One Perfect Touch - Layla Hagen
Chapter One
Rob
“Do you want me to go with you to see the house today? I can make time,” my sister Anne said as we sat in a nook in our flagship restaurant in lower Manhattan, a neighborhood referred to as Tribeca.
I was in the process of moving to the city again and needed to find a place to live. My sister and her daughter lived in a suburb, and I was hoping to find a house close to them. After having been back in town for three weeks, I was tired of living in a hotel. Looking out the window at the mix of high-rise buildings and restored factories, I’d realized just how much I missed New York.
“No, Anne, I’m good on my own. You and Lindsay have things to do.” I ruffled Lindsay’s hair as she squealed in delight. I loved this little kid as if she were my own, and this last year had taken a toll on them both.
I managed the Dumont chain of restaurants, a business handed down through the family. Over the last ten years, we’d grown into a substantial empire. We had two headquarters: one in New York, one in LA. Anne’s ex-husband had been the CEO of the East Coast restaurants, headquartered in New York. I’d been the CEO of the West Coast branch. After Anne’s ex left not only his family but also the business, I replaced myself in LA and returned to New York. It was good to be back home.
This location was one of our finest; the inside mirrored that mix of architecture typical for Tribeca. It was a combination of glass, wood, and red brick, each used in a variety of ways. The tabletops were made out of glass, the window arches from red brick, and the lighting fixtures hanging from the ceiling were a mix of wood and black metal, giving the restaurant an industrial decor.
“Uncle Rob, is it true you’re not going back to LA?” Lindsay asked. She was eight and much taller than most kids her age. She was like a mashup of my sister and me. Anne and I didn’t look much alike. My hair was dark, my eyes green. Anne was blonde with blue eyes. Lindsay had green eyes and blonde hair. Fortunately, not many of her father’s genes came into play. That asshole.
“I’m not, bops. I’m staying here, and I’m looking at houses close to you and your mom.”
Lindsay smiled from ear to ear. She was my weakness. Since the day she was born, I’d had a soft spot for her, and it had only grown over the years. Even when I lived on a different coast, I’d made time for her. Whether on business trips to the city or weekly FaceTime chats, Lindsay knew she could always count on me.
She glanced at Anne. “Can I have fries and nuggets?”
Anne shook her head. “We’re here to taste the new menu, remember?”
Lindsay pouted before focusing on me. “But I don’t like the menus. They taste funny.”
I chuckled but didn’t disagree. Our five-course menus were definitely not for children—too many vegetables and spices that didn’t appeal to their palates. It was one reason why we had a kids menu with the standard fare.
“Fine, you can have fries and nuggets,” Anne said.
Lindsay squealed. Rising from our table, she went to the edge of the private nook, waving at the waiters excitedly. Someone was impatient for her nuggets.
With Lindsay out of earshot, Anne leaned in, whispering, “Rob, are you sure you want to move to the suburbs? You love Manhattan. You used to live in a penthouse on Park Avenue. You don’t have to do it for us.” Now that she and Lindsay were on their own, she thought I was trying to take care of them, which I was... but I wasn’t admitting it.
“I told you, that’s not why I’m doing it.” I put my best give-me-a-break face on, hoping it looked sincere.
“Uh-huh. Just like you’re not moving back to New York for us?”
“The LA business is running smoothly. It was time to come back home. As to why I’m moving to the suburbs, it’s not just to be closer to you two. I’ve grown accustomed to having a yard for the last four years. I want that here too, and that’s hard to find in the city.” I winked, hoping to put her at ease.
Although my arguments were solid, the truth was that I was coming back because Anne had just finalized her divorce two weeks