CHAPTER FORTY-THREE
All their hard work had—well, perhaps not—come to fruition. Not yet. But they were well on the way. The staff had been hired, the menu perfected, the diner redecorated. There were a few glitches to work out, but that was the purpose of the soft opening. Theresa bent over the desk in the tiny diner office to go over her checklist. She was going to forget something, she knew it.
“You okay?” Ilya came up behind her to press a kiss to the nape of her neck in the spot guaranteed to send a thrill all through her. “Nervous?”
Theresa turned to kiss his mouth, her fingers linked loosely behind his neck. “A little. Not too much.”
“You don’t look nervous. You look gorgeous. Like you should be on the menu under dessert.” He nibbled at her neck, making her giggle and twist away from him.
“We’re not alone,” she said. “And, hey, only dessert? I thought I would at least be a full entrée with two sides, including your choice of soup or salad.”
“Super salad. Comes with a cape.” Ilya snorted soft laughter against her skin, but he let her go.
She saw something in his eyes and gave him another kiss. “You’re nervous.”
He broke away from her to pace. “Nah. No need to be nervous. What’s the worst that could happen? We could get a bad review on an Internet site.”
“Hey.” She snagged his elbow until he stopped and faced her. “It’s going to be fine. We got this.”
“I know dick-all about running a diner, Theresa. What the hell made me think I could do this?”
“I did,” she told him honestly. “I made you think you could do this.”
Solemnly, Ilya pulled her closer. “It’s going to be all right. Right?”
“Absolutely.” At the knock on the door, they both turned. “Come in!”
Niko poked his head around the door. “Hey, guys! We’re a little early. Is that cool? We came in the back. The front’s still locked, and the girl out there wouldn’t open up.”
“That’s Britney, and we told her not to open until we gave her the okay. So far, so good.” Theresa eased herself out of Ilya’s embrace to give Niko a hug. “Hey, Alicia. Thanks for coming.”
Alicia had come through after him, and she hugged Theresa, too. After a moment’s hesitation, she also hugged Ilya, but briefly. She looked down at her dress, then laughed. “I was worried I’d be overdressed.”
Theresa did a small twirl to show off her black cocktail gown and heels. “Hey, this is as fancy as this joint might ever get. Might as well do it up for tonight, at least.”
Alicia laughed. “You look great. Are you guys excited? Big night.”
“Big night,” Theresa agreed.
Ilya and Niko, heads together, had gone out of the office already. Alicia and Theresa followed, through the kitchen where Billy, the cook, and his assistant, Hank, were ready in their whites. In the dining room, the new servers, Britney and Sam, waited with order pads in hand, while Betty, who’d been a waitress at the diner for the past thirty years, lounged against the counter and typed on her phone. She was probably the only person here tonight who wasn’t at least a little nervous.
Beyond the glass front doors, Ilya had spread a narrow red carpet. A red velvet rope hung in front of the doors. Beyond that—
“Oh, shit,” Ilya said aloud. “People.”
“Shh. You invited them,” Theresa said. “It’s friends and family, and they’re going to come in here, order some food, and celebrate with us. It’s all going to be great. Deep breath.”
He kissed her. “Let’s do it.”
So, they did it.
Britney, given permission, went ahead and opened the doors. People came in and were handed a hundred dollars in B’s Diner Bucks, fake cash Ilya had printed up for use tonight since all the meals were going to be on the house. Sam, acting as host, asked everyone if they had a reservation and checked their names in the book where Theresa had listed a random selection of their guests in order to simulate a regular night at the diner. Finally, everyone was seated with brand-new menus in front of them, ready to get started.
“It’s all going fine,” Theresa said from behind the lunch counter as Ilya studied the room. “See?”
“My mother’s not here.”
“You invited her, she’ll be here. Do you really think she’d miss it?” Theresa took his hand to squeeze it.
Ilya attempted a smile that didn’t come out looking sincere. “I’m thinking maybe I’m hoping she will.”
“I’m going to check the kitchen, make sure Billy’s got it all under control. It’s unlikely that anyone ordered the liver pudding, but you never know.” It had been one of the more obscure items in Babulya’s recipe box, not particularly Russian and not exactly Jewish, but Ilya had insisted on including it on the menu.
Billy, as it turned out, had everything completely under control, including the liver pudding, which one person had indeed ordered. Theresa checked a few of the steaming pots and gave Hank a thumbs-up at his place on the grill. She’d only been gone a few minutes and pushed out through the swinging doors, expecting to find Ilya just beyond them where she’d left him.
“You’ll never believe it. Someone ordered it. I bet it was . . . Niko . . .”
“Hi, kiddo.”
Theresa stopped, stunned. “Dad. What are you doing here?”
“Ilya invited me,” her father said with a sheepish grin, holding out his hands. “I wanted to be here for your big night.”