"Julian?"
He set the knife down, wiped his hands on his apron, and walked out from the kitchen.
"When did you get back? You didn't even call."
"Last-minute decision," I said.
His eyes flicked to Connor standing behind me, then back to my face. He pulled me aside into the stairwell.
"Tell me the truth. Is she selling the restaurant?"
I looked at him.
Twenty-three years he'd worked here. He'd been with my father since the very beginning, back when the restaurant first opened. Started as a kitchen hand, worked his way up to head chef. He'd watched me grow up.
"Yes, Uncle William."
A bitter smile tugged at my lips.
His expression darkened. He was quiet for a few seconds. "She's really going through with it?"
"She's already in talks."
"Then what about you—"
"Don't worry." I cut him off. "This restaurant isn't going anywhere."
He stared at me for a long moment, then nodded. "Good."
"No matter what happens, me and the rest of the staff, we're with you."
Warmth flooded my chest. "Thank you."
"Don't thank me." He waved it off. "Your father treated me like family. This place was his life's work. I'm not about to stand by and watch someone run it into the ground."
He turned to leave, then stopped. "Oh, one more thing. Yesterday, she brought people by to look at the place. Some guy in a Mercedes, plus a few of her relatives."
"They walked around the whole restaurant, pointing at everything, talking like they already owned it."
"I know."
"Alright. As long as you're on top of it."
He gave my shoulder a firm pat and headed back to the kitchen.
Connor and I sat down in the dining room and ordered two glasses of water.
At eleven thirty, a black Mercedes pulled up out front.
Oswald got out, walked around to the passenger side, and opened the door. Meg stepped out and looped her arm through his as they headed inside.
A white Buick followed behind them. Four people climbed out.
Meg's mother. Her uncle. Her aunt. And her cousin.
When they walked in and saw me, none of them looked the least bit surprised.
Mrs. Henson even smiled—the kind of smile that said she'd come to watch a show.
Oswald approached me with his hand extended. "Julian, right? I've heard a lot about you. Oswald Gilbert."
I looked at his outstretched hand and didn't move.
His hand hung in the air. A beat of awkward silence. He pulled it back and smiled. "Meg told me you were away on business. Didn't expect you to be back already. Perfect timing, actually. Let's talk."
"Talk about what?"
"The transfer." His smile stayed perfectly in place. "Meg and I have already worked everything out. We're signing the contract today. After that, this place is mine."
"Yours?"
"That's right. A hundred and eighty thousand dollars. More than fair. I'm planning to turn this restaurant into a flagship location for a chain brand."
I looked at him and said nothing.
Meg walked over, dropped her purse on the table, and pulled out a thick stack of documents.
"Oswald, I brought the contract." She slid it across the table. "Go ahead and sign."
Mrs. Henson sidled up beside her, sizing me up, and launched straight into a warning. "Julian, let me tell you something. Don't you dare cause trouble."
"Meg is the legal representative. She makes the decisions. You don't get a say."
I ignored her and looked at Meg. "I'm asking you one more time. You really want to sell?"
"What kind of stupid question is that?" Mrs. Henson jumped in before Meg could answer. "Why else would we all be here? You think we've got nothing better to do?"
The rest of them piled on immediately:
"Exactly. Oswald is a major business owner. The fact that he's even interested in this run-down place is doing you a favor. Don't bite the hand that feeds you."
"Meg gave you seven years of her life. What did you ever give her? Now she's selling the restaurant and splitting the money with you fifty-fifty, and you're still not satisfied?"
Meg's cousin hung back near the door, phone raised, recording. He muttered under his breath, "Let me get this on social media first. Let everyone see what a cheapskate my cousin married."
Connor shot to his feet and jabbed a finger at him.
"Put that phone down. Now."
He stumbled back a step, but his mouth kept running. "Who the hell are you? Mind your own business!"
Meg handed the contract to Oswald.
"Oswald, ignore them. Just sign it."
Oswald took the contract and pulled a pen from the inside pocket of his suit jacket. "Julian, relax. The restaurant will be in better hands with me. You're welcome to come by anytime. I'll always have a table for you."
He uncapped the pen.
"Hold on."
I reached out and blocked his hand.
Oswald looked up, pen frozen in midair.
Meg frowned.
"Julian, what are you doing?"
Mrs. Henson's shrill voice cut in immediately. "I knew he'd pull something! Oswald, don't pay him any attention. Sign it!"
Meg's aunt planted herself in front of me. "Julian, I'm warning you. Don't push your luck!"
I ignored them both and looked at Meg.
"Don't rush. Once you've seen what I have, you can decide whether you still want to sell to him."
I took a manila envelope from Connor and set it on the table.
Meg blinked. "What is this?"
"See for yourself."
She eyed me with suspicion, then picked up the envelope and slid out the documents inside.
One look at the first page, and her pupils contracted sharply.
