Morning
sun streamed through the wide windows of the lower floor office of Five
Cuisines. Greg Ramsey typed the last item on the week’s menus. He checked the
list of supplies needed and sent orders to the various venues. Monday
mornings when the restaurant was closed had become his planning day.
He loaded
the heavy paper in the printer and began the process of producing the menus for
each of the five rooms. As the papers slid from the printer he heard a light
tapping at the door.
“Come
in.”
When his
mother entered he rose and lightly hugged her. “Your timing is perfect. Just
finished creating the menus for the week.”
Stella
Ramsey, tall, slender with a gray streak in her dark hair, kissed his cheek.
“How is my handsome son?”
“Pleased
with our success.” Six months ago they had opened the restaurant and they were
on their way toward becoming a profitable venture. For the past month there had
been few empty tables at either evening seating. Even on Wednesday and Thursday
they’d been solidly booked. The weekend brunches were gaining the attention of
people who came to browse in the antique shops and other unusual
stores in the Hudson River village.
He
reached for the letter that had arrived last week. The offer could make
or break his dream. He knew little about the magazine Good Eatin’ other than a
spread was eagerly sought by the nation’s restaurants. As his silent partner,
his mother had a voice in whether they should chance a bad review.
“What was
so important you asked me to cancel my lunch date?” She smiled. “Please tell me
you’ve found a weekend hostess.”
He shook
his head. “The job is yours until you say you’ve had enough.”
“Might be
soon.”
He arched
a brow. “Something serious happening in our life.”
She
laughed. “You’ll be the first to know. What about you? Have you met the woman
of your dreams and the one who will make me happy?”
“When do
I have time?”
“Make
time. Several of the sous chefs are young and attractive. Ask one of them out.”
He held
up a hand. “Not going there. They’re taken and I only poach eggs and a few
other foods.”
She sat
on the chair beside his desk. “So what’s the news you’re bursting to tell?”
He handed
her the letter. “This arrived the other day. The offer could be a sweet
opportunity”
As she
read he studied her face. Her expression changed like the weather. His mother’s
beauty always made him smile. He’d always wondered why she hadn’t married
again. Had she mourned her father for fifteen years? He recalled the nights
when he’d been awakened by their angry voices raised in accusations.
She
touched the silver streak in her dark hair. She scowled. “You will not let those people
near Five Cuisines. I won’t have them here.”
The venom in her voice surprised him. “Why not? I
hear a feature in Good Eatin’ will place us among the top restaurants in the
country.”
“I won’t let him use his magazine to destroy you
the way he ruined your father’s dreams.”
“What are you
talking about?”
“Peter
Blakely, editor of Good Eatin’ of the Good Magazine Group, deliberately used
his wife’s magazine to destroy Le Provencal.”
Greg rose and
went to her side. He’d been sixteen when the tragedy had occurred. His father’s
suicide had brought drastic changes in their lives. “Why would this Blakefield
do that?”
She stared at
her hands. “Your father told me his family and Peter’s had been at odds since
they arrived in this country during the colonial days. Your father and Peter
became rivals in high school. I met Peter in college. We fell in love and were
engaged but we had a fight. I broke the engagement. Peter wanted no part of my
parents’ restaurant. Victor heard about the break-up and comforted me. He went
to work for my parents and we were married. Peter was furious. He threatened to
destroy Victor. He waited for years until he found the right time and he
succeeded.”
“How?” Greg met
her gaze.
“He wrote
dreadful articles about the food and the ambience. Victor had made changes in
the décor and the menu. People stopped coming. The shame caused your father to
take his life. Victor had always been mercurial and volatile. When he drank
depression brought him low.”
“Do you have
copies of these articles?”
“Your father
wouldn’t let me read them. He burned them. Promise you won’t let these people
near Five Cuisines.”
Greg looked
away. Her comments disappointed him. Until he learned more about this feud he
would hold off sending a letter of regret. “Are you sure this is the right
decision?”
She looked away.
“Yes.”
There was more
to her story but he wouldn’t pry. He took the letter from her, folded the paper
and placed it with the envelope in the center drawer. “I’ll handle this later.
About the feud. Is there any reason for us to be involved?”
“Drop the idea
of a feature. Peter Blakefield doesn’t forgive or forget.” She rose and walked
to the door.
He had no idea
how to discover what had been said about his father of Le Provencal. He didn’t
want to slam the door on an opportunity. Maybe she would change her mind. He
shook his head. An ancient family rivalry. How medieval.
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