Page 69 of Neap & Spring

All three investors pause.

“Stay for dinner. Service starts in an hour. Let me cook for you.” Callum stands, and the uncertainty of the last hour has burned off. He’s at least certain and confident in his cooking. “You want proof this restaurant is worth saving? Let me show you.”

Brad and Jim exchange looks.

“We have another meeting —” Jim starts.

“Cancel it,” Callum interjects. “Stay. Eat. See what you’re actually investing in.”

The silence is excruciating.

Then Brad grins. “You know what? Why not. Cameron, cancel the 7:00.”

“On it,” Cameron’s already typing on his phone.

“Excellent.” Callum is already moving toward the kitchen. “Give me an hour. Vivienne will get you set up.”

And then he’s gone, pushing through the kitchen doors and leaving me alone with three investors, who hold the restaurant’s fate in their wallets, and my heart, which is still beating slightly too fast.

“Well,” Brad says, settling back into his chair. “This should be interesting.”

I smile brightly and stand on wobbly legs. “Let me get you gentlemen something stronger than water. We have an excellent local wine list.”

As I head to get Frannie to help me with drinks, I catch a glimpse through the kitchen window.

Callum is already at his station, calling out to Roman and the team, his hands moving with that familiar purpose and precision.

He’s doing what he does best.

Now I just have to figure out how to save his restaurant.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

Vivienne

The investors leave around eight-thirty, full of Callum’s food and significantly more optimistic than when they arrived.

I watch their Mercedes pull out of the parking lot, taillights disappearing down the coastal road, and slump forward in my chair, my forehead hitting the table.

“That bad?” Frannie appears beside me, already clearing the empty wine glasses and dessert plates from the table.

The investors’ table.

The table I sat at for two and a half hours, eating dinner and making small talk and pretending like I wasn’t dying inside.

“That was —” I lift my head, looking at her. “I have no words for what that was.”

“An ambush?” Frannie offers, stacking plates efficiently. “Because that’s what it looked like from where I was standing. They just showed up?”

“With less than two hours’ notice.”

“Jesus.” She balances the plates on one arm, a skill I never mastered even when I was working in restaurants. “Well, for what it’s worth, you handled it like a pro. Very calm and collected.”

“I spent the entire time picking at my thumb nail under the table.” I hold up my hand as evidence. The skin around my nail is raw and torn. One spot is bleeding slightly.

“Couldn’t tell from here.” She grins. “Though Callum definitely could. He came out like four times during your dinner to ‘check on things.’”

I sit up straighter at his name. “He did?”