This Much is True - Tia Louise Page 0,55
hair and piercing green eyes, and he doesn’t smile.
Still, unlike JR Dunne, this man’s sternitude is more like his usual manner, rather than something thrust upon him by life and a double-crossing, wife-stealing father.
Clearing my throat, I answer. “I’m a restaurateur.” Blinking down, I figure I should correct that. “Actually, I saved all my money, drew up a business plan, found investors, rented a prime location in the Embarcadero, hired a publicist, and had a huge grand opening for my first, dream restaurant… on March 13.”
He goes to the brown leather chair positioned in front of the window and takes a seat. “Not so lucky Friday the 13th.” He’s not really being mean. I’ve thought the same thing myself. “And?”
“And I lost it all.” It’s still a hot poker jabbed in my chest when I say it.
“I’m sorry.”
Oddly, he actually seems to mean it.
“What’s your name, sir?”
“Stephen Hastings.” He crosses an ankle over his knee. “Tell me more about this restaurant, Hope Hill. What type of food did you serve?”
“Pancakes.” His eyebrow arches, but I quickly describe my quirky, fun, Pancake Paradise, where parents and kids of all ages could come together and have quality time, learn to cook, play, celebrate milestones, or simply pass the time.
Bittersweet warmth fills my chest as I tell him about it, remembering how excited I’d been, how I imagined being the Barefoot Contessa of the San Francisco waterfront, welcoming regular customers and new ones with weekly specials and samples of our latest pancake creations.
I had such big dreams, and they were all coming true.
This was going to be my year…
Until it wasn’t.
He watches me closely. “Would you say it was a children’s restaurant?”
“Not at all!” My voice is high. “Of course, we were kid-friendly—very kid-friendly—but we also had savory options, omelets and sandwiches. We offered mimosas and other cocktails, wine and beer. Pancake Paradise was going to be a neighborhood hangout.”
“If you were lucky. Restaurants have obscene failure rates—something like 75 percent or more fail in the first two years.”
“I wouldn’t have failed.” I’m not letting him cloud my dream.
“You said you lost everything?”
“I still have a few things.” I trace my fingers along the edge of the mahogany credenza. “I have the lease on the space for two more weeks. And nobody wanted industrial-sized bags of flour and cinnamon. Nobody could use them.”
He leans forward, resting his forearms on his thighs and clasping his hands. “I think the location was a poor choice.”
“It was an excellent choice. Our research showed—”
“I think your idea has promise.” That shuts me up. “I think it would be better suited to a boutique location, like Monterey. Somewhere with a large population of wealthy young professionals with young families. A community where people hold gatherings, where you could develop regulars. San Francisco is too transient for what you have in mind.”
“Monterey is pretty far—”
“It’s an hour and a half.”
Crossing my arms, I face him. “What difference does it make to you?”
He shifts in the chair, flicking his blazer. “I don’t say this often, but I have a very large bank account.”
“Everyone who stays here does.”
“Mine is bigger than theirs.” It doesn’t even seem like he’s bragging, more just stating a fact. “I invest in companies, mostly military tech and healthcare initiatives. I’m here for that very reason, but the fellow I met with this morning didn’t have his numbers in order. I had to say no.”
Tilting my head to the side, I study him. “You want to invest in my restaurant?”
“Maybe.” He stands and reaches into his coat, taking out a slim phone. “Restaurants are a horrible risk. The timing couldn’t be worse. Still, I’m a bit of a gambler, and I have the capital. I like your passion and your drive. Do you have a phone?”
“Of course.” Reaching into my skirt pocket, I take out my iPhone.
“If you’re willing, unlock it, and I’ll give you my secretary’s number.”
My heart jumps, and I quickly unlock my phone and hand it to him. “You want to be my partner?”
“We would not be partners.” His tone is firm as he quickly types on my phone. “I would be an investor only. I’d loan you the capital to reopen, then you’d pay me back with interest.”
I know how investors work. I also know the current business climate. “How long would you be willing to wait?”
“I’ll give you until things are back on track.” He escorts me to the door. “If it’s still something you want to do, update your business plan,