Henry retrieved a piece of paper from his wallet. He and Griffin reviewed it. They nodded. Henry took out a pen and crossed out the original number and wrote something else. They slid the paper across the table to me. I realized they had been sitting this whole time, and I had been standing. I did not hesitate. I looked at their numbers. With the internet and a little legwork, I might pull it off.

“I need to know if you guys have any contingency money in case we go over budget.”

“We need a contingency budget for all the apples you eat!” Henry remarked.

“A small one. Keep us in the loop,” Griffin added. We all stood. At this point in a meeting, I would normally shake hands. Instead, I simply hugged my brother and looked into Griffin’s eyes.

“Thanks. I’ve got awesome stuff to buy.” And I left the restaurant wondering if I put a whole stand of green apples in the entryway whether people would know I had ripped off David Bouley.

Chapter Fifty-Three

Chapter Fifty-Three

At exactly four o’clock on February 12, Dexter strolled in carrying an arrangement of flowers. I remember the date because it was two days before Valentine’s Day. I was still in a place where I tried to ignore holidays and even dreaded them, threatening to trip me like uneven patches in a sidewalk.

“Either those flowers are a very early Valentine’s Day gift, or your proposal is going to be so outlandish you’re preparing for your funeral.”

Dexter laughed and once again kissed me on the cheek. I nodded, and Lea brought us over two glasses of wine and a sample of the new mushroom and fig risotto under a small medallion of pork belly. “Neither. The glorious flowers are from some guy named Reggie.” He sat down and added, “I love meeting with you. You always serve good wine and food.”

“For your information, Reggie is not a guy.”

Dexter encouraged me to look at the card.

To Bailey—Just Because—

“Life is too short not to be surrounded by beauty”—Bailey A. Edgeworth

We love you,

Reggie and Elle

I laughed. They were always making fun of my little phrases, especially when I stopped on the corner to buy flowers and would say that.

“At least you have good taste … in friends,” Dexter emphasized. Getting down to business, he unrolled his drawing. I studied it before either of us spoke. My eyes ricocheted between the paper and the restaurant. He had taken my ideas and made some bold choices himself.

“I know I have changed the footprint. Before you even give me an opinion or any objections, I want you to sit with this drawing while the restaurant is in full swing. We can certainly tweak it.”

“How much?”