Chapter 23: A Tribute to Ysabella

Alex insisted on paying, and Giovanni didn’t argue.

Instead, he’d simply chosen the venue.

Ysabella’s Steak House.

Alexander glanced up at the understated black-and-gold signage as the car pulled into the reserved parking area.

Giovanni stepped out first and offered him a hand.

Once outside, Alex took a proper look at the restaurant.

"Who owns this steakhouse?"

"I do."

Alex turned toward him. "I never knew."

"You never asked."

That sounded about right.

"I had a hunch, though."

"What gave it away?"

"Ysabella. The name rang a bell."

The restaurant reflected much of its owner’s restrained elegance. Dark walnut walls and warm lighting gave the dining room an intimate atmosphere, while large windows overlooked a quiet garden that seemed deliberately designed to shut out the busy streets beyond it.

The most prominent decoration near the entrance was a portrait.

Alex recognized Ysabella immediately.

The photograph was taken when she was younger, perhaps around the age Alex remembered her at those family gatherings. She smiled as she held a tray of freshly baked bread, looking remarkably like the woman who used to sit across from Augustus during their long Fourth of July lunches.

"I remember her," Alex said. "She was always bringing something to the table even when she wasn’t the one hosting."

Giovanni looked toward the portrait. "She had a habit of doing that."

"I thought it was because she didn’t trust anyone else to feed us properly."

"She didn’t."

Alex laughed. That sounded considerably more like the Ysabella he remembered.

Giovanni’s expression softened as he looked at the photograph. "She used to say people remembered meals longer than conversations. And in her future restaurant, that was what she hoped would happen."

That part Alex hadn’t known.

"So that’s where all this came from."

"In a way."

Alex glanced around the restaurant again, and suddenly the name above the entrance made considerably more sense.

The ma?tre d’ greeted Giovanni before escorting them to a private dining room overlooking the restaurant’s temperature-controlled wine cellar. It was intimate without feeling secluded, comfortably arranged for two.

"No menu?" Alex asked as he took his seat.

"You told me I could choose."

"I did."

"I already have."

Giovanni settled into the chair opposite him.

"Anything except dishes with peanuts."

Alexander laughed. "I suppose I walked into that one."

A server approached, filled their glasses with chilled water, and waited attentively beside the table.

Giovanni ordered without looking at the menu.

"For Mr. Vance, the USDA Prime ribeye. Sixteen ounces, medium-rare."

Alex looked up.

"You still remember?"

"You always ordered ribeye at the Fourth of July cookouts and Augustus’s birthday dinners."

Alex thought back.

Those gatherings had been annual fixtures throughout high school, usually involving far too much food and their parents finding increasingly flimsy excuses to let lunch stretch well into the evening.

"I didn’t realize you were paying attention."

"I was."

Something about the simple answer made Alex pause.

Giovanni turned back to the server.

"Did I miss anything?"

Alex considered the order, then gave him a thumbs-up.

"No. That’s exactly right."

"For me, the Japanese A5 wagyu striploin. Medium."

The server gave a slight bow before leaving.

Alexander glanced around the restaurant again.

"She talked about opening one someday, but she never got the chance," Giovanni said.

Alex took in the dining room a little differently now.

"So you built the restaurant she wanted."

"Not exactly." Giovanni set the water down. "I finished what she couldn’t."

Alexander looked at him, understanding the distinction.

Building something in someone’s memory was one thing. Finishing what they’d once hoped to do themselves felt far more personal.

Perhaps Giovanni noticed where Alex’s thoughts had gone, because he turned the conversation back on him.

"How’s your father?"

"Enjoying his self-imposed retirement."

"Still at the estate?"

Alex smiled. "Good luck convincing him to leave. These days, I think he prefers the farm to the city."

"Farm life always suited him."

"It does. Probably more than any of us realized when we were younger."

The warm sourdough had arrived while they were talking. Alex tore off a piece and spread herb butter over it, his thoughts lingering on his father.

"After my older brother died, it was mostly Dad and me for a while. Then Mom left not long after, and..." He hesitated, turning the bread between his fingers. "I don’t think I ever completely came to terms with that."

Giovanni didn’t interrupt, which made it easier to continue.

"Dad buried himself in work. I suppose I did the same eventually." Alex gave a faint, humorless smile. "We got through it, but I wouldn’t say either of us came out of that particularly well."

"No," Giovanni said quietly. "I don’t imagine you could."

That was all.

No unnecessary sympathy or questions Alex wasn’t ready to answer. Giovanni let the subject rest, and Alex was grateful.

They finished most of the bread while talking about easier things, until the conversation eventually wandered back toward work.

By the time their steaks arrived, the heaviness had passed without either of them having to force it away.

Alexander’s ribeye arrived on a heated cast-iron plate, with roasted garlic, grilled asparagus, and truffle mashed potatoes. When he sliced through the center, the medium-rare interior was exactly as ordered.

The first bite immediately justified Giovanni’s choice.

Alex took another before reaching for the potatoes, and somewhere along the way, he apparently forgot that lunch was supposed to involve conversation.

By the time he noticed how much progress he’d made through the sixteen-ounce steak, Giovanni was already watching him from across the table.

His wagyu was smaller, paired simply with king oyster mushrooms and lightly charred broccolini.

A bottle of Cabernet Sauvignon from Napa Valley arrived with their meals, although Giovanni poured only half a glass for each of them.

"We both have meetings later."

Alexander lifted his glass. "Still thinking ahead."

"Someone has to."

"I manage my schedule perfectly well."

Giovanni glanced pointedly at Alex’s rapidly disappearing ribeye.

"You forgot breakfast again."

Alex paused with his fork halfway to his mouth.

"How do you know that?"

"You attacked a sixteen-ounce steak."

"I was hungry."

"Obviously."

Alex took a sip of wine rather than dignify that with an answer.

Dessert arrived soon after: two servings of crème br?lée topped with fresh berries. Alex tapped the caramelized surface with the back of his spoon and smiled when it cracked cleanly.

He tasted the custard.

"Just the right amount of sweetness."

Giovanni seemed equally satisfied with his own.

Alex watched him for a moment.

"You know, I’ve been trying to figure something out."

Giovanni looked up. "What?"

"How someone who barely talked in high school managed to remember so much."

"I didn’t remember everything."

"No?"

"Only what was important."

Alex’s spoon paused briefly over his dessert.

There was probably a perfectly ordinary response to that.

For some reason, he couldn’t immediately think of one.

Instead, he broke another piece of caramelized sugar.

"Useful talent."

"It is."

Alex almost rolled his eyes.

Some things apparently hadn’t changed at all.

When the bill arrived, Alex reached for it.

Giovanni got there first.

"I invited you."

"You did."

"And I specifically said I was paying."

"I remember."

"Then give me the bill."

"No."

"Giovanni."

The man had already signed it.

Alex leaned back. "Why did you agree to lunch if you weren’t going to let me pay?"

"You asked me to choose the restaurant."

"Yes."

"I own the restaurant."

Alex stared at him.

Giovanni handed the bill holder back to the server.

"Choose more carefully next time."

For once, Alexander had absolutely nothing to say.

He still managed to slip a generous tip beneath the bill holder before they left the table.

"Would you like to use the restroom before you head back to the city?" Giovanni asked.

"Not a bad idea."

A waiter showed Alex upstairs while Giovanni remained behind.

By the time he returned, the ma?tre d’ was waiting near the entrance with two neatly packed dessert boxes.

"Mr. Vance. Compliments of Ysabella’s."

Alex accepted them, then looked immediately at Giovanni.

"You planned this too?"

"I won’t be heading back to the city." Giovanni buttoned his suit jacket and glanced toward Joe, who was already waiting beside the car. "The other box is for Joe."

Alex looked down at the desserts. "Joe?"

"He picked me up from Mercer, came for you afterward, then drove us all the way out here. I thought he deserved something for the trouble."

Technically, it was Joe’s job. But Giovanni had spent enough years doing jobs people dismissed as menial to know that being paid to do something didn’t make a simple thank-you unnecessary.

"With dessert this good, Joe would probably drive you to the moon if you asked."

"The fuel cost would be unreasonable."

Alex stared at him.

Sometimes it was difficult to tell whether Giovanni Mercer was joking.

"Thanks for lunch."

Giovanni gave a small nod. "Have a safe trip."

Outside, Joe opened the rear door and took the boxes from Alex.

"One is yours."

That immediately got his attention.

Joe looked past Alex toward Giovanni.

"For me, sir?"

"Apparently."

Joe inspected the gold sticker sealing the box with considerably more interest.

"I like this guy."

"Joe."

"What? I’m easy to please."

Alex shook his head and climbed into the back seat.

As the car pulled away from Ysabella’s, he reached for his phone, intending to check the messages he’d ignored during lunch. Instead, he opened his banking app first.

Nothing.

Of course.

He switched to his messages.

You cheated.

Giovanni replied before they reached the main road.

You told me to choose the place.

Alex smiled despite himself.

Next lunch, I choose.

The answer took several seconds.

And you pay.

Naturally.

Alex put the phone away.

In the front seat, Joe had already placed his dessert box somewhere Alexander suspected he considered safer than most financial institutions.

Outside the window, Ysabella gradually disappeared behind them.

It had only been lunch, but somewhere between old family gatherings and things neither of them had known about the other, Alex had been reminded of something easy to forget after years of corporate rivalry.

He and Giovanni weren’t strangers getting to know each other from the beginning.

They already had a history.

Apparently, they were finally filling in the parts they’d missed.

Alex settled back against the seat.

And there would be a next lunch.