Chapter 29
CHAPTER
TWENTY-NINE
Embarrassment, thy name is Thea.
Sawyer would probably have waxed poetic with that kind of witticism after her complete meltdown on Sunday, but as Thea closed her bakery the next day, she was feeling as heavy and sticky as the rye bread dough she’d mixed.
Of course everyone had texted her today to see if she was all right, and wasn’t that even worse? She’d caused so much trouble. Jean Luc had told her it was all right to be upset, but she’d stirred Madison up so much she’d stalked out of their evening.
Madison had texted her saying she shouldn’t worry about it—another rarity. She never texted, but she must have known Thea was climbing the walls over the situation.
And she was. She’d talked scenarios through with Jean Luc until she was blue in the face.
If Nanine’s—and thereby Madison—was blackballed, what did that mean for Madison’s career?
She’d have to leave the restaurant to have her shot at a star, wouldn’t she?
Which could mean her leaving Paris and their family. Which also meant Kyle might go.
Thea wasn’t going to stand for that.
Forget that Nanine’s involved her breads. This was family. Her family.
Coming to the bakery at three in the morning had given her plenty of time to struggle through her emotions and clear her head. As she’d kneaded and shaped loaves and pastries, she’d turned to practical matters.
How were they going to solve this problem?
Sure, Kyle was on it, and so were Brooke and likely Axel.
She knew all about the upstairs private VIP suites for the A-listers and celebrities wanting coveted reservations.
But they needed someone on the inside, didn’t they?
Someone they could reach. With that in mind, she started making some calls to her trusted advisors and former colleagues at Le Cordon Bleu.
She’d discovered the pursuit of that linchpin person who held power in the Michelin organization was much like the telephone game. Her request hadn’t been about seeking a meeting to influence him. No, she had a better idea, and now she had a name.
So she’d texted Kyle asking for a meeting, and now that the bakery was closed, it was time for them to talk.
Walking briskly down the winter-washed Parisian streets, she didn’t mind the gray or the cold.
Back in Iowa, she’d have been evading piles of snow this time of year.
Her throat clogged as she reached the house Kyle had bought for all of them.
He’d moved heaven and earth—creating The Paris Roommates Group, granting her dream of owning her own bakery and staying in Paris.
Now it was time for her to support him. Her Operation Kyle.
Kyle met her at the front door, because there was no more walking in unannounced. This was his and Madison’s home now.
“Hey,” he said, hugging her tightly as Spike gave a few delighted barks at his feet. “I’m glad you came over. Come inside. Madison is making me BBQ.”
Her heart did a crazy loop-de-loop in her chest. Thoughtful touches like making someone a cherished meal defined love. She did it for Jean Luc all the time, while he bestowed little gifts on her to make her smile. She leaned down and stroked Spike’s shiny mane and let herself settle.
But her resolve strengthened.
She was not going to let anyone break up her family or stop them from achieving their dreams. Because Kyle wanted this star as much as Madison, although he’d never said so. And he wanted Madison most of all.
“Can we talk in your office?” She cleared her throat as she shrugged out of her coat.
He made a noncommittal sound before taking her coat and pointing the way. “Sure thing. Spike, go see Madison.”
The puppy barked and ran toward the kitchen.
“Do you want a café?”
“No thanks.” She clenched her hands together as she walked down the hall.
His office was much like the friend she’d come to know. Nicely decorated. Organized. Comfortable. Professional. She needed to match him.
Taking her seat, she folded her hands in her lap as he eased into the chair behind his desk. She flashed a smile and dug into her pocket.
“Thea, you’re scaring me a little with all this formality,” he admitted, leaning forward, his brows knit.
She extended the check to him. “Sorry. I don’t mean to be overly formal.
I’d like to become a full-fledged member of The Paris Roommates Group.
I know everyone put up my investment contribution for Nanine’s when we first came back to Paris, and I didn’t have the money.
But I have it now, and I’m paying the loan back. ”
He half rose from his chair and took it. “Big moment for you. Which is why I’m accepting it. You know it was never about the money. We wanted you to be part of The Paris Roommates Group because you’re one of us.”
It wasn’t easy to shelve her emotions when her business meeting was with a friend, so she released a shallow breath.
“I know, and I’m grateful. But I want to contribute financially.
The fact that I’m already turning such an incredible profit is because of all of you guys.
The press for Nanine’s brought huge buzz to my bakery, and the online store Dean created has generated significant capital upfront, as you know. ”
“He does have good ideas sometimes, doesn’t he?” Kyle grinned and set the check aside. “Although don’t tell him I said that.”
Just like that, her tension eased and she could breathe more naturally. “My lips are zipped. Now, I want to talk about this blackballing.”
His entire posture stiffened. “All right. Again, I’m sorry I didn’t tell you.”
She waved what she hoped was a dismissive hand. “That’s behind us, and I’m sorry for getting so upset. I only ask that you don’t keep me in the dark again.”
His nod was immediate. “I won’t. Now, do you want me to run you through my current plan in complete detail? I’ve decided to adopt a broad strategy—Dean called it scattershot—since you never know what might guarantee our end result.”
She moistened her lips. “I actually came with an idea. If you approve, I want to execute it quickly. Michelin announces its stars in France in three weeks.”
He rolled his shoulders before he settled back in his chair, doing his best to act casual when he looked anything but. “It’s all hands on deck, so I’m happy you have some ideas. What are you thinking?”
Her chest was suddenly tight again. “I did some networking today with people I trust from my Cordon Bleu days, ones I’ve kept in touch with.
Without going into the real situation, I asked a simple question.
Who holds the greatest influence on the Michelin process in France outside of the actual organization?
We know one person seems to: Chef Auguste Dassault.
There are a few rare others, the culinary kingmakers, as they’re called by industry people. ”
“I like where you’re going with this, Thea. Brooke and I were focused on trying to find people who worked for Michelin to meet with. Except we can’t because it’s a conflict of interest. So what did you discover?”
“I got a name.” She wanted to dance in her chair but kept herself in check. “One that kept coming up time and time again besides Chef Dassault.”
His jaw slackened before he leaned forward. “You’re kidding. Who?”
“Christophe Flaubert. He’s part of every food and beverage group in France, wielding great power behind the scenes on who becomes MOF and members of distinction, exactly like Chef Auguste Dassault. He’s been advising French presidents on Legion of Honor recipients for decades.”
“Another man behind the curtain! So you want to set up a meeting with him?”
The moment of truth was here. She shook her head. “No, I think that would scare him off. People like this don’t want direct contact. They’re the people behind the scenes for a reason. Even Jean Luc said it would be gauche to call for a meeting.”
He looked puzzled. “So what are you suggesting?”
Her nerves rose rapidly like she was a quick bread. “I want to deliver a breadbasket to him. Because bread is love, and it’s the heart and soul of every French person I’ve ever met.”
“A breadbasket.” He rubbed his jaw, considering. “That’s it? Only the bread? No note?”
“The French are subtle people as Jean Luc often reminds me. No note. Bread is the language of the heart. No words are necessary. He’ll have heard of my bakery and its connection to Nanine’s.
One caveat Jean Luc insisted I mention: we don’t know whether he and Dassault are friendly, given the circles they run in.
Look, I know you might think it’s a long shot, but I wanted to contribute. This is my idea.”
Kyle only smiled. “Thea, one thing about the culinary industry is that it’s a small world. At this point, we pursue all avenues and hope for the best. When can you do the basket?”
She had made herself sit up straighter as he gazed at her. Now her relief was so great she almost slumped in her chair. “I’ll have it delivered tomorrow.”
“You have his address?” he asked, steepling his hands.
“Yes, someone I know went to a party at his home.” She swallowed thickly over her dry mouth as new excitement grew within her. She was contributing. Executing an idea. Gracious, she’d come a long way.
Standing, he came over and hugged her again. “I love your industriousness, Thea. From now on, expect me to come to you for some brainstorming.”
Darn it, she wanted to cheer. “I’d love that.
I also wanted to let you know that I’d like a meeting on the bakery’s first month’s sales and an overall assessment of how we’re doing so far.
I have some ideas about refining a few items, knowing we’re in those fortunate winter months when we don’t have to worry about the summer heat and more expensive utilities. ”
Drawing back, he smiled down at her like the old Kyle. Now she could give an answering smile. Her business was nearly finished.
“Why don’t you email me about the meeting, and we can set up something that works for your schedule. I’m a little more flexible on that score.”
She beamed at him. “Terrific. I’ll do that. I’ll also text you once the breadbasket is delivered.”
He turned her toward the door, his grip friendly and familiar. “Can you drop in and see Madison for a sec? I know she’d love to see you.”
Okay, so her insides weren’t done giving her fits. They rolled over again. But she nodded. “Sure, I’d love that. If she’s good with it.”
“Don’t be silly,” he told her, shaking her shoulders playfully. “She might joke about her cleaver, but she’s a softie. Again, don’t tell her I said that.”
She looked over her shoulder and mimed zipping her lips closed. “She won’t hear it from me.”
The puppy raced toward them when they reached the kitchen. The delicious aroma of smoked meat and spices reached her. Suddenly she didn’t know what to say to her fierce friend, so she fell back on the one thing they’d always had in common. “Smells delicious in here.”
Madison looked over from chopping onions at the counter, doing her best to smile despite her obvious strain. “Hey, Thea! Thanks. If you can’t bring the boy to Texas, you bring the BBQ to Paris—or something like that. How’d it go at the bakery today? Sold out early again?”
She rocked on her heels as the puppy raced back to Madison, looking up at her with complete devotion. “Yeah, we’re barely open two hours before every morsel is gone. It’s been like that every day since we opened. Dean has started a bet on how long the streak will run.”
“I’ll have to get in on that action,” Madison added, gripping her cleaver so tight Thea could see the whites of her knuckles. “You want to stay for BBQ? Maybe Jean Luc can come over.”
She’d only slept about an hour. “I’m dead on my feet, but another night for sure.”
Madison lifted her shoulder. “Totally understand. Hey! How about a scoop of ice cream before you go? I seem to remember how much you love it.”
Kyle laid a hand on Thea’s shoulder, still behind her. “The ice cream is from Madison’s favorite place in Miami.”
“That idiot has it imported all the way over to Paris,” Madison told her with an eye roll. “Then again, he’s a pretty crazy guy.”
“I’d love a scoop,” Thea said, because she suddenly realized what was going on.
Just like making Kyle BBQ, Madison was showing her love the only way she knew how—with those thoughtful little touches Thea had been thinking about earlier.
Yeah, there was no way she was letting anyone break up her family.