He had a notebook in front of him and was flipping through the pages as she walked towards him. He looked up and smiled, and Jill caught her breath for a moment. He was seriously hot. Dark brown eyes that were almost black, a strong nose that looked as though it had been broken at least once and those tiny laugh lines around the eyes that looked so much better on men.
“Hi, there. What can I get for you?”
“A Harpoon IPA please, and a dinner menu.” Jill handed him a menu and poured his draft beer, taking care to have just the right amount of creamy foam on top.
“Here you go. We have a few specials tonight, as well. Lobster ravioli and braised short ribs. Soup is a butternut squash bisque with asiago croutons.”
“How do the short ribs look?” he asked casually, and Jill’s stomach growled thinking of the ribs, which were amazing. She’d had a small taste of them earlier.
“They’re great. Meaty and tender in a silky reduction sauce that has incredible flavor. It’s served on creamy polenta.”
“I’ll have that, the lobster ravioli, a side of broccoli rabe and the soup to start. Oh, and an order of the antipasto misto.”
“I’ll put that right in for you.” Jill punched the order into the computer, then set silverware, a napkin, a placemat, and a bread plate in front of the relatively thin man who’d just ordered a massive quantity of food. She waved at Gina to meet her in the kitchen.
“What is it? Is everything all right?” Gina looked puzzled as the rush was pretty much over and the bar practically empty.
“Just a heads up. That guy at the bar just ordered a lot of food. Two meals, two appetizers and a side dish. Mandy said the same thing happened the other day and Gary emphasized that you’d want to know in case he’s a food critic or something.”
“Doesn’t look like one to me, though you never know. I’ll tell Paul, so he can make sure everything looks perfect.”
Jill poured a cup of the soup, topped it with the croutons, and dropped two hot rolls into a small basket, along with a few pats of butter. She returned to the bar and set everything down in front of her very interesting customer, who was busy jotting something in his notebook.
“Here you go, enjoy.”
“Thanks.” He smiled briefly and continued to write. Jill wandered off to the other end of the bar where two older gentlemen looked ready for a bit of conversation and another cocktail.
An hour later, she cleared away the last dinner plate from the mystery man. He ate silently and sparingly, eating maybe half of everything on his plate. “Can I pack any of this up for you?” It seemed a shame to throw so much food out. He hesitated for a moment before saying, “Sure, pack it up.”
“Dessert?” she asked, assuming he’d say no, but again he surprised her.
“Yeah, I’ll have a cannoli and a slice of the tiramisu. And an espresso please.”
“Sure thing.” Jill carefully made the espresso for him, adding a sliver of lemon rind as garnish, then went into the kitchen to pick up his desserts.
“Two desserts, huh?” Paul said. “Did he seem to like his meals?”
“I think so. He’s taking the leftovers with him.”
She wasn’t surprised to see that once again just a few bites were taken out of each dessert.
“I hope you enjoyed everything?” Jill was curious for any information she could get. So far, he hadn’t given anything away.
“The food was very good. Portions a little big though, but no one ever complains about that, I’m sure.” That was the most he’d said all night. Jill was about to get the conversation rolling when he nipped it in the bud. “I’ll take a check please.”
“Of course.” She turned to the computer, pulled up his check and printed it out. Out of the corner of her eye she saw him hold a slim cell phone up. He was taking pictures of the carpet. That’s when it clicked, and she knew that he wasn’t a food critic.
“Do you know Cory Lawson by any chance?” she asked as she put the check into a soft leather folder and placed it in front of him.
He seemed surprised by the question. “I do know Cory, but I’m sure I’d remember meeting you.”
“No, we haven’t met. I’m his wife’s sister. She was telling us about you the other night. That Cory had hired a restaurant consultant.”
He grinned and held out his hand. “Macaulay Connor. My friends call me Mac. Nice to meet you.”
“Jill O’Toole.” She shook his hand and enjoyed the feel of his warmth against hers. He had a firm handshake, very much in control.
“I’ll call next week to set up another visit. I like to do the first few sort of incognito, to get a true sense of the food and the restaurant’s rhythm on a given night. Next time I come in, I’d like to meet your staff, and get a good look at the kitchen.”
“Great, I look forward to it,” Jill said brightly, though inwardly she had mixed feelings. She was looking forward to seeing Mac again, but worried about what he might find, and what he might want them to do at Mimi’s Place. Though she wasn’t as financially astute as Cory, she knew enough about running her own business to know that sometimes you had to make difficult choices.
Chapter 10
By the following week, they had settled into a regular schedule of sorts. Mandy worked the lunch shifts, so her hours were mostly when the kids were in school. If she knew ahead of time that she was going to need to stay longer, she could always put them into extended day session or in a pinch, call one of her sisters to pick them up. Jill worked mostly evenings and usually helped out at the bar. She liked the way the night flew by, especially when they were busy.
Emma was still trying to figure out where she fit best in the restaurant. Because she’d previously worked both as a server and behind the bar, she was able to jump in wherever they had a hole that needed to be plugged, even in the kitchen where she manned the salad and dessert stations, plated cheesecakes and chopped vegetables for the salad. Her schedule varied depending on what was going on each day and was mostly nights with a few days here and there.
She was starting to enjoy having her days free and spending time wandering around Nantucket. It was both familiar and new and different at the same time as it had been so long since she’d lived there. One of her favorite discoveries was a tiny coffee shop just off Main Street. She’d stumbled into ‘My Favorite Cup’ when walking around one day.
Although the coffee was excellent, what Emma really liked was the feel of the place. It was very cozy and artsy, with original art work and photographs on the walls, posters for creative events, and eclectic furniture, none of it matching. She settled into a worn and buttery soft leather chair, set down her steaming coffee and toasted bagel and plugged in her laptop. All around her people were tapping away on keyboards or chatting into cell phones. There was an interesting assortment of people—several power suit types, checking email on their phones, while the rest of the clientele seemed to be a mix of tourists, moms with small children, and more creative types, the group that Emma felt a part of.
She ate most of her bagel while her laptop was booting up and thought about the project she was embarking on. She’d decided to start a blog of sorts to go with her website. She had a very basic website that one of Peter’s friends designed for her about a year ago. It had some of her best pictures along with a bio and contact information. When she was in Arizona, almost all of her work came through word of mouth, so the website was just a formality, a place people could go to easily get her contact information by simply googling her name. She worked on that for a while and once she had everything looking the way she’d envisioned it, she turned her attention to her next project.