“And mine,” she added. “I’m happy to speak up for you.”
“Except you weren’t there,” I reminded her. “You’re only hearing my side of the story.”
She rolled her eyes. “Because your side of the story is the only one that matters.”
We fell silent, neither one of us having the right answer.
Eventually I decided, “I’ll wait till Doris comes back and then I’ll tell her what happened. She’ll do something. It’s her job to do something.”
Emily nodded. “And in the meantime, I’ll protect you from Junior. He’s not going to be able to get within fifty feet of you on my watch.”
The pressure in my chest eased up even though I knew she wouldn’t be able to keep her promise. Henry and I were in the middle of an important project together. There was no way I would be able to avoid him forever. But maybe for ten days? I could make it until Doris got back. Then I could decide what to do.
Emily walked me to my car and I appreciated her kindness. I didn’t want to need help right now, but I did need it. Mostly, I just wanted to crawl back to my apartment and forget this day ever happened. But since I couldn’t do that, it was nice to have a friend like Emily to walk alongside me.
And it was nice to have the meeting with Ezra to look forward to, to give me something else to think about. Maybe it would be less awful than the rest of my day. A girl could hope anyway.
Chapter Seventeen
Bianca was alive with dinner activity when I walked through the doors. Placed on the outskirts of downtown in a recently redeveloped art district, the restaurant was tucked between an old house that had been turned into an antique shop and a French bakery (the French bakery) that was currently closed.
The restaurant itself was almost hidden behind vines of ivy twining over her brick front. A wrought iron fence outlined a cute patio just to the side of the main doors. A menu board stood at the entrance so people walking by could stop and check out what the special was.
I walked inside, nervous and uptight from a long day, but Bianca’s enchantment slowly began to chip away at the icy armor I’d been wearing for hours.
Immediately, my eyes fell on the focal point of the space, which was an oval bar in the center of the dining room. A huge chandelier hung above it, shaped like a flower with dripping crystals glittering in the golden light. The flower theme continued around the room. Over every table was a hanging white pot with overflowing white flowers, dripping down the sides. The artwork was all white flowers, white shapes and buildings. White everything.
Since Ezra had forced me to work with him, I’d been doing my research with each of his restaurants. Bianca meant white. So it was only appropriate that he’d painted his entire restaurant in it.
Even his hostesses were dressed in white. Unlike Lilou, where everyone wore black.
I would have to visit Sarita next. Just to see what color scheme he’d gone with.
Red I would guess.
The uninspired wall caught my attention. Two of the four walls of the restaurant had windows letting in light. The back wall hid the kitchen and was broken up by in and out doors and the space for the bathrooms. But the fourth wall, the one to the right of the bar, was windowless and in desperate need of something. It was even more obvious how badly it stuck out standing in the restaurant. Pictures didn’t do the tragic space justice.
My idea bloomed into something more substantial with the dimensions in front of me. Bianca was modern, yet whimsical. Simple, yet completely charming.
“Are you meeting someone?” the hostess asked.
“Ezra,” I told her, finding I didn’t have much strength for many words.
Her eyes widened with surprise. “Ezra Baptiste?”
“Yes.”
“Is he expecting you?”
“Yes.”
She puckered her lips and looked toward the bar. “I think he’s in the kitchen tonight, but I’m not totally sure. I’ll go check.”
When she walked off to hunt down her boss, I picked up a menu. Bianca was considerably smaller than Lilou, but just as fancy. I barely recognized any of the dishes on the simple menu and the descriptions were even worse. Even the cocktails seemed written in a different language.
I needed Vera to interpret the menu for me. From my research, I knew Bianca served modern French cuisine, but that meant nothing to someone who knew zero about high-end food.
My stomach growled anyway. Apparently it didn’t care what they served, just that they had food. And to be honest, after watching several plates being delivered to nearby tables, I couldn’t blame it. Whatever these people were eating looked incredible.
A few minutes passed before Ezra emerged from the kitchen. To my surprise he sported a white chef’s coat. He pulled off a short, floppy chef’s hat on his way over to me, a serious look on his usually serious face.
“Molly,” he greeted in his typical way. “Sorry to keep you waiting.”
I stared at him, my mouth going dry with wonder at this new version of him. He always looked so put together in his suits and dress clothes. And the few times I’d seen him clad more casually had been heart stopping. But this? The white coat hugged his toned arms and muscular chest. He still wore navy blue trousers instead of the usual pants I knew chefs wore. And his shoes were shiny, expensive and out of place in the kitchen. He was… disheveled, and mismatching, and completely gorgeous. “Are you a chef?”
He cleared his throat, glancing away from me. “Not formally. But I know my way around a kitchen, regardless of what Killian’s told you.”
“He hasn’t told me anything,” I assured him. “I’m just surprised to see you back there.”
His eyes still refused to meet mine and if it were any other person I would have guessed that he was nervous. But this was Ezra after all. The man didn’t get nervous. Or uncomfortable. Or anything but cocky and self-assured. “There was an issue with dinner service. I stepped in to help.”
“That was nice of you.”
His smile was self-deprecating and humble, proving all of my theories about him wrong. “No, it wasn’t. It was completely selfish. I don’t want my restaurant to fail.”
I couldn’t help but laugh. “Okay, you’re right. It was completely selfish of you to save the day. How dare you take care of your business.”
His lips split in a warm grin, but he changed the subject. “You’re here to see the wall?”
“Is that all right? I don’t want to be a nuisance.”
He waved me off. “It’s fine. We’ll save the painting part for after hours, but take whatever measurements you need.”
“Lead the way,” I prompted him.
He did just that, taking me around the edge of the room until I was face to face with my future project. Staring at this giant white space which was basically the biggest canvas I’d ever been given, finally released the tension that had been bottling up inside me all day.
I released a happy sigh of anticipation and reached out to press my hand on a blank section of white paint. “This is going to be fun,” I whispered.