Chapter 33
CHAPTER
THIRTY-THREE
The chandelier shook, its crystals shimmying like an earthquake had struck Paris.
Madison nearly dropped the spoon she was using to baste her duck breast as Pierre gave a frightened squawk from her shoulder. Utensils clattered all around the kitchen.
Shit. That couldn’t be good.
She glanced over at the clock even though she already knew in her heart what the hands would announce. Christophe Flaubert and his party had entered the building, and Nanine’s chandelier was trying to tell them something.
God, why did the sound have to be so dark and foreboding? This dinner was supposed to pave the way for her dreams. Her stomach turned to overcooked polenta.
Turning slightly, she eyed her agitated staff. “Nanine’s chandelier seems to have indigestion tonight. Good thing she isn’t one of our guests. Let’s get back to work.”
Her neck prickled with unease as she waited for the interruption she knew would come. When Claude came through the door between the front and back of the house, his face was tight with strain. She signaled to her sous chef to take over and sent Pierre to his perch.
Claude was waiting for her at the edge of the kitchen, out of earshot of the other staff. She leaned in as he stepped closer.
“Christophe Flaubert and his party have arrived, but I felt it was of grave importance to tell you that Chef Auguste Dassault is one of his guests.”
“What?” Someone smack her with a giant squid. Nanine’s ex-lover was here? What the hell— So much for all of the other hopeful outcomes Thea and Kyle had expected from this dinner. “Have you seated them?”
Claude lifted his shoulder in that absent French way as if to say, What could I do? “Yes, for the moment. I thought I should confer with you.”
Hell, she was tempted to tell the entire restaurant they suddenly needed to close for fumigation. Anything that would save her from dealing with this situation directly. Because there was no way Dassault was here to experience their cuisine and change his mind.
“Call Kyle per our procedure and tell him we have an emergency.” She fought the urge to rub her forehead, where a headache was starting. “Serve them an apéro for the moment and then—”
Nanine’s chandelier clanged again as the back door flew open. Claude’s assistant barreled into the kitchen and headed straight for them. “I am sorry to interrupt, Chef, but there is a party of five out there claiming rather loudly to be Kyle Taylor’s family from Texas.”
You’ve got to be kidding.
They’d gotten the brush-off and come anyway? She fought a groan. Of course they had. More bullies who didn’t want to be embarrassed and lose their cred. How would it look at their country club if they had to tell their friends that their only son had told them no?
“We do not have a reservation for anyone related to Monsieur Taylor,” Claude said stiffly. “Perhaps they are lying about their association?”
“No,” she said tightly, the back of her head starting to pound. “That’s them. Kyle told them we were booked.” Because she had his back.
“They are insisting we must have a second dinner seating,” Claude’s usually unflappable assistant continued, her ordinarily calm demeanor completely harried. “When I explained we did not, like in the United States, and that perhaps they should call Monsieur Taylor, they continued to insist—”
“I get the picture,” Madison finished, feeling her entire staff’s attention locked on this drama when they should be focused on cooking. “We were about to call Kyle, anyway.”
There was no way she was throwing his parents out of Nanine’s. He would have to handle them.
“Where shall I ask them to wait?” the assistant pressed. “They are quite vocal, and our guests are—”
“Being bothered.” Madison huffed out a sigh.
“Since we’ve table juggled to our breaking point, let’s park them at the kitchen table and give them some champagne while we wait for Kyle.
Can you have someone bring down a couple of the new Art Deco shoji screens?
We can wall them off until we figure things out. ”
That way Kyle could escort them out the back if needed. Right now, they had enough to handle with Dassault being in the house.
“Yes, Chef, we’ll do as you instruct,” Claude stated with a firm nod of his chin before signaling to his assistant to leave.
She turned back toward the staff, noting that the pace of various stirrings and platings was a touch slower than usual given their divided attention. “It’s going to be one of those nights. I need everyone to focus on what’s in front of them. All right?”
When there was a strong Yes, Chef, she finally walked back to her station. “Fabian, I may need you to step in for me for a time,” she told the sous chef.
“Whatever you require, Chef,” he told her with that solid, direct gaze of his.
He’d worked by Nanine’s side from the beginning, and while he didn’t have the creativity on the menu side, he was one hell of a cook and a great worker.
He would be upset if he learned Dassault was here, and so would the other staffers who had worked at Nanine’s prior to the reopening.
They’d also been denied a star. Thank God they’d reserved the private room on the second floor for Christophe Flaubert and guests.
God knew what the front of the house servers thought.
Many of them had worked here for decades.
How would Nanine react? Should they call her? God, how had this gotten so complicated?
“Fabian, I—”
More clanging from Nanine’s chandelier portended more trouble, cutting her off.
“But you can’t be serious about seating us back here,” a loud, sugary drawl called out, reverberating through the entire kitchen. “Kyle would want us to have a damned good table, and this one is back with the staff.”
Madison was already moving toward the scuffle.
“I don’t care, darling,” the woman responded again. “We’re his parents, for heaven’s sake. You will find us the best table in the house right now.”
The party in front of her was dressed like they were attending the Kentucky Derby minus the giant hats.
She noted the family resemblance in the eyes of the woman dressed in a long-sleeved blue chiffon dress who looked like she regularly had chemical peels and a touch of Botox.
Her perfectly dyed and highlighted blond updo also suggested constant maintenance and an unreal amount of hairspray.
But Madison knew her for what she was: a bully disguised as a Barbie doll.
Standing next to her was a man who resembled Kyle in the mouth and jawline. He was wearing a gray suit, his salt-and-pepper hair perfectly styled like his son’s always seemed to be. Also a bully dressed up as a successful businessman.
Ah, the parents. They carried invisible silver spoons in their hands everywhere they went as they punched people down.
The other couple was a mirror image of impeccable grooming and wealth.
They were also frowning their displeasure, but it was Paisley 2.
0 who captured her attention. Because you better believe they’d brought her despite Kyle saying he was in a relationship.
She was a blond, blue-eyed wisp of a woman who looked so young she could probably still get away with being in a kid’s Easter egg hunt.
She’d lay out Kyle’s slippers every night and pop out two kids for him without breaking a sweat.
God, Kyle had better get here fast because these people were looking to throw around their weight after being disrespected.
Madison fell back into the protective mode she’d adopted in her old neighborhood. When the corner gang leader was cranky and looking to break windows, you did whatever you could not to escalate the situation.
“Good evening,” she stated in her best business voice.
“I’m Chef Madison Garcia, the head chef here at Nanine’s.
I’m sorry you aren’t pleased with your table, but after hearing you were Kyle’s family and friends, we went to great trouble to reseat the party who’d reserved it, as it’s the best in the house.
Being in the kitchen is the most coveted seat we have. ”
Kyle’s mother pegged her tight-eyed gaze right on her. “You’re the person Paisley told us about, the one who worked in the kitchen.”
Cue the class insults, but had Paisley told them about the kiss she’d planted on Kyle to make the woman leave?
Doubtful, because that would ruin the woman’s cred.
Funny how when it came down to it, people were all about cred and respect.
Of course, it was possible they suspected she was dating Kyle anyway.
They clearly didn’t respect his relationship, given their decision to bring Paisley 2. 0.
She just had to power through this until Kyle arrived.
“I am the head chef here, as I said. You can be seated at this special table right now. Otherwise, you’ll need to wait in front of the restaurant until Kyle arrives to figure out other arrangements for you and your party.
As you probably know, we are the most sought-after reservation in Paris right now, some are saying the world, and seating is at a premium. ”
His mother looked her up and down, from the black chef’s hat to her black high-tops. Madison was sweating slightly, without a touch of makeup. She could only imagine his mother’s thoughts, and quite frankly, she didn’t give a damn.
“We’ll wait for Kyle here, then,” the woman drawled in the same tone Madison imagined an asp would use if the snake could speak.
“Wonderful,” she said tightly. “Please follow our staff to your table.”
The moment their backs were turned, she spun around to return to her station. But Claude’s forceful wave from the staircase stopped her. Terrific. They had the other party from hell upstairs.
“Chef, I’m sorry to interrupt you again, but Monsieur Flaubert is requesting that you come to table side.”
“Didn’t you offer them an apéro?” She winced. “Sorry, of course you did, Claude.”