I lean back in the seat and consider this new information. “That’s how she got them to rent the space to her.”
“Likely.”
“And that’s why they’ve been avoiding my calls to purchase. Oliver is not going to be pleased.”
Carson taps a finger on his lips. “Maybe don’t tell him?”
“Trust me, I’ll keep it from him as long as I can, but I’m surprised he doesn’t already know. The man has his fingers in everything. We’ll get them to sell eventually, just not as cheaply as I had hoped. Maybe I can convince them otherwise. We’re catering an event for one of Crawford’s charities tonight.” And I purchase all my kitchen equipment from them, have for years. They wouldn’t want to lose me as a customer. I have to have some way to get them to see reason. Money matters more than friendship. I’m not worried. Much. Oliver would probably have some backhanded way of getting it done, but I want to prove my worth as his partner in this venture. He has too much power and control over this whole thing as it is, and it makes me uneasy.
Carson shrugs, his mustache twitching.
“Any other ideas on how to get her to move?”
He opens his laptop. “Oh, I don’t know. Scare her into acquiescence like you do everyone else.”
I press my lips together. “You make me laugh.”
Carson shakes his head at me. “Right. All those times we’ve laughed together. It’s weird.” He rubs his chin. “It’s like it happens so often that I can’t even remember it.”
I wave him off. “I’m laughing on the inside. Anyway, I would try to scare her into doing my bidding if I could actually see her. Every time I go over there, she’s not there. Her assistant actually told me she was hiding the last two times.”
“Can you blame her? I’d avoid you too if you didn’t know where I live and didn’t pay me so well to put up with you.”
I ignore his trash talking. “She’s hard to catch. She has a visual advantage. She can see me coming and I can’t see inside her truck. I don’t have time to stalk her when she comes and goes. Maybe if I could run into her somewhere else, though, when she doesn’t expect it.”
Carson nods. “I’ve been doing some digging. I’ve got an idea, but you might not like it.”
I sigh. I hate having to expend this energy on something that should have been resolved a month ago. Why did she have to park that monstrosity right next to my restaurant? “What is it?”
“She routinely goes to a yoga class. Every Thursday at six, in Manhattan. Lower East Side.”
“Fine.” I’ve done yoga. I can handle it if it means I can confront the cake lady. “Put all the information in my calendar and I’ll be there.”
A grin spreads across his face. He’s almost too happy, and I want to know why, but I don’t want to get roped into some inane conversation either. No time.
The office phone rings.
Carson whips around, darting back to his desk to answer it. Three seconds later, he calls out, “I’ve got Oliver.”
I pick up the phone. “Oliver.”
“Guy. Are we any closer to opening Savor?”
Straight to the point, as usual. Oliver isn’t one for small talk.
“You know, even I can’t change the laws of physics or movement of paper through the New York City Department of Consumer Affairs.”
Oliver expels a breath of frustration down the line, the tension in the sound practically scalding my ear. “Why not? Do you need more money?”
I take a moment to gather my thoughts and roiling emotions. I’d really thought I could handle Oliver. This venture, on the surface, was practically a dream come to life. Complete creative control, more time with my sisters, and monetary backing from a silent partner to see it all off the ground. Except my partner can’t handle the whole part where I have any kind of control, likes to remind me of my obligation to him, and in general is not as silent as I had hoped.
“It’s not about the money. It’s just a matter of time,” I say.
“You know how I feel about waiting. All of these set-backs are a bad sign. I agreed to do this because you told me it could be finished before the holidays.”
“I said it was possible, not inevitable. The delay won’t be more than a week or two. And we’ve already opened Decadence. We’re booked out solid for months. The delay is working to our advantage, giving us time to build buzz and make the whole idea even more appealing.”
There’s a deep pause. The original idea was mine. A whole block dedicated to haute cuisine, in the nouvelle style, using the freshest ingredients, with simple prep to create lighter and more delicate flavors. Two restaurants, both menus controlled by me with guest chefs making appearances on a monthly basis to keep the ideas fresh and unique.
“What about the outdoor area?” he asks.
My hand clenches around the pen in my hand. It’s all part of the original plan to utilize the entire block and provide a whole sensory experience to go along with the food. There will be twinkling lights, fountains, high-end heat lamps that blend into the greenery, fire pits, and comfortable outdoor seating.
“I’m working on it.” If I could get my hands on a slippery food truck owner named…what was it? I pick up the article on the desk in front of me. Scarlett Jackson. For some reason, the name gives me a sense of déjà vu. Have I heard it before?
“Work faster, would you? This is a bad sign. I should have hired a different chef,” he mumbles. And then he hangs up.
A pulse pounds in my head. He didn’t hire me. We agreed on this deal together. I know better than to take it personally, this is just how he is. Damn Oliver and his crazy, eccentric, superstitious money. I need him to pull this off. I hate that I need him. I hate that he can cut out of this deal at any moment and won’t lose a wink of sleep. I thought I could deal with him.
He’s not entirely a dick, even though he’s good at acting like one. I’ve known him since we were in high school. I was one of his only friends since most people thought he was a weirdo. He is, in fact, a brilliant weirdo who went from a poverty-stricken upbringing to billionaire with nothing more than his own hard work and razor-sharp mind. He’s also one of the few people I know who enjoys hanging out with my sisters. They love him. So I love him too, even when I want to strangle him. Which is why I agreed to this deal, with nothing in writing. I should have made him sign a contract agreeing to not be a total pain in my ass, but I might as well have asked for the Earth to stop rotating.
I was too excited at the possibility of being able to keep my career without it affecting raising my sisters.
I shove thoughts of Oliver and the food truck issue to the side and try to keep them there.
“Carson!”
He comes running back to his chair.
“Moving on,” I snap. “Have we filed the paperwork for Marie?”
“Three more weeks. Almost four.”
The other thorn in my side. You can’t file for divorce based on abandonment until a year has passed. So close.
“Any word from John?” My attorney. The one helping me try to get a divorce.
Carson winces. “We still haven’t been able to serve her papers.”