She nods. “Please.”
I pull two short shots. She drops her jacket over a chair, pushes her sleeves up.
I hand her the cup. She takes it without touching my fingers.
“You said 6:00,” she says.
“I did.” I set my cup down. “We’ve got a private dinner tomorrow. Not at my place. Different address. You’ll run the kitchen on-site.”
Her eyebrows go up. “A private dinner.”
“Family,” I say. “Dinner at my brother’s house tomorrow night.”
She goes still. She doesn’t ask which brother. It doesn’t matter.
Then she nods once and sets the coffee down. “Okay. Headcount?”
“Ten adults, two kids.”
“Time?”
“7:00.”
She takes a sip. “Okay.”
“I want your menu by 5:00 today,” I say. “Full run. Course flow, timing, plating notes. If you need anything special, I need it by 5:00 too. No surprises after that.”
She tilts her head. “I have a list in my head already.”
“Put it in mine,” I say. “By 5:00.”
Her mouth twists. To hold back a smile, I suspect.
“You’ll get it by 5:00.”
She warms her hands on the cup and looks at me over the rim.
“Walk me through the kitchen,” she says. “I’ll need to know what I’m walking into.”
“Full, but not commercial. Gas. Two ovens. Island workspace. You’ll have two good hands and a runner. If you want more bodies, let me know ahead of time.”
She takes that in. “Am I doing the shopping?”
“Unless there’s something you’re particular about, it’ll be taken care of. Anything you buy yourself, you send me the receipts.”
“Any requests? Or anything you don’t want?”
“Seafood is fine. Try to stay away from mushrooms,” I say, thinking of Caterina’s aversion to them. “Something different for the kids. They’re four and two.”
“Sounds good,” she says.
She sets the cup down, rolls her shoulders once. “You said ‘special.’ How special can I go?”
“As special as you can justify.”
“Langoustines,” she says, like a challenge she already expects me to refuse.
“I’ll get them.”
