With No Reservations

Marian chuckled. “Yes, Graham’s always had a special talent when it comes to cooking. He and his sister were making us dinner when he was practically still in diapers.”

Sloane smiled at the image of a toddler standing on a chair and stirring something over a stove.

“We put him to work in our first restaurant when he was fourteen.” The smile vanished from Marian’s eyes. “There was a time when I didn’t think he’d ever cook again.” She blinked several times, and the twinkle was back. “He’s come a long way here.”

Sloane nodded dumbly as Marian’s words echoed against the corners of her mind. She’d practically lived under a rock for the past several years and even she knew enough of the story to see he wasn’t the same person. Though Sloane was beginning to get the feeling all she saw was the tip of a very jagged iceberg.

She scanned the room for Cooper and started when she found him looking directly at her.

Whoa. She felt like a dunk-tank seat had plunged her into water.

He smiled and gave her a little nod before returning his attention to the white-haired lady making animated gestures in front of him.

Distraction. Sloane needed a distraction from Cooper and locked her gaze on the black-and-white portrait of the older woman. If that was a stock photo, it was spot-on for the restaurant. “Do—do you know who that is in the picture?”

Marian turned in her chair for a look. “Did Graham not tell you?”

Sloane shook her head.

“That’s Simone. The woman this restaurant was named for.”

“Simone?” That couldn’t be her. The moisture evaporated in Sloane’s mouth and throat.

“My son rented her upstairs apartment when he moved to Paris, and she really got through to him when he needed it the most. If it weren’t for Simone...” Marian swallowed hard. “Well, I don’t know that I’d have two sons right now.”

Sloane nodded, transfixed on the photo as Marian’s words sunk in. With the record straight about her horribly false assumption of Simone, it was clear every interaction she’d had with Cooper needed a fresh interpretation.

“So, are you from this area?” Marian leaned her elbows on the table, the gold in her bracelet catching the candlelight. “What’s your story?”

I moved here because I couldn’t handle my hometown—and my hometown couldn’t handle me.

“No. When I graduated from college I basically took out a map, closed my eyes and pointed to a random spot.” Sloane sipped her water. “There are lots of good things happening in Dallas.”

Marian pressed her lips together. “Do you get to see your family often?”

What? Was this woman in league with her mother?

“We, uh, keep in touch.” Sloane crossed her legs and smoothed her dress.

Marian nodded, her eyes narrowed with understanding. She knew there was more to it, but unlike Trina, she was polite enough not to pry.

Sloane had been back to the place she grew up, that one-stoplight Indiana town, once since her high-school graduation. And that was only to pack a few things and ship them here.

“Well, you’ve done quite well for yourself with your website,” Marian said. “I appreciate everything you do for the foundation, and when I found out your line of work, I had to check out VisibilityNet. I’m looking forward to seeing where this partnership goes. Depending how this launch fares, I think it could lead to a bigger deal with this company.”

“Wow,” Sloane injected enthusiasm into her tone. “I think my bosses would give me their jobs if that happened. They would love the opportunity for a contract with J. Marian Restaurants.”

She, on the other hand, would love to go back in time and tell Blissfully Ignorant Sloane to never take her comfy job for granted. She looked up as a figure stopped next to their table, and Cooper Sr. aimed a searing glare at her before moving on.

Yes, if she could do it over again, she’d definitely reread her contract and negotiate the whole human interaction thing before she signed on the dotted line. She glanced at Marian to see if her ex-husband looked at all total strangers like that. But the woman was distracted, stifling laughter into her napkin. The source of her amusement? Cooper angling farther and farther away from Trina’s less-than-subtle advances.

“He’s a totally different person,” Marian said, sipping her water. “Owen, on the other hand—”

An earsplitting whistle commanded the silence of the entire room.

Cooper had moved to the front of the restaurant and was seated on the counter. “Thanks for breaking bread at Simone tonight,” he said, earning the applause of his patrons. “It means the world that you’re willing to share this moment with me.”

His cell phone buzzed loudly against the counter’s surface, but he didn’t flinch.

“I want to thank my dad for supporting my vision even when we didn’t see eye to eye.”

The older Graham Cooper uncrossed his arms, the smug line of his mouth curving into a beaming grin before snuffing out.

“And my mom, Marian, for being brave enough to put all her eggs in one basket and taking a chance on that first restaurant years ago.” Cooper slid off the counter and crossed to their table. “Our family’s been through a lot, and I can’t imagine that J. Marian Restaurants would have survived without a person like you at the helm.”

While Cooper’s father was the great and powerful Oz of J. Marian Restaurants, Marian had been the mastermind calling the shots behind the curtain. And that made sense, given that it was her money that had funded the company in the first place.

Cooper bent to kiss his mother on the cheek.

“Jordan would have been so proud of you,” Marian whispered, squeezing both of her son’s hands before he returned to the center of the floor.

Jordan? Who was Jordan? Judging by the sheen in Cooper’s eyes and the way he kept glancing at his mother while he thanked his staff and did the obligatory name-dropping, he was someone special.

“Thank you for sitting with me and keeping me entertained this evening.” Marian stood as Sloane gathered her things to leave after Cooper closed out the evening. “I look forward to getting to know you better.”

“You, too, Marian.” Sloane put her hand in Marian’s outstretched one and returned her gentle, maternal squeeze.

She waved to Cooper as she joined the herd leaving the restaurant and mouthed “Thanks.” He started toward her before he appeared to remember he was in the middle of a conversation with an older gentleman. Cooper smiled apologetically and returned his attention to his guest.

As she stepped into the street where her car was waiting, for some reason Sloane dabbed at tears in her eyes. She couldn’t stop thinking about the way Cooper’s mom had squeezed her hand. A weird mixture of sadness and relief pulled in her chest as she replayed the events of the evening in the back of the car, then later as she showered and dressed for bed. As she brushed her teeth, words ran through her mind like a scrolling marquee, the restaurant review she knew she had to write now or else she’d never sleep.

Once it was finished, when she was finally snuggled into her covers in the dark familiarity of her apartment, she allowed her muscles to relax and closed her eyes—only to snap them wide-open. How could she have forgotten to schedule her social media posts for tomorrow? It was something she did every night without fail.

Maybe I can skip it. Just this once.

But visions of the chaos it would spin into her morning schedule unsettled Sloane enough that she shoved her feet into her slippers and wrapped a cozy throw around her shoulders.

After the posts were lined up, she crawled into bed with the quiet reassurance that everything was in order. Everything except for the niggling confirmation that the suspicions she’d had from the beginning of this assignment were one-hundred-percent founded.

The Cooper family was about to unravel her, bit by precise bit.

* * *

IT WAS MIDNIGHT, and Cooper sat on the leather couch in the corner of his restaurant, bathed in the flickering light from the fireplace. Still in disbelief that it was his restaurant.

His guests were long gone. The overhead lights were turned off. He’d switched the French jazz to a playlist that always helped him wind down. He’d just said goodbye to his manager, Janet—the early-fifties woman who reminded him of Simone. She was brusque and hardworking but the pinnacle of kindness when the people around her needed it the most.

The staff had swept the place clean, chairs overturned on the tables, stacks of clean dishes piled here and there. He was left with a to-do list that could probably reach Austin, including adjusting some of the ingredients on his house salad that didn’t quite suit the less adventurous palates in attendance.