Angels at the Table (Angels Everywhere #7)(17)

“Lucie, Lucie, sweetie, let it go.” Wendy placed a restraining hand on her daughter’s arm. “Don’t let that ridiculous article upset you so much.”

Her mother remained cool and calm, which served only to infuriate Lucie more. Apparently her gentle-hearted, optimistic mother didn’t understand what this might do to their restaurant. This could be the beginning of the end.

Wendy seemed to take this horrible review in her stride, whereas Lucie was at the boiling point, but then she’d been the brunt of much of the printed piece.

“You’re taking this much too seriously,” Wendy warned.

Lucie stared at her mother. Wendy had always been the optimist in the family, the one who never failed to find something good in any situation. When her mother had first read the review, Wendy had actually suggested that the reviewer must have had a bad day. The poor reporter was probably on a deadline and hadn’t taken time to enjoy his meal.

“Don’t you understand that a review like this could ruin us?” If Lucie had said it once, she’d said it ten times, but apparently the words had yet to sink into her mother’s head.

“Perhaps so, but personally I don’t think we need to worry.” Wendy poured hot tea into her cup and blew onto the steaming liquid before she took a sip. “We haven’t seen a decline in reservations, have we?”

“How could we?” Lucie snapped. “The review is less than twenty-four hours old. Mom, don’t you understand? Readers pay attention to these restaurant reviews. Even if we manage to survive, this has the potential to set us back for years.” Lucie didn’t want to be negative, but one of them had to be realistic. To be reviewed in its own right was a big deal. With literally thousands of restaurants to choose from, to have Eaton Well dine at their establishment meant Heavenly Delights had caused something of a stir. Enough to warrant the Gazette’s attention.

Still, how dare the reviewer criticize her sauce. She’d worked hard on that recipe and she’d put it up against any chef’s in the industry.

Wendy remained unfazed. “Lucie, you worry too much. We have a large number of loyal customers.”

“Don’t you understand? Didn’t you read the article?” Lucie didn’t need to retrieve the printed page. After reading the worst of it several times over she had the comments memorized: “Heavenly Delights is anything but. Those with high blood pressure beware, the chef has a heavy hand with both lemon and salt. So much salt that she must have drained the Dead Sea in the beurre blanc sauce … seriously, whoever is in the kitchen needs to return to culinary school or hang up their hat entirely.” Lucie was too upset to continue.

“I agree that comment wasn’t the least bit kind.”

“It was a desperate effort to sound clever and witty at my expense.” Lucie seethed every time she thought about those cutting remarks.

“I don’t think you should take it personally, Lucie.”

“Not take it personally! How can you say that? This is definitely personal. It’s an attack on my credibility. The reviewer might as well have said I’m unqualified. Come to think of it, that’s in the article as well.” Lucie struggled to contain her outrage. Of all the nerve. Eaton Well knew nothing about her, nor was it necessary to write his or her review. The food critic didn’t have a clue of the sacrifices she’d made in order to attend culinary school or how she’d worked nights and weekends until she was too exhausted to think. As far as she was concerned this critic was heartless and unfair.

Her mother continued to drink her tea, setting the cup carefully back in the saucer. “Answer me this: When was the last time you took a night off?”

Lucie collapsed into the chair. “Are you suggesting that I’m so overworked that I—”

“I’m not saying anything of the sort. What I am suggesting is that you need to step back, take a deep breath, and let this roll off your back. A single bad review isn’t going to destroy us.”

Lucie wished she could believe that. Clearly her mother didn’t have a clue how serious this situation was. Until recently Wendy hadn’t been part of the culinary world. Lucie’s mother didn’t understand that these restaurant reviews could be incredibly influential.

The phone rang and Wendy reached across the kitchen counter and snagged it.

Lucie only half-listened to the conversation. It didn’t take long for her to recognize that the person on the other end of the line was a friend of her mother’s who’d phoned to commiserate.

“I’m not the least bit concerned,” Wendy insisted. “I know my daughter. Anyone who’s ever tasted Lucie’s cooking recognizes that she’s a fully qualified chef. My daughter knows her way around the kitchen. No, no, we aren’t going to file charges against the newspaper. This was one person’s opinion. Most people prefer to judge a restaurant themselves. It’s unfortunate that he or she had a bad experience but we can’t make everyone happy all the time.”

That was true enough, Lucie realized. Still, she would have preferred to have this reporter brag endlessly about her cooking instead of lambasting her on every level.

Wendy had no sooner hung up the phone when it rang a second time. “Oh, hi, Juliana. Yes, of course we saw it. No, I’m not worried. Thank you. I’ll tell Lucie. Really?” After a couple of moments of silence, her mother sat up straighter and fixed her gaze on Lucie.