Stephanie always had to be a little careful when eating with other people. Hunger for her was a constant companion, and she required between five and six thousand calories a day. It created a habit of carefully watching, for etiquette reasons, how one ate in public and often going home and wolfing down a giant steak dinner. So she was a good girl and didn't eat all of the food.

Which was delicious- and seemingly non-controversial. Certainly, it was clear that they were using premium, expensive ingredients and perhaps the foie gras mousse was a touch controversial, but so far it didn't seem like something that needed to be secret. Perhaps it was mostly a publicity scheme.

"I certainly couldn't tell you. I would say, though, that you don't have to agree with everything he did to care about him. My father did a lot of terrible things, but I still loved him. He was my father and in his demanding way, he was very good to me." She took a long sip of her wine. "Spring Break, then? Off to Spain?"

"I guarantee you won't be disappointed." As the tapas platter disappeared, another plate, this time of carefully arranged sushi and sashimi was presented. There was something peculiar about the way that the maitre'd insisted that it was impossible for it to be any fresher. What he didn't say, exactly, is that there were still-living fish slowly dying in the kitchens. For those customers that appreciated the spectacle, they would dine from the living fish itself- but he reasoned the two women were not that type.

And Languedoc prided itself on knowing its customers.