The Truth Revealed
When the meals arrived, my son watched as his cousins cracked lobster shells and dipped the meat into butter. Then Chef Michael stepped out of the kitchen. I stood to greet him loudly enough for nearby tables to hear.
“Michael, let me introduce my family,” I said. “This is my sister Claire, my mother Patricia, my nieces Sophia and Emma — and this,” I added, placing a hand on my son’s shoulder, “is my son, Tyler.”
“Michael has been our head chef for two years,” I continued, meeting Claire’s gaze. “And I am the owner of Meridian. I bought this restaurant eighteen months ago.”
Silence fell over the table. Claire froze, fork halfway to her mouth. “What?”
“Yes, I own it. So when you told them not to feed the extras, you said it in my restaurant, to my employee, about my child.”
“I didn’t know…” she whispered.
“You didn’t know because you never asked. You assumed I was still struggling, still living paycheck to paycheck.”
I turned to Michael. “Chef, my son would like to order now. Tyler, what would you like?”
“Lobster platter?” he said timidly.
“One lobster platter for my son,” I said. “And please add truffle mac and cheese, grilled asparagus, and a chocolate lava cake for dessert. Also, make him one of your off-menu specials — something fit for a fourteen-year-old who was just called an extra.”
Michael smiled. “I know exactly what to make. I’ll handle it personally.”
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