5. Snake

Established in the early years of the century by celebrated chef and media personality Gordon Wyatt, La Coupole had survived its founder's retirement and recent death without suffering any noticeable decline in ratings or popularity. Indeed, it had reached the point where prospective diners were directed to apply for a reservation, usually several months in advance, and subsequently informed of the date and time when they could be accommodated. Exceptions were made only for visiting foreign dignitaries and those long-standing clients whose loyalty made them sentimental favorites of the executive chef and maitre d'hotel. Seeley Booth and Angela Montenegro might have had a table any night they required one, simply for the asking. Trevor Wyndham-Pryce was not, however, a member of this select company, and had had no choice but to await his summons, which had been three months in coming.

Bonnie passed through the outer doors of the establishment and into a bare antechamber where the under-maitre d'hotel stood waiting to turn away, with little or no ceremony, any diners who, in their ignorance, wandered in from the street expecting to be seated. This gentleman bowed her into the restaurant proper, and there, just beyond the doorway behind his gleaming wooden podium, was Monsieur Gaspar who greeted her warmly, congratulated her on her splendid looks, and guided her to the table where Trev sat nursing a Tom Collins. When he caught sight of her, wending her way toward him in Gaspar's wake, he rose quickly to his feet, his face bright with a wide smile. She had time to admire the figure he cut standing there in his dark navy Italian suit, white pinstriped shirt, and sky blue tie, a tie that, from a distance, appeared polka-dotted but that she knew, because she had given it to him, featured tiny white dolphins in mid-leap.

When she was close enough, Trev took a step toward her, captured her free hand, and kissed her, in the French fashion, once on each cheek. "Wow," he said, examining her from tousled head to beribboned toes, "Just… wow! I'm… speechless."

"Well," she said, grinning with pure pleasure and gratification, "I hope it's not a permanent condition. That would make for a very boring dinner."

Trev pulled out her chair for her, and motioned to the table setting. "I had them rearrange things so we'd be sitting next to each other, instead of across. Is that all right? It can all be moved back…"

"No, you're right: it's much cosier this way." While he resumed his seat, she placed her clutch on the table, and wrapped her stole loosely around her shoulders against the air-conditioned chill. "I haven't been here in ages," she said, taking in the well-spaced tables, draped in heavy, cream-colored damask, and set with gold-rimmed china, silver-plated flatware and sparkling crystal glasses. The fresh cut-flower centerpieces added not only color but a hint of floral bouquet to the air. "I'm really looking forward to dinner. I hear they have Chef Wyatt's oyster gin and tonics on the appetizer menu again. She laughed to see Trev grimace. "I know people say they look like sperm on corn smut, but they're supposed to be amazingly good."

"It's not that." Trev leaned in toward her confidentially, his deep blue eyes narrowed in concern. "Look, before we order, I think you should know: Wick-Sweets is here."

"He is? Where?" Bonnie swung her head quickly to the right and left, without glimpsing hide nor hair of her grandfather's disgraced godson. "Are you sure?"

"Yes, I spotted him on the way in. He's two tables directly behind you. No, don't turn around! You don't want to encourage him, do you?"

"Hardly. He's a greedy, disloyal snake. How'd he wangle a reservation here, I'd like to know."

"Probably traded on the family connection. He might even have suggested the reservation was on your grandfather's behalf."

"I wouldn't put it past him. He's stooped a lot lower, after all."

"You mean, by selling his father's book about your grandparents' partnership." A waiter, nattily garbed in traditional server black and white, approached the table, and was waved off.

"It wasn't that he sold it; he had the decency to ask permission first, and my grandparents had no objections. He'd gone through the considerable inheritance his mother left him, and he needed the money. The problem was, he betrayed their trust. He promised to make any and all changes necessary to protect their privacy, and he didn't."

Trev shifted uneasily in his seat. "I know it's considered a capital offense in your family, but I… ah, actually have read Parts of the Whole, and, to be honest, if I didn't know it was based on them, I'd never have guessed."

"But, you did know, that's the point. Would you have had any interest in the book, otherwise?"

Trev shook his head decisively. "That was the only reason I picked it up."

"Exactly. When it first came out, the novel was a total flop. The reviews were tepid at best, and there was absolutely no buzz. It looked destined for the remaindered shelves, or worse, returned to the publisher to be pulped. But then, in an interview with one of his journalist-hack cronies, Wick-Sweets was tricked — so he says — into admitting that his characters were based on real-life individuals, and he dropped so many hints he might as well have come right out and named them. Of course, after that, everyone had to rush out and buy a copy! Who didn't want to know the true love that inspired the classic Kathy Reichs / Agent Lister partnership? Who didn't want a sneak peek into the celebrated Dr. Temperance Brennan's personal life? The book was on the best-seller list for months, and it's still not out of print today."

"Made him a millionaire many times over from what I hear, and, that's not even counting the movie rights."

"Oh," Bonnie fumed, "don't get me started on that movie! It makes my blood boil every time I think of it. I never should have let you talk me into seeing it. If my grandfather ever finds out, he'll disown me."

Trev's lips quirked into a mischievous smile. "Ah, the blackmail possibilities!" More seriously, he added, "Do you think your grandparents really never watched it, not once? It was so corny and ridiculous, your grandmother would probably have gotten a kick out of it."

"It's true," Bonnie nodded. "She thought all the hoopla genuinely hysterical. Whenever she was asked to comment on the book, she would just laugh, and dismiss it as absurd. Grandpa B was not amused, however. The book was a serious invasion of his privacy, and he took the affront to heart."

"So, Wick-Sweets has been persona non grata ever since."

"Yes, not that it's stopped him from trying to horn in where he's not welcome. He crashed Sonny's wedding, remember? Gramps was all in favor of having him thrown out on his ear, but Grammy thought he was harmless, and let him stay. And, how did Wick-Sweets repay her generosity? The next day, photos of the family-only ceremony and reception were splashed all over social media. I tell you, he's made his fortune exploiting my family."

Trev leaned toward her again, sought and held her eyes. "There are other restaurants. Just say the word, and we're out of here."

"Let that worm ruin our evening? Never! If he has the nerve to come over here and try to strike up a conversation, I'll just take a page out of Gramps' playbook, and freeze him out."

Trev eyed her with a mix of frank amusement and admiration. "You know, I think I'd pay good money to see that. So…" He gestured the hovering waiter over. "I imagine you've worked a powerful thirst. What'll you have? Your usual Campari and Soda?"

Bonnie smiled at him gratefully, and blocked all further thought of Wicks-Sweets firmly from her mind.