Chapitre 16: The Test.
Robin smoothed down her dress as she walked to the doors of the upscale eatery.
Her hat kept her eyes partially concealed as Mr. Sinclair had instructed, requiring her to observe without being obvious.
She's nervous. Undoubtedly so.
The bustling building is a far cry from the sheltered world Robin has known.
As she steps through the ornate doorway, her senses are immediately overwhelmed by the symphony of clinking glasses, the murmur of conversation, and the tantalizing aromas wafting from the kitchen.
Clutching her pass, she navigates the maze of tables, oblivious to the curious glances cast her way, she approaches the maître d' with her pass in hand.
"Good evening, madam," the impeccably dressed host greets her. "Ah, yes, your pass. Right this way, please." He gestures toward a secluded table in the back of the dining room.
As Robin follows him, she takes a deep breath, trying to remember Mr. Sinclair's lessons on poise and grace. 'Shoulders back, chin up,' she reminds herself, 'and don't fidget.'
The maître d' pulls out her chair, and Robin sits gracefully, unfolding her napkin and placing it in her lap. "Now, to order," she murmurs to herself, her eyes scanning the menu with intense focus.
A waiter appears at her side, his posture impeccable. "Good evening, madam. May I start you with a drink?"
Robin considers her options, remembering Mr. Sinclair's advice on appropriate drink selections.
"I'll have a glass of the house white wine, please," she says, her voice steady.
"Excellent choice." The waiter nods and retreats, leaving Robin to contemplate her next move.
'I can do this,' she reassures herself, taking another deep breath. 'Mr. Sinclair has prepared me for this. Don't panic!'
As the waiter returns with her wine, Robin accepts the glass, taking a small sip and savoring the crisp, fruity flavor.
She sets the glass down and turns her attention to the menu, her fingers tracing the embossed lettering. "Let's see, what shall I have?" she murmurs to herself, her brow furrowed in concentration.
When the waiter returns to her table, Robin places her order with a calm, refined demeanor, never betraying the nervousness she feels inside. As her meal is served, she begins to eat, taking small, measured bites and sips of her wine, determined to maintain the poise Mr. Sinclair has instilled in her.
Midway through her dinner, however, disaster strikes.
A commotion erupts at a nearby table. "Watch where you're going, you oaf!" a portly man shouted, shoving a nearby server who is carrying a tray of drinks.
Predictably, the poor man stumbles, and a glass of red wine comes hurtling towards Robin.
She watches, almost in slow motion as the glass tips, the deep burgundy liquid spilling directly onto her delicate dress.
Robin's heart sinks as she stares at the spreading stain, her confidence momentarily shaken. 'No, no, this can't be happening!'
she thinks, panic rising in her chest. Her heart starts pounding.
But then, she remembers Mr. Sinclair's teachings. 'Remain calm, Robin. Handle this with grace and dignity,' his voice says in her mind.
Swallowing her dismay, she turns to the flustered server. "Oh, dear, it seems there's been an accident." Her voice is polite, yet steady.
"Could you please bring me a clean cloth to dab at this?"
The server, relieved by Robin's composure, quickly retrieves a clean napkin and hands it to her. "I'm so terribly sorry, miss. Please, allow me to-"
Robin holds up a hand, gently cutting him off. "No need to apologize. These things happen." With a serene expression, she begins blotting at the stain, taking care not to rub it in further.
The other diners, who had been watching the scene unfold, seem genuinely impressed by Robin's poise.
As Robin continues to tend to the wine stain, the maître d' approaches her table, a concerned expression on his face.
"Madam, I cannot apologize enough for this unfortunate incident. Please, allow me to offer you a complimentary dessert or glass of our finest port to make up for the inconvenience."
Robin looks up, surprised by the offer. "Uh, thank you, that's very kind of you." She pauses, considering his words. "But really, there's no need. I'm quite all right."
The maître d' shakes his head. "Nonsense, we must make amends. Please, allow me to escort you to our VIP lounge, where you can enjoy a complimentary after-dinner drink in private."
Robin's eyes widen at the mention of the VIP lounge.
A private lounge?!
This isn't what she expected.
She hesitates, unsure of how to respond.
"I, um, I'm not sure..." she stammers, glancing down at her stained dress.
The maître d' offers a reassuring smile. "Madam, your grace in the face of this…. matter has truly impressed us all. Please, allow us to show our appreciation."
Sensing an opportunity, Robin nods tentatively. "Well, in that case, I would be honored." She rises from her seat, following the maître d' towards the exclusive lounge.
The man ushers her in, "Also, As a gesture of goodwill, I would like to offer you a VIP pass to our establishment. It will grant you priority seating and access to our exclusive lounge whenever you want."
Robin's eyes widen as she accepts the gleaming pass, her fingers tracing the intricate design. "I... I don't know what to say. Thank you, truly."
The man bows slightly. "The pleasure is all ours. Enjoy the rest of your night, madam." He says before turning to leave.
Robin stares at the VIP pass, a sense of disbelief washing over her. "I can't believe this is happening," she whispers to herself, a small smile tugging at the corners of her lips.
Stepping through the ornate doors, she can't help but feel a surge of pride. 'Mr. Sinclair was right,' she thinks. 'I've handled this situation exactly as he would have wanted.'
Once settled in the plush, private space, Robin is presented with a glass of exquisite port.
She takes a sip, savoring the rich, complex flavors, and allows herself a small, satisfied grin.
*******************
Later that evening, as Robin makes her way back to the apartment, she practically skips with giddiness.
She hums a cheerful tune, her heart light and her steps carefree.
The evening's events have left her feeling on cloud nine, a stark contrast to the way she was before. She's never felt so….. free!
Bursting through the door, Robin finds Ramsey seated in his office, engrossed in a book.
"Ramsey, you'll never believe what happened!" she exclaims, her cheeks flushed with joy.
Ramsey looks up, a warm smile tugging at the corners of his mouth at the sight of Robin. "Oh, you're back. I take it your outing was a success?"
Robin nods emphatically. "It was amazing! I handled a little mishap so well that the maître d' gave me a VIP pass. Can you believe it?" She holds up the card proudly, beaming.
Ramsey chuckles, setting aside his book. "I can, actually. That's great, Robin. It seems your etiquette lessons paid off." Robin falters, her brow furrowing. "Hmmm….. you don't really sound surprised. "
Robin pauses, a frown settling on her lips. "Wait, Ramsey... Was that part of the test as well? Did you plan it?" Her eyes narrow, a hint of suspicion creeping into her voice.
Ramsey chuckles, reaching up to scratch the back of his head. "Well, you caught me. It was, in fact, part of my plan. But," he adds quickly, seeing the flash of disappointment in Robin's eyes, "you earned that VIP pass all on your own. I had no hand in that."
Robin's expression softens, a small smile spreading across her face. "I see." She takes a step forward, her gaze locked with Ramsey's.
In a sudden, impulsive moment, she rushes toward him, wrapping her arms around his neck quickly and squeezing..
Ramsey's eyes widen in surprise, his book slipping from his hands and falling to the floor with a dull thud.
"Robin, I..." he stammers, unsure of how to respond.
"Thank you, Ramsey," Robin murmurs, her face flushed with a mixture of shyness and pride. "For everything."
Unable to meet his gaze, she quickly pulls away and hurries toward the bathroom.
"W-well I'm going t-to take a bath," she stammers over her shoulder, leaving Ramsey alone in the office, his heart racing and a soft smile playing on his lips.
"There's no need for thanks between you and me, Robin," he whispers into the empty room.
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