“I will,” Rebel promised, lowering her gaze because that was the only way not to gawk.
At the table, Rebel reached for her chair, forgetting the typical routine at J’s. Daddy pulled out Momma’s seat and CJ or Diesel always assisted Rebel.
Another clearing of her throat and Rebel dropped her hand, allowing the maître d’ to seat her while another man materialized seemingfrom thin air. Rebel took Momma’s cue as the maître d’ placed a napkin in her lap; the other man did the same with Rebel.
She blinked, and Momma’s chair was adjusted.
“Your captain this evening will be Charles. Julien will guide you through the wines.”
“Good evening.” Charles gave a slight nod to Momma, then to Rebel. Two immaculately dressed staff members came to the table and filled crystal glasses with water. “Have you dined with us before?”
Noticing the bubbles in her glass, Rebel frowned. If that was sparkling water, she hoped it was good.
“This is our first time,” Momma said.
“Wonderful. This evening you’ll be enjoying our Spring Impérial tasting. The experience is designed to unfold progressively — from delicate shellfish to earthy truffles. Please let us know of any dietary considerations.”
“No restrictions,” Momma responded.
“Perfect.”
Julien replaced Charles in a perfectly timed, coordinated move. “May I offer you a glass of champagne to begin, or would you prefer to explore the pairing for the evening?” He had a very slight accent.
Meeting his gaze, Momma nodded. “Please. We’re also interested in the pairing. Perhaps something more elegant than bold.”
He smiled slightly. “An excellent choice for this menu.” He picked up a bottle of champagne from a silver holder, opening it quietly. Rebel missed the ‘pop’ of the cork. He poured her and Momma a glass. “I’ll guide you toward wines you will enjoy.”
How would he know, though?
“I look forward to it,” Momma said, and left it at that.
He walked away.
Momma tasted her champagne. “Taste yours, love.”
“Did you give them a fake ID for me?”
“Our secret,” she said. “But you only get one glass. I will finish this.” She nodded to her glass. “It’s delicious. However, the amount of wine I will be plied with? I’ll be carried out on a stretcher. So I take a few sips and smile gracefully.”
Rebel’s eyes widened. “You’ve been to this type of place before?”
“Several times. With your daddy. When we are on vacation, especially in Europe when it is just the two of us.”
Before Rebel responded, Julien returned with a bottle of white wine and a glass. He set the glass on the table, then poured a measure of wine. “2008Salon Blanc de Blancs. Please take a moment.”
Momma obligingly tasted.
“Notice the tension and length — it will frame the langoustine beautifully.”
“It will,” Momma agreed.
“Very good,” he said, leaving them again and not revealing the evening’s dinner specials.
“That’s rude,” Rebel grumbled. “We don’t even have our menus yet.”
“And we won’t get them, sweetheart. In this, we trust the staff and let them guide us on a culinary adventure.”
Rebel tasted the champagne again. She liked how the bubbles danced on her tongue. “I can’t picture Daddy…” A lift of Momma’s brow made her flush. “Sorry,” she mumbled. “It’s true, though.”
