“What do you mean?” Kait liked working on cookbooks just fine. It was fun enough, and it kept her in the culinary world. She told him so, but he shook his head and finally looked down at her.
“They’re not your passion, Kait. I’ve seen your face when you’re working on them, and I’ve seen it when you’re at LeClarks. You want your own kitchen.”
“Sure, in a perfect world.” Kaitlyn’s mouth turned down as she couldn’t help thinking of Basil Hampton. “But I left the New York scene, and LeClarks is Gray’s baby.”
“You could start your own,” Landon suggested. He could picture it. A classy place in New York. Not Manhattan—it was too glitzy. Maybe Brooklyn. “Make LeClarks a chain.” He laughed at the face she made. “Not like Rathskeller.”
“It would have to be like a food truck.” Kait shook her head. “We won’t have that kind of capital for years yet.” Then, afraid he would think she was hinting for him to offer it, she hurried on. “Anyway, let’s get through opening night before we start thinking about another empire.”
Chapter Thirteen
To Kaitlyn’s relief, no other reports of suspected food poisoning reached them, and their opening night was an unqualified success. It seemed like half of New Canton turned out. People Kait hadn’t seen in years and barely recognized flagged her down to tell her how much they’d missed LeClarks when it left.
Even Martha James showed up with a small retinue of society women.
“Stalkers at Table 33,” Kaitlyn said to Landon because she didn’t know how else to tell him. He glanced out, and his face hardened.
“What is she doing here?”
Kait shrugged helplessly. “Maybe she wants to show her support. You are an investor, after all.”
Gray made sure that their strongest server took Martha’s table, and Landon delivered their drinks himself.
“I never thought I’d see you serving drinks, Landon!” One of Martha’s friends chirped up at him when he set the vodka tonic in front of her. “Is business that bad at Rathskeller?”
Landon raised his eyebrows at her, but that was nothing compared to the disdainful look that Martha shot across the table. “Janice, you ninny, he owns the restaurant.”
“Then why is he waiting tables?” Janice whispered back.
“For the tips,” Landon said and winked at her. Then, for the rest of their visit, he made sure to deliver drinks and food to all the surrounding tables. The servers didn’t need the help, but he enjoyed the rictus smile Martha adopted every time she saw him with an armful of platters.
She waited for him in the lobby after the others left. Sighing, Landon made his way to her.
“How was your nicoise?” he asked, referencing the salad she’d ordered as her entree.
“Survivable. However, this night has been humiliating,” she said crisply. “Please tell me you’re done with this nonsense now.”
Landon pasted a pleasant smile on his face for the benefit of anyone watching. “Not even close, I’m afraid.”
“If your father were alive to see this…”
“But he isn’t,” Landon said bluntly. “Randolph is gone. LeClarks is back. And so am I, for a little while anyway.”
Martha pursed her lips. “This has to do with the LeClarks, doesn’t it? Are you involved with the girl, Kaitlyn?”
“That’s none of your business.”
“No,” Martha agreed. “I hardly care who you sleep with. But just remember that you can’t marry her.”
“That’s none of your business either, Martha. Now, can I call your car, or is it already on the way?”
“It’s here, madame,” Gilles said from a respectfully discrete distance. “It’s ready when you are.”
Landon took the Alexander McQueen shell cape trench from Gilles and helped Martha into it. She buttoned it, despite the balmy night air waiting for her, and as she pulled the belt tightly around her waist, she looked up at Landon. “You are my business, my son. And there is nothing I wouldn’t do to protect you.”
They were the words of a loving mother, but the tone was wrong, and the expression in her eyes was off. Landon stared down at her, caught off guard. “I don’t need your protection, Martha. I’ve never needed it.”
And it was a good thing too because she’d never offered it.
“Nonetheless, you have it.”
The words were pronounced like a curse, and without a backward glance, she walked out of the restaurant.
Shit, Landon thought, watching her go. What’s she going to do now?
Kaitlyn had lost count of how many sodas she’d downed throughout the night. She knew for a fact that she hadn’t had a drop of alcohol though, and that this giddy, drunken feeling was entirely attributable to how brilliantly their first night had gone.
After Gray had cashed out the last server, she threw her arms around him in a fierce hug. “We did it!”
He laughed and gave her a quick squeeze back. “We had a good night,” he agreed.
“Where’s our not-so-silent partner?” Kaitlyn rose up on her toes and looked around the kitchen. Landon was nowhere to be seen. “Is he doing dishes?” That was the only room not easily visible from the center of the kitchen.
“No, he had to duck out early. He said he’d call you.” Gray shot her a look. “Is there a reason he’s calling?”
“I’m sure there is, my nosy brother.” Kaitlyn flicked him on the cheek and spun away to find her purse. He’d probably texted or left a message by now. She’d grab a bottle of wine from behind the bar and meet him at the condo. But when she checked, her cracked screen only showed text notifications from Marjorie and a missed call from a New York City number she didn’t recognize.
Feeling strangely let down despite the success of the night, she drove home to the two-bedroom apartment she hadn’t been to in over a week. It wasn’t like she couldn’t use some time for herself—her blog had been woefully neglected in the last week, and the LeClarks cookbook was falling behind her self imposed deadlines. She’d just thought—
“Stop it,” Kaitlyn said aloud when she had locked
