Just Add Spice

Tad grinned. “Which made it all the more comical that you took out six metal garbage cans and an entire Dumpster backing up to a dock. It’s a wonder you didn’t jack-knife the trailer.”

“Someone had to get that furniture delivered on time—and it wasn’t going to be the driver because he had the stomach flu and was vomiting for two days straight.” She playfully glared at her best friend and said, “I didn’t hear you volunteering to drive.”

“Me, in a semi?” He scoffed good-naturedly. “The terror that would ensue! I’d be plowing over cars, not garbage cans. Wailing on the horn to get people out of the way, screaming out the window for them to run for their lives. Well, it’d be more horrifying than a Stephen King novel.”

Everyone laughed. Jenna said, “So true. Tad doesn’t even have a license.”

“Why drive when you can fly? Or take a limo?” He shot her a look. She snickered at him.

“Sounds like someone else we know,” Tonio said before dropping his arm and returning to the prep table.

Jenna slid a glance toward Rafe. His jaw was set. She instinctively knew he didn’t like another man putting his arm around her. That it was a married cousin of his obviously bought Tonio a pass. But she could also see the last couple of comments didn’t sit right with him.

To lighten his mood, she said, “Tad also doesn’t cook, so please don’

t let him near anything flammable or we’ll have an even bigger remodel on our hands.”

More laughter. Rafe chuckled. “Duly noted.”

“All right,” she said. “Tad and I need to get organized. It’s business as usual around here until we get rolling. Then I project we’ll be closing the doors for three days before we have a grand reopening.”

“Everyone will continue to be paid,” Rafe assured his staff. “And I’ll supplement the lost tips for the servers and bartenders.”

Jenna smiled at his generosity. “Very considerate of you, Rafe.”

“I want this done right, Jen. And my staff is not what’s keeping customers away. My family knows how to run a kitchen and serve people. It’s part of our heritage.”

“I know,” she concurred. “I’ve seen how everyone here operates. And you all have a vested interest not just as family members—as the majority of you are—but as employees. I’m sure you’ll be pleased with the outcome.”

They all looked excited by the prospect of an updated Sampogna’s—and the potential for more customers.

Rafe gave his own pep talk, then everyone went to work as the dining room filled for both lunch and then dinner now that news of Jenna’s work in San Francisco had hit the Internet and the local TV stations. Tad had his own large following and he’d used his social media savvy to plug his appearance at the restaurant as well. The reservation book was maxed out, and Jenna had to juggle a number of tables to accommodate a party of sixteen from Rafe’s family tree. Luckily, they were willing to come in after eight.

As she prepped their table in the center of the room, Tad joined her and said, “You weren’t kidding about the staff here. Not only can they efficiently handle the volume, but they thrive on this dining room being packed. They must’ve been bored to tears lately.”

“Yes. The first lunch service I worked, I had to keep them busy at the servers’ station so they didn’t look as though they were a flock of vultures circling, waiting for someone to drop a fork or need more water. Five waiters per table makes for a very scary scene from a customer’s perspective.”

“They’re extremely attentive. Gracious.”

“Wait until we have them trained on the point-of-service software and computers I’ll be purchasing. This whole place will hum with energy and run even more smoothly.”

“I noticed they still use old-fashioned green and white tickets and an order wheel in the back.”

She laughed. “Rafe has difficulty with progression in a lot of areas. At any rate, I haven’t told him about the POS enhancement yet, so don’t spoil my surprise. I’m also putting two iPads at the hostess desk for reservation management and so guests can book online through the website and Open Table.”

With a wicked glint in his tawny eyes, Tad said, “You just love to blow the man’s mind, don’t you?”

“He’ll come around when he sees how much more productive his staff can be, and how quickly orders will come into and leave the kitchen. The customers will be happy they don’t have lengthy wait times as well.”

“Any new thoughts on the color scheme?”

“Not a one,” she said.

“That’s too bad. These walls are killing me. There’s no contrast in this room. It’s all too soft and demure and…what a snooze-fest.”

“The daisies help.”

“Exponentially. But still, with these classic nineteenth-century Palladian chandeliers and that butter color on the walls, this is so very ancestral. Stately. Like we’re dining in first class on the Titantic. And we all know how that story ended.”