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“Hey.” She stops. “If this is the effect he has on me of all people, it’s a wonder you can work under him and not dissolve under that arresting gaze…”
“Go. And sorry about the candles.” I push her out the door and close it, though she takes an extra moment to drool through the window. “Go,” I mouth and wave her off and rush back to the podium.
“Natalie,” Olivier demands. “Emmanuel Bouvier is already here?”
“Yes, I seated him by the courtyard.”
“How could you not tell me that Emmanuel Bouvier was already here? I thought he would come to the late service. He always comes to the late service. Don’t you know who Emmanuel Bouvier is?”
Emmanuel Bouvier, Emmanuel Bouvier… I’m searching every available corner of my brain but coming up empty.
“No, sir. I don’t know who he is.”
Olivier buries his face in his hands. “He is the make or break for us in Vin Annuel.”
Wine Annual… now, that I have heard of. It’s only the magazine that decides what everyone who’s anyone will be stocking in their wine cellar for the coming year.
“We needed to give him the red carpet treatment, and now he’s been abandoned, left to his own devices like he was any old American tourist in a Hawaiian shirt.”
I’d like to address that comment, but this is obviously not the time.
Olivier is freaking out, I get it, but when I look at Emmanuel Bouvier, I see a man who is quite pleased by his own company. He takes a sip of his wine and gazes out the window, an easy sparkle in his eye. His tie is loose around his neck and his sleeves are rolled to his elbows. Everything about him signals that the peace is suiting him just fine.
“Look, Olivier,” I point. “I think he’s happy to be left to his own devices over there.”
“Impossible. Emmanuel Bouvier needed the best welcome we could have offered.” He lowers his head into his hands. “We’re finished. If Vin Annuel doesn’t pick up our varieties from this season, then tonight will be a complete failure.”
I peek around the tower of crystal glasses that has kept Emmanuel Bouvier hidden from the rest of the restaurant.
“I’ve got this.” I march over to table seventeen where Mr. Bouvier cradles his glass of red wine. “Mr. Bouvier,” I begin with my biggest possible smile, but my heart immediately drops. His face scrunches up like he’s been eating lemons. At a night of wine tasting, a look like that is not a good sign.
“My name is Natalie, and I am the hostess of the Bouchon Noir. I wanted to make sure that you have everything you need.”
“Yes, yes. I’m fine.”
Oh no. This is bad. He looks at his dish and then out the window to the courtyard.
“Is there anything I can do to make your visit more enjoyable?”
“No.”
If I stay, he’ll be annoyed. If I go, I miss any chance of winning him over. Unless I was right all along and he’s just interested in keeping his own company.
“In that case, I’ll leave you to enjoy your meal and wine.”
“Thank goodness for that.” My heart sinks to my knees, until Mr. Bouvier speaks again. “It’s such a treat to be able to enjoy my meal in silence.”
I sense a glimmer of hope.
He sighs. “Everywhere I go, people try to give me extra special treatment. I don’t want special treatment. I just want to eat my meal and drink my wine at a leisurely pace without staff falling over me trying to influence my decisions.”
Hope, hope…
“Of course, sir,” I reply.
“Especially,” he pauses to sip the wine and swallow it, making a sound of satisfaction, “when it is a vintage as delicious as this one.”
He takes a dramatic last sip of his wine and looks at me with a cheeky smile. “I’ll take another bottle of that one, and two extra to take home.”
