A Table by the Window: A Novel of Family Secrets and Heirloom Recipes (Two Blue Doors) by Hillary Manton Lodge Page B

Since it was the peak time for diners, almost no one in the restaurant industry had Saturday night off. At least not until midnight.
    “Adrian is the sous-chef for the breakfast and lunch service at Mirrorage,”Nico explained. “And since I’m going to leave Elle at some point, Dad wanted Manuel to get a few Saturday dinner services under his belt.”
    “Fair enough. Mirrorage is a great spot.”
    “So, food?” Linn slung her purse strap over her shoulder. “I’m hungry. I wish the Spicy Pickle were open later. I want their Parisian wrap.”
    “If French sounds good, Little Bird isn’t more than a few blocks away,” I pointed out.
    “If by a few, you mean ten blocks, sure.”
    “I don’t mind the walk, if you don’t.”
    “We shall escort you both,” Nico said gallantly. He offered an arm to Linn, who cackled at him before starting off on her own—a Southern belle, Linn wasn’t.
    Adrian stayed by my side as we walked. “Nico said you’re to manage the restaurant’s opening and possibly continue afterward.”
    “That’s right,” I said, keeping my voice businesslike. “I’m a food writer at the paper.”
    “I’ve read your stuff,” he said. “You’re tough.”
    I bristled.
    “No—tough in a good way. Somebody has to be.”
    “Thanks,” I said, though I still couldn’t tell if I’d been paid a compliment or not. “How are things at Mirrorage?”
    “It’s a good place. The owner’s a fair man.”
    I nodded. “He’s friends with my dad.”
    “It’s good work, but I’d prefer to move to a dinner service. That’s where all the action is.”
    I shook my head. “I can’t understand how you and Nico and the rest of you enjoy that kind of work pace, night after night.”
    “Every seating is an adventure, a race, but one where you have to be precise. It’s like a competition against yourself.”
    “Like golf?”
    “Sure, but with knives and fire.”
    I couldn’t help myself—I chuckled, and Adrian’s smile could have doubled as a flashlight.
    But I didn’t care how handsome or charming he was—I had learned my lesson with coworkers in general and sous-chefs in particular.
    “I brought Adrian because I knew you had to meet him,” Nico told me as we walked inside Little Bird.
    For a brief moment I felt myself go pale. He
wanted
me to meet him? As in, a setup? Was my brother
trying
to sabotage the restaurant before it opened?
    My circulation returned to normal when Nico began to recount the interview, Adrian’s credentials, the many things he and Adrian shared in common, and their instant friendship. I nodded and listened intently.
    There wasn’t any need to panic. Sure, there was some kind of flirtatious vibe, for now. But if this was the guy Nico wanted to hire, fine. We would work out a professional rapport. There would be no weirdness. And if necessary, I could hire someone else to manage the place and be done with it.
    Couldn’t I?
    I unrolled my silverware from my napkin, scooting my chair backward as I arranged the cloth onto my lap. A server arrived promptly, and I accepted my water glass with gratitude.
    Adrian clutched his own glass with one hand, stretching the opposite arm over his chair back. “So, are you seeing anyone?”
    I choked on my water.
    Linn handed me an extra napkin. “Are you okay?”
    “Fine,” I gasped.
    I wanted to say, “Yes, I am seeing someone,
thank you very much
.” I wanted to say that my near spit-take was not indicative of any awkwardness.
    But Neil and I were only writing letters. And owning up to online dating here, in front of Nico and Linn, was not something I’d prepared for.
    “Not at the moment, no,” I said.
    Linn covered a chuckle with a cough around the time she kicked me under the table.
    I kicked back.
    “Good to hear,” Adrian said. He leaned forward, his knee just barely touching my leg.
    I tried to shift back, subtly, but my chair had stuck to the floor. Worse yet, my legs were crossed and I only had one foot