Total pages in book: 95
Estimated words: 103819 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 519(@200wpm)___ 415(@250wpm)___ 346(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 103819 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 519(@200wpm)___ 415(@250wpm)___ 346(@300wpm)
"Abso-fucking-lutely!" DeWayne was former military from the Bronx. It had taken years to break him of the accent, which still came back with full force when they were behind closed doors.
"Get Markie right on him. Have someone take his other tables. I want thirty-four watched closely. We want him to come back. His presence is excellent for business." Kane's heart hammered in his chest with excitement, but the outward calm slid back in place. Always the professional, he diverted from his intended path of the wine cellar and flipped around, heading back toward the kitchen to alert the staff. An Adams in his restaurant! How cool was that?
"Yes, sir!" Dewayne called out, letting the door swing in his wake.
Since the restaurant was booked up tight, Kane now had two immediate objectives. One, get the diners who were finished, up and out the door to free the table space. And two, personally greet table thirty-four.
"Paulie, thirty-four is extreme VIP," Kane shouted, ducking his head inside the second set of swinging doors. They were now tucked deep inside the restaurant, preventing anyone in the dining room from hearing all the noise coming from the kitchen. With intense efficiency, the entire kitchen staff was in full work mode. Paulie ran a tight ship, and everyone toed the line, working together to process each meal as quickly as possible to La Bella Luna's exacting standards.
"Got it!" Paulie's scratchy old voice boomed, but he never looked up from the chocolate design he currently piped on top of his signature terra mousse dessert.
"We're turning people away," Markie said from somewhere behind him.
"I'm aware. Did DeWayne tell you about thirty-four?" Kane asked, letting those kitchen doors swing shut—he didn't want to interrupt their established flow more than necessary—and turned to Markie.
"Yes, sir! He ordered Brunello di Montalcino."
"I'll have it at the bar, waiting," Kane said, pivoting on his heel, making his way toward the wine cellar for the special request. La Bella Luna had the largest selection of Italian wines in the United States. If the wine was available on the market, Kane stocked it.
The behind the scenes hustle and bustle died away as Kane took the stairs down, two at a time, to the wine cellar below the restaurant. The idea of turning business away gnawed at him. He couldn't spend too much time reveling in the accomplishment of getting an Adams in the restaurant. He needed to focus on the table turnover. That would require finesse to convince the diners it was their idea to leave so quickly after they finished their meal. Lingering was a lovely problem to have, unless you were the one waiting for a reserved table.
A small smile crossed his lips. His little restaurant was booked up tight and turned people away. What a better problem to have than having empty tables every night, and quite an achievement for a small-town boy from Alabama. Kane absently worked the keypad, opening the cellar, before scanning the rows of wine, looking for the requested brand.
"Sir, you asked me to let you know when Mr. Adams arrived. He's here and greeted," Rodney, his bartender, said from behind him as he continued to scan the bottles. He and Paulie were the only other ones who were allowed access to the wine cellar.
"I've been told. Here, take this up. It's for Markie. He's working thirty-four tonight," Kane said, carefully handing the bottle of wine to the bartender before turning back to find his next selection.
"Ten-four, boss." Just like DeWayne, Rodney was ex-military. Both of their jobs in the restaurant were Paulie's doing. He always hired any veteran that came looking for a job. It didn't matter if they had a position open or not. Paulie took them in, worked with them personally until any hard accents and rough edges were hidden, and refined manners were in place. For the success of the restaurant, those were critical balances to achieve. The La Bella Luna clientele required a gentle, sophisticated atmosphere.
"Thank you," Kane said absently and grabbed the next bottle before following Rodney back upstairs. A quick stop by the bar had Kane uncorking the special bottle of Merlot, and he decided to serve the wine himself. The local chief of police celebrated his thirty year wedding anniversary tonight. Kane wound his way to their table, going through all the steps of proper wine serving protocol, until the bottle was accepted. Kane poured both glasses, the entire time discreetly keeping an eye on table thirty-four.
Markie was on his game, staying attentive yet subtle, but for some reason, the menu was still on the table. Enough time had passed that the dinner order should have been taken. He was certain Paulie would be in the kitchen, waiting, probably having a fit by now that the order hadn't come through. Kane squared his shoulders and relaxed his stance, as he headed back toward to the bar. He did a quick scan of his reflection in a back mirror, making sure his suit lay just right and his close-cropped hair wasn't out of place.
"You look fine, Kane," Rodney said, only glancing over his shoulder as he worked his drink orders.
"He's a big one, the town's buzzing about him being back home. Keep his glass full and make sure we get him a ride if he drinks too much," Kane said.
"Like you aren't gonna be monitoring that yourself," Rodney shot back with a smirk, keeping his voice low and out of earshot of other guests. Kane chuckled, Rodney was right, he would definitely be monitoring the Adams table tonight. Like so many times before, he wound his way from the back of the restaurant into the dining room to greet their very important guest.
Kane scanned each table as he passed by. He nodded in greeting, making sure not to interrupt anyone as he made eye contact with the various regulars. He stopped a couple of waitstaff as he went and quietly gave instructions to fill drink glasses or remove empty plates. He continued that pace until his eyes landed on the corner booth, the one with a blond head sticking over the top of the bench seat.