Chapter 34
CHAPTER
THIRTY-FOUR
Kyle had thought about getting out of the car and running across the Seine.
When he arrived at Nanine’s, forty minutes had passed since Claude’s phone call. Smiling tightly as Kyle caught his eye, the ma?tre d’ excused himself from the table he was serving and crossed the restaurant to him quickly.
“Run me through where things stand,” he asked without any of the usual formalities.
“Your family is seated at the table in the kitchen behind the new Art Deco shoji screens from the top floors. Chef Madison decided to begin serving their party food given the delay. She is speaking to your mother right now, as there were some concerns about the meal. They wish to send back their order due to the bread pairings.”
Kyle rubbed the bridge of his nose and fought off a string of curses.
First, his parents had shown up unannounced after he’d told them not to and now they were complaining about the meal.
All the way over he’d prepared himself for a showdown, but he needed to do it as unemotionally as possible.
They were in a place of business, and no one should have to deal with his problem, least of all Madison and the staff.
“Because of the carbs, right?” he made himself ask.
Claude nodded with the brisk professionalism Kyle admired. “I believe that was mentioned, sir.”
“And our other guests?” he asked, tension gripping the back of his neck.
“There was some unpleasantness with Chef Dassault,” he replied stiffly. “He departed badly, but the remaining two have stayed for dinner. Chef Madison will be the best person to speak with about the encounter.”
“Thank you, Claude,” he said, clapping him on the shoulder and heading to the back of the house.
Nanine’s chandelier gave a sigh of a medley as he entered the kitchen.
The staff turned, their faces strained. Fabian was manning Madison’s station.
He pointed to the back. Sure enough, the Art Deco shoji screens had been placed in front of the table where he’d had many a happy family dinner. He stalked over to it.
“I understand your concern, Mrs. Taylor, but I cannot in good faith as a chef serve this meal without the bread pairings. It’s an integral part of the experience we have created for our guests at Nanine’s.”
He stopped short at the scene. Madison was standing rigidly beside his mother, who was eyeing her with downright distaste, like he’d seen her do with servers at their country club.
“I don’t care what you created, honey,” his mother continued haughtily, flashing her rings in that way she did to display her wealth.
“Where I’m from, the customer is always right.
So you will take these meals back and prepare new ones—without bread this time.
Simply looking at it adds pounds to my waistline. Are we clear?”
His jaw cracked. Madison didn’t pale so much as she visibly pulled herself upright. “I’m afraid—”
“She can’t do that, Mother,” he called out, striding to the table and putting his hand to Madison’s rigid back, noting how she stepped away from his touch. “And aren’t you a bad girl for trying to pull a fast one here when I told you it was impossible to find you a reservation.”
His father pushed back from his chair and crossed his arms, his mouth tightening. “Boy, you need to watch your tone. That’s your mother you’re talking to. When she asks you to do something, you do it.”
“Sir,” he acknowledged, hearing the threat in the man’s voice, one he knew well from childhood. “Mother knows what I’m talking about.”
“I knew that was just your stress talking, honey. You must have so much going on, owning such a famous restaurant and all. I knew that if we came, things would work out just fine.”
He started shaking his head. She was never going to change. “I thought I was pretty clear on where things stood with your trip.”
“Like I said, stress. Look around you, Kyle…” His mother gestured to their table with one of her sugary smiles. “Here we are, sitting at your most coveted table, according to your little chef here. Or did she tell us a tale? Paisley said she was a clever little thing.”
“Mother, that’s enough,” he ground out, stepping forward to defend her. “Chef Madison—”
“Is urgently needed in the kitchen.” Madison’s voice was completely devoid of emotion. “If you’ll excuse me, I’ll let Kyle continue the rest of your service.”
He glared at his mother before following Madison. “Hey! I’m really sorry you had to deal with them. Are you all right?”
She swung around, her golden eyes hot with rage. “This isn’t the time. Just handle your family. I didn’t know what to do about them, so I decided to feed them, but they’ve insulted my staff and now our food. They wanted to send back their meals. No one has ever done that.”
“I’m sorry.” He tried to touch her, but she pulled away. “Mad—”
“I said not now. We’re behind on orders. I need to get back to my station. Fabian has been covering for me, which isn’t fair to him.”
Without another word, she turned around and strode briskly through a very tense staff.
The last thing Madison and the kitchen needed was more tension.
If Dassault had caused a scene and left, everyone would know it.
First a walk-out and now a meal send-back.
Two huge knocks for a restaurant, and all in one night.
Worse, if Flaubert had brought Dassault and the scene had devolved into him storming out of Nanine’s, his hopes had been shredded into a million pieces.
Dassault would double down on Nanine’s being blackballed.
They weren’t going to get their star.
He’d failed. Madison. The staff. His roommates. Nanine. Himself.
He straightened his shoulders. He couldn’t think about that right now. He had another situation to handle—for good.
When he reached the edge of the screens surrounding his family, he scanned the table.
His mother and her friend, Tina, were being dramatic about how anyone could expect a woman to maintain a waistline after eating this much bread.
His father and Tripp protested their wives’ waistlines were simply perfect.
Ivey, the young girl who’d given him Easter eggs, only smiled demurely, looking every inch the kind of debutante his parents would want for him.
He was done playing this game. He stepped beyond the screens and set his weight. All eyes turned to him.
“Mother, Chef Madison was generous enough to seat you even though I told you we were booked. As a reward, you insulted her staff, and Chef Madison herself. I won’t stand for that.”
His father kicked back in his chair and narrowed his eyes. “What did you say, boy?”
“Oh, he’s only being ornery because he’s not getting enough rest.” His mother sat back in her chair, her brow cocked as if daring him to contradict her.
“Kyle, we didn’t mean to insult anyone. You know how we feel about bread.
Sugar, you need to settle down. Come on and sit beside your mother.
We’ve come a long way to see you, and you haven’t even said hello to our friends.
Or sweet little Ivey here. She’s been dying to meet you again. ”
He’d felt free after sending that last text to his mother, and now here they all were, as if nothing had happened.
Their presence was dredging up more hurt and rage and a whole bunch of feelings going back to childhood.
He found himself chuckling darkly. “You know that old saying, ‘Some things never change.’ That about sums up how I’m feeling right now.
I meant what I said in my last text to you.
Perhaps you and your guests might want to head back to your hotel. ”
His father and the rest of the table grew eerily quiet while his mother fussed with her napkin, conjuring up her next negotiating point.
Suddenly he realized where he’d gotten his contractual skills from.
He’d watched her play this game since he’d taken his first steps, encouraging him every couple of feet with the proverbial carrot or stick.
“More than cranky, then.” She twirled her wedding ring and glanced at his father before returning her gaze to him.
“Well, you sure are growing up, aren’t you?
Trying to be your own man, and all. But I’m your mother, and I forgive you, and since we’re here, we might as well eat.
I suppose we could put our bread to the side.
After all, we did want to tell our friends that we ate here. Didn’t we, Tina?”
“Indeed, we did,” she answered, rubbing her stomach. “I mean, that lobster salad looks awfully good. Minus the bread, of course.”
He was getting a migraine. Was she really trying to save face here?
“That cinches it. We’ll stay,” his mother announced with a simpering smile. “But Kyle, you really need to train your people better. That chef of yours has a serious attitude. Then again, from what Paisley told us, we expected it. But still… Thinking she can talk to us like that.”
“Mother, Madison is the most beautiful, brilliant, strongest woman I’ve ever had the privilege of meeting.” He strode forward until he was standing over his mother. “In fact, if I’m lucky enough, she’ll make me the happiest man on earth by marrying me.”
His mother sucked in a sharp breath. “Kyle Taylor, I know you said you were involved with someone, but have you lost your mind? Your father and I don’t approve of that woman for you—”
“I don’t care what you think.” That feeling of freedom was filling his chest now.
“Madison is the best thing that’s ever happened to me.
You should know, I am not coming back to Austin.
Ever. As far as I’m concerned, tonight is the last time we’ll ever see each other.
You can finish your meal with the utmost graciousness and act like civilized people, or you can leave now. I don’t care either way.”
Everyone at the table was staring at him. His father stood up slowly, his hand going to his belt in a threatening posture. The threat didn’t make him sweat anymore. Progress…
He turned to Ivey. “I’m sorry if you came here under false pretenses, but you and I were never going to be a thing. I wish you all the best. Some guy is going to be lucky to have you. Excuse me.”
Leaving the space, he strode to the walk-in cooler and put his head against the cold rack inside.
God, he’d fucked up.
He should have been more firm. He should have put his parents on a Do Not Seat list. He’d put Madison and the staff in a horrible position.
And not just one…
Had his willingness to pursue all avenues to win Nanine’s a star made him reckless? Blind to risks? Sure, Thea had come to him with the Christophe Flaubert idea, but he’d greenlit the strategy.
Now it seemed like he’d made everything worse.
He took a few deep breaths of the cold air. Second-guessing himself could come later, along with apologies. Right now, he had a staff to settle down and show his appreciation for.
Except how was he supposed to make amends to Madison?
He’d promised her he’d help her achieve her dream of winning the star.
He clenched his eyes shut in agony.
How could he live with himself if he’d failed?