Dearly Beloved
A reception to die for. A menu to kill for.
Alan’s eyes burned from three hours of staring at the numbers. The Copper Pot’s overhead was eating them alive, chewing through their wedding fund like a starved animal. He rubbed his face, noting the metallic taste that had been lingering in his mouth all week.
“It’s fine,” he muttered, though the ledger said otherwise.
Kay didn’t look up from her phone. She was on a video call with her mother, enduring the latest wave of parental dread about the restaurant’s “industrial aesthetic.”
Kay forced a bright, brittle laugh. “It’s chic, not a warehouse. We love it. Gotta run, bye!”
She tapped the screen to end the call. The room went silent.
Kay didn’t move. She stared at the black phone screen, the bright laugh still fixed on her face. It didn’t fade naturally. It just sat there, frozen, for three long seconds.
Alan watched her from the ledger. He felt a small, cold prickle on the back of his neck.
Then the smile vanished.
Alan had insisted on hiring outside help. “It’s our night Kay, we can’t be line cooks too,” he’d snapped. “We need to look successful to be successful. It’s an investment in our future as much as it is a celebration.”
Their original caterer cancelled two weeks before the wedding.
Kay stared at the email, her face white. Then, slowly, she smiled.
Alan looked up from the ledger. “What?”
She turned the laptop so he could see. He read the email twice.
“Two weeks. We have forty-nine people coming.”
“The investors are coming,” Kay said. “They confirmed this morning.”
Alan leaned back in his chair. The metallic taste in his mouth got stronger. “Can’t cook our own wedding. Not with them watching.”
“We need someone perfect.” Kay was already typing, navigating to her social media.
Our catering fell through, 2 weeks out. The investors are flying in. Does ANYBODY know a miracle worker who can pull off a small-scale amazing wedding without bankrupting us? SOS.
She posted it. Closed the laptop. Looked at Alan.
“Gwen?” he asked.
“Gwen.”
The response came six hours later, a private message Kay checked while Alan was running prep lists for the dinner service.
Gwen: Girl, I got you. David Melroy. I’ve already reached out. He’s available and excited to work with you and Alan!
She included links to his socials. David’s bio was charming: “Turning Chaos into Canapés.” His feed was full of elegant plating and that particular brand of hospitality-industry hustle that looked exhausting even through a screen.
Kay screenshot the profile and texted it to Alan.
Kay: Gwen came through. Alan: How soon can he start?
Kay: Now. He’s bringing a crew.
Alan: How many?
Kay: Six, maybe. I’ll confirm.
Alan: Good. Call her. Make sure she knows.
Kay did. The call lasted ninety seconds. When she came back to the office, Alan was already pulling up the walk-in inventory on his phone, making notes.
“She knows,” Kay said. “And she wants a cut.”
“Done.” Alan didn’t look up. “How many guests confirmed?”
“All forty-nine.”
“Good.”
Kay sat on the edge of the desk, watching him work. After a moment, she reached over and ran her fingers through his hair. He leaned into the touch, eyes closed.
“I love you,” she said.
“Same.” He caught her hand, kissed her palm. “We’re going to be fine.”
“Better than fine.”
“Yeah.” He opened his eyes, smiling at her. “Better than fine.”
It was nearly 1 AM when Chris knocked on the office door.
Alan was still at the desk, going through supplier invoices. Kay had gone home an hour ago to sleep.
“Chef, the line’s backed up again. The main drain, past the walk-in.”
Alan’s face remained neutral. “How bad?”
“Won’t drain at all. Standing water.”
“Alright. Go home, Chris. I’ll handle it.”
“You sure? I can stay.”
“Nah. You’re opening tomorrow. Get some sleep.”
Chris left. Alan waited until he heard the back door close, lock. Then he got the keys.
The drain grate was near the walk-in, tucked in a corner of the kitchen that didn’t get much foot traffic. Alan used a small key from Kay’s personal keychain to open it. The grate came up easily. He’d done this enough times that he didn’t need to think about it.
He pulled on gloves, then reached down into the drain with a long, hooked tool. Two feet down, the clog was dense and fibrous, soft tissue mixed with what looked like fabric and long strands of hair .
He carefully worked it loose, separating the organic matter from the synthetic, pulling the pieces up in methodical clumps. Everything went into a double-wrapped black bag. He rinsed the tool thoroughly, replaced the grate, and locked it.
The whole process took twenty minutes.
Alan carried the double-wrapped black bag out the back door. The night air was humid. The bag was heavy, dense with wet weight.
He unlocked his car and tossed the bag onto the passenger floor mat. It landed with a wet thud.
He sat in the driver’s seat. He didn’t start the engine. He just sat there in the dark, breathing in the faint smell of copper and bleach that leaked from the plastic.
He pulled out his phone. The screen light was blinding.
He typed: Drain again. Third time this month.
He watched the three dots appear immediately. It was 2:14 AM. Kay wasn’t asleep. She was awake. Waiting.
Getting sloppy with the grinder, she replied. I’ll strain better.
Alan looked at the bag on the floor.
Love you, he typed.
Love you.
He started the car.
David arrived two days later, all energy and opinions. He moved through the space like he owned it, Australian accent cutting through the kitchen noise.
“Right, so this is the prep area. Bit tight, yeah? We can work with it though. Just need to be smart about the flow.”
He was tall, lean, dressed in tailored linen that somehow looked casual and expensive at the same time. His crew followed him: Marcus, an ex-military type with tattoos barely visible under his rolled sleeves; Sophie, who managed front-of-house; and James, the nervous bartender who kept checking his phone .
They moved with professional efficiency, taking notes, checking sight lines. Kay laughed at his observations about the “absolutely tragic” bar setup. She deferred to his expertise, asking eager questions about plating techniques. Alan stayed quiet, taking it all in.
“Look, I’m not going to lie to you,” David said. He leaned against the bar. “Two weeks is a nightmare timeline. But I’ve pulled off worse. You let me do what I do best, and I’ll make sure your night is flawless.”
“We trust you completely,” Kay said. She pressed her hands together. “Honestly, David, you’re saving our lives right now. We were out of options.”
“And out of time,” Alan added. He looked at David. Really looked at him. Sizing him up like a side of beef. “We need this delivery to happen.”
“I specialize in impossible timelines,” David grinned. “You two are easy. This will be fun.”
During the walk-through, Sophie was evaluating the dining room. “Where are you thinking for gifts?”
“Oh God, I hadn’t even thought about that.” Kay pressed her hands to her face. “We can’t just have envelopes sitting out, can we?”
David stepped in smoothly. “Absolutely not. Your aesthetics are everything. We don’t want some sad little basket next to the bar. I’m thinking we use that office off the kitchen. It’s out of the way, keeps the main room clean, and honestly? It’s more secure. You’re going to have cash in those envelopes.”
“That’s perfect,” Kay breathed.
“Also,” David continued, warming to his role, “every great event needs proper inventory management. We’ll set up a station for coats, bags, phones, the lot. Right at the entrance. Keeps everything organized, and it guarantees your guests are actually present for the ceremony. No one scrolling Instagram during your vows.”
“I love that,” Kay said. “Babe, what do you think?”
Alan nodded slowly. Then he looked at Kay. Just for a second. Their eyes met. It was the same kind of look Marcus gave him when they were running a job and positions were set .
David’s jaw tightened. “I need to check the load-in access out back. For the van.”
“Through the kitchen,” Alan said.
David walked back. He pushed open the heavy steel door to the alley.
He looked at the dumpsters. They were closed. He lifted a lid. Empty. He checked the second one. Empty. He let the lid drop.
The restaurant had been open ninety days. There should be grease traps overflowing. Mountains of veg scraps. The sweet-rot smell of garbage that never truly washes out of the concrete.
This alley smelled like rain and bleach.
They weren’t serving food here. They weren’t moving volume. The “restaurant” was a set piece. Insurance fraud, maybe. Or washing money for someone dangerous.
Whatever hustle they were running, it didn’t touch his take.
He walked back inside.
“Yeah,” David said finally. “Access is good.”
Kay stood. “We should check on the kitchen prep.”
“Duty calls.” Alan shrugged, following her out. “Holler if you need us.”
David turned to Marcus, keeping his voice low. “Get photos of that office lock. And the back exit past the walk-in.”
Marcus nodded, already pulling out his phone.
Sophie glanced at the office door. “Timeline?”
“During the toast. Coat check to office is what, thirty seconds?” David looked at Marcus.
“About that. Maybe less if we’re smart about it.”
“Office to back exit?”
“Forty-five seconds. Clean line of sight from here.” Marcus took a photo of the kitchen door. “Push-bar lock. No deadbolt.”
James looked up from his phone, nervous energy radiating from him. “What if they realize during the ceremony? That’s a lot of people to get past.”
“They won’t,” David said firmly. “High emotion, lots of champagne, everyone focused on the happy couple. We’ll be gone before anyone thinks to check.”
He straightened as he heard their footsteps returning. His expression shifted back to helpful, professional caterer.
“So, about the champagne service...”
Later, after David and his crew had left, Kay found Alan in the walk-in, checking stock.
“He’s perfect,” she said.
Alan turned, grinning at her. “They’re perfect.”
Alan pulled her close and kissed her. “Gwen really came through for us.”
“Gwen always comes through.” Kay rested her head on his chest. “I’m tired.”
“I know. Just two more weeks.”
“Then we’re good for six months, at least.”
“At least.” He stroked her hair. “You’re doing great, Kay.”
She laughed, pulled back to look at him. “What about you? You’re very convincing as the tired, checked-out groom.”
“I am a tired, checked-out groom.” He kissed her forehead. “Come on. Let’s go home. We both need sleep.”
They left through the back, arm in arm.
David came back twice more before the wedding, each time with different crew members. By the end of the second week, six people total had seen the space, walked the routes, timed the distances .
Kay played hostess. She brought them samples of the Beef Bourguignon they were testing, poured wine, and asked about their families.
“You look exhausted,” she said during his final visit, setting a small, perfect bowl of the stew in front of him. “Eat this. It’s not on the menu yet. Just don’t tell Alan I let you raid the test kitchen.”
David paused. “You’re a legend,” he said, picking up the spoon. “This smells incredible.”
“Alan’s family recipe.”
Kay sat across from him, watching him eat. “Can I ask you something?”
“Sure.”
“How do you do it? The chaos management thing. I feel like I’m drowning most days.”
David swallowed, considered. “You learn to compartmentalize. The restaurant is one thing. The wedding is another. You can’t let them bleed together or you’ll lose your mind.”
“That’s good advice.”
“Also helps to have good people around you. People you trust completely.” He gestured with his spoon. “You’ve got Alan. That’s half the battle.”
Kay smiled. “Yeah. I’ve got Alan.”
David finished the Beef Bourguignon. He wiped the bowl with a piece of crusty bread.
“Your bloke knows his way around a stew,” David said. “Where does he source the meat? It’s got this incredibly rich flavor.”
Kay didn’t answer immediately. She was sitting very still, chin in her hand, watching his throat as he swallowed. Her eyes were dark, unblinking. Cataloging the reaction.
“Trade secret,” she said finally. There was no wink. No smile. “But I can tell you it’s local. We prefer to process everything in-house.”
David paused, the bread halfway to his mouth. “Right. Farm to table. Smart.”
“Something like that.” Kay stood up. The intensity vanished, replaced by the harried bride mask. “I need to take this call.”
While Kay stepped away to take a phone call, David pulled out his phone and texted Marcus: Office door opens inward. Single lock. Bag checkpoint confirmed at entrance.
Marcus replied immediately: Got the exit route mapped. 90 seconds total.
Perfect. This one’s a gift.
During the final confirmation meeting, David walked Marcus through the plan one more time. They stood near the bar, voices low, while Kay was occupied with a delivery at the front.
“Marcus, you’ve got the timing down?”
“Coat check to office in thirty seconds during the toast at 6:20. Sophie maintains position by the kitchen door as lookout.”
“And the back exit?”
“Forty-five seconds from office door to van. Already staged it in the alley behind the dumpster.”
David nodded. “Anyone asks, you’re moving catering supplies to the van. We’ve got three minutes before anyone realizes what’s happened.”
“What about the couple?”
“They’ll be busy with toasts and photos. By the time they think to check the office, we’re long gone.”
David glanced toward the kitchen where Kay was signing for the delivery.
“James works the bar, keeps everything looking normal. Done this a dozen times, mate. Wedding venues are perfect targets. High emotion, low security, everyone’s distracted.”
Marcus smiled.
Later, David pulled Kay aside near the bar.
“Listen, I know this whole thing has been stressful as hell,” he said. “But I want you to know, you’re in excellent hands. Come Saturday, you just focus on marrying that bloke of yours. Let me handle absolutely everything else.”
“I can’t thank you enough, David. Really. We were so close to canceling everything. The investors... it would have destroyed us.”
“That’s what I do. Crisis management with style.” He squeezed her shoulder. “Now, I noticed most of your RSVPs are from your side. Alan’s family not able to make it?”
“Oh, his parents passed a few years ago. Car accident. So it’s mostly my people. Old friends, family, my mom’s book club. You know how those women can be.”
“Right, of course. Well, more guests means more gifts to secure.” He winked. “We’ll make sure everything’s locked down tight.”
Kay thanked him, walked him to the door. Watched him drive away.
Then she went to find Alan. He was in the office, on the phone. She waited until he hung up.
“That was Uncle Frank,” Alan said. “He’s confirmed. Bringing Tommy.”
“I figured as much.”
Kay sat down, pulled out her own phone. Started scrolling through messages.
“Mom confirmed this morning. She’s bringing six people from her book club.”
“Jesus, really?”
“She’s very excited,” Kay said. She didn’t look up from her phone. “Apparently the club has been looking for a project like this for a while. They’re...eager to help.”
Alan stopped typing. “Eager?”
“They want to be involved. Mom said they’re bringing their own tools.”
“Tools?”
“For the cleanup,” Kay said. She finally looked at him. Her eyes were flat. “They know we’re short-staffed.”
Alan leaned back in his chair, rubbed his eyes. “Alright. That’s fine. I’ll talk to Frank about the timeline.”
“You nervous?” Kay asked.
“A little. You?”
“Yeah.” He reached for her hand. “But it’s good nervous. Like opening night.”
“Except the stakes are higher.”
“The stakes are always high with us.” He squeezed her hand. “We’re going to be fine, Kay. This is what we do.”
“I know.” She smiled at him. “I just want it to go perfectly.”
“It will.” He pulled her into his lap, wrapped his arms around her. “Two more days. Then we’re married, well-stocked, and that critic from Eater is coming next month.”
“You think we’ll be ready?”
“For the critic or the wedding?”
“Both.”
Alan laughed, kissed the side of her neck. “One problem at a time. The walk-in’s getting low, so that’s a start.”
Saturday arrived with unseasonable warmth. David arrived at 3 PM, his crew in tow.
They moved with practiced efficiency, setting up the coat check station at the entrance, arranging the bar, coordinating with the venue staff. Everything looked legitimate, professional, exactly what you’d expect from a high-end catering service .
By 5 PM, guests were arriving. Kay’s mother, dressed in lavender, embraced her daughter with theatrical emotion.
“You look beautiful, darling. Absolutely radiant. Your father would be so proud.”
“Thanks, Mom.” Kay hugged her back, caught Alan’s eye over her mother’s shoulder. He nodded once.
Uncle Frank arrived with Tommy, his quiet apprentice in his twenties. “Good to see you, Alan. Congratulations.”
“Thanks for coming, Frank.”
“Wouldn’t miss it.” Frank glanced around the room, taking in the layout with professional eyes. “Nice space. Good sight lines.”
“We like it.”
By 5:45, the venue was full. Forty-nine guests, all dressed in formal attire, mingled in the main room.
David’s crew worked the crowd efficiently, collecting coats and phones at the entrance, directing people to the bar, ensuring everyone felt welcome and relaxed.
The officiant stood at the altar, reviewing his notes.
David checked his watch, then caught Marcus’s eye across the room. Tapped his watch twice. Marcus nodded, touched his earpiece discreetly. Sophie shifted position near the office door, casual but alert.
Everything was in place.
The ceremony was scheduled for 6 PM. Toast at 6:20. They’d be in the van by 6:23, fifty grand richer.
Maybe more, depending on how generous these investment types were feeling.
Then Kay appeared, moving through the crowd toward the bar.
She was holding a glass of cheap red wine, the only corner they’d cut on the alcohol budget.
David saw her coming, smiled warmly. “Everything perfect, love? You look absolutely gorgeous, by the way. That dress is perfection.”
“Thanks. Just nervous jitters.” Kay took a step closer to him, moving a little too quickly for someone in heels.
The wine sloshed dangerously in the glass.
Then she stumbled. The wine splashed down the front of her white dress, a vivid crimson slash against the silk.
Kay gasped, her eyes wide, mouth forming a perfect ‘O’.
“Oh God, David, look! I can’t walk down the aisle like this. It’s ruined. Everything is ruined!”
David’s professional instincts kicked into overdrive. “Right, no, we’re absolutely not panicking. Back to the wall, turn around, don’t let anyone see. I’ve got a professional stain pen in my kit. We can absolutely fix this.”
He was already kneeling, pulling out the specialized pen, focused completely on the fabric. “Bloody hell, Kay, of all the timing. Okay, stay perfectly still. I need to blot this before it sets permanently.”
Kay pivoted expertly, shielding the stain from view. As she turned, her left hand went up behind her back, briefly touching the back of her neck just below her hairline.
It was the cue.
In the main room, the guests stopped talking. The shift was subtle at first, just a change in posture, a sudden stillness that spread through the crowd like a wave. Then, as one, they turned toward the entrance.
Gwen, standing by the coat check, gave a precise nod to Alan.
He was already moving toward the kitchen door, his wedding suit somehow not impeding his purposeful stride.
Frank and Tommy stepped away from the bar, positioning themselves between David’s crew and the exits. Uncle John emerged from the kitchen, followed by two more men in dark suits, all moving with quiet efficiency.
At the coat check, Marcus looked up. He sensed the shift. His hand moved toward his jacket pocket.
He was fast.
Kay’s mother was closer. She didn’t look like a threat. She looked like a retiree searching for a tissue. Her hand dipped into her lavender purse and came out with a heavy, stainless-steel corkscrew. She drove it into the side of his neck with the mechanics of a woman who had done this a thousand times.
Marcus dropped without a sound.
Sophie, near the office door, saw it happen. Her training kicked in and she started to run, but only made it three steps before Tommy moved. The apprentice was faster than he looked. Sophie’s throat opened in a neat line, and she went down hard.
David, still focused on Kay’s dress, finally registered the absolute silence. He looked up.
Kay was smiling down at him. Behind her, the main room was full of people standing perfectly still, all watching him with the focused attention of predators.
Alan walked through the crowd like Moses parting the Red Sea. He was holding a knife, not a kitchen knife, but the kind you used for field dressing game.
David tried to stand. Kay put a gentle hand on his shoulder, keeping him on his knees.
“Stay down,” she said softly. “It’s so much easier that way.”
David’s mouth opened, but no sound came out. Over Kay’s shoulder, he could see Marcus crumpled by the coat check, blood pooling beneath his head. Sophie’s body near the office door, the dark stain spreading across the hardwood.
James behind the bar, hands raised in surrender, but the book club ladies had already surrounded him.
Then, from behind the bar, James started to beg. The sound cut off abruptly with a wet gurgle.
“What the fuck is this?” David’s voice came out as a hoarse whisper.
Alan looked down at him. His face was blank. “Remember when you said you specialized in demanding clients?”
The officiant moved beside Alan, licking his lips.
Kay laughed. “So do we.”
David’s eyes swept the room again, this time really seeing.
Kay’s mother wasn’t adjusting her dress, she was wiping blood from her fingers with a lace handkerchief. Uncle Frank wasn’t checking his watch, he was timing cleanup procedures.
The book club ladies weren’t socializing, they were efficiently disposing of evidence, each one moving with the practiced ease of long experience.
No one looked upset. No one looked surprised. They’d all been waiting for this.
All of them.
“You’re all...” he started.
“Family,” Kay finished, crouching down so she was eye level with him. “In every way that matters.”
David’s throat was desert-dry. “You were so close,” Kay continued. “You saw it, didn’t you? The empty dumpsters.”
David managed a nod.
Kay reached out, touched David’s face with genuine gentleness. “You were so good, David. Really excellent work. The coat check, the gift room, the timing. All of it. Perfect professional setup.”
“Then why?”
“The first caterer cancelled,” Kay said. “And we had forty-nine guests expecting a meal.”
She looked at Alan. He was already rolling up his sleeves.
“We needed to eat,” Kay said simply, her smile never wavering. “And the walk-in was empty.”
David saw the knife coming. Saw Kay’s face, still smiling, still kind, still looking exactly like a bride on her wedding day.
Then he didn’t see anything at all.
Epilogue
One year later, The Copper Pot was thriving beyond their wildest dreams.
The reviews were stellar, the waitlist was eight weeks long, and Alan and Kay had not only paid off the initial loan but had started looking at properties for a second location.
They looked happy, well-rested, and remarkably successful. The secret, Alan joked in a recent interview with Food & Wine, was that they were “obsessively dedicated to sourcing the finest ingredients.”
A food critic from the Times, a dour man in an expensive suit, asked to speak to the owners after finishing his meal. He found Alan and Kay sitting together in their office, reviewing the week’s profit margins and planning next month’s menu.
“I just wanted to thank you both personally,” he said, shaking their hands with genuine enthusiasm. “That special tonight was absolutely superb. Honestly, the finest cut I’ve ever had. What’s your secret?”
Alan smiled, the exhausted look completely gone from his eyes. Kay leaned in, her gaze bright and satisfied.
“The secret,” Kay said softly, “is it’s Australian. Small producer, very limited.”
“We only serve it when we can guarantee absolute freshness,” Alan added. “Never anything that’s been sitting around.”
The critic nodded, completely satisfied. “Well, whatever you’re doing, keep it up. I’ll definitely be back. That kind of quality is worth the wait.”
After he left, Kay turned to Alan. “Gwen called. She has another lead.”
“Already?”
“Yeah. She’s very confident about this one. Says the cut will be absolutely superb.”
“What’s the timeline?”
“Three months. She’s setting up the introduction next week.”
Alan reached for Kay’s hand, laced their fingers together. “We’ll need to expand the walk-in again.”
“Already ordered. The new unit will be installed next month. Uncle Frank says it’ll handle twice our current volume.”
“And Tommy?”
“He’s ready. Frank says he’s really come into his own. Wants to take point on the next one.”
Alan nodded approvingly. Outside, through the window, the evening crowd was starting to arrive. The reservation book was completely full.
The kitchen was humming with efficient activity. The walk-in freezer held enough premium cuts to last them through the busy season.
“You happy?” Kay asked.
Alan looked at her. At the restaurant they’d built together. At the life they’d carved out for themselves.
“Yeah,” he said. “I’m very happy.”
Kay kissed him, soft and sweet, tasting faintly of the wine they’d shared with dinner. “Same.”
They went back to work.
THE END
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