3. Under New Ownership

Chapter 3

Under New Ownership

I ’m glad I wore the bigger pants this time.

A small box jostled around in Hugo’s jacket pocket. He caressed the velvet covered lining, so it wouldn’t bounce out on their way to dinner. A chill ran up his spine as the autumn wind swirled. A layer of dark, autumn clouds swirled in the night sky above.

I hope the rain holds off . . . Huh. Like last time.

He smiled at Alice. She returned the favor, beaming from ear to ear.

Hugo and Alice approached the town center hand in hand. It was bustling with activity as people finished their shopping. The ornate lampposts were in mid-holiday transition. Some were still decorated with pumpkins for Halloween a few days prior. Others were decorated in green wreaths for the upcoming Christmas season. The perfect mixture of Alice’s favorite holidays welcomed them to their favorite restaurant. Hugo smiled.

This is going to be a magical night .

Hugo stopped. His eyes narrowed, and his mouth slightly dropped. Alice took a few more steps forward before stopping .

“What is it?” Alice asked.

“Look,” he said.

Alice turned to see what stopped Hugo in his tracks. The awning for Antonio’s Italian Ristorante —normally red, green, and white stripes—was now black with a single crimson stripe down the middle.

“Why would he change it?” Alice said.

“Let’s ask him,” Hugo replied.

They approached the door and stopped once more. They both focused on the gold lettering on the door. Sylvia’s Bistro .

Hugo examined the front of the building, double checking the awnings along the strip. “This is the right place, right?”

“That’s our table, but it’s occupied,” Alice said. “I thought you made reservations.”

“I did.”

A waitress handed a couple two menus as they sat down for their Saturday night dinner at their table. Their special table. He reexamined the gold lettering of the door. Sylvia’s . He had passed through the door countless times before—it was unmistakable to him. This was the correct place, but not the right restaurant.

They checked with each other, a sense of foreboding in their eyes.

“Maybe Sylvia is his daughter or relative,” Hugo said.

“It seems sudden,” Alice replied. “Let’s find out.”

Hugo held the door as Alice entered. He hurried behind.

This was the same restaurant, only different. The walls were a darker, greenish-black paint. Crimson red curtains were pulled back in the windows. The white tablecloths were replaced with ones matching the curtains. The glass tea light candleholders, once on every table, had been replaced with black candlesticks holding melting red candles. The soft sounds of crooners entertaining guests was replaced by the symphonic melodies of classical piano.

“Welcome to Sylvia’s. How many?” the hostess asked.

While he wasn’t on a first-name basis with everyone, Hugo had spent enough time in Antonio’s to recognize the faces of the employees. He scanned the restaurant, but didn’t recognize a single face of the waitstaff.

“How many?”

“I believe we have a reservation,” Alice said. “It should be under Dodds.”

“Ah, yes. This way, please.” The hostess picked up two menus and guided them around the corner to the back of the restaurant.

Alice followed, but Hugo didn’t.

“Everything okay?” Alice whispered to Hugo.

“It feels . . . odd,” Hugo whispered back.

“I’m sure it’s fine. Let’s go sit down,” Alice said.

They followed the hostess.

The hostess placed the menus on the square table. “Enjoy,” she said before returning to the front.

He pulled out Alice’s chair, inviting her to sit.

“Still a gentleman,” Alice said.

“Always.”

Alice removed her hat and tailcoat, handing them both to Hugo before sitting down.

Hugo draped the coat over his arm and held onto her hat. Using them as a shield from Alice’s prying eyes, he moved the velvet box from his jacket to his pant pocket. He moved to hang up their coats, but stopped. He searched, but couldn’t find any coat racks. Unable to find any, he pulled out an empty chair, set her hat down in the seat, and draped the coats over the chairback.

He took his seat, picking up the menu. “This was Antonio’s a few days ago, right?”

“Yeah,” Alice said with hesitation in her voice. “At least, I think so.”

A waitress approached. “Welcome to Sylvia’s Bistro. Thank you for being part of our opening weekend. My name is Carmilla. May I start you off with something to drink?”

Alice greeted the young waitress with a smile. “Do you have a selection of wines? ”

“Yes,” Carmilla said, flipping Alice’s menu over to the back. “We have a variety of selections on the back. The house specialty is a new blend from Red-Hearted Queen, exclusive to Sylvia’s Bistro.”

“NO!” Alice and Hugo shouted in unison as they both focused on Carmilla.

She took a step back at their reaction.

“Sorry. Uh, we’ll start with water while we look over the list,” Hugo said. His eyes checked Alice’s reaction before nodding to Carmilla.

“I’ll give you two a few minutes to look over the menu,” Carmilla said. She turned to leave.

“Wait,” Hugo said. “Wasn’t this Antonio’s?”

“Yes. Mr. Savino purchased the restaurant from Mr. Moretti. We’ve rebranded with all new offerings. Be careful touching the walls. The paint may still be wet in spots.”

“What happened to Mr. Moretti?” Alice asked with a discerning expression.

“We’re old friends, and he never mentioned he was selling,” Hugo added.

“I’m not certain, but if you like, I can have Mr. Savino stop over. He may know,” Carmilla suggested.

“That’d be great,” Hugo said. “I’m curious about meeting Mr. Savino.”

“Wonderful,” Carmilla said. “I’ll be right back with the water.” She disappeared into the kitchen area.

Hugo turned to Alice and whispered, “I don’t like this.”

“What?” Alice asked.

“It takes more than a few days to rebrand and get a new restaurant up and running. Let alone hire new staff,” Hugo replied.

“How do you know they hired a new staff?”

“I don’t recognize anyone in here.”

“Maybe they’re very . . . efficient.” Alice winked at him.

“Funny,” Hugo said, picking up his menu. “Very funny.”

“You don’t like change,” Alice said .

“I like change. I don’t like surprises.”

“Oh, really?” Alice set her menu down. “Every time we come here, you always get the same thing.”

“I know what I like,” Hugo said. “Now, I have to figure out my new thing.”

“There’s definitely a wide range on the menu.”

Hugo read through the assortments of seafood and meat offerings. Each entrée had a wide assortment of fancy sounding sides glazed in sauces and expensive price tags. His eyes reread every option available multiple times, but he couldn’t find what he really wanted—a helping of Antonio’s world famous meatballs and spaghetti.

“I guess a steak for me.” Hugo flipped the menu over, scanning the selection of wines.

"Oh, the salmon sounds wonderful. Glazed vegetables, roasted potatoes, and covered in a special sauce. Sold.” Alice placed her menu down.

“These are all Red-Hearted Queen wines,” Hugo said. His eyebrows furled with frustration.

“So, we skip the wine,” Alice said.

“But I was looking forward to it.” Hugo slapped the menu down. “Yet again, more surprises.”

Alice tilted her head at him inquisitively with narrow eyes. “Everything okay?”

“Yeah. I want this to be a perfect night because I want to—” He paused, catching himself from revealing his secret. “I want to properly celebrate your release and a successful first week.”

Alice smiled and blushed. She stretched across the table and took his hand. “It doesn’t matter what we eat or drink. All that matters is that we’re celebrating this together. That’s all I really want.”

“I guess you’re right,” Hugo said. “We’ll have to toast to your success.”

“ Our success,” Alice said. “This didn’t happen without you. Remember that. ”

Hugo gazed into Alice’s emerald green eyes.

“Two glasses of water,” a man’s voice said as he placed the glasses on the table.

Alice gulped as she examined the stranger standing next to them. Hugo broke his gaze from Alice to examine this mysterious man.

He was tall with black, wavy hair, parted long on top and tapered short on the sides. High cheekbones, a wide jaw, and a sharp jawline. His rough, stubbled beard masked his sunken face, as if he hadn’t shaved for a few days.

He wore a black vest over a matching black dress shirt and red tie. His shirt was tailored fit and tight against his broad shoulders and muscular chest. Rolled-up sleeves to his elbow revealed a tattoo on his forearm—a red heart emerging from a crimson rose with a serpentine stem.

“Welcome to Sylvia’s Bistro. Allow me to introduce myself. My name is Sebastian Savino. I’m the new owner of this establishment,” he said in a low, gravelly voice. “I understand you have some questions about Mr. Moretti?”

Alice cleared her throat. “Yes, Mr. Moretti was a friend of ours. He never mentioned selling his beloved restaurant.”

Sebastian smirked. “Ah, yes, Antonio. I’m new to town and wanted to open a restaurant of my own. I decided it would be easier to acquire this location instead of starting fresh, so I made an offer too good not to accept. He mentioned it would be nice to return to Italy. I learned all about his world-famous meatballs. I wanted to buy the recipe, but he refused. I guess I can’t buy everything.” He chuckled.

Hugo’s eyes narrowed, studying Sebastian’s reaction. “How did you get up and running so fast?”

“My methods are . . . efficient,” Sebastian said, gazing directly into Hugo’s eyes.

Hugo and Alice shared a glance.

“How efficient?” Alice asked as they both turned back to Sebastian.

Sebastian laughed. “This isn’t my first establishment. I have multiple locations. I was able to make a few calls. I had my crew come in to redecorate quickly. I even brought in staff from other locations. As I said . . . efficient.”

“You said you’re new in town. It wouldn’t be on Ravenhill Drive, would it?” Hugo asked.

“Why, yes. My wife, Sylvia, and I moved into a lovely house next to a very . . . eccentric one. It’s a purple house.”

“That’s our purple house,” Alice said.

He pressed his hands against his chest. “Oh, please forgive me. I meant no disrespect.”

“None taken. I’ve heard worse,” Alice replied.

“Ah, good. I don’t want to start off on the wrong foot with our neighbors,” Sebastian said with a hint of glee. “Since this is your first time here at Sylvia’s and we’re neighbors, your meal will be on the house.”

“You don’t have to do that on our account,” Hugo said.

“No worries at all,” Sebastian said. “It’s my way of thanking you for visiting.”

“That’s very generous of you,” Alice said.

“It’s my pleasure,” Sebastian said. “Would you like a bottle of wine? On the house, of course. We exclusively carry my wife’s wine brand, Red Hearted-Queen. We even have a brand-new type we’re testing out. I’ll have one brought out to you.”

“That’s okay,” Hugo said.

“I insist,” Sebastian said.

“We’ve—” Hugo stated.

“We’ve had a few bad experiences with it,” Alice finished.

Sebastian dropped his arms to his side and tilted his head. “A . . . reaction?”

“Yes,” Alice said. “Last year, after it was first on sale.”

“One right over there,” Hugo added, pointing to his usual table. “It upset my . . . stomach.” His mind dredged up memories of the ghoulish Elizabeth lurching toward him in an attempt to drag him into a deep, dark void. He shook his head to clear the memories of the horrible daymare.

“Ah, yes, we had a small production issue with the first few batches. It wasn’t quite up to our standards of quality. I promise you, this one is much better. I’ll have your waitress bring it out and take your orders,” Sebastian said as he took a step away from the table and stopped. He turned back. “What are you two doing this evening?”

“Well, we did have a plan to go for a stroll after dinner,” Hugo said.

“On a night like this? It could rain at any moment and ruin your wonderful evening,” he said. “How would you like to go dancing?”

“I would love to go dancing,” Alice said.

Hugo’s heart sank. His perfectly planned evening with the perfect meal and the second-most perfect proposal were now in shambles. He couldn’t say no to Alice’s love of dancing. He should have proposed last Saturday. Or on Halloween. Or any other random time since then. The proposal would have to wait.

“Excellent. My wife owns a nightclub on High Street just north of campus in the city. I’ll call and tell her to expect you two,” he said. He pointed at Alice. “It’s not a typical nightclub.”

“We know of a rather unusual nightclub too,” Hugo said with a wink to Alice.

“It’s more of an . . . alternative nightclub,” Sebastian said. He gestured to Alice with his open hand. “I think you’d fit right in there.”

Alice gasped. Her face filled with glee. “We have to go. Do you know how long it’s been since I went dancing? We’re going.”

“Perfect,” Sebastian said. “I’ll let her know to expect you. I’ll go write down the address for you. It’s called The Heart and Rose.” He retreated into the kitchen.

A moment later, Carmilla returned with a bottle of Red-Hearted Queen. The familiar playing card logo with the card suits encircled a gold, multi-point crown. The heart was on top and the spade on the bottom. She poured the wine into two glasses.

Hugo and Alice took the glasses. They swirled the reddish-purple liquid in their glasses and took a sniff. The aroma of berries and earth tones filled Hugo’s senses. He checked with Alice, tilting his head and giving a half-hearted smile, waiting for an excuse not to drink. Hugo didn’t want to upset his new neighbor, but also didn’t want another freak out in the restaurant.

Hugo’s foot twitched. His heart raced. He tapped the table with his free index finger. His eyes darted back and forth from Alice to the glass, hoping to direct her attention, so she would say something. She raised an eyebrow and her glass. He smiled at Carmilla standing next to the table, holding the bottle. She smiled back. Hugo took one more sniff, pressed the glass against his lips, and drank.

He waited. Waited for anything to happen. Was the room going to melt away like last time? Would the ghoulish image of Elizabeth be replaced by Alice . . . or Johanna?

Nothing happened.

There was no odd aftertaste. It tasted . . . great. He shot a glance over to Alice with a pleasantly surprised expression. She took a sip.

“This is nice,” Alice said. “Very smooth.”

“Thank you,” Carmilla said as she placed the bottle onto the table. “Now what would you like to order?”