He gave her a wink and then opened the door to the cheer of the crowd. They walked outside to greet everyone.
A crisp coastal breeze swept across the Gulf as The Low Tide Supper Club opened its doors for the first time, the evening sun casting a pink-gold shimmer and bathing the restaurant’s glass frontage in a warm, luminous glow.
Photographers snapped pictures of the elegantly dressed gathering—locals, visiting yacht owners, and a few quietly recognizable celebrities, each drawn by the promise of an indulgent coastal experience unlike anything the area had seen before.
Patrick’s PR person, Tabitha, addressed the crowd with a microphone and then handed it to Patrick.
“Good evening, everyone,” he said, sounding more professional than Emily had ever heard him sound, “and thank you for being here to celebrate this moment with us. The Low Tide Supper Club began as an idea fueled by a love for this coast and the desire to bring my personal chef business, Main Course, to the masses. Tonight, that dream becomes a reality because of all of you.
“So please, eat, drink, explore, and enjoy this evening. Thank you for trusting us, supporting us, and stepping into this new chapter with us. We’re honored to welcome you to the very first night of The Low Tide Supper Club—may it be the start of many unforgettable nights to come.”
The crowd clapped.
Patrick clicked off the microphone and handed it to Tabitha. Then, the host began seating people.
Emily scanned the patrons, quickly finding familiar faces. She ran over to Blair and Rocko, and Sienna and Tyson with a baby stroller, and pulled them out of the line, giving them hugs.
“Thank you for coming all the way here,” she said.
“We wouldn’t miss this for the world.” Blair, dressed in a loose-fitting drape of silver sequins that landed mid-thigh, gave her a big squeeze.
“Let me see little Addison!” Emily squealed, moving over to see Sienna and Tyson’s baby girl.
She sat nestled comfortably in her stroller, taking in the world with wide, wondering eyes. The soft Gulf breeze fluttered the edges of her pastel bonnet, and tiny fingers curled around the strap of her cream-and-pink rattle. Though she was far too young to understand the celebration around her, she seemed captivated by the shifting lights, the gentle hum of voices, and the occasional sparkle of laughter floating her way. She let out a delighted coo, as if adding her own small note to the evening’s excitement.
“She’s got your face shape, Sienna,” Emily said.
Sienna grinned at her little one.
“Let’s go inside. Follow me and we’ll bypass the line.” Emily led them into the restaurant.
Blair snapped photos on her phone. “VIP access to the biggest launch on the Gulf will be a fun post,” she said excitedly. She was back on her game.
Inside, the atmosphere felt both extravagant and intimate, polished by luxury. The interior blended driftwood textures with brushed-brass fixtures, creating a modern maritime elegance. They walked under a vaulted ceiling featuring suspended sculptures inspired by sea currents, their contours catching the flicker of candlelight from the tables. Servers flowed through the room, offering celebratory champagne flutes filled with citrus-infused bubbles for waiting customers, while the open kitchen emitted enticing aromas of poached snapper and smoked Gulf oysters—Patrick’s recipes.
Emily found Patrick talking to Julia. Her hair was swept up tonight with spiral curls around her face, and Winston was at her side in a miniature tuxedo matching Patrick’s.
Emily said hello and bent down to talk to Winston. “What do you think of all this?”
“I think it was more fun when there was room for basketball,” he said with a grin as he tugged on the collar of his shirt.
“You’re probably right,” Patrick said, overhearing. “But I promise the cake you’ll get tonight will be well worth losing the basketball court.”
“It’s gonna have to be a biiiig piece,” Winston said, widening his arms and making them all laugh. “And one for Stormy.”
“They kept Stormy?” Sienna asked.
“No one claimed him,” Emily replied.
While they all greeted one another, making light conversation, a deep, low voice said, “Hello there,” to Sienna and then, “Hey,” to Patrick. The man swept past them and disappeared into the throngs of people near the bar before Emily could determine who it was. She craned her neck to find him, but couldn’t get a good look.
“Wait, was that…?” Blair tipped her chin up to see over the crowd. “That was someone famous. I know by the two men with earpieces I saw pass.” She waggled a finger at Sienna. “He said hi to youandPatrick. Who was that?”
No one answered.
“What was he wearing?” Emily asked.
Julia looked around. “I didn’t see.”
