Nights 'Round the Table (6/14)
Part One Part Two Part Three Part Four Part Five Part Six Part Seven Part Eight Part Nine Part Ten Part Eleven Part Twelve Part Thirteen Part Fourteen
Arthur drove to Oakland (with the new shoes for Gwen in a box on the front seat beside him) the next day, before he lost his nerve entirely. He kept reminding himself that he was offering the spot to Ambrosia because it was the best choice on short notice. Not because the Blessed Cafe left him unsettled in a very deep way, and certainly not from any desire to get to know Merlin better. He knew they wouldn’t be open for another hour, but he could only assume that someone would be there, getting ready for business.
He knocked, only to be faced with a glaring Freya.
“We’re not open yet, you know.” She said, blocking him from entering. Which he had to admit was a little funny, given how small she was, but he suspected there was a fierceness there, or someone else would have been in charge of turning people away from the door.
“Yes, well, is Merlin or Gaius around? I wanted to talk to them about the show.”
“You’ve never heard of email or the telephone?”
“I’m on a tight schedule, and I couldn’t take the chance of delay. Oh, and I have something I have to give to Gwen, too,” he said, holding up the box.
She sighed. “We’re in the middle of the family meal, but if you’ve not eaten, I’m sure someone will feel compelled to feed you.” She stepped aside to let him in and locked up behind him. “Follow me.”
She led him into the dining room and towards Gwen, gesturing to an empty seat next to her before Freya walked up to Merlin and poked him in the back of the head, interrupting his apparently deep conversation with several people Arthur had not seen before, and who were all dressed in matching short sleeved white shirts.
Before he could get distracted, he went up to Gwen and held the box out to her. She looked deeply confused as she took it from his hands, and her expression didn’t change once she opened the box.
“These are...”
Arthur interrupted. “I’m really and sincerely sorry for ruining your shoes. Morgana would kill me if I didn’t make it right.”
“But they’re too mu--” Before she could finish her sentence, Merlin had turned up at his side, carrying two plates.
“Sorry, Gwen, we’ve got to talk business,” Merlin said, gesturing towards Arthur. “Follow me. It’s too noisy to have an actual conversation in the dining room right now, as you can see. We’re having the staff dinner, but we can hide out in Gaius’s office.” Merlin pressed one of the plates into Arthur’s hand and started to lead the way upstairs. In the office, there was a small table to the side of the room, and a definite residual odor of pot.
Merlin grinned when he noticed that Arthur caught the smell. “Gaius just got his card, and he’s been spending all his time up here ‘doing paperwork.’ It means I have a lot more responsibility in the kitchen than he usually trusts me with, but it also means that I have to make sure to get all my specials approved before he gives me the eyebrow of doom.”
“Gaius lets you do the specials?” Arthur knew he sounded incredulous, but he couldn’t help it.
“Yeah. It’s something Gaius lets me do to keep from doing anything too crazy with the regular menu, like using a blowtorch for charring lamb shank and stuff. As long as he checks my ideas over for cost effectiveness and likelihood of sales, he’ll let me do just about anything I want.”
“So, they’re not something you throw together with leftovers, then?”
Merlin laughed. “Oh, no. I mean, yeah, he probably wishes I would, but Gaius mostly thinks that it’s good for the restaurant, and that someday the word will get out to people that we’re doing new things.”
“So, I know we talked about a lot of things the last time I was here, and I thought that maybe, we, I mean...” Arthur still wasn’t completely sure how to sell the idea of the show, or if at any point during the last conversation they’d had, if anyone here at Ambrosia was actually interested in being on television.
“You know you can ask me anything you want. Chances are pretty good I’m going to say yes.”
“Maybe we should get Gaius.”
“Gaius? I know you struck me as old-fashioned, Arthur, but you don’t actually need his permission.”
“It is his restaurant,” Arthur said, rolling his eyes.
“We’re not doing anything in his restaurant, are we?” Merlin looked confused. Arthur suspected that was probably a common expression for him, if this conversation was anything to go by.
“Of course we would be. That’s the whole point.”
“Wait, what are we talking about?”
The door opened. “What are you miscreants doing in my office?”
“Gaius!” Arthur said, standing up. “Just the man I needed to see. I want to put Ambrosia on television.”
“Well, I suppose you better work on your pitch, young man, if you expect to just come in here and have us agree without knowing your intent.” Gaius moved past them and settled himself behind his desk. All the better to glare at the both of them, Arthur supposed.
“So, the idea.” Arthur paused. He hadn’t actually thought this far, but he could improvise. “I want to develop a show about daily specials and the process of creating them. From picking the ingredients, all the way to showing your customers enjoying it. We’d do thirteen episodes to start, with an option for additional seasons if it’s successful. We can put our lawyers on the details if you’re in agreement.”
“What do you think, Merlin?” Gaius asked. “This would make you a personality. Are you prepared for that? I know you’ve had opinions about television in the past.”
Merlin made a face, “I know what I’ve said, but in my defense, I was like twenty at the time and full of opinions. Percy will probably be thrilled, though.”
“Percy?” Arthur asked. He knew they’d all mentioned the name repeatedly, but never explained who he was.
“He’s our forager,” Gaius said.
Merlin must have noticed Arthur's confusion. “He goes out and collects the wild foods that we serve and also hunts around farmers’ markets for special items and gives us a heads up about what crops are looking like. He’s also the only person with a van, so he’s the band’s equipment manager, too.”
“Was he the guy with the arms?”
“Yeah,” Merlin nodded. “Lance met him teaching a survival class and talked him into working with us. He grew up on a farm in Indiana or something, and was apparently special forces. It’s all very hush-hush.”
“You’re kind of an idiot, aren’t you?” Arthur couldn’t help it. Something about Merlin just brought it out in him.
“You wouldn’t be the first person to say it,” Gaius said as he began rummaging in his desk drawer.
Merlin had worked up to a full pout, and Arthur could only hope to get out of the room with his sanity intact. Maybe he should just come to terms with Merlin being too attractive to work with. Gaius handed Arthur a business card.
“This is my lawyer. Give that to whomever you need to, and let’s get this started.” With that he stood up and left Merlin and Arthur alone again.
“Are you ready to be a star, Merlin?”
“Are you sure you want this to focus on me? I mean, Gwen’s a genius, and Lance knows everything there is to know about wine pairings. I didn’t get the impression that you knew a lot about food, and I just don’t understand why you’re so sure about this.”
“Honestly Merlin, I’m not sure, but rather than let the station launch with QVC host extraordinaire Catrina Tregor as our flagship talent, I’m going to take a chance that you won’t humiliate me professionally.”
Merlin frowned, as if he wasn’t completely sure how to take that. “Before I agree to be your star, I want you to do something for me. Let me cook for you. Let me show you what a great meal can be. And if you still don’t feel like good food is a spiritual experience, then will you at least think about focusing the show on someone else?”
“I would like for you to cook for me, and I promise that if it doesn’t completely alter my world-view, then I will go find someone else to make famous.”
Merlin hit him in the arm, “Fine, make me sound like a dumbass, but I’m going to hold you to it. How should we arrange it?”
“I’ll have my assistant look at my calendar and call you. Do you need a special kitchen or anything?”
“Nope, I can work magic with just a skillet and a knife.” He paused. “I should probably have a spoon, too...”
“If you don’t mind coming over the bridge, we can do it at my place. I’ve got plenty of room and I’ve been over here a lot this month already.”
“We’ll figure something out.” Merlin paused. “Let me take your plate back down to the kitchen, I’ve got to get to work anyway. Freya will let you out.”
“Thanks. I look forward to you trying to prove your point.” Arthur walked back downstairs where Freya was waiting, and out the door.
He pulled out his cell phone and called Morgana. “I’ve decided to go with Ambrosia. Would you mind letting the folks at The Blessed Cafe know? I think it would be better received coming from you.”
“Morgana!” Morgause greeted her, setting a cup of the Blessed Cafe’s signature cold-brewed coffee in front of the other woman. “It’s so good to see you. Acacia told me you were here; I hope you don’t mind that I decided to bring out your coffee myself.”
“How could I possibly mind?” Morgana asked, smiling. “You know I enjoy your company as much as I do your coffee.”
“You’ll have to tell me what you think of today’s brew. It’s a new blend Nimueh found from a fair trade distributor she met on her last trip to Costa Rica. If our customers like the flavor, we’ll probably be replacing our old blend with this.”
Morgana lifted the cup, breathing in the aroma of the coffee before sipping. “Oh, that’s delightful. Definitely a keeper.”
“You think so?” Morgause asked, pleased. She much preferred this blend to the old one they’d been using. There was a depth of flavor to the Costa Rican blend that was only enhanced by the cold-brewing process.
“Definitely,” Morgana told her. “I don’t know if I’ve ever had a cup of coffee I enjoyed as much as I’m enjoying this one.”
“I can’t tell you how glad I am to hear it. And how glad I am to have you here with us today, sister. Have you only come for coffee, or do you have time for some food and maybe to chat a bit?”
“Actually,” Morgana said, suddenly serious in a way that told Morgause trouble was coming, “I came here to speak with you and Nimueh. I suppose I was procrastinating with the coffee. I was even considering trying the soup, even though I’ve already had lunch.”
“There’s no reason to be nervous, no matter what you’ve come to talk about,” Morgause told her. “You have shown yourself to be our true sister in the work we do here, and whatever it is that’s troubling you, I’m sure we can find a way to ease your mind. Come, why don’t we take that coffee in back and get whatever it is you’re so worried about out of the way?”
“Thank you,” Morgana said, rising. “You have no idea how much your kindness and friendship mean to me.”
Morgause smiled, and grabbed Morgana’s hand to give it a quick squeeze. “Everyone here at Blessed is family, Morgana, and you are welcome in our family to whatever extent you wish to be a part of it.” She released Morgana’s hand to tap on the closed office door.
“Come in,” Nimueh’s voice came from inside.
“Nimueh, love, a sister has come to visit us,” Morgause said, leading Morgana into the wood-paneled office.
Nimueh stood, coming around the large, oak desk to kiss Morgana on either cheek. “It is a delight to see you, sister.”
“Thank you.” Morgana’s answering smile was faint and full of tension. “It’s wonderful to see you, as well, but I’m afraid I’ve come as the bearer of some bad news.”
“Sit,” Nimueh said, her brow creasing in concern. “Tell us your ill news, and then perhaps we can see about brightening your spirits.”
Morgause moved to sit beside Nimueh as Morgana took the chair closer to the door.
“I suppose there are more professional ways to do this,” Morgana began, “but I felt I owed it to you to tell you in person.”
She took a deep breath. “Arthur has decided to go with another restaurant for the show. I tried to get him to see reason, but he’s convinced that someplace with a more traditional menu would be a better choice for the station.”
“By ‘traditional,’ I assume you mean ‘meat-centered’?” Morgause broke in.
Morgana nodded, her mouth twisting in annoyance. “The place does have few vegetarian options, and they are good, but yes, it’s primarily geared toward meat-eaters, and the only raw dishes are salads.”
“You cannot blame yourself, sister.” After some of the conversations they’d had on the topic, Nimueh’s mildness surprised Morgause. “We know you did what you could, and we know that you will continue to aid us to the best of your ability, even if this particular instance didn’t work out the way we all would have liked.”
“I appreciate your understanding.” Morgana shook her head sadly. “I wish I could be so accepting. My brother can be more than a bit hard-headed, especially when it comes to anything that involves challenging the status quo, no matter how rewarding it might be.”
“It’s an unfortunate truth that most people are afraid to explore new things,” Morgause said, leaning over to give Morgana’s hand a reassuring squeeze. “They’re convinced that if the majority of people think one thing, then it must be the best thing to think.”
“Well, I wouldn’t say Arthur is quite that bad, thank god,” Morgana said. “He’s simply slow to accept that new things might be good for him. But at least the restaurant he’s set on has better than decent fare. For about half a day, I was convinced he was going to go with some pizza place in the City that sells by the slice.”
“It’s a good thing he chose more wisely than that, at least,” Nimueh said. “If he hadn’t, I might have had to kill him for the insult.” She laughed, but Morgause didn’t think it had been entirely a joke.
“There’s no need to worry about insult,” Morgana assured them. “Even though I would have preferred that Arthur had chosen someplace with more progressive ethics, there’s no denying that Ambrosia’s menu is impressive.”
Morgause started. “Ambrosia? Isn’t that Gaius Emrys’s restaurant?”
“He’s the owner and executive chef, yes,” Morgana answered, “but I get the impression that these days he leaves most of the creative decisions to his sous and pastry chefs. They’re both really quite talented.”
“I’d heard something about him bringing in some new talent,” Nimueh said. “Something about a nephew?” She shrugged. “When I didn’t hear any more, I assumed it didn’t pan out.”
Morgana nodded. “The sous-chef, Merlin, is Gaius’s nephew. They’ve got a very devoted local customer base, but it hasn’t spread much beyond that.”
That name, Merlin, tickled something in the back of Morgause’s mind. She knew she’d heard it somewhere before, and connected in some way to Gaius Emrys, but she couldn’t quite bring it from the depths of her memory. She didn’t think she’d heard anything about the boy being a chef, let alone a good one.
“I imagine the family business angle would be a big audience draw,” Nimueh said. “I do hope you believe me when I say neither of us harbors you any ill will in this, Morgana.”
“I appreciate it. I wish things could have gone differently.”
“We all do, sister,” Morgause told her. “But our movement is strong and growing stronger every day. Even if this opportunity has not turned out as we had hoped, I know that in the end we will prevail.”
Nimueh nodded in agreement. “And you can also help us out by keeping us in mind for any future television opportunities. Perhaps once the station better established, your brother will be more open to including those of us who don’t fit easily into mainstream ideals.”
“Of course,” Morgana said. “And I fully intend to keep coming back to enjoy your coffee.”
“You’d better,” Morgause said. “It would be a shame to let such a little thing come between you and the best coffee in town.”
“In town?” Morgana asked in mock surprise. “You’re far too modest. This is easily the best coffee in the entire East Bay.”
“Now you’re just flattering us,” Nimueh said, smiling.
“Coffee is far too serious a matter for flattery,” Morgana said.
Morgana’s phone trilled, and she glanced down at it. “And on that note, I should probably run or I’m going to be late for a meeting.” She smiled at Morgause. “Could I possibly impose upon you for another cup of this delicious brew for the road?”
“Of course,” Morgause said, rising and taking the empty cup Morgana handed her.
She met Morgana back at the front of the cafe, a travel cup full of coffee in hand. “Take care, sister,” she said, handing her the coffee.
“I will,” Morgana said, reaching out to give Morgause’s arm a quick squeeze. “And you, as well.”
“Don’t be a stranger,” Morgause called after her, smiling.
As soon as the door swung shut behind Morgana, Morgause’s smile disappeared so quickly that it might as well never have been there. She remembered now where she had heard the name Merlin Emrys.
She reached out a hand and grabbed the arm of the passing waiter, nearly upsetting the tray he was carrying.
“As soon as you’ve dropped off that food, bring a bottle of the house brew honey wine to the back office, and then keep watch over everything out here. Nimueh and I have much to discuss, and I don’t want to be disturbed unless the building’s on fire or someone’s bleeding to death.”
Nimueh was waiting for her, still seated behind the desk, face impassive.
“This is an outrage,” Morgause hissed.
“We knew this was a possibility,” Nimueh said, far too calm for Morgause’s liking. “It’s not as though we aren’t prepared to take steps to rectify the situation.”
“We prepared for the possibility that Arthur Pendragon might not give us the show,” Morgause said. “But don’t even try to tell me you were prepared for him to give it to Merlin Emrys.”
Nimueh’s lips compressed to a thin line. “No,” she answered. “That I hadn’t planned for, but I have ideas for how we can modify the original plan.”
Morgause seated herself on the edge of the desk. “What sort of modifications are you proposing?”
Nimueh’s smile was grim. “The sort that will be very painful for Merlin Emrys, and for his family.”
Next
Arthur drove to Oakland (with the new shoes for Gwen in a box on the front seat beside him) the next day, before he lost his nerve entirely. He kept reminding himself that he was offering the spot to Ambrosia because it was the best choice on short notice. Not because the Blessed Cafe left him unsettled in a very deep way, and certainly not from any desire to get to know Merlin better. He knew they wouldn’t be open for another hour, but he could only assume that someone would be there, getting ready for business.
He knocked, only to be faced with a glaring Freya.
“We’re not open yet, you know.” She said, blocking him from entering. Which he had to admit was a little funny, given how small she was, but he suspected there was a fierceness there, or someone else would have been in charge of turning people away from the door.
“Yes, well, is Merlin or Gaius around? I wanted to talk to them about the show.”
“You’ve never heard of email or the telephone?”
“I’m on a tight schedule, and I couldn’t take the chance of delay. Oh, and I have something I have to give to Gwen, too,” he said, holding up the box.
She sighed. “We’re in the middle of the family meal, but if you’ve not eaten, I’m sure someone will feel compelled to feed you.” She stepped aside to let him in and locked up behind him. “Follow me.”
She led him into the dining room and towards Gwen, gesturing to an empty seat next to her before Freya walked up to Merlin and poked him in the back of the head, interrupting his apparently deep conversation with several people Arthur had not seen before, and who were all dressed in matching short sleeved white shirts.
Before he could get distracted, he went up to Gwen and held the box out to her. She looked deeply confused as she took it from his hands, and her expression didn’t change once she opened the box.
“These are...”
Arthur interrupted. “I’m really and sincerely sorry for ruining your shoes. Morgana would kill me if I didn’t make it right.”
“But they’re too mu--” Before she could finish her sentence, Merlin had turned up at his side, carrying two plates.
“Sorry, Gwen, we’ve got to talk business,” Merlin said, gesturing towards Arthur. “Follow me. It’s too noisy to have an actual conversation in the dining room right now, as you can see. We’re having the staff dinner, but we can hide out in Gaius’s office.” Merlin pressed one of the plates into Arthur’s hand and started to lead the way upstairs. In the office, there was a small table to the side of the room, and a definite residual odor of pot.
Merlin grinned when he noticed that Arthur caught the smell. “Gaius just got his card, and he’s been spending all his time up here ‘doing paperwork.’ It means I have a lot more responsibility in the kitchen than he usually trusts me with, but it also means that I have to make sure to get all my specials approved before he gives me the eyebrow of doom.”
“Gaius lets you do the specials?” Arthur knew he sounded incredulous, but he couldn’t help it.
“Yeah. It’s something Gaius lets me do to keep from doing anything too crazy with the regular menu, like using a blowtorch for charring lamb shank and stuff. As long as he checks my ideas over for cost effectiveness and likelihood of sales, he’ll let me do just about anything I want.”
“So, they’re not something you throw together with leftovers, then?”
Merlin laughed. “Oh, no. I mean, yeah, he probably wishes I would, but Gaius mostly thinks that it’s good for the restaurant, and that someday the word will get out to people that we’re doing new things.”
“So, I know we talked about a lot of things the last time I was here, and I thought that maybe, we, I mean...” Arthur still wasn’t completely sure how to sell the idea of the show, or if at any point during the last conversation they’d had, if anyone here at Ambrosia was actually interested in being on television.
“You know you can ask me anything you want. Chances are pretty good I’m going to say yes.”
“Maybe we should get Gaius.”
“Gaius? I know you struck me as old-fashioned, Arthur, but you don’t actually need his permission.”
“It is his restaurant,” Arthur said, rolling his eyes.
“We’re not doing anything in his restaurant, are we?” Merlin looked confused. Arthur suspected that was probably a common expression for him, if this conversation was anything to go by.
“Of course we would be. That’s the whole point.”
“Wait, what are we talking about?”
The door opened. “What are you miscreants doing in my office?”
“Gaius!” Arthur said, standing up. “Just the man I needed to see. I want to put Ambrosia on television.”
“Well, I suppose you better work on your pitch, young man, if you expect to just come in here and have us agree without knowing your intent.” Gaius moved past them and settled himself behind his desk. All the better to glare at the both of them, Arthur supposed.
“So, the idea.” Arthur paused. He hadn’t actually thought this far, but he could improvise. “I want to develop a show about daily specials and the process of creating them. From picking the ingredients, all the way to showing your customers enjoying it. We’d do thirteen episodes to start, with an option for additional seasons if it’s successful. We can put our lawyers on the details if you’re in agreement.”
“What do you think, Merlin?” Gaius asked. “This would make you a personality. Are you prepared for that? I know you’ve had opinions about television in the past.”
Merlin made a face, “I know what I’ve said, but in my defense, I was like twenty at the time and full of opinions. Percy will probably be thrilled, though.”
“Percy?” Arthur asked. He knew they’d all mentioned the name repeatedly, but never explained who he was.
“He’s our forager,” Gaius said.
Merlin must have noticed Arthur's confusion. “He goes out and collects the wild foods that we serve and also hunts around farmers’ markets for special items and gives us a heads up about what crops are looking like. He’s also the only person with a van, so he’s the band’s equipment manager, too.”
“Was he the guy with the arms?”
“Yeah,” Merlin nodded. “Lance met him teaching a survival class and talked him into working with us. He grew up on a farm in Indiana or something, and was apparently special forces. It’s all very hush-hush.”
“You’re kind of an idiot, aren’t you?” Arthur couldn’t help it. Something about Merlin just brought it out in him.
“You wouldn’t be the first person to say it,” Gaius said as he began rummaging in his desk drawer.
Merlin had worked up to a full pout, and Arthur could only hope to get out of the room with his sanity intact. Maybe he should just come to terms with Merlin being too attractive to work with. Gaius handed Arthur a business card.
“This is my lawyer. Give that to whomever you need to, and let’s get this started.” With that he stood up and left Merlin and Arthur alone again.
“Are you ready to be a star, Merlin?”
“Are you sure you want this to focus on me? I mean, Gwen’s a genius, and Lance knows everything there is to know about wine pairings. I didn’t get the impression that you knew a lot about food, and I just don’t understand why you’re so sure about this.”
“Honestly Merlin, I’m not sure, but rather than let the station launch with QVC host extraordinaire Catrina Tregor as our flagship talent, I’m going to take a chance that you won’t humiliate me professionally.”
Merlin frowned, as if he wasn’t completely sure how to take that. “Before I agree to be your star, I want you to do something for me. Let me cook for you. Let me show you what a great meal can be. And if you still don’t feel like good food is a spiritual experience, then will you at least think about focusing the show on someone else?”
“I would like for you to cook for me, and I promise that if it doesn’t completely alter my world-view, then I will go find someone else to make famous.”
Merlin hit him in the arm, “Fine, make me sound like a dumbass, but I’m going to hold you to it. How should we arrange it?”
“I’ll have my assistant look at my calendar and call you. Do you need a special kitchen or anything?”
“Nope, I can work magic with just a skillet and a knife.” He paused. “I should probably have a spoon, too...”
“If you don’t mind coming over the bridge, we can do it at my place. I’ve got plenty of room and I’ve been over here a lot this month already.”
“We’ll figure something out.” Merlin paused. “Let me take your plate back down to the kitchen, I’ve got to get to work anyway. Freya will let you out.”
“Thanks. I look forward to you trying to prove your point.” Arthur walked back downstairs where Freya was waiting, and out the door.
He pulled out his cell phone and called Morgana. “I’ve decided to go with Ambrosia. Would you mind letting the folks at The Blessed Cafe know? I think it would be better received coming from you.”
“Morgana!” Morgause greeted her, setting a cup of the Blessed Cafe’s signature cold-brewed coffee in front of the other woman. “It’s so good to see you. Acacia told me you were here; I hope you don’t mind that I decided to bring out your coffee myself.”
“How could I possibly mind?” Morgana asked, smiling. “You know I enjoy your company as much as I do your coffee.”
“You’ll have to tell me what you think of today’s brew. It’s a new blend Nimueh found from a fair trade distributor she met on her last trip to Costa Rica. If our customers like the flavor, we’ll probably be replacing our old blend with this.”
Morgana lifted the cup, breathing in the aroma of the coffee before sipping. “Oh, that’s delightful. Definitely a keeper.”
“You think so?” Morgause asked, pleased. She much preferred this blend to the old one they’d been using. There was a depth of flavor to the Costa Rican blend that was only enhanced by the cold-brewing process.
“Definitely,” Morgana told her. “I don’t know if I’ve ever had a cup of coffee I enjoyed as much as I’m enjoying this one.”
“I can’t tell you how glad I am to hear it. And how glad I am to have you here with us today, sister. Have you only come for coffee, or do you have time for some food and maybe to chat a bit?”
“Actually,” Morgana said, suddenly serious in a way that told Morgause trouble was coming, “I came here to speak with you and Nimueh. I suppose I was procrastinating with the coffee. I was even considering trying the soup, even though I’ve already had lunch.”
“There’s no reason to be nervous, no matter what you’ve come to talk about,” Morgause told her. “You have shown yourself to be our true sister in the work we do here, and whatever it is that’s troubling you, I’m sure we can find a way to ease your mind. Come, why don’t we take that coffee in back and get whatever it is you’re so worried about out of the way?”
“Thank you,” Morgana said, rising. “You have no idea how much your kindness and friendship mean to me.”
Morgause smiled, and grabbed Morgana’s hand to give it a quick squeeze. “Everyone here at Blessed is family, Morgana, and you are welcome in our family to whatever extent you wish to be a part of it.” She released Morgana’s hand to tap on the closed office door.
“Come in,” Nimueh’s voice came from inside.
“Nimueh, love, a sister has come to visit us,” Morgause said, leading Morgana into the wood-paneled office.
Nimueh stood, coming around the large, oak desk to kiss Morgana on either cheek. “It is a delight to see you, sister.”
“Thank you.” Morgana’s answering smile was faint and full of tension. “It’s wonderful to see you, as well, but I’m afraid I’ve come as the bearer of some bad news.”
“Sit,” Nimueh said, her brow creasing in concern. “Tell us your ill news, and then perhaps we can see about brightening your spirits.”
Morgause moved to sit beside Nimueh as Morgana took the chair closer to the door.
“I suppose there are more professional ways to do this,” Morgana began, “but I felt I owed it to you to tell you in person.”
She took a deep breath. “Arthur has decided to go with another restaurant for the show. I tried to get him to see reason, but he’s convinced that someplace with a more traditional menu would be a better choice for the station.”
“By ‘traditional,’ I assume you mean ‘meat-centered’?” Morgause broke in.
Morgana nodded, her mouth twisting in annoyance. “The place does have few vegetarian options, and they are good, but yes, it’s primarily geared toward meat-eaters, and the only raw dishes are salads.”
“You cannot blame yourself, sister.” After some of the conversations they’d had on the topic, Nimueh’s mildness surprised Morgause. “We know you did what you could, and we know that you will continue to aid us to the best of your ability, even if this particular instance didn’t work out the way we all would have liked.”
“I appreciate your understanding.” Morgana shook her head sadly. “I wish I could be so accepting. My brother can be more than a bit hard-headed, especially when it comes to anything that involves challenging the status quo, no matter how rewarding it might be.”
“It’s an unfortunate truth that most people are afraid to explore new things,” Morgause said, leaning over to give Morgana’s hand a reassuring squeeze. “They’re convinced that if the majority of people think one thing, then it must be the best thing to think.”
“Well, I wouldn’t say Arthur is quite that bad, thank god,” Morgana said. “He’s simply slow to accept that new things might be good for him. But at least the restaurant he’s set on has better than decent fare. For about half a day, I was convinced he was going to go with some pizza place in the City that sells by the slice.”
“It’s a good thing he chose more wisely than that, at least,” Nimueh said. “If he hadn’t, I might have had to kill him for the insult.” She laughed, but Morgause didn’t think it had been entirely a joke.
“There’s no need to worry about insult,” Morgana assured them. “Even though I would have preferred that Arthur had chosen someplace with more progressive ethics, there’s no denying that Ambrosia’s menu is impressive.”
Morgause started. “Ambrosia? Isn’t that Gaius Emrys’s restaurant?”
“He’s the owner and executive chef, yes,” Morgana answered, “but I get the impression that these days he leaves most of the creative decisions to his sous and pastry chefs. They’re both really quite talented.”
“I’d heard something about him bringing in some new talent,” Nimueh said. “Something about a nephew?” She shrugged. “When I didn’t hear any more, I assumed it didn’t pan out.”
Morgana nodded. “The sous-chef, Merlin, is Gaius’s nephew. They’ve got a very devoted local customer base, but it hasn’t spread much beyond that.”
That name, Merlin, tickled something in the back of Morgause’s mind. She knew she’d heard it somewhere before, and connected in some way to Gaius Emrys, but she couldn’t quite bring it from the depths of her memory. She didn’t think she’d heard anything about the boy being a chef, let alone a good one.
“I imagine the family business angle would be a big audience draw,” Nimueh said. “I do hope you believe me when I say neither of us harbors you any ill will in this, Morgana.”
“I appreciate it. I wish things could have gone differently.”
“We all do, sister,” Morgause told her. “But our movement is strong and growing stronger every day. Even if this opportunity has not turned out as we had hoped, I know that in the end we will prevail.”
Nimueh nodded in agreement. “And you can also help us out by keeping us in mind for any future television opportunities. Perhaps once the station better established, your brother will be more open to including those of us who don’t fit easily into mainstream ideals.”
“Of course,” Morgana said. “And I fully intend to keep coming back to enjoy your coffee.”
“You’d better,” Morgause said. “It would be a shame to let such a little thing come between you and the best coffee in town.”
“In town?” Morgana asked in mock surprise. “You’re far too modest. This is easily the best coffee in the entire East Bay.”
“Now you’re just flattering us,” Nimueh said, smiling.
“Coffee is far too serious a matter for flattery,” Morgana said.
Morgana’s phone trilled, and she glanced down at it. “And on that note, I should probably run or I’m going to be late for a meeting.” She smiled at Morgause. “Could I possibly impose upon you for another cup of this delicious brew for the road?”
“Of course,” Morgause said, rising and taking the empty cup Morgana handed her.
She met Morgana back at the front of the cafe, a travel cup full of coffee in hand. “Take care, sister,” she said, handing her the coffee.
“I will,” Morgana said, reaching out to give Morgause’s arm a quick squeeze. “And you, as well.”
“Don’t be a stranger,” Morgause called after her, smiling.
As soon as the door swung shut behind Morgana, Morgause’s smile disappeared so quickly that it might as well never have been there. She remembered now where she had heard the name Merlin Emrys.
She reached out a hand and grabbed the arm of the passing waiter, nearly upsetting the tray he was carrying.
“As soon as you’ve dropped off that food, bring a bottle of the house brew honey wine to the back office, and then keep watch over everything out here. Nimueh and I have much to discuss, and I don’t want to be disturbed unless the building’s on fire or someone’s bleeding to death.”
Nimueh was waiting for her, still seated behind the desk, face impassive.
“This is an outrage,” Morgause hissed.
“We knew this was a possibility,” Nimueh said, far too calm for Morgause’s liking. “It’s not as though we aren’t prepared to take steps to rectify the situation.”
“We prepared for the possibility that Arthur Pendragon might not give us the show,” Morgause said. “But don’t even try to tell me you were prepared for him to give it to Merlin Emrys.”
Nimueh’s lips compressed to a thin line. “No,” she answered. “That I hadn’t planned for, but I have ideas for how we can modify the original plan.”
Morgause seated herself on the edge of the desk. “What sort of modifications are you proposing?”
Nimueh’s smile was grim. “The sort that will be very painful for Merlin Emrys, and for his family.”
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