By S. F. Brooke
It had been a relatively slow evening for the restaurant and so when Plummette received a call from Adam wanting to reserve a table for the night, she was happy to oblige. After placing the reserved marker on Adam’s favourite table, the one set in an out of the way corner by the window, she made her way to the kitchen. Peeking her head in, she looked around for her boyfriend, only to find him in the process of creating a new, experimental pastry.
“Lumiere,” she called out to get his attention. “Adam called, he reserved his usual table.”
Lumiere looked up from the dough he was kneading, his smile bright enough to light the room. “Oh, that’s merveilleux! Merci, mon amour.”
“I thought you’d like to know that he’s bringing someone new,” She continued with a smile. “Apparently his vice-principal has never been to a proper French restaurant. He and Belle decided to help him in that regard.”
Lumiere gasped, hand on his chest as if the very notion of a life without French cuisine was simply unbelievable. “Mon Dieu! The poor thing! I will ensure he experiences all of the pleasures of a proper meal!”
“I knew you would,” Plummet chuckled at his antics, leaning in to give him a kiss on the cheek before leaving the kitchen. “I’ll be sure to let you know when they arrive.”