Exquisite

  Lena, Go visit her today. She would want you to,

  Mom and Dad

  See? This is what her mother did to her, Lena thought as she stared at the ceiling. This is why she wanted him to tell Brandy who they were from. So she could get rid of the flowers in advance and not feel guilty for not visiting her sister’s grave. Just as she’d done for the last nine years.

  Mason was still annoyed as he stepped out of the elevator. Man, oh man, what a piece of work! His jaw hurt from clenching it as he dialed his mother’s number. He mentally told himself not to take his anger out on her, or his phone. It rang twice before his mother’s voice flowed into the earpiece. “Precious Petals, how may I help you?”

  Mason smiled automatically. “You can take me to dinner to thank me for taking on your customer from hell.”

  “Who? Lena?”

  Mason clenched his fist as he walked out to his car. That name on its own upped his headache to migraine status. “Yes, Lena. Or as I refer to her, Queen B.”

  “Mason Nathan Langley!” his mother admonished. “Don’t you dare talk about her like that. That poor girl.”

  Opening the door to his blue Nissan GT-R, Mason told his mother, “That poor girl just made me wait forty minutes and then had the nerve to ask me if I could read!”

  “Well, well. It isn’t often that someone dares to take you on, son, so good for her.”

  Mason pulled the phone away and stared at it. Good for her? Is that what his mother had just said to him? What the hell was the world coming to and how did his mother know Queen B anyway? Grumbling to himself, Mason pulled the phone back to his ear.

  “Never again.”

  “Oh, come on now, Mase.”

  “No, Mom, never. ’Bye.” With that, he snapped the phone shut, and then realized he hadn’t gotten an answer about dinner.

  Chapter Two

  Mason pulled into his reserved spot behind Exquisite. His restaurant. Man, it gave him a buzz every time he looked at the discreet sign. Earlier this year he’d gone ahead and taken the plunge. Applying for and securing, much to his delight, a loan to purchase the old building. It was located in downtown Chicago and was part of the ongoing revitalization project. He’d specifically wanted this location because it was central. It sat smack-dab in the middle of the most upcoming place to be, and there was the added bonus of the empty building next door, just in case he ever got the itch to expand. Yep, it was perfect, if you didn’t count the tight little parking lot situated down the side alley. Not the best option but he was lucky it even offered that.

  He however, had a lovely reserved spot, and that’s where he sat in his car with his hands in his lap just taking a moment to himself. He hated starting his day on a negative note. It always made for one long ass day. Thinking back to only an hour ago, he kept picturing that tall infuriating woman—yeah he’d upgraded her from The Queen to a woman now—only because his mom had made him. Still, he couldn’t make any excuses for her absolutely obnoxious behavior this morning. More to the point, he couldn’t believe his own reaction to her. He was never rude to anyone – especially a woman.

  Usually he had no trouble in that department; women fell all over him and he didn’t mind one bit. He loved women, always had. However, that woman had made his blood boil. That is until that one moment, right before she’d left, when she had smiled across at the little girl, and now it seemed as though he couldn’t get her out of his head.

  He shut his eyes, took a deep breath, and then got out of the car. Stretching his back, he sounded the alarm and strolled through the back door of the restaurant.

  “Oh, hello! Look who decided to show up today. Did you forget how to get here, brother?”

  Smiling in the direction of the voice, he turned and walked down the kitchen aisle to the huge stainless steel prep table where his sister Rachel worked. Dressed in worn jeans and a black Exquisite T-shirt on which their logo stood out clearly on the pocket: a white chef’s hat and a martini glass. Her black hair was pulled up into a bright purple cap with bright red tips peeking out, and yet with that bizarre mishmash of colors she somehow looked put together. Her light blue eyes were laughing at him and instantly Mason’s day improved. He reached out and tugged the bill of the cap.

  “No, smart ass. I got held up doing a favor for Mother Dearest.”

  She grinned at him and then stopped cutting the carrots as he grabbed a black apron from the rack and tied it around his hips.

  “What’d she sucker you into today?”

  He walked behind her and washed his hands at the large sink. “Oh trust me, nothing worth repeating. Let’s put it this way: it involved a screaming child, an obnoxious woman, and a little woman with thick glasses plus about 90% of my patience . . . so I really hope everything runs well tonight.”

  Rachel resumed cutting and smirked as she looked over to him.

  “So now probably isn’t the time to tell you that three of your waiters called in sick, we have a last-minute booking for a table of fifteen, and we’re at full capacity tonight?”

  Mason froze, looked at her, and when he saw her smile narrowed his eyes and pointed the knife he was holding at her.

  “You lying little brat.”

  “Hey, what did Mom teach you about playing with knives?”

  Grinning he started cutting the portobello mushrooms. “Not a damn thing. She didn’t cook.”

  “Well, what do you think she’d have said?”

  Mason let out a loud laugh. “Ah, Rachel, thank you.”

  “For?”

  Before he could answer he heard his manager, Wendy, frantic as usual but smiling as she rushed through the back door and up toward them.

  “Hi,” she said looking at them with her head cocked to one side, her cell phone wedged between her chin and shoulder as she balanced a box in her hands. “Hi. Yes, no, I don’t need Cab Sav, I need Merlot. I ordered this a week ago. Why am I looking at carrots and mushrooms and no Merlot, Stan?”

  Mason arched a brow then looked at Rachel and mouthed, Poor Stan.

  Rachel chuckled and Wendy rolled her eyes at them as though Stan, the wine vendor, was completely incompetent. In that instant he was reminded of the doctor. In her own way, Wendy reminded him of her; however, Wendy usually had some sweetness and she was just rattled right now. He wondered if the doc had any sweetness. Then he decided it wasn’t even worth thinking about and went back to cutting and washing the mushrooms.

  Finally, Lena thought, I have a moment to breathe. She sat down in her black leather chair and groaned as she looked at the files stacked on her desk. So much paperwork. There were orders, prescriptions, and insurance documents. So much protocol. Leaning back, she shut her eyes, then opened one and looked at the clock on her desk. The second hand ticked its way slowly around to the twelve as the time read four p.m. She’d been on her feet since seven a.m., and the days were taking their toll on her. She was aware she needed to slow down. However, Lena also knew she wouldn’t because when she slowed down she had time to think, and nothing good ever came from that particular pastime. Standing up, she decided it was probably as good a time as any for her to go and get some lunch, considering she’d only eaten half a donut since this morning. She walked around her desk and stopped as Brandy came to the door.

  “Dr. McKinney called and wants you in his office.”

  Lena sighed. There went lunch. “Did he tell you a time, Brandy?”

  Nodding, Brandy bit her bottom lip.

  “He said pronto.”

  “Pronto?” Lena repeated, not quite believing what she’d heard.

  Brandy looked as though she wanted to melt into the wall but nodded quickly, still biting her lip. Lena walked out of her office seething. Stalking down the hallway she thought, what was she, his child? Pronto? Who even used that word except for an angry parent? Lena stopped at the bank of elevators and tapped her foot. She knew what was coming. She was about to get her ass handed to her on a plate for being constantly late. It was nothing new but this t
ime he was pushing it, summoning her to his office like a petulant child. The elevator pinged open as several visitors and hospital personnel scrambled off. She stepped in with a nurse from the second floor that she recognized but couldn’t name, and went to the back to lean against the wall.

  “Eighth floor, please,” she mumbled, closing her eyes as the elevator heaved and started its ascent.

  Lena started thinking about what she needed to do when she got home. There was laundry, her run, and then bed. Wow, when had her life become so stagnant?

  Every night Lena tried to get her run in. Her condo overlooked Lincoln Park and she was fortunate enough that it was adjacent to the lakefront trails. There was something cathartic to pounding out her frustration and anger on those trails. As long as every now and then she could look up and out at the beautiful Lake Michigan and remind herself that yes, she was still alive, this seemed to be the only form of therapy she could stand. It also helped that when she got home she was so tired it allowed her to crawl into bed and fall asleep without dwelling on the past. It was structured and it was solitary, just the way she wanted it to be.

  Finally, the elevator hit eight. Lena got out, turned left, and walked down to the end of the hall. Stopping, she took a deep breath and pushed the door open. Behind the desk was McKinney’s version of Brandy, minus the glasses and with red hair. She smiled slightly at Lena. “Dr. O’Donnell, he’s expecting you. Just go in.”

  Nodding, Lena pushed the door open and stepped inside. Dr. Roger McKinney, Hospital Administrator. He stood at 5’6, so yes she was taller than he was. He was balding and what hair he did have was greying on the sides. He had a white moustache, and was the very picture of the word ‘stuffy.’ However, he was her boss and for that reason, she kept her thoughts to herself and respected him. He looked up from what he was signing.

  “Lena,” he said and sat back in his chair, removing his glasses. Lena nodded as he gestured to the chair opposite his desk, “Please sit.”

  Walking around to the front of the chair, she sat and crossed her legs “You wanted to see me?”

  He raised his left hand to squeeze the bridge of his nose, and looked at her thoughtfully. “We had a complaint about you today, Lena.” He paused.

  Sitting straight up in her chair she was about to demand by whom, when her mind zeroed right in on a certain deliveryman. That asshole.

  “I can explain.”

  “Lena. I don’t want an explanation and usually I wouldn’t ever call my doctors out on one complaint. There are too many a day in a hospital this size. But this is the third one in four days. On top of your lack of time management skills or the fact you seem to have lost your ability to tell time at all, I’m left to wonder, what’s going on? Do you need to take some time off?”

  She jammed her clenched fists under her legs and shook her head. “No sir. This week has been rough.” She swallowed, thinking that it was the understatement of the century—the whole last nine years of her life had been rough. She still couldn’t believe that giant had reported her. What a giant asshole.

  “Well, just keep in mind that I have my eye on you and try not to have any more complaints for let’s try, a month?”

  Smiling weakly, she answered, “Sure. Was that it?”

  He put his glasses on the desk and shook his head. “Actually, no. I wanted to confirm that you’d be at the dinner tonight? For Dr. Jones the new Gastro. I expect all those invited to attend.”

  Damn it. Just what she didn’t want to do tonight. Well, at least Shelly would be there. Plastering on a false smile so big it nearly slid off her face, she answered, “Sure, what time does it start?”

  He stood, told her nine o’clock, and then walked her to his office door. “Remember, Lena. I’m keeping my eye on you.”

  She walked out past the receptionist, shooting her an instant death glare, and thought, God, I’m screwed.

  It was eight p.m. and Exquisite had opened three hours earlier. The dining room bustled at capacity tonight. The bar stretched down one side of the restaurant and the tables were evenly scattered through the dining room, each covered with elegant cream tablecloths and topped with sparkling wine glasses and shining silver utensils. Mason smiled to himself as he stood at the pass inspecting every dish before it was handed over to his waitstaff to be delivered to his hungry customers. Above the chatter and laughter was the music of the greats: Sinatra, Dean, and the newer Bublé and Norah Jones. This made him happy. He loved his restaurant; it was his second home and it had been his lifelong dream to have delicious aromas wafting from his kitchen with people relaxing and celebrating at their tables. Smiling, he looked over to the women and men flirting with his bartenders as they sat and waited for a table or merely sat having a drink to wind down on a Friday night. All to the soundtrack of smooth easy jazz. This was, in his mind, heaven.

  “Where’s the New York strip for table 25?”

  Rachel came up, sliding it onto the pass for him to garnish with a side of steamed potatoes in garlic and chives. Mason inspected everything carefully, then put it up on the lip and rang the service bell.

  “One Bourbon Street New York Steak, table 25. Ahh, thanks, Gail,” he said with a wink.

  She loaded her tray and smiled as she turned to go and deliver the meal.

  “Oh yeah, Mase. It’s happening tonight,” Wendy called out as she strolled up smiling.

  “Even without two extra cases of Merlot?”

  “You’re one to talk? You do know I have a very demanding boss, right? And he’d be very mad if we ran out of wine to complement his wonderful menu.” She batted her eyelashes at him dramatically as Mason leaned over, wiping his palms on his apron, so he could kiss her cheek.

  “You’re such a kiss ass.”

  “Yeah, yeah,” she said, waving him away. She looked back out to where the waiters were pulling three tables together for the party of fifteen. “You ready for them?”

  Mason grinned at her, his dimples flashing. “Bring it on, baby.”

  She laughed and turned to go and check on the setup.

  Lena sat in the back of the yellow taxicab as it drove through the traffic of downtown Chicago toward the new restaurant Exquisite, where McKinney had told her they were meeting. She sat quietly, trying to prepare herself for two hours of forced communication. Reaching into her purse, she pulled out her little compact mirror and wiped a smudge of lipstick from the corner of her mouth.

  She’d gone with the professional businesswoman look tonight. Ha, who was she kidding? She went with that every day—why would this be different? Her sleek black pencil skirt that stopped just below her knee and midnight blue blouse screamed professional. Her only weakness and concession to anything flashy was her love of shoes. Tonight she wore black Jimmy Choo stilettos that she knew made her legs look even longer.

  Her phone buzzed and as the cab pulled up in front of the valet area for Exquisite, she looked at the text. It was Shelly, I’m in here at the bar, bartender is HOT lol. Lena sighed as she got out and made her way inside.

  Mason stood with Wendy, talking to one of their guests when he saw her walk in. It wasn’t that she stood out as a knockout beauty; it was more the fact that she was so stiff and rigid in such a relaxed atmosphere. He couldn’t believe that woman had just walked into his restaurant—what were the odds? He instantly felt his spine stiffen as he watched her eyes roam around his restaurant, as though assessing and judging it, and then from her unimpressed expression finding it lacking. Oh, hell no sweetheart, this was his pride and joy and he let no one leave without enjoying themselves.

  “Isn’t that right, Mason?”

  His attention was brought back to Wendy and the man standing with her, a journalist from Dine Fine. He smiled and nodded. “Yes, that’s right. I learned a lot from my father as well as college and culinary school. Never give up the opportunity to learn your family’s cooking secrets. They’re often the special ingredient.” He paused as he watched the doctor make her way through the tables and t
ap the shoulder of a blonde at the bar. The blonde turned and then bam! There it was again, that elusive smile of hers, so rarely given but man, when it came out to play it made Mason sit up and notice. Suddenly he found it vitally important to get closer to her.

  “Excuse me Wendy. I just saw someone I need to speak to.”

  Lena looked around the restaurant. It was packed. The tables were full and people were sitting and standing at the bar. There were a lot of people, period. Too many for her taste but she was sure the owner would be happy with the turnout. The smooth melody of Norah Jones’ “Don’t Know Why” floated through the air. She spotted Shelly’s bright red dress straight away. Her friend perched on a barstool flirting away with the hot bartender. Lena grimaced slightly and then walked over to tap Shelly on the shoulder. She swiveled around, smiled, and narrowed her eyes as she looked Lena up and down.

  “Hi there, Lena. I’m so glad the library closed early enough for you to get away.”

  Lena smiled, taking the vacant seat beside her. “Well, we keep shorter hours than the corner you walked off.”

  Shelly didn’t take offense; in fact, she laughed out loud, moving over so Lena could sit. “Lena, that was great! Seriously, that was funny. But honestly, you like my dress, right?”

  Lena looked closer at the skintight, red dress and the two-inch straps that held it up. The straight cut across her chest came in tight under her breasts and she’d completed her mid-thigh length ensemble with bright purple heels.