One Perfect Touch - Layla Hagen Page 0,1

ago, and she and Lindsay were going through a rough time. I wanted to be closer to them to be available to help out in any way I could. I could have just hired someone else here to replace her ex and stayed in LA. It would have been easier, but I never chose the easy way.

Our parents had moved to the south of France after retiring, and we didn’t have any other family in the area. So yes, I was moving to the suburbs primarily for them. I wanted us to be able to get together spontaneously for meals, and it was easier if we lived in the same suburb. The yard was just a bonus; I could take it or leave it.

“You’ve been looking for a place forever,” Anne continued as a server approached Lindsay. “I just don’t want you to do something you’ll regret in the long run.”

“What can I say? I’m picky.” Up to this point, I hadn’t found anything I wanted, and besides, I’d been busy. I’d started looking for a place two months ago, when I was still in LA. The transition was taking more time than I’d hoped, and finding a place to live was not high on the list of priorities right now. I’d like to get settled, but there were pressing issues with the business that needed attention too.

“That you are. With houses and women. You never seem to find the one.”

I wasn’t looking for the one. Life was perfect just the way it was. But I did need a house.

“How are you holding up?” I asked. I just hated to see her going through all this because of that asshole she married.

Anne sighed, looking away. I knew she didn’t like my asking, but I cared about her and Lindsay. “Fine. Just fine.”

My niece returned to the table the next second, proud for having placed her order. I couldn’t question Anne anymore. To my frustration, I never managed to get another answer out of her. I could tell she wasn’t okay though. I usually paid zero attention to details, but even I couldn’t miss that she’d lost a lot of weight and had dark circles under her eyes. She lived her life by the motto When you’re going through hell, just keep going. It was kind of our family’s MO as well.

My sister was the forgiving type, whereas I wanted to make that cheating bastard pay for hurting her. I was only staying out of it because Anne wanted her daughter to have a good relationship with her father.

But I wasn’t the forgiving type. It was one of the reasons I had the reputation of being difficult to work with in business circles. As far as I was concerned, that had helped me more than hurt, because I always got what I wanted. Her ex hauling ass and leaving it all without a backward glance didn’t make a good impression on anyone, least of all our financial partners and our employees. It was important to reassure everyone that things were under control.

I was running only the restaurant part of the Dumont empire—a total of one hundred twenty units spread across the country, as well as fifty in Europe. Anne was running the chain of ninety gourmet supermarkets. Although operating under the same brand, they were two separate companies. Anne and I didn’t see each other often for business purposes, because each was run differently with little crossover.

Anne sighed in relief when our first course arrived.

“Let’s focus on all these goodies,” she went on quickly, changing the subject. “They are truly delicious.”

We were the third generation of Dumonts in charge of fine dining. Every time we changed something on the menu, Anne and I did a tasting—it was just how we did things.

Lindsay dug into her plate of fries and nuggets, grimacing when she took note of our asparagus with lemon sauce and fish.

Her enthusiasm was through the roof when it was time to taste the dessert though.

Right now, we were replacing some key ingredients in our trademark Dumont cake: cream cheese with ricotta, honey with maple syrup.

“I’d say this is just what the dessert needed,” Anne said, taking a bite of the cake. “And our maple syrup suppliers will be happy we’re finally using their product in a flagship dish.”

“It’s delicious,” Lindsay said, eyeing my plate. I hadn’t finished my dessert, and my niece seemed overjoyed by it, especially because I pretended not to see that she kept forking the leftovers