Read Online A Single Thread (Cobbled Court) by Marie Bostwick - Free Book Online Page A

But if you’re ever going to make anything of yourself in the restaurant business, Jason, you’ve got to grow a spine. Get this lady a ginger ale. And a glass of chardonnay while you’re at it, on the house. She’s going to need it. She’s about to open her own business.”
    He marched off, jaw set and eyes steely, ready to do battle with the kitchen king.
    Within a minute, Jason was back, carefully balancing two glasses on his serving tray. “Oh,” I said, gesturing toward the wine glass, “I don’t need this. I think he was just kidding.”
    “Maybe,” he said, putting both glasses on the table, “but you can’t always tell if Charlie is joking or not. He’s not in a good mood, and I’m not taking any chances.”
    “So he’s hard to work for?”
    “Not exactly. He’s demanding, that’s for sure, but he’s not any harder on us than he is on himself. When I first started working here, he scared me, but I’ve learned a lot from him. His family back in Ireland owned restaurants for generations. Charlie knows everything about food. Maurice does the cooking, but if he wasn’t so busy running the restaurant, Charlie could do the job himself. He and Maurice plan all the menus together.”
    Jason grinned as he continued. “Someday, I’d like to have my own restaurant, you know. Nothing as fancy as this. Maybe just a nice diner or something. I figure that by working for Charlie, in a couple of years I’ll know enough to make a go of it.”
    “Does he know that’s what you want to do?” I asked, sipping at my ginger ale. “A lot of entrepreneurs might not hire someone who could become the competition in a year or two.”
    Jason laughed at the idea. “Me? Competition for the Grill? I don’t see that happening, but Charlie knows about my plans. I told him during the interview, and he hired me anyway. Ever since then he’s been helping me, pulling me aside, explaining the business side of things to me, having me work in different parts of the restaurant so I’ll know what it really takes to run one of my own. Charlie’s really a good guy deep down; he just comes off a little hard-nosed at first.”
    “Jason!”
    The young waiter jumped, and so did I; Charlie seemed to appear out of nowhere. “Have you been standing here talking all this time?”
    “No, Charlie…. I got the drinks, just like you said to.”
    “Well, good for you! And did I then say you could stand here sucking up oxygen while the people at table twenty-six die from thirst because you’ve neglected to fill the water glasses? Get on with you, boy!”
    Jason scuttled away.
    “You haven’t touched your wine,” Charlie said with a frown. “Go on then. Try it,” he commanded.
    I did. It was delicious, a flavor like oak and black currants and age, an aroma like secret underground caverns.
    “Wonderful! It must be expensive.”
    Charlie shook his head. “Not at all. This is our house chardonnay. It’s French and very affordable for the quality. Most people think domestic wines are cheaper, but lately the California vintages have gotten ridiculously overpriced. Many of the European wines are a much better value, if you know what to look for. Of course, we carry wines that cost as much as two or three hundred dollars a bottle for those who want it, but, by and large, our wine list is very accessible. You’ve got to know what your customers want,” he said. “That’s true for any business.”
    “You’re right,” I sighed. “I know what quilters want in Texas, but I’m a little less sure about the trends in New England. I hope I don’t fill my store with Dr. Pepper when what folks are really interested in is ginger ale.”
    “Yes, I heard about you. News travels fast in New Bern. Everyone says you won’t last six months.”
    “That’s me. Evelyn Dixon—insane entrepreneur.”
    “Well,” he shrugged, “aren’t we all? Insane, I mean. Charlie Donnelly.” He reached out his hand, and I shook it.
    “Nice to meet you,