No use wasting time on crazy daydreams.
She needed to write up her review on the new Thai restaurant, and plan the angle she wanted to approach her column. Her fans were wild about her sharp witty banter and ability to honestly pick apart a dining experience like a story, rather than the mean club approach too many critics prided themselves on.
She’d finally achieved her dreams and reached a semi-celebrity status in the foodie world. Between her regular critic reviews and her HotSpot feature for Foodie magazine, she was well recognized and respected in the industry.
Her mind sifted through the possibilities, remembering that awful spaghetti she’d consumed a few hours ago. Too bad Gavin’s restaurant sucked.
How did he possibly make a profit? She figured Mia Casa wouldn’t be in business too much longer with a chef like that, and— Gavin’s restaurant.
Column.
Miranda froze. The idea danced before her, ripe with possibilities.
She quickly sorted through the ethics of her decision, but after a few moments, the plan hit in vivid, shattering force.
Oh yeah. She had a new idea for Sunday’s issue.
And it was going to be a doozy.
… “We’re ruined! Completely ruined!”
Gavin shifted in the leather barstool.
His mother threw up her hands in typical Italian fashion.
He wondered if it was too early to have a drink.
Usually, prepping for the day’s work gave him a surge of adrenalin. This morning, the scene reminded him of a funeral, and nobody could do a funeral as well as his family. Pop sat across from Brando with a look of doom on his face. His younger brother already had a pout to his lip, which meant he was on the defensive. And Antonio glanced from one to the other as if just waiting to be challenged.
With resignation, Gavin picked up the paper and stared at the Miranda Eats column.
The heading jumped out at him and made his fingers itch to hold a shot glass: Mia Casa Caves In.
His mother paced and wrung her hands. “In all the years open for business, we’ve never had such a review. Giovanni, what did you do to this food critic?” She peered over her glasses in accusation.
He winced again at his God-given name and reigned in his patience. He hated the family name, and changed it to Gavin years ago. His parents refused to acknowledge the change, so now he felt as if he had two identities.
Of course, he could’ve been named Sonny from The Godfather, their favorite movie, so he figured he was lucky.
“Nothing, Mama.”
He took note of his father’s frown and obvious disappointment. “We had some problems last night, but I had no idea she was doing an official review.”
Antonio slammed a meaty fist down on the table. “How can I work in such chaos?”
he demanded. “Waiters call in sick, Brando’s on the phone all night with his girlfriend, and my wife is having an affair.” He let out a long stream of Italian curses. “I cannot perform under such conditions.”
He pointed to the quote in stark black and white. “It states here she spoke directly to the chef of Mia Casa. Are you crazy, Tony? Why did you answer a call from a critic without putting me on the phone?”
His chef straightened to full height. Unfortunately, since he only topped five- six, he didn’t have a long way to go. “She identified herself as Miranda Storme.
How am I to know she is from Miranda Eats? She said she dined here and asked what I thought about the food I served.”
The awful finality of the quote slammed into Gavin’s brain and he read it aloud. “Anthony Riccio is the head chef of Mia Casa and states this about a customer’s dining experience: ‘The food is of the same high quality no matter what day or time a diner visits. I pride myself on consistency and good cooking.’ If this is the truth, don’t bother going in for lunch, either, unless you want to keep chewing your vegetables throughout the day.”
Tony threw his head up to the sky and spit out his declaration. “A lie! We shall sue and regain our reputation!”
Gavin surrendered the battle and reached for the crystal shot glass to pour a stream of whiskey. He ignored his mother’s shocked gasp and directed his words toward his chef.
“Tony, the waiters told me they never served so much water. We want the bar bill up, not the water bill.” He cut his hand through the air for silence when his chef opened his mouth.
“Enough. What’s done is done.”
“Tracey said I don’t spend enough time with her and she’s thinking about going with this other guy,” Brando said. “I had to convince her not to.
Why am I always working anyway, when Gavin gets all the credit?”
His father reached out and grabbed his brother by his ear like he was three.
“Brando, I am the one who called your brother and asked for help. He took a leave from his job to help us, and you will respect this.”
One lower lip jutted out in a sulky expression to rival Marlon Brando. “I bet I could’ve gotten a better review from Miranda Storme.”
“Brando Luciano, respect your older brother,”
boomed Archimedes Luciano, patriarch of the family.
Brando stood up. “Why should I, Pop? I was the one who was supposed to inherit the restaurant. He goes away for three years, decides he wants the business, and you go and give it to him. Now look what happens. If business sucked before, it’ll be worse after the review.”
Gavin hated to admit his brother was right. His gut told him there was more to that review than just business, and he was to blame. “Mia Casa was going bankrupt, Brando,”
he said quietly. “It’s a family business and we’re all involved, but this place needs some changes to keep up with the times.
Dating and partying is fine, but the restaurant needs twenty-four hour attention.
Are you ready to do that?”
“Sure. I’ll just imitate you.
Abandon the restaurant and achieve a crappy review from the most important food critic in town. Pure genius.”
Mama shook her finger at his brother. “Language!”
Gavin squeezed his eyes shut.
Unfortunately, his brother spoke the truth.
Crap, why hadn’t he suspected she was on a formal review? Because the moment he laid his gaze on her, he’d been toast. When he left her years ago, she’d been ready to embark on her studies at the culinary. He figured she’d be a prestigious chef, and kept track of her progress while overseas.
Instead, she exploded in the papers and high-profile magazines as the hot new reviewer in the city. He studied everything she’d ever written. Her work demonstrated a sharp- witted style, a wicked sense of humor, and an old-fashioned tendency toward fairness.
But Sunday’s column was personal, and Mia Casa took the hit. How much money had he already sunk into the renovations and big-time advertising to build a new client base? A menu overhaul almost put him in the hospital, as each item needed to be argued over with his parents, while his mother mourned the loss of traditional favorites.
The celebrity chef stunt almost lured him to quit.
Almost.
He demoted Antonio to assistant, and splashed the announcement of the big new hire of a well-known chef from the Food Network.
His grizzled appearance and world- weary expertise was impressive. Gavin figured the guy could take any crap his family threw at him and get Mia Casa big exposure.
Wrong.
His family plotted the chef’s demise from the beginning.
Expensive truffles suddenly disappeared. The clean and white pressed uniforms the chef insisted on showed up soiled and smelly. The small group of waiters left his food under the warmer for too long, so complaints trickled in about dried up fish and meat.
Seven full days, and the Lucianos toppled the big cheese. The chef quit and walked out in an old- fashioned temper tantrum, while Tony threw up his arms and pretended he didn’t understand.
More money down the tubes. And Gavin learned his lesson. He could dump his money, hire who he wanted, but the core group would never change because they were family.
Gavin grabbed for patience as his family continued bickering. When Pop called him and asked for help, he never hesitated. He figured it would be the easiest job of his career.
Not.
His one step forward with the renovations just took five steps back. Now he had to deal with the aftereffects of negative publicity. Why had she picked his restaurant at this time? Had she written the column to guarantee he’d track her down? An unconscious attempt to get him so angry, he’d be sure to initiate another meeting? Gavin threw back the last of his shot. Hmmm.
Sounded good, but he guessed she’d scoff and tell him his massive ego was twisting things again.
Didn’t matter.
She’d thrown down the gauntlet and opened the door of the past, whether she knew it or not. He was just going to walk right through.
Gavin scooped up the paper and tucked it under his arm. “I’ll take care of it.”
“How?”
Archimedes asked.
“I’ll get her to write a second review.”
Silence settled over the dining room. His family looked at him as if he’d taken leave of his senses.
Brando snorted. “She never does second reviews —that’s part of her style.
Once she tags a place unfit, it’s tagged for life.
You’ll never get her to do one.”
He gazed at his brother with narrowed eyes.
“Watch me.”
He strode out of the restaurant.
… “Ouch. Stephen, that hurt, you devil.”
The little boy screeched in delight as his pudgy fist came away with a few strands of red hair.
Miranda rubbed her scalp where her new bald spot lay. “Manda, do it again!”
She shook her head and swung him high in her arms. “Don’t think so, flirt.
If that’s how you show affection for a girl, you’re gonna be in some trouble.”
He kicked his feet and laughed as he played the familiar game of airplane.
“Fly me, fly me!”
The doorbell rang, and Miranda made a landing noise as she settled him against one hip. “Come on, flirt. Daddy’s here to pick you up. Said you were going to the zoo today.”
“Aminals!” he shouted.
“Daddy said I could see the lion in The Wizard of Oz.”
“That’s right. Lions and tigers and bears, oh my.”
She grinned and threw open the door. “And here’s your—oh, my God!”
“Oh my God,”
the toddler boy mimicked.
Gavin took one look at the toddler perched on her hip and grew pale. “Oh, my God.”
Silence fell between them as they glanced at one another, and Miranda tried to gather her wits.
She knew writing the column had been a risk.
With Gavin’s massive ego, she bet he thought she wrote it in the hopes he would contact her. Still, revenge had been too sweet to ignore.
But she’d never expected him to show up on her doorstep.
“What are you doing here?” She moved her head away as Stephen reached for another red curl. “How did you find me?”
Gavin’s gaze never left the boy’s face. His voice came out ragged.
“I needed to talk to you. We never finished our conversation.”