The phone rang. Karen left the table to answer it. “Yes,” she said into the phone. “It was a nice article. Mmm-hmm, it has been a rough month, but we are confident in our restaurant and in our chef.” Her voice faded as she walked through the kitchen into Tilly’s office. “Let me pull up our calendar. Yes, we have a table for four at eight. The window has been fixed—you would never know it was broken. What’s the name? Jorgenson? We’ll see you at eight.”
Karen raced back to the table with a happy squeal. “Tilly, you need to help prep. We have enough pending reservations through OpenTable to fill every seat all night. I might even have to turn some people down.”
“Really?” Tilly got up and followed Karen into the office. While she looked over Karen’s shoulder, her hostess accepted some reservations and sent responses to others, suggesting new times. If the online reservation system was to be believed, Babka wouldn’t have an empty seat for dinner for two weeks.
She took a deep breath, but her relief couldn’t be contained. She laughed. “I was optimistic when I placed some of my food orders this week. I’m glad I was, although I’m still worried we might run out of food. I’ll have to call my farmers. All right, everyone, let’s getting cracking.” She clapped. “It will be a busy day.” After that, Tilly didn’t stop moving once. She wasn’t the only exhausted person. After another warning from Karen about the number of phone calls they were getting, Tilly called her mom for extra help. Healthy Food sent her a second dishwasher, runner and another line cook. Everyone, from Tilly down to her new dishwasher, was busy getting Babka ready to reopen for dinner.
* * *
THE CHATTERING BUZZ of a busy restaurant fell completely silent when Dan walked through the door of Babka.
A month ago—hell, even yesterday—a handful of people in this room might have known his name, but had no idea what he looked like. Now, not only did everyone know his name and what he looked like, they knew of his largest failure.
Giving Babka a bad review had been a slipup, a professional error, but when he’d refused to consider a new review so his father could walk down the street with his head held high, he’d failed Tilly and his readers. And himself. He’d taken the coward’s way out, justifying his decisions with ridiculous excuses. Maybe she could’ve forgiven him for the poor review, but his delay and the way he’d left her vulnerable to embarrassment from things like the gossip article were harder to forgive.
Dan was a betting man and only a fool would put any money on his chances tonight. Not only had he wagered money, but he’d wagered a lot of money. Fool or not, Dan had to try to win Tilly back.
Except for his usual seat at the bar, the restaurant was full. Candace raised her eyebrow at his approach, but she didn’t tell him to leave or shoot him with the seltzer hose. He allowed his hopes to rise a little. Even if Tilly blamed him for the gossip article, maybe her staff didn’t. His odds at success tonight were terrible, but they were marginally better if Candace and Karen didn’t take a stand against him. He didn’t expect them to take his side; he just needed them to be neutral. He could come back to Babka night after night after night, but he’d never get a foot in the door if they decided to ban him.
He slid onto the stool and put his papers on the bar.
Candace eyed the fat envelope. “Do you want a menu?”
“Yes, please,” Dan said with relief. She was apparently neutral, and she might even be on his side.
Candace pulled a menu from behind her and told him the specials. He placed his order. When she returned with his beer and water, she nodded at the papers. “What’s in the envelope?”
“You’re being too nice to me not to have seen Carpe-Chicago. Has Tilly seen it?” He ignored her other question. An argument could be made that Candace had a right to know, but Dan wasn’t going to be the one to make it.
Candace let his avoidance slide. “No. She hasn’t mentioned your name to me since Friday night and has kept herself busy so she doesn’t have to think about you. She couldn’t avoid hearing us talk about your new review of Babka today, but I doubt she’ll ever read it.”
“No one told her what it said?”
“We’re not going to make this easy for you,” she said sternly. Then her voice softened and she shrugged. “We won’t make it hard for you, either.”
“Will you tell her I’m here?”
“She might not see you. Or she might kick you out before you can eat your dinner. Hell, she might even toss your food in your face.”
“It’s a risk, but I’m gambling tonight.”
Tilly walked through the kitchen door and Dan’s heart seized. Her jacket was splattered with flour, beet juice and something else Dan couldn’t identify. Strands of blue hair had escaped her white kerchief and were plastered to her face, which had a fine sheen of sweat from work and the heat of the kitchen. Her face was tight with the stress of the full restaurant, and the shock of seeing him.
She had never looked more beautiful.
Dan had spent many hours imagining Tilly sweaty, mostly dreams involving them naked and in a bed, but his favorite way to imagine her was like this, passionately engaged in a job she loved.
Maybe second favorite.
She walked carefully toward him, the tension on her face turning to wariness as she realized each and every person in Babka was watching them closely. Not a single fork scraped a plate. Everyone wanted to hear what was going to be said. Tomorrow, the interaction between him and Tilly would be the talk of the neighborhood.
She stood in front of him, the bar between them, and the air in the room sizzled.
“Why are you here?” she asked in a low whisper.
“I embarrassed you publicly,” he answered in a whisper. He raised his voice for what he said next so everyone in the silent restaurant heard him. “I am apologizing publicly. I’m sorry, Tilly.”
She bit her lower lip and looked around the room. Not a single person in the room was hiding their interest in this conversation. Someone should hand out popcorn.
“I accept your apology. Enjoy your dinner.”
She turned to go, but he jumped off the barstool and stopped her with a hand on her arm. “I didn’t have anything to do with the ChicagoScoops article. Can we talk somewhere else?”
She gave his hand a look as if she considered it only slightly above a serpent, but Dan didn’t let her go. He couldn’t let her go, not yet.
“Please,” he said.
“I have a full restaurant and don’t have the time.”
“Later?”
“I’ll be sleeping.”
Dan resisted sighing. He knew this wouldn’t be easy, but he’d hoped. Nothing worth fighting for was easy. Those words had seemed trite before, but were as real as love and death now. He removed his hand. “Before work tomorrow?”
“Babka’s got a full house tomorrow. I’ll be busy then, too.”
“If you won’t talk to me now, at least take this.” Dan slid the envelope over the bar to her. “It’s yours, whether or not you ever talk to me again.”
“What is it?”
“My gift to you, free and clear.”
She nodded, picked the packet up and walked away. Without looking back once.
Candace brought out his food. “You staying to eat?”
“Did you read what I said about her food in today’s review?” He smiled, but he couldn’t put his full heart into the grin. “Of course I’m staying to eat.”
Dan reached for his fork, but Candace interrupted him again. “Are you going to be back?”
“Tomorrow night.” He smiled again, this time with the warmth of faint hope. “And the next night and the next. At some point she will have to either hear me out or kick me out. I’d prefer the former, of course.”
“I’ll save you a seat.”
* * *
TILLY COLLAPSED INTO the driver’s seat when the night was over. Candace groaned as she eased her tired body into the passenger side. Tilly turned the car on and the air-conditioning
to full blast, letting the cold air wash over them for a couple minutes before she backed out of her parking spot.
They could both hear the elephant in the car breathing in the backseat, even if they pretended not to see it. Candace spoke first.
“Did you read what he gave you?”
Tilly didn’t pretend not to know who “he” was. “No.”
“You didn’t even open the envelope?”
“No. It’s probably an apology and I’m not sure I want to read it.”
“You didn’t read the review, either.”
“No.” Too little, too late, she was sure. Did he think she’d fall over in gratitude because he’d fixed a mistake he shouldn’t have made in the first place?
“Something else is in the envelope. The review was his big apology. You should read it. Half the people there tonight came because of the Sun-Times article, the other half because of Dan’s review.”
Candace spoke with her eyes closed. Tilly wished she wasn’t driving, so she could follow suit.
“I suppose I shouldn’t question why we have customers, but I wish they were coming for the food and not out of some voyeuristic desire for entertainment.”
Candace smiled. “They’ll come back for the food, at least. And Dan’s article made it clear people should come for the food in the first place.”
“Whose side are you on?”
“Yours, of course. You like Dan, and he’s always been good company for me while he waited for you, without getting in the way of my job. The review was terrible, but his apology was pretty grand and I think you should hear him out. You don’t owe it to him, but you do owe it to yourself.”
Tilly hmphed. Candace’s words made some sense, but she wasn’t quite ready to hear them. She hadn’t worked through her feelings for Dan yet. “Someone blabbed to that blog.”
“Do you really think Dan was the source?”
“Maybe.” That was a lie. “No. He didn’t tell me he was The Eater at the Taste, but he hasn’t lied to me since then.” He’d even been painfully upfront about why he wouldn’t write a new review. If he’d been the source for ChicagoScoops, he’d have been honest about it. The blog article was probably another of Steve’s gifts to her business.
And she should match Dan’s honesty with honesty of her own. She loved Dan, despite the hurt. The Dan who had come into Babka every night for a drink. The Dan who had taken her out for cinnamon rolls and to Ravinia. The Dan who had fixed her pot sink and rescued her from a rat. That Dan supported her. She still wasn’t sure The Eater was the same Dan.
“Do you know anything about the new owner of the building?” Candace asked.
“No. He, or she, hasn’t contacted me yet. Karl told me to go ahead and operate Babka like normal. It’s weird, though. You would think they’d get in touch with me.”
“No news is good news?”
“Let’s hope so.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
DAN CAME BACK to Babka every night. He sat in the same seat Thursday and Friday. Tilly always knew which dish was his because Candace would come back into the kitchen to get the plate and raise her eyebrow.
Tilly always ignored her.
She had plenty to do, and nowhere on her list was “talk with Dan Meier.” Babka stayed full through the week and her staff kept up. While some of her customers were still people who wanted to witness Dan’s vigil on the barstool, Chicago was quickly losing interest and moving its attention to the next local scandal.
Saturday was different.
Dan still sat on the same barstool and Candace raised her eyebrow at Tilly when she got his food from the kitchen. Only, he was still sitting there when Babka closed. Karen, Candace and her entire front-of-house staff—not one of those traitors kicked him out when the restaurant closed. They left him sitting there, as if he belonged.
Irritation welled up inside her stomach and burst out angrily. “Don’t you have another restaurant to review?”
Dan’s face was a mix of sadness and disappointment. “You didn’t look at anything I gave you.”
Disappointment? At her? She wasn’t the one who’d written the stupid review in the first place. If she didn’t want to look at the papers, she didn’t have to look at the papers.
No matter what Candace (or Renia, who’d agreed with Candace when Tilly had called her) said. Or Frank O’Malley, for that matter. If she didn’t want to read his papers, that was her right.
“I’ve been busy,” she answered testily.
“I’d hoped...” He stopped when she scowled at him. “Can we make a deal?”
Tilly stopped herself from responding with a childish “Why should I make a deal with you?” She was being prickly and she didn’t like the feeling.
You owe it to yourself to hear him out.
“What’s the deal?”
“I’ll wait here while you read the papers. If you still want nothing to do with me when you’re done, I’ll respect your wishes. I’ll leave without a word. But I’m not going anywhere until you’ve seen them.”
“I’m supposed to give Candace a ride home.”
“You don’t need to,” Candace said. Of course her entire staff was listening. “Hakim’s picking me up tonight.”
Very convenient.
Don’t be bitchy, Tilly.
She had to hear Dan out. Her inner shrew was waving her finger and saying whiny, immature things because Tilly felt as if she were standing on gelatin. The only sure way to defeat the shrew was to have everything out in the open. If she kicked Dan out, the shrew wouldn’t have him to attack. If she accepted Dan’s apology and let him back into her life, the shrew wouldn’t have anything to attack him about.
“Okay. The papers are in my office.” Tilly stomped away, the shrew cackling with every childish stomp as the little bitch fought to stay alive and relevant.
* * *
DAN STARTED TO WORRY about Tilly when she didn’t return in thirty minutes. He checked to make sure the front door was locked, then headed through the kitchen to find her. She sat at the tiny desk in the closet she called an office, crying softly.
She looked up when he closed the door and sat in one of the other chairs. Her eyes were red and bright, but no longer angry.
“Is this real?” she asked, gesturing to the papers on her desk.
“Yes. Both the review and the promissory note.”
“You’ve quit your job?”
“I’m no longer writing reviews for CarpeChicago, though I’ll keep writing freelance for a while. Beth and I are officially business partners now.”
“And the note?” She shook the paper at him.
“It’s real, too. I, uh, well, I knew how to apologize to Tilly the chef for my poor review, but I didn’t know how to apologize to Tilly the woman I love for the situation I put her in. Giving her ultimate control of her destiny seemed like the best I could do.” The next words were harder to say, but no less required. “There’s no price on your building. If you send me packing right now, the deed to the building will still be delivered to you. I don’t want anything from you as a thank-you. I mean—” he hesitated “—I want a lot of things from you, just none of them as a thank-you.”
“How much did this cost you?”
Dan coughed. “I’m not going to tell you, but I had the money. Now you have the building.”
“So this—” she picked up the note that told her she would own the building as soon as the paperwork went through, and waved the paper in the air “—is nothing.”
“I’m not going to be living off peanut butter and ramen noodles because of it, but it’s not nothing. I need the business with Beth to succeed, or I’ll be turning to my father for a job to make sure I can afford mortgage payments. Does the money matter? I never imagined you to be interested in that.”
“I’m not. I just...” She sniffled. “I don’t know what to think of this. I don’t know what to think of you.” She wiped her eyes with the back of her hand, the note fluttering in her grasp as the
paper moved across her face. She looked directly into his eyes. “I don’t know if I can trust you.”
Dan took a deep breath to still the pain in his heart as she said those words. If she didn’t trust him, they were doomed.
“You cost me my certainty. I doubted myself because of you.”
The break in her voice broke his heart. “I never meant to make you doubt yourself. I should never have written the review in the first place. I should have come back to eat at least two more meals. I should’ve written a new review earlier. I shouldn’t have compromised both of us.”
He leaned forward in his chair. He wanted to walk over to her and hold her in his arms, but he couldn’t force her. She had to be willing to accept him. If he couldn’t convince her to accept him, he was lost.
“These mistakes, they are all my responsibility. They are all things I did. In response to a terrible review and an employee being paid to close your restaurant, you worked harder. You take quality ingredients and make them better. You stood in front of the city and showed them I was wrong.” He took another deep breath and willed her to hear him. Not just to listen to what he was saying, but to hear the importance of every word. “You faced all of this and stood strong. I am in awe of you.”
A tear glistened on her face. “What am I supposed to do with you? With us?”
“You know what decision I hope you make. But no matter what you do tonight, I will always be thankful for my horrible dinner at Babka. Without that dinner, I wouldn’t have gone to the Taste. And I wouldn’t have met you. My life is better because I know you.”
He gazed into her eyes, steadily and firmly, so she could see every emotion inside him. The bone-shaking fear that she would send him out of the restaurant forever and the hope she would open her arms and they could begin their life together. “Can you trust me for tonight?”
She nodded.
“Can you trust me for tomorrow?”
She nodded again.
Dan closed his eyes to collect his emotions before opening them and baring his soul to Tilly. “Trust me for tonight and tomorrow. In a month or so, you can start trusting me for weeks at a time instead of days at a time. We can work up to months, then years and then maybe for the rest of our lives. Would that be okay with you?”
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