Chapter 9
Gage sat across the dining room table from Tonya, staring at her over the rim of his wineglass. The shrimp cakes topped with avocado-wasabi sauce accompanied by the salad with thinly sliced red onion, escarole, endive, citrus, and tossed with red wine vinegar with cubes of Gruyère and fine slivers of prosciutto, created an explosion of different textures and flavors. The bitterness of the escarole was offset by the sweetly acidic taste of the citrus fruits, and the subtle saltiness from the cheese and prosciutto were completed by the red wine vinegar.
“I can’t say which I enjoyed more: the shrimp cakes or the salad.”Or the chef who prepared them,he thought.
Tonya raised her glass. “Thank you for your assistance.”
He touched his glass to hers. “It was my pleasure. Would you be opposed to standing in as my sous chef?”
Tonya smiled and then took a sip of rosé. “Of course not. When and where?”
Lines fanned out around Gage’s eyes when he smiled. He didn’t know why, but he hadn’t expected Tonya to be that agreeable. “My place. Sunday afternoon.”
She set down her glass. “How many people are you expecting?”
“There will be just the two of us. Will that pose a problem for you?”
She stared at him wordlessly and Gage wondered if perhaps he was moving too quickly for her. It actually wasn’t his style to come on strong or even attempt to overwhelm a woman when he found himself intrigued by her, but Tonya was so very different from other women. First, she was closer to his age, mature and definitely more urbane than the others.
Her mouth curved into a smile. “No, Gage. It doesn’t pose a problem.”
“I don’t want to insult you by coming on too strong, but I—”
“Don’t say it, Gage,” she said, cutting him off. “We’re not teenagers playing head games. You know how old I am, and at this time in my life, I find that I don’t have a filter when it comes to speaking my mind. Whether it is a date or just hanging out, I’m looking forward to our getting together because we share a lot in common. We both speak French, we’re chefs, we’ve lived abroad, and we like jazz. However, you have one up on me because I don’t play an instrument.”
“Have you thought of taking piano lessons?”
“When am I going to have time to take lessons?”
“What’s the projected date for opening the restaurants?”
“Hannah’s still awaiting approval for the installation of an elevator, so the completion date for renovations on the main house and the café is the end of summer. Converting this guesthouse into a restaurant should take at least a month, which means I’m predicting an October grand opening.”
“That gives you enough time to take lessons.”
Tonya shook her head. “Have you forgotten that I’ll have to interview, hire, and train my kitchen staff? Then I’ll have to make certain to bring on an experienced dining room manager who will supervise and train employees. I’m hoping one of my former coworkers will decide to come in with Hannah and me to monitor the financial end of the businesses.”
“Shouldn’t your dining room manager take care of food and beverage costs and buying supplies?”
Tonya shook her head again. “I don’t want to give him or her that responsibility. I lost my job at an upscale restaurant when agents from the IRS showed up one morning and padlocked the place. We later discovered the restaurant manager had been literally and figuratively cooking the books and owed the feds millions in back taxes.”
Gage had heard of restaurants closing not because of less than palatable dishes or bad service but because of mismanagement. Chez Toussaints could not begin to compare with many of the larger restaurants in New Orleans, yet its longevity and viability were based on secret family recipes and the edict that it would always be owned and operated by a family member.
“I see your point. And you’re certain you’ll be able to trust your friend?”
He was asking a question Tonya did not have to think about. “I’m very certain,” she said confidently. She trusted Nydia to take care of her apartment, and she would trust her to manage the restaurants’ finances. The astute accountant, in good faith, had given her twelve bank checks totaling a full year’s rent rather than one totaling more than twenty thousand dollars. She said she didn’t want to raise a flag with the IRS when Tonya deposited it. Her only other wish, other than opening the restaurants, was for Nydia and Jasmine to become innkeepers with her and Hannah. She had grown rather close to Jasmine and Nydia after Hannah moved to New Orleans. They met once a week for dinner, either at a restaurant, ordered in at Jasmine’s condo, or Tonya prepared dinner for them at her apartment.
Dating Samuel in high school had had its drawbacks. She spent all of her free time with him rather than cultivating friendships with girls her own age. Then at nineteen, she found herself pregnant and married when she should have been at clubs dancing until all hours of the morning or traveling with a group of young women in between college semesters. She exhaled an inaudible breath, chiding herself for ruminating on her past. Tonya had come to the realization a long time ago that if she hadn’t gone through what she had with Samuel, then she would not be who she was today. And it had all been worth it because of Samara. Becoming a mother had given her the strength to take the steps to secure not only her future but also her daughter’s.
“I’ll give you a penny for your thoughts.”
Tonya blinked as if coming out of a trance. “Right now my thoughts are worth a lot more than a penny,” she countered with a brittle smile.
“How much then are you charging?” Gage asked. “Because I’m willing to pay any amount just to know a little bit more about you.”
Tonya lowered her eyes and stared at the tablecloth. She wasn’t ready to talk about the circumstances surrounding her failed marriage. To do so was a reminder of how she had been innocently gullible, malleable, and unquestioningly trusting of a man who did not deserve her love and trust.
“I cannot accept your money at this time.”
