An Unfinished Story(7)
Didi gestured toward her table guest. “Claire, meet Andrés. He’s just moved here from Barcelona and is doing some sort of tech-start-up venture.”
Claire turned toward Andrés and took his hand. “Hi.”
“It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance, se?ora,” he said in a heavy Catalonian dialect and then confidently drew her hand up to his lips for a kiss. Admiring his arresting eyes and thick waves of brown hair tucked behind his ears, Claire almost broke into a laugh. The man looked like he belonged in a magazine ad for an expensive watch. Didi had outdone herself yet again. Her dark-skinned lover wore a crisp white shirt with three buttons undone, exposing a bare, perhaps waxed chest.
Claire was about to look at Didi with a dropped jaw when Andrés said, “Didi says very nice things about you.” Things sounded more like sings, but Claire could follow him.
“That’s very kind of her. She’s a master of embellishment. How was your meal?”
Andrés held up a pinched index finger and thumb. “The black beans were exquisite.”
“Thank you,” Claire said proudly. “They are delightful.” As a nod to the Cuban roots of the area, they did a rice and beans with an over-easy egg placed on top, decorated with perfectly ripe Florida avocados. That dish had been part of what had helped them establish a foothold early on in their career. Andrés might have been the thousandth customer to pay such a compliment.
Claire had met several of Didi’s younger lovers in the past two years, but she still found herself taken aback almost every time. First of all, how had Didi gotten in the mind-set to chase men after losing her husband? Claire wasn’t sure she’d ever remove her wedding ring. But more than that, Claire was surprised and, quite honestly, impressed with the men Didi had dated. She was indeed charming and stunning, but these younger studs fought over her, and she quite often broke their hearts in the end.
“How’s the packing going?” Didi asked.
“I’m almost done,” Claire said in an enthusiastic tone.
“Oh, that’s great. And you were so worried about it. Look at you.”
“I know!” Claire set her eyes on the rainbow table mat. “Everything’s fine.” Claire didn’t want to tell Didi the whole truth. Because as a matter of fact, nothing was fine.
“Please excuse my French, but you do know what F.I.N.E. stands for, right?” Didi answered her own question: “Fucked up, insecure, neurotic, and emotional.”
Claire’s laugh was stopped short when she heard a customer behind her raise her voice. She spun around. Three tables over, a woman in a wide-brimmed black hat was verbally attacking Alicia.
Claire excused herself and crossed the restaurant. Standing next to Alicia, she looked at the four casually dressed women sitting around the table. Claire noticed large sparkly rings on all their fingers.
The one hot in the middle of a rant turned her angry red eyes to Claire. “These are the kinds of servers you hire now? I remember when this place used to be so good.”
Claire caught herself feeling intensely defensive. She wanted to snatch the floppy hat off the woman’s head and smack her with it, but Claire bit her tongue and kept her hands to herself. As a restaurateur in the modern world, between social media and the legions of review sites, one bad experience could be detrimental to your business. In no time in the history of the world had the notion of “the customer is always right” ever been more important.
Before Claire could get in a word, Alicia wagged a finger in the air. “She seriously doesn’t need this right now!” Everyone on the staff knew today was the third anniversary of the day David had died, so Alicia was being extra protective.
Claire turned to Alicia and put a hand on her arm. “It’s okay; let me take it from here.”
Alicia gritted her teeth and eyed the woman.
“I got it,” Claire said, lightly pinching her arm. Alicia finally took the hint.
As Alicia walked away, Claire looked back at the red-eyed woman, whose entire body was tensing. The other three ladies at the table were dead silent. “I’m so sorry you’re dissatisfied. What happened?”
“She’s just awful. Ever since the moment we sat down, she’s been screwing up. Twenty minutes to get waters. Another twenty before we can even get our order in. At this rate, we’ll need dinner menus.”
Claire let her speak, though she knew the woman’s embellishments were over the top. Knowing that no matter how perfect a place you created, there would always be someone who’d find something to complain about, Claire took her words with a grain of salt and focused on how to best snuff out the problem.
The woman kept on, the wrinkles in her forehead becoming more pronounced with each syllable. “We’ve got a gluten allergy that was made clear early on, but this girl brings toast out with the omelet. When we said something about it, she couldn’t have been more rude. Said we didn’t tell her. I don’t know if you’re the manager or whatever, but we’ve been visiting Pass-a-Grille and coming here for years. It used to be something special.”
Talk about cutting to the bone. Claire could have unleashed hell. Venomous words loaded onto her tongue, but she suppressed them—at least she did at first.
“I’m so sorry. Sometimes we don’t get it right, and it sounds like this is the case today. Alicia is a really good person and good server. Maybe she’s having a rough day. Could I give you a gift certificate and convince you to give us another shot while you’re in town? I know we can do better.”