“Yes.”
“There are several items that need to be ordered ahead, sir. If you’d kindly check our website and fill out the pre-order form or call us in the next hour if you’d like something from that menu, sir.”
“Got it, thank you.” I hung up and whistled. “That restaurant is like a castle.”
“I read an English aristocrat built it in the mid-nineteenth century. And his wife haunts the place.”
“Ludington was his family name. He imported stone from Ireland to build the place. Real crazy rich is the gossip. The story is that the ghosts from Dublin followed the stone to America. Then, his wife died in a mysterious accident.”
“So there’s multiple ghosts?”
“Yes.” I smiled thinking about how legends grew from events that were often grounded in a boring reality. In the mid-1800s it was common for women to die in childbirth or diseases we don’t think much about today, like smallpox. “The truth about Mrs. Emily Ludington is lost to history, but the lore is still fun, even for me.”
“You’re a softie inside.”
“That stays between us." I tried for menacing but couldn't quite kill the smile. "My reputation as a ruthless mob boss is at stake here.”
“Mum’s the word.” Julia pretended to turn an invisible key over her lips.
I typed in the restaurant’s web address. “So, for tonight—if we’d like the Wood-Fired Bison Tenderloin with smoked bone marrow butter, or the Chestnut-Crusted Halibut, we have to order ahead. Or the lamb. Also, a few desserts. A molten Valrhona Ganache Cake or the Lemon-Thyme Soufflé.”
Julia scrolled on her phone, looking up after a moment of reading. “No, I’m good. They have a house specialty,Ricotta Gnocchi,served with braised short ribs. InRagù. And the dessert menu is divine. I’ll pick after dinner, but it looks like theCrostata di Ricotta e Limonehas already got my vote.”
I nodded. “You can take the Italian out of Italy, but good luck getting them to compromise on food.”
“You got that right.” Julia smiled as she headed to the door. “I’ve got a lot to catch up on if I’m going to be on time.”
“Cocktails at seven. Be ready at six-thirty.”
“Yes, boss.”
I watched her walk out, that confident stride reminding me exactly why I couldn't wait for tonight. Dinner was just the beginning.
Chapter 25
Julia
The Willow Bend Table restaurant, with its granite stone fireplace, suits of armor, and family-crest hangings, reminded me a bit of Europe. A fire cast warm, flickering light below a wooden mantel that displayed trophies won in foodie festival competitions. A plaque explained the granite used in this room had come from 18th-century bridge works and fallen tower houses in County Dublin.
Quentin ran his fingers over the rock. “Maybe importing granite from Ireland in the 1800s is a little much.”
A server approached. “It was often used as ballast, sir.”
“No kidding.”
“Many streets in New York and Boston were paved with ballast stones arriving from Irish and Scottish quarries.”
“Learn something new every day.” Quentin took my arm. “Cocktail?”
“I think Greene Street in SoHo is made from cobblestones. I like it. It’s charming.” I contemplated how tipsy I wanted to get before dinner and decided on an Aperol Spritz.
Quentin took my hand. “I’m happy I hired you. Stone almost convinced me it was too risky.”
“Why?” I knew I’d passed all the background checks or they’d never have let me in the building again.
“He could see I was attracted to you.” A smile softened his face, and his thumb brushed gently across my knuckles. “It’s always a risk to let someone into your business and private life. To give access to information crucial to your company and also your heart.”
“I have information crucial to accessing your heart?” I brightened at the thought. “Do tell.”
