He gestured toward the table where Jenna, who nodded a greeting, remained seated. Jenna, the hardscrabble businesswoman, who’d started working here soon after college and captured her dad’s heart.
At first blush, one might assume her statuesque figure and flaming-red hair had won him over. But Jenna was also driven and savvy. Over the years, she’d worked her way up to a senior executive marketing position, proving herself his equal in many ways.
Jenna was a better wife and employee than her mother, but then again, what did Colby know about being a mother? She’d wanted children but had refused to bring any into the chaotic world of her marriage. If Alec had known of that conscious decision, he wouldn’t have been so sympathetic this morning about her childlessness.
Alec. The reason she now sat before the firing squad.
“Restaurant business.” Colby laid her purse on the table.
“Trouble so soon?” Jenna asked. The woman had mastered the art of sounding sweet yet poking for weaknesses. Unfortunately, Colby’s dad seemed blind to this habit.
“Let’s wait for Hunter.” Colby offered a tight smile.
“Want some water, or tea?” her father asked.
“No, thanks.”
He sat beside her. “You look stressed.”
“I guess I am.”
He patted her hand. “Remember, business isn’t like lawyering. You can’t be so conservative. Take risks. Expect to fail now and then. That’s how you learn and grow. The key is getting back up and in the fight.”
If it hadn’t been for the side-eye Jenna surreptitiously shot Colby, she might’ve actually relaxed a bit. Her father had an easy manner, which belied his business success.
As a child, Colby had resented him for leaving her, thanks to the steady diet of her mom’s “That damn business was more important than this family” rants. Colby had blamed Jenna, too, especially when she and Gentry enjoyed the “whole family” life that Colby and Hunter had lost. All that had made it easy to keep her stepmom at arm’s length.
But after learning firsthand how difficult marriage could be—how much could happen within a relationship that no one else knew—she’d softened her attitude toward her dad. Her newfound understanding had helped her forge a closer relationship with him, as proven by his offer to help her start over. “Thanks, Dad.”
“Thanks for what?” Hunter entered the office without sparing Jenna more than a dismissive glance. Colby barely resisted the reflex of ducking for cover from the palpable animosity between those two.
Hunter took a seat beside her.
“For the pep talk,” she answered.
“So tell us the crisis, because we’ve got other items on our agenda.” Jenna set down her notepad.
Impatient as ever. Colby guessed that Jenna’s attitude stemmed from the fact that she wished her husband didn’t have another family—other children. Or maybe Colby was making more out of the simple gesture than necessary. Reading between the lines had become a reflex—an exhausting one that kept her mired in a state of constant defensiveness.
“Crisis?” Hunter clenched his pen, but he didn’t snap at Jenna. Instead, he turned to Colby. “When I left you and Alec, things seemed fine.”
“They were, at first. He loved the kitchen and the grounds.” She glanced from Hunter to her father. “But then he trashed the menu. The one I’ve already budgeted for and paid to have printed. He’s insistent on substituting his vision for mine, so I gave him an ultimatum. He might quit, which means I’ll need to find another chef. Since you hired him, I thought I should tell you in person.”
Hunter and her father exchanged a meaningful look, while Jenna doodled dollar signs on her notepad.
“When you came to me for help to get this idea off the ground, I agreed, partly because you’ve been struggling since Joe’s and Mark’s deaths. Between the hefty acquisition cost, renovation, insurance, advertising, and personnel expenses, we’re in this for close to four million in order to make it everything you wanted.” Her dad cast Jenna a quelling look to keep her quiet. “I knew you’d need time to learn this business. That you’d make mistakes. But setting aside the personal issues, dismissing a chef with Alec Morgan’s credentials rather than finding a compromise seems both unprofessional and foolish.”
Her dad had been generous, yet the majority of those expenditures were now fixed assets on CTC’s balance sheet. If CTC sold the land and building, it would recoup 90 percent of what it had spent to date, maybe more. She hadn’t blown through $4 million on a whim, and she wouldn’t let him lord that over her as if she had.
“Alec says he won’t settle for being a ‘country club’ cook. He hates my vision, but it’s my restaurant. He’s being inflexible.” Deep down she admitted she hadn’t tried to compromise, either. Instead she’d knee-jerk reacted to feeling bullied. Overreacted, actually.
Hunter shrugged. “Is the printing cost of the original menu really worth sacrificing the potential boon Alec could be? Why not learn from him? Use his experience to avoid rookie mistakes.”
Colby noticed Jenna toss an incredulous look at Hunter, probably because she believed she knew more than he did about everything, yet he butted heads with her at every turn.
“You’re not listening. I know he’s a fabulous chef, and Une Bouchée was amazing. But it’s not like the only restaurants that succeed are fancy French ones. My favorite place in town is the Gab-n-Eat diner. And look at Gunther’s Pub, or Sesame Palace, or Taverna. They’ve all been around forever without architecturally challenging meals that no one can pronounce. Haute cuisine might impress those in the know, but normal people like me want decent portions of recognizable foods that taste great. I can’t help it if Alec thinks A CertainTea’s menu is ‘beneath’ him.”
“It is.” Her father crossed his arms. “I called my old friend—Rob Salvetti, up in Seattle—when I was deciding about whether CTC should invest in your idea. He freelances for Saveur, Food & Wine, and Bon Appétit. During our conversation, he mentioned that there’s been a big increase in interest in haute cuisine because of all the cooking shows and stuff.”
She’d expected Hunter to defend Alec, but not her dad.
“That might be true, but it’s beside the point. I can find another qualified chef who’s happy to cooperate with me and my vision.” Colby’s leg bounced beneath the table.
“Is that best for the bottom line?” Criticism colored Hunter’s question.
“Hunter, Jenna, give us a minute.” Her dad waved them out. “I’ll catch up with you later.”
Without delay, those two parted without a kind word between them.
Her father leaned forward. “What’s really going on, because it’s got to be more than a simple fight about a menu?”
That damn stinging behind her eyes started up, but she wouldn’t cry while discussing business. Why was it that every time she patched up one gush of emotion, it just leaked out through a different crack? “Do you think I’m being stupid?”