“How much do you know about what’s been going on, Stephanie?” Blayne asked. “I just don’t know how much Ethan has been able to tell you.”
“Not that much,” Stephanie said slowly. “He’s been vague over the phone. I assumed it’s because he’s assuming someone’s listening in on any phone conversations.”
“That’s a pretty astute observation,” Ethan admitted. “I’ve become a little paranoid. As the adage goes, ‘Just because you’re paranoid doesn’t mean someone isn’t watching you.’”
“Kira and I talked a bit when we got back from the White House, so she filled me in on a few of the missing pieces to the story,” Stephanie said. “Including that the person who blew up my house may be one of thegoodguys.” Her voice rose at the end of the sentence, making it sound more like a question than a statement.
“To say it’s confusing is putting it mildly,” Blayne admitted.
“I just wish there was something we could do. I feel helpless,” Ethan said. “There’s just been so much death and destruction. I need to put something positive out into the world.”
“What about a benefit?” Kira asked. “My law firm puts them on once or twice yearly to help various causes. I think they do them just so they can dress in formal wear and hobnob with rich people, but it’s at least something.”
“Here is your next course,salade d’endives et de Roquefort avec vinaigrette de champagne,” the server said as she approached the table. She handed out salads. “We have a crisp endive and Roquefort salad, served with a champagne vinaigrette.”
“Okay, I’m confused,” Blayne said. “Why are you serving the salad after the main meal? This just seems backward. And I’ll apologize now, but I’m from West Texas, so this is a novel experience.”
The server smiled. She leaned in and said, “I’m originally from Alabama, so I get it all too well. When I started working in fancy restaurants, I was a complete idiot. Regarding your question, the salad is served after the meat course in traditional French and European dining. Fresh vegetables aid digestion, and the acidic dressing refreshes your palate. So, it’s an ideal transition from the meat course’s heartiness before the dessert’s sweetness.”
“Interesting,” Blayne said. “I’ve never heard that before. It kind of makes sense.”
The server raised her eyebrows quickly with a smile. “Enjoy.”
“What were we talking about?” Ethan asked.
“Benefits,” Kira said.
“Oh yeah,” Ethan said, spearing a piece of salad and ushering it to his mouth. “We’ve performed at a few benefit concerts over the years.”
“That’s a great idea,” Stephanie said. “Why not throw a benefit concert?”
Ethan thought about it for a second. “They’re not exactly easy to assemble, but it’s possible. I’d have to get everyone on board.”
The group spent a few minutes discussing the possibility of a benefit concert before the server appeared with their last course.
“I don’t know where it’s going to go,” Stephanie said as the server approached the table, “but I’m going to figure it out. Those look amazing.”
The server explained that the dessert was a rich dark chocolate mousse paired perfectly with a tart raspberry coulis. Blayne didn’t know what that meant, but his mouth watered as he took his first bite.
The group devoured their desserts.
“Good evening, I’m Chef Sébastien Leclerc,” a middle-aged man said as he approached the table. “Thank you for letting me cook for you this evening.”
“No, thankyoufor cooking for us,” Ethan said. “That was amazing.”
The group spent a few moments gushing over the meal, telling the chef their favorite parts.
“And kudos to your amazing server,” Stephanie said. “She explained everything so well. The food was amazing, but she really provided exceptional service.”
The chef beamed. “Well, I’ll let you get back to our meal,” Chef Leclerc said. “I just want to thank you for what you’ve done. My cousin lives in Houston, so I’ve been following your story closely. Then today…” The chef let it hang in the air. “When I heard you would eat with me tonight, I jumped at the opportunity to return the favor you’ve performed for our country.”
“Thank you for the compliment,” Blayne said sheepishly. “I’m still getting used to being recognized, so all this is overwhelming.”
“Well, I’ll let you get back to your evening. Oh, and the meal is on me.”
Chef Leclerc left the table before the group could attempt to protest his generosity.
The group stayed for another thirty minutes as they were brought after-dinner drinks. By the time Blayne left the restaurant, he was stuffed beyond belief and ready to collapse into bed.
