This means sports. He tells me it calms his brain after a busy night.
“Do you want to talk about it?” I ask, curious about what might have occurred at the restaurant.
He exhales heavily. “There was an electrical fire this afternoon. Thank God it happened before we opened, but still.”
“Oh, my gosh. Was anyone hurt?”
He waves a hand dismissively through the air. “No, it was nothing like that. It was just some sparks from the outlet in the office.” He moves toward the sofa. “But we lost power and had to get an electrician in pronto.”
“That’s horrible,” I reply. “Was he able to fix everything?”
“Yes, after tearing out part of the wall. I guess that’s what you get for buying an old building. We were able to open on time for dinner, but now we need to replace all the wiring—everything—to bring it up to code.”
Nate collapses onto the sofa and picks up the remote control.
“It definitely sounds like one of those days,” I reply and wonder about the cost of something like that, which worries me because the restaurant’s profit margin is slim at the best of times. “Can you get a few different quotes?”
“I will, but the guy today gave me a ballpark figure.” Nate sips his drink, then tips his head back against the sofa and blinks up at the ceiling for a few seconds. “It’s a lot.”
“I’m afraid to ask.”
“Good, because you don’t want to know.”
Slowly, I move to the chair across from him and sit down. “Can you use the restaurant’s line of credit?”
“I can,” he replies, “but we’re barely keeping our heads above water as it is. Sometimes, if we have a slow week, I’ve had to dip into that to pay my employees, so there’s not much room left for a renovation.”
I swallow with unease. “Are there any areas where you could cut back on expenses? I mean ... some of your menu items are pretty extravagant.”
He frowns. “I’m not going to start serving beans on toast, if that’s what you’re getting at.”
I hate it when he gets like this.
“I’m not suggesting that at all. But surely there are other things ... fixed costs you could trim. Or maybe you could get by with fewer employees. I could help out. Don’t forget I built a successful business in a previous life, and I was a waitress in high school.”
Nate sits forward and rests his elbows on his knees. “If I laid people off and started relying on my wife to greet guests at the door, tongues would wag. I don’t want to risk the restaurant’s reputation. I’ve worked too hard to get here, and we’re so close.”
“To getting a Michelin star?” I ask, feeling certain he’s been living in a fantasy world, because Canada’s east coast is not even on their radar. I know because I monitor these things.
Nevertheless, he nods and sips his drink.
“Does it really matter that much?” I ask impetuously. “You get great reviews, and you’re considered one of the best restaurants in the city. Can’t that be enough? Because there’s a lot of politics involved in getting a Michelin rating. It’s not just about the food.”
His eyes are bloodshot when they meet mine. “Trust me, I know how difficult it is, but that’s why I’m working so hard for it. I want to be the first. Then we wouldn’t have to worry about paying employees. The increase in revenue would take care of everything.”
Feeling deflated, I sit back in the chair and rub the back of my head. Oscar has lain down on top of my feet.
“If I can reach that goal,” Nate continues, “thenI can think about slowing down and spending more time with you and the kids. I’d have the funds to hire the right people to maintain my vision.”
I feel as if we’ve been going around in circles. We’re back to that same old conversation we’ve had a hundred times before—when he promises to slow down when he reaches a certain goal. But the goalposts keep moving. This time, there’s a renovation to consider.
“So what are you going to do?” I ask while struggling to suppress my frustration. “Can you ask the bank to increase your credit limit?”
He finishes his drink and sets the glass on the coffee table. “I can, if I have to, but interest rates are killing me right now. It’s like one step forward, two steps back.”
My stomach starts to churn because I sense where this conversation is going.
He looks at me. “Would you consider loaning me the money? If I get that star, I’ll have no trouble paying it back.”
