“You called me at Rungis. You have no right to tenderness.”
Julien says, “Claire is looking for you.”
“Tell her I died heroically defending parsley.”
“She will ask for confirmation from the parsley.”
“Then tell her I’m sourcing.”
“I did.”
“What did she say?”
Julien pauses. “She said, and I quote, ‘Of course he is. He prefers vegetables to cooperation.’”
“She’s not wrong.”
“No,” Julien says. “She’s very rarely wrong, which is part of the problem.”
“Is there an actual issue?”
“The reservation system updated overnight. We should review when you return.”
“Any disaster?”
“No disaster,” Julien says. “One name you’ll want to see again.”
“S. Bennett?”
“Yes.”
I look across the market, where men are unloading crates beneath a wash of white light.
“When?” I ask.
“Opening week,” Julien says.
“Same table. Full tasting. Both pairings. Claire flagged it again.”
“I know the pattern.”
“I know you know.”
“Then why call?”
“Because if I didn’t, you’d ask why I hadn’t.”
“That’s fair.”
“I try.”
“I’ll be back within the hour,” I say.
“Bring coffee,” Julien says.
“You work in a restaurant.”
“That is not the same thing as coffee.”
