AllFreeNovel
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“And just like that, you, my dear, have a fully functioning kitchen.” Hands on the edge of my massive, not quite new gas cooker, Simon leans back to look closer at—I’ve no idea what—something that makes him grin.
“A nameless restaurant.” I lean back on the stainless-steel worktop we’ve spent the afternoon installing and fold my arms, shifting at the slight ache of well used muscles. This morning was… confusing. Mylo told me things, shared things. Things I know it cost him to share.I felt the conviction in his every kiss, his every touch. Conviction that everything’s okay.
“Earth to Kenzi.”
I shake my head. “Sorry. I’m just stressed, I guess. This place needs a name.”
Tugging my hands from where they’ve wrapped my waist, Simon grips my fingers between us. “Okay, sweetness, we, and by we I mean you, will come up with a name, even if it’s just a temporary name until we—youfind the perfect name. But until inspiration hits let’s get things straight for the test dinner. Who are we inviting? When are we doing it? Which dishes do we want to test?”
“Okay.” I push out my cheeks. “I was thinking, Pete, of course, Mylo, Laia and Fee, Jackson and Maika, Rae and Rylie, now that her and Cane have split, I think she could do with a night out and most definitely Lola. Jo said she’d help out with serving, she’s also offered to pick up the slack once we’re open if we need her to until we find someone permanent.”
“Annnnnnd?” He narrows his eyes beneath his swept back white-blond hair. “Your parents?”
I suck my bottom lip into my mouth, then sigh aggressively. I had no idea a sigh could be aggressive. Mine is. “We’re not quite.” I blow a raspberry like the serious businesswoman that I am. “I haven’t spoken to my mom since Seren’s naming ceremony. I don’t even know if she’d come.”
Dropping my fingers, he presses his lips together and tilts his head to the side. “Take this from a man whose mother is no longer with us, God rest her soul, you need to love the one you have while you have her. We’re inviting her.”
Nerves, I hate that I have them over my mom,my mom. “Okaaaaaaaaaay.” I scrunch my face. “I know you’re right. Just… talk to me about the dishes again. Please.”
“Okay.” He cups my chin, then smooths his thumb between my eyebrows. “But, no more frowning, you’re too young to have wrinkles.”
“Deal.” I offer him my most unscrunched smile until he releases my face and turns to the notebook on the worktop.
“Right. Your Gran’s Cluan spiced baked monkfish is a go with my sweet potato puree and roasted asparagus. We haaaaaaaave the seabass and prawn ceviche with mango, chili and that giant roasted corn you loved. The trad Cluan beef stew with my own personal twist, trust me you will love. Crunchy camembert salad with berries, Parma ham and balsamic. The fish soup. The warm goats cheese bruschetta with cheese from that farm I was telling you about over in Fern Bay. The vegetable curry. The vegan ravioli, themeatravioli, Oh and the garlic, ginger and butter dorado with sticky rice.”
“Okay, stop, stop, stop, you’re making me hungry, yes to all. Let’s just do it Saturday. Clua town festival kicks off the Friday after and the Castle’s new bungalows open that weekend too, so all being well we could advertise next week and get in on the hype.” I press my palms to my cheeks, nerves, excitement, absolute terror shrinking my stomach down to pea sized. “If I find a name.”
“Whenyou find a name.” He glances up from his notepad.
“WhenI find a name.” I nod once. “Okay, right, lists, I need to go through my to do list. You’re on top of the suppliers?”
“I am. You’ve got this, baby girl.”
“You sure?” I grimace.
“Kenziiii.” He lifts his chin.
“You’re right. I’ve got this.” I blow out a breath and smooth my grimace. “I’m gonna do a walk through, see what still needs to be done. Double check we’ve got everything you need in here and I’ll meet you out front.”
I leave him scribbling in his notebook and head through to the bar area. The floors have come up better than I could have hoped. The colors are bright, I picked a dark gray grout and I’m so glad that I did. I glance from the wicker basket light shades I picked up in the farmer’s market last week, then up to the light fittings Pete put in this morning. I slip my cell from my back pocket, open the notes app, and keep walking as I type.Light bulbs. I pass the double windows admiring the floating shelf above. I put it up myself to hold my hanging ivy baskets, so it drapes down one side. It’s even straight. I lift one of the vines that has fallen over the glass and push it back into place. It falls back down stubbornly.More wall clips to tac vines.I turn, pulling in a paint-scented breath as I take in the inside eating area.
The base of the bar is done. Same with the one up on the roof terrace, the only things missing are the pine bar tops Mylo ordered from the timber yard so I could get his discount.
They should be here by now.Chase up bar tops.I glance up from my phone and allow myself exactly one second to pout over the fact I can’t afford to have them made from local jacaranda, then suck my lip back in and focus on the fact that there are uploader bottle fridges already plugged in and ready to go behind both this bar and the one up on the terrace. The massive wine fridge the warehouse threw in for free doesn’t suck either. I have the bottle shelves up waiting for liquor and a super cooky, vintage console running along the back wall behind the bar for extra workspace and storage. Pine bar tops will do for now.
Puffing out my cheeks I refocus on my to-do list. Order spirits, beers, wine and soda, beer pumps to be fitted.
I lean back on the bar base and just—enjoy the view.
Mylo helped me build bench seating along both walls, space efficient and so damn pretty with the eclectic array of cushions I’ve had everybody I know picking up from all over the island. I admire the tables dotted along the length of the benches. It may have taken weeks and more blood sweat and tears than I knew I possessed, but they look good even if I do say so myself. Especially with the simple oversized light bulbs that hang from the ceiling over each one. And don’t even get me started on the chairs sitting on the other side of them. They may be mismatched but they all have one thing in common.
My eyes sting just looking at them. Rosa’s mom insisted I used the meters of Rosa’s hand-painted fabric to recover the cushions with. It gives the whole place a jolt of bright color and that traditional Cluan flavor I was looking for. I swear I can feel her watching down on me with paint on her nose and a smile on her face.
I look through the doors to the garden. Tables of all shapes and sizes and even more mismatched chairs. I’m just about to type a note into my cell when something moves by the open gates, back lit by the sun as it splices the beach behind in oranges and reds.
My heart thumps, my fingers tightening around my phone. Slight build, black clothes. It’s the guy from last night. I stare, frozen with indecision. He stares right back. At me. Not the restaurant. Not the garden.At me. I can barely make out his face, but I don’t need to, I can feel his eyes on me.
“Kenzi, baby. I’m ready to go when you are.”
