Raw sobs tore from her throat as she allowed the devastation of the lawyer’s words to take full effect. What the hell was she going to do now? Not even when Rhys and Alicia had betrayed her had she felt this distraught, this dispossessed.
It was late afternoon by the time she managed to pull herself together. Downstairs she could hear the noises of preparation in the kitchen. It would be another busy night and she needed to pull herself together and get down there.
Blair dragged herself through a quick shower and put on her double-breasted chef jacket and checkered trousers before lacing up her shoes.
A sense of inevitability settled on her shoulders. What would be would be. She’d find some way to get around whatever the new owner wanted. Besides, why automatically assume that they wouldn’t want to keep her on? Carson’s made an excellent tenant. Feeling slightly buoyed by the thought, she made her way downstairs.
Gustav bailed her up the minute he saw her.
“What’s up, sweetie? You look like you’ve been through the wringer. Is it your Italian? Do I need to deal with him?”
“No…no, it’s not Draco. We’ve stopped seeing one another anyway. It’s—”
Blair’s chin started to wobble and Gustav led her straight into her office, pushing her gently down on her chair. He squatted down in front of her and took both her hands in his.
“C’mon, sweetie, let it out. Tell me what’s wrong.”
“The building’s been sold. I tried to buy it but they said it had already been sold.”
“But they can’t do that,” Gustav protested. “Don’t you have to be given notice?”
“I got that yesterday, but I thought I’d have time to put an offer forward, that as the tenant I might stand a better chance to buy the property. But it was too late.”
“And what about your lease?”
“It’s with the previous owner only.”
“So it’s simple. We renegotiate with the new owner, yes? No need for tears. They’d be mad to lose us here.”
“But what if they wanted the building for something else? What if—”
“It’ll be okay, just you wait and see. Now dry your eyes and get back into that kitchen. We’ve got an amazing night ahead.”
“Hey, who’s the boss here?”
“I am,” Gustav answered with a cheeky smile. “I just let you think you are most of the time.” He went to leave her office.
“Gus?” she called, making him stop and turn around. “Thanks. I’ll see if we can set up a meeting with the new owners and negotiate a new lease in the next few days.”
“That’s my girl,” Gus said with a wink.
The night was chaotic but satisfying. By the time Blair laid her head on her pillow she was too exhausted to even think, let alone dream up possible scenarios for Carson’s.
The morning dawned bright and clear—one of those incredibly crisp autumn days that made the sky so blue you felt as if you could stare into its ceiling forever.
Blair contacted the lawyer again and requested a meeting as soon as possible with the new owners. The lawyer said he’d need some time to sort it all out, but when he rang back just before she went into the kitchen, he sounded just as surprised as she did that the new owner had agreed to meet with her the next morning.
She could barely keep her mind on her work, she was so apprehensive about the meeting. But she tried to channel Gustav’s positivity, as if by hoping for a positive outcome, it could genuinely make it happen.
The night seemed endless, even after she’d done her final rounds and locked everything up—even after she’d showered and lay in bed for hours, staring at the dark painted ceiling above her.
Finally it was morning. She dressed with extra care, wanting to present the most professional impression of herself and the restaurant that she could.
They’d agreed to meet in the dining room itself at ten, and Blair was pacing back and forth between the tables, wondering for the umpteenth time whether she should have changed from her only suit—a severely cut black number with which she’d teamed sheer black stockings and low-heeled shoes, eschewing a blouse underneath for a wisteria-blue silk camisole she’d treated herself to in Italy—into something less dramatic. The waistband on her skirt was snug, the first visible indication of her pregnancy. She rested her palm against her lower belly. Her baby—Draco’s baby—was growing. She wouldn’t be able to ignore it for much longer.
The rap at the door made her jump and she wheeled about, taking a second to smooth her hands down over her jacket, giving it a little tug to straighten the edges, before moving across the floor to welcome her new landlord.