First Course, page 2
“I don’t know. Do you know how to make pizza?” Carrie teased.
“No! You buy it, silly,” CJ explained.
“Oh. Do you have money?” Carrie asked seriously. CJ immediately looked at her father. Carrie snickered as Tom pulled out his wallet. She leaned into his ear. “You are so screwed Tommy. She’s got you doling out the cash at four-years-old.”
“Ha-ha,” he replied.
“You won’t be laughing in another twelve years or so. Today it’s pizza, tomorrow a car, then…”
Tom put his hand over Carrie’s mouth. “Don’t say it.”
Carrie laughed. “Go on,” she told her friend. “We will be fine.”
“When do you want me to pick her up?” Tom asked.
“Doesn’t Dar usually bring her home on Sunday?” Carrie asked.
“Yeah.”
“Okay. I’ll bring her home Sunday afternoon. Who knows how that date will go,” Carrie wiggled her eyebrows.
“Always the optimist.”
“You’d better get going,” Carrie said. “Don’t make her wait.”
Tom smiled and kissed Carrie on the cheek. “Someday, somebody’s gonna sweep you away,” he whispered. “And, then I’ll have to pay for babysitting.”
Carrie smacked him gently. “Get out of here,” she laughed.
“Bye, monkey,” Tom kissed his daughter’s head.
“I’m not a monkey!” CJ giggled again.
“Behave for Auntie Carrie,” he told her.
“I will,” CJ promised.
Tom turned back to Carrie. “Thanks.”
“Yeah, yeah. See you Sunday,” Carried waved goodbye. She looked down at CJ “Pizza, huh?” CJ nodded. “Want to watch Yoda?” she asked. CJ nodded excitedly. “Good.”
“Auntie?”
“Yes?” Carrie replied as she moved to retrieved her briefcase and turned off her computer.
“Pizza too?”
“Pizza too,” Carrie promised. “Everyone knows Jedi’s eat pizza.”
“Even Yoda?”
“Especially Yoda,” Carrie answered. She guided CJ through the door.
Heather looked up from her desk when the pair emerged. “You’re on Auntie duty again, I see.”
“No!” CJ said. “She’s a Jedi like me.”
Heather’s eyebrows shot up in question. Carrie shrugged. “Jedi, huh?” Heather tried not to laugh.
“It’s our thing,” Carrie said.
Heather pursed her lips in amusement. “Oh, I see. Okay then, Luke.”
“No!” CJ said. “Yoda!”
Heather choked back her laughter. She’d heard Carrie refer to Darlene as “Dar” Vader a few times. Carrie loved Star Wars. That was not her best-kept secret. It seemed she was determined to pass that passion on to her namesake. “Well, you two have fun saving the universe,” Heather said. CJ smiled and waved goodbye dramatically. “What do you want me to do if Dar calls here before I leave?” Heather asked.
“Send it to voice mail,” Carried replied evenly. “Let’s go,” she took hold of CJ’s hand. “Yoda’s hungry.”
***
“Hello?” Carrie stuck a finger in her ear to try and drown out the noise from the television.
“Is everything okay there?” Tom asked.
“Yeah, why?” Carrie spoke loudly.
“What is all that noise?”
“Your daughter is saving the galaxy.”
“Oh,” he said with the shake of his head.
“What’s up?” Carrie wondered. She stepped into the kitchen for a little quiet.
“I talked to my friend,” Tom said. Carrie made no reply. “At the restaurant I told you about,” Tom clarified.
“Oh!”
“He wanted to know if you could stop down tomorrow around noon to talk about what you need. I can come get CJ before that…”
“Nah, CJ can come along. Besides, I promised her we would watch them put up the tree downtown tomorrow. It’ll work out perfectly.”
“Are you sure?” Tom asked.
“Sure, I’m sure. How’s the date?”
“In the bathroom,” Tom replied.
“The bathroom at the restaurant or the bathroom at your bachelor pad?”
Tom chuckled. “Good night, Carrie.”
“Aw, come on! Give it up!” Carrie teased.
“I’m trying,” he said.
Carried chuckled. “There is no try, Tom. Do or do not.”
Tom laughed. “Goodnight, Yoda,” he said.
Carrie hung up the phone and sighed. “May the force be with you,” she chuckled.
CHAPTER TWO
Devon looked at the blank contract Bruce had handed her. “Are you being serious right now?” she asked him.
“Dev, this is a great opportunity. From what Tommy said on the phone, these people are players in town.”
Devon squinted at her friend. “Players? This isn’t a mafia movie, Bruce. There is such a thing as feasible, not to mention the fiscal reality here.”
Bruce sighed. “I know that, Devon. Sometimes you have to spend money to make money.”
“That is an excellent point, Solo—if you have money to spend,” Devon reminded her friend. She watched as Bruce’s head dropped in defeat. “How many people?” Devon asked.
Bruce brightened. “I’m not sure. Tommy’s friend is stopping down this afternoon. He said she guessed it around forty people.”
Devon pursed her lips. Leave it to Bruce. She didn’t need to ask any more questions. Bruce had committed to his friend that they would be able to help. He’d done it without regard for a budget at all. Typical. Devon shook her head. Catering a private event for local entrepreneurs would provide them an opportunity to build relationships and begin to solidify a reputation in a competitive market. At the same time, there was a considerable risk. Banquets required staff—capable, experienced staff. That was not something Devon felt D & B’s possessed yet. That meant they would need to hire temporary wait staff and kitchen staff, most likely bring in a second bartender, and all of that would cost money. Those costs would be in addition to the food that Devon would need to order on short notice. And, there was the time that it would take Devon to prepare a menu at all. She huffed in frustration.
“Dev, think about this. If anyone can pull this off, it’s you. You are the best,” he laid on his signature charm.
“Flattery will not pay the bills,” Devon said flatly. “I’ll talk to this woman, okay? You had better be prepared to start begging for help, because this staff cannot handle a last-minute banquet, Bruce.”
“What do we need?” he asked.
“I won’t know that until I see what they want. At the very least we will need two more people in the kitchen—capable people, Bruce, not a burger flipper from McDonald’s.”
“You’re the one who knows people,” he said.
“Yes, I do. I can make those calls, but you had better be prepared with the checkbook.”
“Whatever you need, Dev.”
“Yeah, I’ve heard that before. I suggest you put out some feelers for wait-staff and get a bar-back.”
“I can work the bar,” Bruce said.
Devon smiled. “Well, you could, but if it’s an impression you want to make, I would suggest you not tie your hands. You’ll need to coordinate the staff. I’ll be stuck in the kitchen all night.”
“Yeah, but, Dev, you’re the expert in this stuff. I mean, you…”
Devon shook her head. She was the expert in running a restaurant. Her parents had owned two popular restaurants for years. Her grandfather had owned a historic eatery in Boston. The business was in Devon’s blood. This latest adventure with Bruce had been just that—an adventure. Devon had warned her friend that it would take time to make any profit at all. Bruce had never been the patient type. He was more like a bull in a china closet. He charged head first into things without taking stock of his surroundings. D & B’s had been open for a mere four weeks. Devon’s staff was still using training wheels. Now, Bruce wanted them to become race car drivers overnight. There was no way that Devon would be able to manage the kitchen and the dining room. Bruce would need to step into that role.
“You’ve been managing the dining room all month,” Devon pointed out.
“Not for an event!” Bruce said.
Devon grinned and shrugged. “Well, you reap what you sow.”
“Devon, isn’t there someone you know that could help with that?” he asked, his voice seeming to imply an answer.
“I am not asking my father to help us.”
“Devon…”
“No.”
“Dev…”
“No.”
“Devon, come on! He told you that if you needed anything…”
“He also told me that I was insane to follow you on this equally insane venture. And, don’t look at me like that.”
“Like what?”
“Like that day you got stuck in the tree.”
“That was almost twenty years ago,” Bruce said.
“Or that time you landed yourself in jail wrapped in a blanket with no clothes.”
“That wasn’t my fault,” he defended himself.
Devon folded her arms across her chest. “Or the time you got your mother’s car stuck by the lake before you had a license.”
Bruce huffed and held up his hands. “Okay, I get it. You’ve bailed me out a few times.”
Devon’s eyes widened.
“Okay, more than a few times. This is not like those times. This is an opportunity.”
“Yeah, so was taking the car to try and make out with Maggie Jackson by the lake,” she said. He groaned. “Nope. This time you are bailing your own ass out. I will do my part. I am not calling in my family as reinforcements.”
“But, Dev…”
“No way. You want to do this? We’ll do it. But, you’re gonna pull your weight.”
“I’m the marketing guy, Devon. I’m not the,” Bruce stopped short when Devon turned on her heels and started walking away. “Dev?”
“You wanted this ship. I suggest you learn how to fly it, Solo.”
“Shit.”
***
“Where are we?” CJ asked Carrie.
“Just stopping to meet one of your daddy’s friends.”
“Is Daddy coming?”
Carrie turned and unsnapped CJ’s car seat. “No, monkey. I am taking you home tomorrow just like I promised.” CJ smiled, and Carrie felt her heart lurch into her throat. It didn’t take a genius to see the disappointment the little girl carried at her mother’s forgetfulness. “Or dismissiveness,” Carrie thought silently. She had called Darlene the night before once CJ had fallen asleep. The conversation had left her feeling irritated and disappointed in her best friend—again.
“You found someplace,” Darlene immediately guessed. “I knew you would. You are a miracle worker, Carrie.”
“As a matter of fact, I might have found something. That’s not why I called.”
“No?”
“No, I was wondering if perhaps you forgot something,” Carrie said.
“You’re not still mad at me. It all works out. You already solved the crisis, because it wasn’t a crisis.”
Carrie held her temper in check. “I wasn’t talking about your overture to Leigh. I was talking about CJ”
“What about CJ?”
“You’re unbelievable sometimes, Dar.”
“Carrie, I have no idea what you are talking about so why don’t you get to the point.”
“CJ is here.”
“Here? What do you mean?” Darlene asked. “Where is here?”
“Here with me,” Carrie said coolly.
“Why is CJ with you… Oh, shit! No, no. I had CJ last weekend.”
Carrie rolled her eyes and took a sip from the glass of wine in her hand, thinking that scotch might have been a better choice for this conversation. “No, you had her two weeks ago.”
“No, I didn’t. We went on the…”
“Right. The three of us went on The Polar Express. Correct.”
“Shit. Carrie, I honestly just…”
“Yeah, well some things you can’t just forget, Dar.”
“Don’t lecture me.”
“Don’t be such an asshole and I won’t,” Carrie bit back.
“Is she okay?”
“I haven’t broken her yet.”
Darlene sighed. “I’m sorry,” her voice dropped.
“I know, I just wish you would pull your head out of your ass.”
“I can get there tomorrow evening,” Darlene offered.
Carrie sighed. She was confident that CJ was having fun. She and her Goddaughter shared a bond that had begun at birth, and Carrie loved CJ as if the girl were her daughter. But, Carrie was not CJ’s mom, and a person only got one mom. Darlene was Mom. As much as CJ loved time with her auntie, no one could replace time with her mother. At the same time, if Carrie told CJ her mother would be picking her up the following evening, CJ would likely see that as Carrie growing tired of her. It was a catch 22. What to do?
“Why don’t you surprise her at my place tomorrow? That way you aren’t on any timetable. I’ll make lasagna. She loves that, and we’ll watch Finding Nemo.”
Darlene closed her eyes and mentally berated herself. Carrie was the best friend she’d ever had. Lately, she had not done a stellar job at showing any appreciation for that fact. She had been consumed in growing their company, many times to the detriment of her relationships. Carrie hadn’t just found solutions at the office; she’d been picking up the pieces and mending the fences in Darlene’s personal life for more than a year. Darlene promised her daughter that she and Auntie Carrie would have a sleepover soon. Movies, snacks, giggles, the whole works for a whole night; that’s what Darlene kept promising. She’d been dragging her heels for six months.
“Sleepover?” Darlene guessed.
“It seems like as good a time as any,” Carrie replied.
“I’ll be there by six.”
“She’ll be over the moon,” Carrie said.
“Carrie?”
“Yeah?”
“I… Thanks.”
“See you tomorrow.”
“Come on, kiddo,” Carrie held the car door open. “A quick errand and we’ll go have lunch where we can see them putting up the tree.”
“Auntie?”
“Yeah, monkey?”
“Can we get pizza?”
Carrie laughed. “You’re going to turn into a pizza,” she teased her charge. “Come on, and help me close this deal.”
“Yeah, I’m da best goteeator.”
“Negotiator,” Carrie corrected the pronunciation. “And, yes, you are.”
Carrie took CJ’s hand and led her through the front doors of D & B’s Steakhouse. She couldn’t help but study the décor. That was her job after all. Carrie had been in this restaurant a few times when it had been Delmar’s. She recalled it as dark. She always wondered why people thought dark equated to ambiance. Dark wood, dark carpets, dim lighting; it was a risk. A great designer could use those elements to create elegance. An average designer would end up with the atmosphere of a bad crime novel, and a poor designer would end up seating diners in a morgue. She smiled at the interior. The light cherry woodwork complimented the simple brown carpeting and the rough stone fireplace set at its back. The chairs were rustic, and the table coverings were simple ecru adorned by place settings Carrie would have deemed the color of root beer. Whoever had taken on the task of redefining D & B’s understood simplicity often created the most exquisite setting.
“Can I help you?” a voice pulled Carrie from her musing.
Carrie turned to see a woman emerging from the kitchen area, slightly disheveled and wiping her hands on her apron. “Hi. I hope so. Carrie Maynard,” she introduced herself. “My friend Tom sent me to speak with Bruce.”
Devon grinned. “You must be the last-minute partier.”
Carrie sighed. “Partier? I’m not so sure I’d say that. I’d describe it more like the last woman looking for a lifeboat on the Titanic.”
Devon’s eyes sparkled with amusement. “I see. Well, let’s hope I can throw you a lifeline,” she replied. Devon extended her hand. “Devon Brine, also known as Bruce’s partner, or more accurately his lifeboat.”
Carrie took Devon’s hand and chuckled. “So, what you are telling me is that both our partners left us careening toward an iceberg?”
“Sounds like it,” Devon admitted.
“Look, I know this is short notice. I’m not sure what Tom told your partner.”
“Enough,” Devon said. “How many people are we talking?”
“About thirty-five. Matthews and Mack is our client—well, potential client. So, it’s about fifteen of our people and fifteen of theirs.”
Devon nodded. “Menu?”
“If it were up to me? Happy Meals.”
Devon laughed. “I could make that happen,” she said.
“Oh, so you are the one with the line to Hamburglar.”
“Is Hamburglar still around?” Devon asked seriously.
“Who is Hambugger?” CJ pulled on Carrie’s hand.
“Hamburglar,” Carrie laughed. “He’s friends with Ronald McDonald.”
“Does he like nuggets?” CJ asked innocently.
Carrie smiled. “Nope. Hamburgers. That’s why he’s the Ham Burglar,” she explained and then turned her attention back to Devon. “And, I’m not sure, but I think he retired.”
“Bummer,” Devon said. “Bet he had a line to some cheap goods.” Carrie started laughing. Devon Brine was a character; that was for certain. “So? What were you thinking?”
Carrie grimaced. “I would love to say buffet style, but…”
“Plated dinner—check.”
“I know, it’s a bit late to give guests options,” Carrie guessed.
“A bit,” Devon laughed. “So, thirty-five. How about we look at a steak and fish option? Same plate. Any vegetarians, you let me know. That’s easy for me to cover.”
Carrie felt her smile widen. Something about Devon intrigued her. Devon had an easy way about her that immediately put Carrie at ease. She’d planned hundreds of these types of events over the years. Even if this was a relatively small affair, for a brand-new restaurant that was most likely struggling to find its footing, asking for a last minute private affair was likely a stressful request to meet. Devon evidently understood that Carrie needed this dinner to make a positive impression. And, were it not for the easy manner of the woman, Carrie might have worried about pursuing the option.
