Grey Skies - A Military Romance (Complete)

Grey Skies: Chapter 22

"Rabe should still be in season...." Sophie pulled up the recipe she'd adopted from the original and displayed it on her laptop.

"Aren't they bitter?" Her jaw clenched at the curtness in Simon's voice.

With Simon in New York at a conference, they'd arranged a video chat between his sessions to review her first draft of the menu she planned to serve for the investors in less than two months. Sophie was grateful they'd turned off their cameras to focus on her proposal, because she was sure her frustration was plastered across her face like a neon sign in Times Square. This was the third of her first five suggestions he'd shot down.

Simon cleared his throat. "They were on the menu at The Waterfront one winter. We ended up throwing them out because no one ordered any."

"Yes, but this isn't a local bar." She winced at her word choice. Presentations and sales pitches weren't on the typical resume of a Sous Chef. While she could pontificate for an hour or two on the difference between a shitaki and a portabella mushroom and provide ten unique ways to cook each, selling her recipes verbally was a skill she obviously lacked. "What I mean is, I thought the point was to show the investors how the new restaurant will be different from traditional French cuisine?"

"Correct. Elevating the experience is the goal, but not at the cost of alienating our patrons." Reverb blurred his last words. Even the speakers on her laptop seemed to be unable to handle the stress in Simon's voice. "Once we've secured the funding, we can broaden the menu, experiment more. For this round, with these investors, the plan is to add a wow factor while demonstrating we can deliver a Michelin Star quality meal."

Sophie dug her nails into her thigh, using the pain to distract her from yelling at her laptop. Restaurants that earned the sought after Michelin star pushed the boundaries of their culinary experiences, using unique ingredients and daring techniques. Anyone could flip a burger and fry potato strips.

She breathed through her eyelids, theoretically, forcing herself to calm down. "Got it. I'll take another crack at it and have something ready for tomorrow."

"I'm treating Mary to a surprise weekend getaway and will be offline. Let's regroup on Monday."

A flush of comfort sliced through the ire burning in her chest at the sweet gesture. Simon loved her friend, one of the most difficult women on the face of the earth, and she loved him back. Thomas had been the same, surprising Sophie by whisking her away to a local lavender farm, a weekend at a butterfly conservatory or the time he borrowed his father's jet, flying her to LA to see a concert because she mention the band was her favourite.

Moisture flooded her eyes, both at the acknowledgement that it had been years since anyone had made a grand romantic gesture in her honour and that she was beginning to forget the thousand little ways Thomas expressed his affection for her, never mind the big ones.

With an attempted to sound as normal as possible, she rubbed her nose, pushing the emotions away. "It's a plan."

Laptop closed, Sophie picked up her phone and checked her texts. One from Evelyn Harrington, Thomas's mother, confirming their annual Christmas high tea at The Crosby. A cavalcade of emotions whirred in her chest, guilt at dreading seeing Thomas's mother after lusting after another man for a month, regret at wanting to skip the event that they had started the first holiday she came home after meeting Thomas and longing for a life she lived in the shadows of what once was and could never be.

She bundled up the pain, forcing the ball of hurt back into the dark recess of her heart where it lived in silence most days, and vowed to return a text to Evelyn when she was in a more stable mood. The other text was from Etienne asking for a status update. Rather than texting back, she opted to call him.