Written in Stone (7 page)

Chapter 6

When poets write about food it is usually celebratory. Food as the thing-in-itself,
but also the thoughtful preparation of meals, the serving of meals, meals communally
shared: a sense of sacred in the profane.

—J
OYCE
C
AROL
O
ATES

T
he television crew from the Foodie Network descended upon The Boot Top Bistro Monday
morning. The first to enter was a man wearing a T-shirt and black jeans holding a
take-out coffee cup. He was followed by several harried assistants on cell phones
and a group of unshaven cameramen and sound and light technicians.

The man in the T-shirt, who ignored The Boot Top’s staff until he’d walked around
the restaurant’s bar and dining areas, turned out to be the director, Noah Wiseman.
He stood the middle of the dining room in complete silence for several minutes, sipping
his coffee and studying the space. Then, he abruptly turned and strode back to the
entrance. He introduced himself to Olivia while examining her from head to toe. “You’ve
got a good look. Not sure that dress is going to work. We might have to shoot you
in the bar.” His eyes roved around the restaurant, assessing and eager, and his fingers
tapped an energetic rhythm against his takeout cup.

“Would you like to see the kitchen?” Olivia asked. “Michel has prepared a special
treat for you.”

Noah smiled at her like she was the village idiot. “I only eat raw foods, but I’m
sure the rest of the crew will be delighted.” His eyes glazed over and he began to
stroke his chin. “We’ll do your interview first, then Michel’s, then film some action
in the kitchen, and if there’s time, we’ll get some local color shots and . . .” His
fingers fell still. “There’s a lighthouse, right? People love lighthouses. And beach
scenes.” He looked over his shoulder. “Candice? My notes?”

A bony girl bustled forward and handed Noah a clipboard. He looked at it, flipped
a sheet over, and then handed it back to her and began to dictate a time line for
the day’s filming. Olivia listened patiently until the director began discussing the
rearrangement of the dining room in order to accommodate additional lighting. He pointed
at wall outlets and gestured across the carpet, and one of the male crewmembers came
forward with a trio of electric orange extension cords.

“Excuse me.” Olivia positioned herself directly in front of Noah. “While I’m honored
to have The Boot Top featured on
Talk of the Town
, this is still a place of business. You asked for us to carry on as if this were
any other day, and in order for us to do so, our customers and servers need to be
able to move about without fear of tripping. Why don’t you tell me how you’d like
to stage the dining room and we can work together to make everything flow smoothly?”

Candice’s mouth hung open in surprise but Noah didn’t seem to mind Olivia’s directness.
“Yes, let’s do it!” he said and gestured for Candice to hand Olivia his clipboard.

Instead of taking it, Olivia beckoned Noah to follow her. “Come to the bar. Gabe will
fix you a virgin Bloody Mary that adheres to your diet.”

Noah held out a warning finger. “Only if there’s no Worcestershire sauce and the horseradish
is fresh.” He pursed his lips. “Does he make a good Bloody Mary? Could help me get
over this jet lag.”

Olivia smiled knowingly. “I think you’ll be pleasantly surprised.”

As it turned out, Gabe’s sister had gone on a raw-food diet six months after becoming
a vegan and he was thereby well versed in which ingredients were acceptable and which
were not. He presented Noah with the perfect Bloody Mary, and while the director was
sipping happily away, showed him The Boot Top’s wine list, pointing out all the choices
that were sulfite free.

“We need to shoot a segment of Gabe at work,” Noah said, turning to Olivia. “He oozes
charisma from every pore. What are the house cocktail specialties?”

“Right now we’re featuring The Boot Top Bellini and an Oyster Bay Breeze. I’ll let
Gabe tell you about them while I invite your crew to sample Michel’s fare. He came
in very early to make something special and I don’t want him to think his efforts
were wasted.”

In truth, she wanted him to be in a good mood for what looked to be a very long day,
so she waved at the men and women who’d be calling The Boot Top home for the next
eight to ten hours and asked them to join her in the kitchen.

Michel had laid out an exquisite breakfast buffet of scallion goat cheese muffins,
chorizo frittatas, applewood smoked bacon, poached apricots, and rum raisin sticky
buns. The table was festooned with citrus-colored orchids, and a French press filled
with coffee stood at the ready.

The Boot Top’s head chef was industriously chopping carrots at the butcher block when
Olivia and the TV crew entered the kitchen. He looked up as if he were pleasantly
surprised by their arrival, wiped his hands on his apron, and spread his arms wide
in a gesture of welcome. He was beaming.

“Welcome to my kitchen!” he called out happily, his faint French accent more pronounced.
His smile wobbled slightly. “Where’s Mr. Wiseman?”

“Being spoiled by Gabe,” Olivia assured him. “Let these folks indulge before your
magnificent dishes grow cold, and in the meantime, you can introduce yourself and
the rest of the kitchen staff.”

Taking her advice, Michel described the dishes he’d prepared and then served coffee
with steamed milk to the crew, asking their names and pausing to exchange brief biographical
tidbits with each and every person. He was so gracious and charming that the crewmembers
nearly forgot they were there to work.

Noah Wiseman quickly put an end to the relaxed atmosphere. Waltzing into the kitchen
he announced, “No, no. This won’t do at all!”

Michel looked stricken, the sous-chefs offended. Even the dishwasher frowned and quickly
dried his hands on a towel as if he might be called upon to defend The Boot Top’s
honor by stepping outside and throwing a few punches.

Candice immediately put her fork down and hastened to Noah’s side, clipboard at the
ready.

He turned to her. “How am I going to get a wide shot? I need to see this kitchen in
action. I want curtains of steam and flames leaping from sauté pans. This space is
too, too narrow.” Throwing out his hands, he said, “It’ll be like shooting in Manhattan
all over again!”

“And look what magic you were able to create there,” Candice said in a honeyed voice.

Noah brightened. “It was exciting, wasn’t it? Where’s my chef?”

At last, Michel was able to present himself to the director and the pair fell into
an easy conversation over the proposed menu. Meanwhile, the crewmembers had second
helpings from the breakfast buffet and began to wander around the restaurant to search
for outlets, test the lighting, and pile up equipment in the bar.

Leaving them to their tasks, Olivia disappeared into her office. She walked around
Haviland’s sleeping form and sat down in front of her computer. The poodle opened
his eyes briefly, only to shut them again after receiving a cursory pat on the head.
Accustomed to the clanging of pots and pans and the sound of Michel shouting to his
underlings, he was unfazed by the additional noise created by the TV crew.

Olivia decided to use the time before her interview researching the class ring embedded
in the memory jug. Though the name of the school was hidden from view, it was still
possible to see a sliver of green stone poking out of the epoxy. Last night, Olivia
had studied the exposed side of the ring with a magnifying glass and had discovered
a small symbol inside a shield. It looked like a bee or wasp, but she had yet to find
a high school whose mascot was an insect.

Unable to sleep, Olivia had taken her laptop to bed and had surfed until she’d found
several companies who produced class rings. Since then, she’d gone through online
catalogues until the bright gemstones, embossed crests, Latin mottos, and school names
blurred together.

None of the catalog samples matched the shield found on the jug’s ring, but Olivia
refused to give up. Hoping the piece of jewelry came from North Carolina, she now
began to systematically look up each and every high school in the state, scrolling
through page after page of material before locating the school colors and mascot.

She had just finished looking at New Bern High’s website and was about to cross its
name off her list when someone knocked timidly on her door.

“Come in,” Olivia said without turning around.

“Ms. Limoges.” Candice spoke in a deferential whisper. “Noah’s ready to interview
you now.”

Following Candice to the bar, Olivia was amazed by the network of power cords crisscrossing
the carpet and the blinding brightness of the lights directed on Gabe as he prepared
a Boot Top Bellini for the camera.

Olivia didn’t need to be a director to see that Gabe was a natural. Completely at
ease in the spotlight, he smiled and spoke in the relaxed conversational tone that
encouraged customers to show up at the bar well before dinner. With his all-American-surfer-boy
good looks and the devotion with which he performed his job, Gabe was sure to coax
droves of female
Talk of the Town
viewers into visiting the Carolina coast.

Delighted by Gabe’s performance, Noah asked him to wrap up by serving a glass of red
wine and an Oyster Bay Breeze to a well-dressed tourist couple Candice had plucked
from the streets. This simple sequence was filmed at least five times before Noah
was satisfied. Finally, the cameras and the powerful lights were turned off and the
tourists returned to their vacation, a gift certificate for a free meal in hand.

“We’re in the kitchen in five, people!” Noah shouted and sank into one of the bar’s
leather club chairs. He held out his hand, palm up, clearly waiting for Candice to
fulfill an unspoken demand.

She was ready with a pack of cigarettes and a lighter, but when the director went
to light up, Olivia grabbed his wrist. “Not in here, please. You can smoke out back.
That’s where the staff goes.”

Noah’s cigarette dangled from between pursed lips, his expression incredulous. But
then he shrugged, said, “Sure thing,” and headed through the swing doors to the kitchen.

Fifteen minutes later, Olivia grew tired of waiting for her interview and returned
to her office. She clicked on the next high school on her list, searching their website
until she discovered that the school’s colors were gold and white and their mascot,
a wild mustang. Thus far, she’d encountered bulldogs and devils, pirates and horses,
eagles and rams, warriors and cavaliers, but not a single bug.

“No bees,” she muttered and moved on to the next school.

From his spot on the floor, Haviland yawned, stretched, and nudged Olivia in the thigh,
indicating his need to be let outside. They headed through the kitchen and opened
the back door to find Noah and one of the sous-chefs in deep conversation.

Noah turned to Olivia and exclaimed, “This man is a treasure! We’re going to have
to expand this segment to include his story.” He pointed at Olivia. “I need you at
the bar in five.”

Noah disappeared and the sous-chef, whose name was Willis Locklear, peered at his
employer from beneath long dark lashes. He seemed embarrassed by the director’s interest
and quickly stubbed out his cigarette on a loose brick near the door. “Sorry, Ms.
Limoges.”

She waved off the apology. “Don’t be silly. I know you haven’t been with us long,
but Michel said you’d bring something unique to the kitchen staff. I guess Mr. Wiseman
saw it too.”

Willis shrugged, his young face relaxing. “I’m part Lumbee Indian. I was telling Mr.
Wiseman that Michel let me have time off to do a Native American cooking presentation
at the festival this weekend and now that director guy wants me to talk about how
my Lumbee background adds flavor to this kitchen. On camera.”

Olivia watched Haviland trot behind the shrubbery lining the parking lot
.
“Isn’t your tribe having a major celebration at the national forest?”

He nodded, his dark eyes filled with eagerness. “Yeah, a powwow. Good thing I’ve got
most of Friday and all of Saturday off. We’re gonna have dancing and stories and cool
music. And food, of course. My sister is setting up a craft tent and I’m going to
help her out.” He flashed Olivia a quick smile. “You should come. Our site isn’t too
far from where you’ll be judging, and if you’ve never hung around a bunch of Lumbee
before, then you don’t what fun is.”

Was I ever this young and full of life?
Olivia wondered silently, listening as Willis described his tribal costume. “I’ve
never been to a powwow, but how could I resist after hearing you describe it? My friends
and I will head over to your part of the forest as soon as we’re done at the food
festival.”

The door to the kitchen opened and Candice emerged into the bright sunlight. “Ms.
Limoges, we’re ready for you. Melanie will do your hair and makeup while I prep you
for the interview.”

It took over an hour for Olivia to respond to Noah’s questions to his satisfaction.
She refused to discuss anything about her past other than that she’d spent the first
ten years of her life in Oyster Bay and had returned nearly three decades later to
move within sight of her childhood home and open The Boot Top Bistro. Her affection
for the town and its people shone through most clearly when she spoke of the area
fishermen and farmers, the local merchants, and the Bayside Book Writers.

Once the filming was complete, she thanked Noah and the crew and escaped to her office.
It was finally Michel’s turn to strut his stuff. Knowing her head chef would be preparing
some of the best dishes of his career and that Noah wanted to capture real patrons
enjoying Michel’s fine cuisine, Olivia had decided to keep The Boot Top’s regular
hours. Last week, she’d told the hostess taking reservations to alert future diners
about the presence of a television crew. As a result, the reservation book had been
filled days ago.