“Honesty’s the best policy?” Rab tentatively supplies.
“Right you are, lad!” Calum grabs a tub filled with pork. “Now, why don’t you come with me and see how the sausage is made?”
Chapter Seven
A Certain Uneasy Gloom
Susan senses trouble as soon as she comes through the door at Moray Place. Pausing, her key still in the lock, she assesses. Is it some tension in the air? A certain uneasy gloom?
The movers are gone; all the furniture is in its place (for now). The house is quiet. Except for …
There it is! Dan’s voice. A murmur floating her way from the sitting room to her left. Not the sulky tone he uses with her, but a jovial, convivial one. The sort you use on job interviews, when you’re trying to win people over and convince them you’re just right. And her father’s voice, answering. A light tone as well.
Susan yanks the key out of the lock, closes the door loudly, and pushes into the room.
As she thought, Dan is there, sitting on the very edge of the sofa, leaning toward Bernard, who is ensconced in the precious Eames chair. Both men look up as she comes in. Dan smiles, but in a way that seems dark to her. There’s something in his face that says, “I’ve got you.” Bernard’s smile is tight with irritation.
“Oh, Susan,” Bernard says, “the chef has come to talk to me.” His tone adds an unsaid: “Why is this person talking to me about restaurant things?”
“Has he, indeed?” Susan says, turning to Dan. She does not smile. And both Dan and her father notice that the tension is steadily ratcheting up as she stands there. “And what’s so important, Dan, that you have to bother my father? You know he’s retired, don’t you? Which means he has nothing to do with the running of the business?” She directs that as much toward Bernard as at Dan.
“He was just telling me that you plan to close down the restaurant,” Bernard answers. “I thought we moved here so we wouldn’t have to close the restaurant down. Wasn’t that the whole point?”
“It was,” Susan reassures him. “It’s a temporary closure while we refurbish and overhaul the menu. Did you not have time to get to that bit, Dan?”
“Well, I’ve only just arrived,” Dan excuses.
“Still, though. Closing down …” Bernard murmurs, shaking his head, “and refurbishing? Won’t that be”—he lowers his voice a little—“expensive?”
“Julia’s going to handle the redecoration,” Susan explains. “She had a look this afternoon and doesn’t think it’ll be too bad.”
That’s half true. When Julia first arrived, she looked around, face mostly impassive, only her widening eyes revealing particular disgust now and again. Susan guessed that interior designers had to perfect the art of not looking horrified. It was probably a whole class they had to take at design school.
“We should tear everything out and replace it with new,” Julia finally declared. “Move the bar in there”—she gestured to the dining room on the right—“so people sitting at it don’t get a cold blast every time the door opens. And put up some sort of a wall here”—now pointing just to the left of the door—“to protect the diners in the main room. A glass wall, I think, so the space still feels open. Rip up the carpeting and go for a wood floor. All new lighting, of course, and new upholstery. Maybe get something bespoke; it can be part of the branding. And speaking of branding, that’ll need an overhaul too. New logo, new menu covers. And new plates and glassware. Should we see about installing a fireplace we can light in the winter? I think we should. It’ll give the space a focal point.”
“We can’t move the bar,” Susan told her. “Not now. You can have your wall, but no bespoke textiles, and the fireplace isn’t happening just now either. But I agree with you on the lighting.”
Julia nodded. Obviously negotiation was important in this line of work too. “At least let me ask about some kind of a fireplace. A gas one—something people can gather round in the cold months. People love that sort of thing; it’ll be another selling point. I’ll just inquire, okay?”
“All right,” Susan agreed. “But we’ll be setting a firm budget, you and I, and all expenditure goes through me.”
“You’re the boss,” Julia responded with a sarcastic smile, but her eyes were already gleaming at the challenge.
Bernard is less excited by this whole prospect.
“Julia’s going to do over the restaurant?” he gasps. “But”—he looks around at the beige walls—“she’s meant to be redoing the house. We might have guests here during the Festival, and we can’t have people over with the dining room that horrible purple color. What will they think?”
Dan’s looking down at the floor, turning red. Susan gets the feeling he’s trying hard not to burst out laughing.
“We can talk about that when Julia gets in,” she replies. “In the meantime …”
But then the front door opens and Julia blows in, hugging a book of fabric samples.
“Suze! I think I’ve found just what we need,” she announces, joining them in the sitting room. “Who’s this?” she asks, looking Dan over and clearly deeming him unworthy to be gracing her sofa.
“This is Dan, the head chef,” Susan answers. “He’s come all the way over here to tell Dad about the plans for the refurbishment.”
“Oh no, Dad, let me tell you all about it.” Julia bounds over to her father and flips open the swatch book. “Look at this—it’s such a lovely color, isn’t it? ‘Thistle Field’ they call it. I think it’ll really brighten up the space, especially against the blonde wood I’m going to have put in. No more of that ugly dark stuff. Suze, don’t look at me like that. You know the paneling needs to be redone, okay? Oh, and I’ve got a meeting with three contractors this week; one of them just got finished with the interior for Chris Baker’s place. Don’t know if that really recommends him, but we’ll see.”
Bernard smiles softly at his eldest, pats her hand, and agrees that Thistle Field is lovely and he’s sure it’ll make a real difference in the space. (As if he would know, Susan thinks.)
“But Julia, darling, what about the house?” he asks. “Remember, you promised me you’d do it over as soon as we arrived.”
“Oh, Dad, I’ll get to it when I can, of course, but this is important. It’s for the business, which is for the family. And it’ll be so good for me to spread my wings a bit, don’t you think? Oh, please let me do it. I promise, once everything’s underway there, I’ll get to work on the house, okay? Please?”
“Well,” Bernard sighs, “if it’ll make you happy, Poppet. I suppose we can hold off until next year to have Festival guests.”
“Aw, thanks, Dad—you’re the best, you know that? Now, I’m going to look into some graphic designers for the menu and logo,” Julia goes on. She glances Dan’s way again. “I suppose you’re here to discuss the changes to the menu? Because Susan’s right: it’s dreadful.”