Culinaria L'amore

Culiniaria L'amore Chapter Eighteen

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<3 Infatuated

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L'amore had only a couple cars in the parking lot by the time we came to a stop; Pierre's trademark Cadillac was in the corner, and I recognized a few others... like Jackon's blue Honda Civic. Immediately a sinking feeling came into my stomach and I groaned, "Oh no."

Both Toben and Garrett turned back to see why I had moaned; Toben with a more concerned look and Garrett, a curious one.

"Everything alright, Kirsten?" Garrett asked as he unbuckled his seatbelt.

Not wanting to talk about my woes, I nodded silently and got out of the car.

It was fairly quiet inside the restaurant as we entered; only a couple waiters were walking around and only a few customers were enjoying an early lunch. Keeping my head down, in case Jackson was around, I led Toben and Garrett to my office. Before we could go down the private hallways, we were intercepted by Pierre himself.

His face lit up a bit when he saw me, but the reaction wasn't the same on my part. Pierre looked old, really old. His brown hair had turned partially grey, his apron literally sagged against his thin frame, and his face was a map of wrinkles that hadn't been present before.

Pulling me into a hug, he patted my back repeatedly, muttering incoherently in French.

Garrett cleared his throat behind us and muttered in a soft tone, "Garrett Bianchi."

Pierre let go of me and slowly accepted Garrett's outstretched hand. "Pierre Stucklin, head chef here. It is a please to meet you."

The two men solemnly shook hands before Toben said in his current Australian accent, "Toben, certified financial consultant for ma mate, the lovely Ms. Kirsten Bellini."

The Frenchman only eyed Toben in suspicion before he turned back to me. "It very nice to see you again Kirsten. But, you seem to be facing a dilemma. I get call every day nearly asking me about restaurant. I leave a list on your desk and all recent finance documents. Good day."

He left in a hurry, wiping his hands down on his apron, leaving us in the hallway.

"Well he seemed a nice sort of chap." Toben muttered.

"'Chap' is British bro." Garrett replied.

I finally stopped in front of the familiar oak door with the word 'Bellini' engraved on its surface, fishing my key out of my purse as the two boys continued arguing on whether chap was Australisn or not. They stopped talking when I solemnly opened up the door into my office.

The room looked the same as when I had abandoned it a month ago, with the exception of a couple new files on my cluttered desk. The bookcase was the same with the figurines and treasured cookbooks and my family picture in Cancun was still knocked over on the desk surface.

"Nice place you got here." Garrett remarked, flopping onto the red sofa in the corner.

"Thank you," I replied, dropping my bag on my desk and situating myself in my desk chair. Toben stood behind me. Looking over the various files labeled 'Finances' and 'Potentila Buyers', I let out a groan at the thickness of documents.

"Hey hey mate. Don't worry your pretty littl' head over it. Toben's here to help ya matie!"

"Thanks Toben." I muttered wryly. "I don't know what I would do without you."

After a couple minutes of just flipping through the papers, I gave Garrett the potential buyers stack, Toben the finances papers, and tried to comprehend how any lawyer could easily snatch the restaurant out of my hands.