Flirting for the Holidays by Heather Scarlett

Author:Heather Scarlett
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Heather Scarlett

Chapter Eight

Tonight was a disaster. After the first few days of the new menu, Francesca thought they’d found a rhythm. But everything that could go wrong tonight, had. And it was only eight o’clock. There were still several more hours before closing.

Aidan had been called away from their conversation to the news their sous chef had come down with the flu and would be out for several days. That meant Aidan had to work extra hard to ensure things went smoothly because his second in command wasn’t there. And that was only the beginning.

The reservations were booked solid for both the six and eight thirty seatings. A party of eight had mixed up their reservation and showed up tonight for a reservation they had last night. After much back-and-forth, they’d agreed to eat in the bar. Francesca had been called to deal with the situation and offer the guests a complimentary bottle of wine, which was the only thing that seemed to calm them enough to avoid a complete meltdown.

Once they were settled, she thought the evening was back on track. Except one of the wait staff raced to the bathroom, looking green. Apparently, he also had the flu. So now they were down one wait staff, which may have been a recoverable issue on a typical night, but this was the night Pamela Morgana was dining. She was expected any minute and was due to be seated in their now sick waiter’s section, so the entire waitstaff had to redistribute their tables so the next most experienced staff was assigned to Ms. Morgana.

Francesca moved nonstop, discussing wine with guests as everyone seemed to want to order a bottle tonight, rather than individual glasses. She’d passed the door to the kitchen on the way to the cellar for a particularly rare vintage and heard Aidan shouting orders like a drill sergeant. He didn’t seem happy about the presentation of the food coming off the line. The only saving grace was that none of the tables looked likely to be the sommelier award judges. Thank goodness.

She returned from her trip to the cellar and nearly crashed into the hostess. “Francesca, we just sat a table of three that look judge-y,” the young woman panted. “They’re all wearing somber suits and no one has smiled once.”

Oh shit.

“Ok, get back out to your post. I’ll serve this wine and scope out the situation.” Please, God, don’t let that be them.

Francesca took a moment to compose herself, then walked gracefully out to the restaurant. She tried to appear casual as she glanced around, spotting the table in question immediately. The trio was studying the menu intently, one of them making notes in their phone occasionally. That had to be them. Of course, they picked the very worst night to arrive.

Francesca got through her table service as quickly as possible, then intercepted the waiter near the kitchen. “Your newest table could be the judges,” she whispered.

He nodded. “I suspected as much. I’ll do my best,” he said wearily.

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