“Works for me,” Sue said. “You know, you don’t need to make it French. It might be fun to do it with a Latin flair. Or get all crazy and do Japanese.”
“I wish, but we aren’t there yet. We don’t have that many regulars, especially ones who’d like a change. And the new guests come because they want classic French cuisine. I just don’t want to mess with things now that we’re getting busier.”
“You can’t play it safe forever.”
“Someday, Sue, someday.” Lou squeezed Sue’s arm, then grabbed her favorite knife. She lost herself breaking down the salmon into generous fillets. In the background, Lou could hear her crew start their latest debate.
“You have to get out of the city,” said Sue. “You need to avoid people.”
“No, no, no,” Harley disagreed. “Commandeer a huge boat and stay off the coast. You can get the resources of a big city—the water, empty stores, and fuel—but the zombies can’t get at you. You have mobility, supplies, and shelter. And you can move around to different ports.”
“You won’t be able to get any supplies in a big city. The zombies will be where the most people are. You’ll need to go somewhere more isolated, with water, food, and weapons. Like north to Canada. Not a lot of zombies in Canada.”
“That’s ’cause it’s cold. I’ll take my boat to the Caribbean—you go hang out with moose. Let’s see who lasts longer.”
Sue scowled.
Normalcy settled over the kitchen like a fleecy blanket. Lou smiled to herself, then stood up straighter as an idea flared.
“Sue, what about a second restaurant?”
Sue’s face brightened. “Now you’re talking. What are you thinking?”
“Something small, intimate, where the menu changes with the seasons. Maybe even more.”
“Lovely.” Sue’s eyes grew dreamy.
“I’ll need to save a lot.” Lou paused, then added, “That’s what I originally planned for Luella’s.”
“Why didn’t you do that?”
“Devlin suggested a French restaurant would work better. People would be more open to it.” Lou shrugged her shoulders.
“Well, he just screws everything up.”
Lou smiled. “It was the only advice he gave me about Luella’s, so I thought taking it would encourage him to get more involved.”
“Thank God that didn’t work.”
Lou laughed, mending part of her broken heart.
• CHAPTER FIVE •
Al missed seeing his newly printed articles straight off the printer. Pushing Send wasn’t quite as satisfying as a crisp, white page emblazoned with perfectly written prose, but it was faster.
He looked at the time on his monitor—2:55 p.m. Time to send it to Hannah. Al read through the review one more time, made two clicks, and done. He looked around the office. Most heads stared at computer screens or out the window. John shopped online.
“Anything good?” Al asked.
John started at the sudden break in silence. He turned his head and said, “Not unless you like strappy neon sandals and wear a size five in ladies’ shoes.”
“I can’t catch a break.” Al laughed.
John studied Al, who stood with his jacket in one hand.
“You done?”
“Yeah, I just submitted it.” Al smiled.
“You like that, don’t you? The power trip.”
Al tilted his head to the side and squinted, trying to see the truth in John’s question, then shook his head no. “That’s not it at all. Someone needs to tell these chefs their food is no good. They need to know so they can cut their losses and move on.”
“So, you’re doing them a favor?”
“Isn’t that how you view telling someone when their outfit isn’t flattering? It may not be easy to hear, but they’ll dress better as a result of your advice. With so much good food available, subpar dining should be called out. Plus, I owe it to the readers to give honest feedback. If I didn’t tell them about my bad experiences, then they might waste money on an awful meal. I’d lose credibility.” Al paused, then continued, “I do feel bad, but I believe honesty is more important.”
John watched Al as he spoke, judging his words against the resolute Brit standing before him.
“You need to get laid.”
“Pardon me?”
John used his palm to make a circular gesture at Al’s head.
“Clear up all your negative juju. Then maybe you’ll start to enjoy your life a little more.”
“I like my life quite a bit. I just don’t like where I’m living it.”
Al pushed in his chair and left the office, walking out the main doors and heading south toward the Public Market. He didn’t notice other people on the street or whether the sun had emerged to warm those around him. Instead, he let John’s observations sink in—all of them. As he walked past the newsstand, he couldn’t help sniffing the air, searching for hints of bacon, coconut, and vanilla. Combined with John’s declaration that he needed to get laid, he couldn’t get that smell off his mind, or her adorable freckles, or the broken expression on her face as she blew past him on the sidewalk. Such a marvelous creature deserved someone who understood her talents—someone like him, perhaps.
• • • • •
Four thirty arrived and the restaurant never looked better. With all the help, Lou had time to prepare a special meal for the daily meeting—her way of thanking her staff. The daily meeting always covered the specials, any new wines on the menu, reservations, and any other issues. While Sue ran the meeting, Lou always tried to add a few words of advice or encouragement. After her meltdown yesterday, she wanted everyone to focus on what was important—the customer and her dining experience.
As she looked at the faces of her staff, she warmed with affection. Tyler, who she was so hard on last night, smiled at her as their eyes met, not a hint of lingering anger at her mistreatment of him. Billy sat on the edge of his chair, trying to pick the lint off the back of another waiter, a little agitated by the lack of tidiness. The bussers and dishwashers sat toward the back, whispering in Spanish about a soccer game. The remaining waitstaff enjoyed the last few minutes of rest before the long night ahead.
In such a small restaurant, nothing was private, so Lou knew everyone had heard the abbreviated version of what happened. She teared up a little at her employees’ loyalty. Lou stood to get their attention and started to speak.
“Business has been good lately. It was brought to my attention that during my unfortunate meltdown yesterday, everyone was distracted and concerned. While I appreciate the sentiment, our customers may not have gotten the experience they pay so generously for. We have started to build a base of regular diners, so let’s not alienate them. If you recognize someone from a previous visit, pay special attention to them. Try to learn their names, their preferences. We need to do everything in our power to make that guest want to come back. Alison, what are reservations for tonight?”
“We have a two-top and two four-tops at six, an eight-top at six thirty, and two more four-tops at seven. The Meyers will also be in at seven. Thursdays usually see a lot of walk-ins, so I expect a steady night,” said Alison, the hostess.
“Let me know when Gertrude and Otto arrive; I’d like to visit with them.”
If Luella’s had a small but loyal following, the Meyers were the flamboyant drum majors. Otto and Gertrude ate there several times a week. They preferred a table in the center of the dining room, where the restaurant bustled around them. Lou tried to make a point of visiting their table often. One, it was a good example to other diners of how regular guests were treated; and two, the Meyers were the most interesting people she had ever met. Lou loved talking to them. Both emigrated from Germany as children, right before World War II. Their parents fled to the United States before things got ugly and came to Milwaukee because of the large German population. The couple traveled often, especially to Germany to visit friends and distant relatives. Lou admired their easy approach to life, how they went where the wind took them. And she was grateful it took them to Luella’s at least twice a week.