Subject: Re: Questions
Molly,
Do you really think we need new photos of all therestaurants? Do you have a photographer in house? Or is that someone I’ll needto hire?
I’ve never considered a newsletter signup before. It’s hardto believe that newsletters are the wave of the future. But, if you think itwould be beneficial by all means, go for it.
Why do you ask about cooking classes?
We should meet next week about the mural.
~Ezra
P.S. You were right about Friday night. I had fun. We shoulddo it again sometime.
I blinked at theemail. What did that mean?
I reread it threemore times.We should do it againsometime. As in eat supper at Vera’s? Have Killian cook for us? Ride ashort distance together in his car?
What should we do again sometime, Ezra?!
Setting my phonedown, I muted the TV so I could think. When that didn’t work, I went after theice cream, attempting to freeze the frenzied butterflies flapping around insideme.
As I consideredbowl number two, I decided it was better to be brave and facemy problemsEzra than gain two pounds by stress eating.
From: [email protected]
Date: April 2, 2017 19:23:40 EST
Subject: Re: Answers
Ezra,
I can recommend a photographer that we often use. The newpictures are up to you though. I won’t move forward until you decide, but takeyour time thinking it over. I know it’s just one more expense.
Yes, to the newsletter. You don’t have to send one out everyweek, but by offering the signup, you create a database of clientele that youcan reach at any time. Valentine’s Day dinners, reminders for Christmas giftcards, upcoming cooking classes, etc.
Which leads me to my next point, have you considered offeringhigh-end classes for a fee? I was just thinking that you have all of theseincredible chefs. What if you offered specialized classes that your customerscould take as couples? Charge them a couple hundred dollars, teach them a skilland offer a meal. Like a wine-pairing night or pasta-making class. As I wasdoing research, I saw that CAI offers these classes to the community. I found afew things like this in Durham, but nothing from a restaurant of your caliber.Advertise through your newsletter and social sites and keep it small, intimate.I think it would only further build your reputation around the city and you’dbe utilizing all those award-winning chefs you pay so highly.
MM.
P.S. I’m always right.
I jumped up fromthe couch, abandoning my phone on a cushion. There were loose ends I needed totie up for my meeting tomorrow morning. I wasn’t totally satisfied with mysocial media package for Black Soul. I had another piece to add, I just hadn’tfigured out what it was yet.
But I didn’t havethe mind for work right now. I escaped to my studio, pulling out paints andbrushes and palette. I propped up a fresh canvas and perched on my stool.
Squeezing agenerous line of white, black and cerulean blue, I started blending colors andshades, looking for the shade that matched the grays that I felt all the way tomy bones.
I couldn’t get theimage of a thunderstorm out of my head. I pictured the comparison I’d made toEzra earlier. He was the dark sky before the rain fell. The flash of distantlightning. The roll of thunder, low and rumbling. He was big, billowy cloudsstretching from one horizon to the other.
The portrait flowedfrom my vigorous fingers as I brushed paint in flicks and swoops, blendingeverything together in a kind of ominous harmony. My grays were dark at first,profound and foreboding. Clouds swirled in warning, pregnant with the threat ofdownpour. I added the blue, softening the yawning charcoals, but deepening atthe same time. They weren’t less dangerous, just now also beautiful.Treacherous and lovely and worrisome all at once.
I streakedlightning through the heavy clouds. Crooked fingers of thin light breakingthrough the sky, splitting it in two, then three. My hands moved swiftly aroundthe canvas, adding, blending, detailing more and more and more.
The whole time Iworked, I kept making it darker, scarier, more and more menacing. And yet whenat last I sat back to examine my work, I wasn’t satisfied with it. There wassomething missing.
