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Her deep, dark eyes pull me in, making me off-balance.
“All of you,” I add quickly. “You are what matters tonight. And tomorrow we shall take stock of what you’ve been able to accomplish. Don’t think I won’t be watching.”
No one moves. No one dares breathe.
“Now…” I scan them one by one, making eye contact so they can see the sincerity of my smile. “Make me proud.”
My eyes land on Natalie last. “I will, sir.” She nods and marches toward the podium like a soldier.
* * *
The seats are filling as the piano player takes his place and fills the room with a gentle song.
I run my palms yet again, as every guest wants to shake my hand, some of them even holding it as we converse about the varieties and tannins of this year’s wines. While my stomach continues to turn at the thought of the next few hours, Natalie is nothing but warm smiles, offering a benevolence uncommon in this city.
“How is the first seating coming?” I lean over her shoulder to inspect the floor plan.
“Beautifully, considering that the Poullins arrived with a plus-one.”
“But there were no additional settings!” The train is coming off the track, and we’re not even an hour into opening time.
“Look,” Natalie points. "I will seat Monsieur and Madame Chansor at the corner table, and then the round table can easily accommodate five. I made sure to tell the Poullins that it was outside the realm of possibility, but for them, Olivier Dubois would make it possible.”
“Well done.”
“That’s not all.” She gestures for me to lean in. “I think you should speak with Madame Ornault. She arrived looking… forlorn.”
“Are you sure that’s not just her face?”
“Point taken, but…” she stands up to look over my shoulder, “I get the sense something happened before she came into the restaurant. If you were to stop by her table, make a little small talk, I think that could go a long way.” She leans back toward me. “I think she needs a friend.”
“That’s quite an interpretation from a brief encounter. Look at her now, laughing with Alexandra as if it’s the best day of her life.”
Natalie takes a breath and purses her lips. “If I’m wrong, then there’s no harm done by your visiting her table. If I’m right, it might make all the difference.”
I can’t argue with her logic. So instead I nod and head in the direction of table eight.
“Madame Ornault. What a pleasure to see you again.”
“Monsieur Dubois,” she smiles up at me, and I don’t see a hint of what Natalie was talking about, “it is certainly a pleasure to attend another year of your winery’s launch.” She looks at her lap, her tone becoming forlorn. “I was just thinking about how much Jean and I used to love coming here at this time of year…”
What’s happening? A moment ago she was smiling without an apparent care in the world and now—
“Today would have been Jean’s seventy-fifth birthday.”
Tears stream down her face.
“Madame Ornault…” I don’t know what to say, but I know what I can do. I snap my fingers and Alexandra comes running. “Two glasses of our finest champagne.” I rest my hand on Madame Ornault’s shoulder, kneeling to be at eye level with her. “He was a special man, everyone knew it.”
“Wasn’t he though? He was ornery and mercurial, but he loved me more than I knew how to manage.”
Alexandra places the glasses on the table and swiftly moves away. I hand one to Madame Ornault.
“To Jean.”
“To Jean,” she repeats and we toast, taking a long sip together. “You’d best be going, I know this is a big night for the Bouchon Noir.”
“You know,” I stand, moving back a couple paces and leaning on the chair where Monsieur Jean Ornault would have sat if he’d still been on this earth, “I remember so clearly the time he was late for your dinner.”
