of the prep and to get ready for the lunch service that would start at twelve. The foundations of their menus hadn’t changed much in the last thirty years, so they had it all down to a fine art. One that was perilously close to being rendered redundant.
One more call to make. His last hope. His Hail Mary. He dialled the number of Talia Kane, the accountant who had looked after his accounts for years. She was another one who’d been at uni with him and Brodie. He might not have a business any longer, but at least he still had friends.
She answered on the first ring. ‘Hey. How are you doing?’
‘Fair to crap, edging further to the crap side with every passing hour.’
‘Shit, Dario, I wish there was something I could do to help you salvage this,’ she said, repeating Brodie’s sentiments.
‘So I take it the bank rejected the loan application again then?’ This was the third time they’d applied for a loan, in diminishing amounts every time, and he’d held out hope that the latest application, for a sum that would tide them over just for a few months, would have come through.
‘They said no, Dario. I’m sorry. I was just about to call you to let you know.’
A pause.
‘Look, do you want me to speak to you as my friend or as my client?’
‘Both,’ he answered, knowing that some straight talking was about to come his way. That’s what made Talia so exceptional at her job. She combined her brilliant brain with a strict aversion to bullshit.
‘Okay, as your friend, you know that I want more than anything to find a way to keep you going. And I could. We could go elsewhere for the money, but they would take one look at your books and they’d offer a shit deal at punitive interest rates that would just dig you deeper into the hole. That was the friend bit. As your financial advisor, I’d tell you to take the money and run. It’s a solid offer, Dario, and the reality is that your business model isn’t sustainable in that location any longer. I can’t see a world in which Gino’s becomes profitable again in the near future. The debts are way too high, and frankly, you don’t have the cash reserves or the access to the kind of cash that would allow you to create the type of business that would do the necessary numbers. The sale will clear your feet and restore your financial security. Walk away, Dario. It breaks my heart to say that, but the only sensible thing to do is take the deal.’
He closed his eyes. ‘I know you’re right. I do. I just…’
He couldn’t finish the sentence because a boulder lodged in his throat. He knew the sale was the only option that made sense. But there was no amount of money that could take away the pain of breaking his dad’s and his son’s hearts.
‘I know. Call me back any time. Let me know how you get on. I’m always here for you, pal. Apart from tonight, because we’re having a wildly expensive, romantic night away in a five-star hotel in Loch Lomond,’ she said, with her usual bluntness, before going on, ‘but any other time, I’m here for you.’
When his voice came back, he automatically tried to break the tension, croaking, ‘Remember that when I’m sleeping on your sofa.’
‘It’s a two-seater. You won’t fit.’ As always, no bullshit.
Dario said his goodbyes and hung up, just as the office door barged open. His money would have been on Sonya, but no.
His ex-wife, Nicky, plonked herself down on the chair opposite his. She eyed him warily. ‘Oh no. You didn’t get the loan. Oh bollocks. I’m sorry, Dario. Sorry for me too. I’ll have to get a real job. Shit, I’m screwed. I’m way too high maintenance to work for anyone else.’
Despite this being the worst morning of his life, the truth in that statement made him smile. There weren’t many couples who could continue to work together after they’d divorced, but somehow they’d managed it. They’d been together since she started waitressing in the restaurant while she was at college and, corny as it sounded, they’d always been best mates. That was the problem, really. Both of them wanted passion, and fierce love, and great sex, but as the years went on, they’d realised that they just didn’t want any of those things with each other. About ten years ago, they’d called quits on the marital side, but by then Nicky was his invaluable assistant manager. Confidante, too. Other than his dad, she was the only person working here that he’d shared the situation with, and unlike Gino, Nicky had listened and understood.
‘So what now?’ she asked. ‘Roll out the timeline for me so I can let Scott know when he’s going to have to start keeping me in the style I want to be accustomed to.’ Scott had been her partner for the last few years, a laid-back personal trainer ten years her junior, who was so confident in himself, he had absolutely zero jealousy that his wife still worked with her ex-husband.
Dario blew out his cheeks as he slumped back in his chair. ‘I didn’t want to speak to Dad about it today – you know how he feels about New Year’s Eve. It’s his most sentimental night of the year. But this is the last day that the offer is on the table, and I’m not accepting it without trying to get his agreement.’
‘Oh God, I feel sick just thinking about that. What time do you have to let them know by?’
‘Midnight. Apparently, it’s west coast American investors, and there’s an eight-hour time difference, so that’s 4p.m. their time. That’s the deadline. And Nicky… you know I’m going to have to talk to Matty too.’
She groaned again. Nicky was as close to both their kids as he was. Their daughter, Lucia, had moved to Milan straight out of college to work in fashion there, taking advantage of the fact that she was both wildly talented in textile design and spoke Italian like a native. Dario didn’t get over to see her anywhere near as often as he should, because he hated to leave the restaurant for too long, but luckily Lucia came home on holiday twice a year, most of which was spent parked at a table at the restaurant window, working on her laptop while chatting to her family and the regulars who knew her when she’d waitressed here at weekends. One more person who would be sad about selling up.
‘He’s going to be crushed, Dario, I’m just putting that out there. And brace yourself, because you know how he’ll react.’
The phrase ‘hot-headed’ had been invented for their son. He was exquisitely gifted, and a decent guy underneath it all, but when it came to his professional life, he was the chef that made Gordon Ramsay look reasonable and mild-mannered.
‘I do. I’ll make sure I tell him somewhere that there’s no sharp objects.’
It was said in jest, but there was a hint of truth in there. Matty had once ejected a former food critic from the restaurant because he remembered that he’d done a write-up in the nineties saying that Dario’s meatballs could be used in a game of cricket. They’d found out later he was taking kickbacks from their closest rivals.
‘What are you thinking?’ he asked, realising that Nicky had fallen quiet. That usually meant that either she’d done something he wouldn’t like, or she was planning to.
‘I’m thinking that I’m about to be the favourite parent for once.’
That made Dario smile. The truth was that the kids loved them equally, but Nicky had always professed otherwise, although he was pretty sure it was tongue in cheek.
‘And I’m thinking that I’ll let you break that news to him alone. I’ve seen the movies. The sidekick is always the one that ends up getting blamed. Let me know when you’re going to tell him, and I’ll go hide. It’ll be just like when you did the birds and the bees chat, and I stayed in the shed until it was safe to come out.’
The thing was, he didn’t blame her in the least. This was his mess, and he was the one responsible for the clean-up.
Nicky got up from the chair, came over to where he was sitting and hugged him. He held on to her for a few seconds, grateful for the human touch. It had been a while. For the last year, he’d been so busy trying to drag the restaurant out of the quicksand, he’d pretty much stopped dating, stopped socialising, stopped doing anything other than working.
‘Now there’s something I didn’t expect to see today,’ came a voice from the doorway.
Dario glanced over Nicky’s shoulder to see Matty’s six foot frame in the doorway. Their son. The one who had dreamed his whole life of taking over this restaurant and making it his own. And now Dario was going to have to tell him that he was snatching that dream away from him.
But, right now, Matty’s mind was adding two and two and getting an answer that equalled happy families. ‘Don’t tell me you two are getting back together, because that’ll put me in therapy. You’re the most unsuited couple ever.’
On any other day, Dario would have objected to that statement, despite the truth of it, but today he let it go with, ‘Nope, it’s not what it looks like.’
Matty laughed. ‘Said every couple in every movie when they get caught up to no good. Okay, lovebirds, well, that’s me in and I’m just going to go get started in the kitchen.’
‘Actually, son, can you sit down for a minute? There’s something we need to tell you.’ He ignored Nicky’s stare of death.
Matty glanced from Dario to Nicky and then back again. ‘Shit, you are getting back together.’
‘Nope, ’fraid not, son. It’s something much worse than that.’