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 maître 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, notinghow 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 saidnot 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.
