Page 43 of Canapés at the Beach House Hotel
“We were curious,” I said.
“Curiosity killed the cat, you know,” said Brock.
“Aw, we’re not afraid of you,” said Rhonda, settling her gaze on the restaurant.“And it looks as if we needn’t be afraid of any competition from Jonny.”
“Jonny hired an architect who’s done some work in South Beach,” Brock said proudly.“The pink doors reflect the famous Gulf Coast sunsets.And the columns represent the importance of the people behind the operation.”
I gave Rhonda a warning look.God knew what she would say to all that.“What’s the theme inside?”
“Pretty much the same,” said Brock.“The decorator is a friend of the architects.”
Jonny pulled into the parking lot and drove right past us.
“See ya later,” said Rhonda.“We’ve got a meeting.”
We made it as far as the road before we burst out laughing.
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By the time we made it back to the hotel, we’d gone from laughter to worry.
“If the appearance of the restaurant is an indication of the quality of food inside, I don’t see how Jonny is going to make it,” I said.
Rhonda made a face.“I know.And he’s going to want to blame us for his failing.”
I checked my watch.“Terri Thomas should be at the hotel soon.We shouldn’t say anything to her about seeing Jonny’s restaurant.We have to simply promote our new prix fixe menu.”
“Right.I don’t think I could mention it without wanting to laugh or cry,” said Rhonda, and I suddenly realized we might be in more trouble than I’d thought.
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We’d maintained a cordial relationship with Terri Thomas at Sabal Daily News through the years by making sure she felt special at the hotel.That feeling included warm cinnamon rolls, cookies, or some other treats.Today, we were going to offer her a sample of a few canapés we were showcasing at the bar.An older woman who’d worked for the paper for years, she missed nothing.
When Terri arrived, we greeted her warmly and suggested we go into the dining room to meet.The restaurant wouldn’t open for another hour, and we’d have privacy to talk.
At a prearranged signal, a member of the kitchen staff brought a small plate to Terri.
“We thought you might enjoy some canapés while we talk,” I said.“What can we get you to drink with that?”
“I’d love a glass of white wine.You women are always so welcoming, thank you,” Terri said, beaming at us.
“We like to think we’re welcoming to each of our guests,” said Rhonda.“But we want to talk business with you, too.”
“Yes,” I said.“Your article about Osteria Arno was something that gave us cause to worry.We’re not in any special competition with that restaurant.We welcome any chef to the area, very confident that we don’t have to prove ourselves.Not with Jean-Luc’s sterling reputation.”
“He’s an excellent teacher as well,” said Rhonda.
“And generous,” I added.“His new chef, Chet Waring, is presenting a prix fixe meal tonight and tomorrow.A special dinner offering while Jean-Luc recovers from a broken ankle.”
Rhonda leaned forward.“We’d really appreciate your support on this, Terri.We figure that after highlighting Osteria Arno, you’d be willing to help us spread the word.”
“Besides, we always like to give you a heads-up on some of the things going on at the hotel,” I said.“Sometimes even special interviews with celebrities.”I’d arranged a few for her with guests who wanted the publicity.
Terri lifted a small piece of toasted bread ladened with smoked salmon and a dab of sour cream, topped with a couple of capers and slid it into her mouth.“Mmm,” she uttered, taking a sip of wine.“What a delight for late afternoon.”
“We’re changing up our bar tasting menu with a few more canapé choices that might attract a younger set of foodies to it,” said Rhonda.“You know how much we love our food.”
“Indeed, I do,” said Terri, reaching for a cracker topped with paté.
