Lola stepped out of the hug, appearing more confident now that her sister was there. Still not looking at him, she picked up a wrapped straw, ripped off the paper, and stuck it in her mouth. “It’s fine. I just passed the first audit. When is everyone else getting here?”
Portia pulled out her cell phone and set it on the bar. “I sent the text out an hour ago, so I’d expect them soon.”
Lola picked it up and read something to herself before looking up at her sister. “And the other text?”
Portia took the phone back for a moment, pressed a couple of buttons then handed the phone back. “That went out, too.”
He glanced at Ryan. “What text?”
Ryan threw his hands up. “Don’t look at me, man. Portia left me out of the loop on this one.”
“Why don’t Ryan and I light the candles on the tables and set up the portable heaters while you get things ready in the kitchen?”
Lola nodded and finally dragged her gaze to him. Flashlight in hand, he followed her into the kitchen where she picked up a knife from the counter. “Could you get the trays from the closet?”
As if he’d argue with a woman brandishing a knife.
In perfect harmony, they chopped the vegetables and worked together to prepare the dishes which would hopefully impress the food critic at least enough to pass the audit. The kitchen was so quiet, he heard the knife as it sunk through the juicy flesh of the tomato and the olive oil as it covered the cheese with its flavor.
The door swung open and Jenny walked in, audibly inhaling. “The food critic just got here. I sat him at table five. Are you ready?”
When had his staff arrived? He peeked at his watch. They’d been cutting, dicing, slicing, and mixing for two hours.
“We’re ready,” Lola answered. She hoisted a tray above her shoulders and carried it out with confidence.
He wasn’t prepared for the scene he encountered in the dining room as he followed. Every table was occupied by family and friends. His father and sister sat at one table with a woman Braden guessed was Patricia. Portia and Ryan sat at another with Reina and George. Ryan’s parents drank wine in a corner booth. Dozens of people from the Greek American community had rallied together and shown up to support Lola and Braden.
A young man around his age with wire-rimmed glasses sat alone in a booth, a glass of white wine and a laptop perched in front of him—the food critic from the newspaper. Braden intended to keep him so busy he’d forget to take notes.
Lola strolled to his table and set down the tray. “Hi. I’m Lola and this is Braden, the owner and manager. Welcome to Acropolis, where all your dreams come true.”
He huffed. “Frank Caruthers. My dreams usually include electricity. I don’t know how you expect to pass without it.”
Lola didn’t acknowledge the critic’s displeasure. “This afternoon, the dining room is filled with our family and friends.” She waved her arm out in a grand gesture. “I’m certain you’re familiar with the concept of small plates.”
“Of course.” Frank adjusted his glasses and eyed the platter of food in front of him. “I’ve reviewed a couple of them right here in the Metro-area.”
“Wonderful. And because you’re so knowledgeable about food, you surely have experienced a traditional Greek family gathering.”
He frowned and squirmed in his chair. “No, I can’t say that I have.”
“Well, now you can check that off your silver bucket list, because today, you are part of our family. As is traditional in Greece, family and friends share several mezethes, or small plates in a variety of flavors, textures, and sensations. These mezethes are paired with the right drink, which in this case, is ouzo, the Greek liquor.” She snapped her fingers and Stephan brought him a glass. “Each table will share the Greek bruschetta Lathovrekto, the chickpea dip hommus, a yogurt dip tzaziki, tomato and cucumber salad, marinated octopus, and of course, the saganaki.”
Stationed at various spots around the dining room, Braden’s staff held their trays in the air, sparked their lighters, and simultaneously yelled, “Opa!” Fire shot up toward the ceiling then died down as the waiters and waitresses squeezed lemon juice over the flaming cheese.
Everyone clapped, including Frank. “Quite a display. Now let’s see if it tastes as good as it looks.”
Portia and Ryan came up to the table. “May we join you?”
Lola threw an arm around Portia. “As I explained, it’s traditional to share the food with family and friends. This is my sister, Portia, and her fiancé, Ryan, who is Braden’s best friend.”