//------------------------------// // Chapter 15: Finishing Touches // Story: Sparké // by moviemaster8510 //------------------------------// Rarity paced in front of the abandoned restaurant in the early morning, waiting for Peter to arrive as he had said he would. Despite only being there for a few minutes, her face read as if she had been there for twenty, maybe thirty minutes, hints of worry and agitation etched upon it. However, she lit up upon seeing Peter’s bike ride up towards her, composing herself to a more positive disposition. Peter smiled in return upon seeing Rarity so happy to see him, stopping his bike along the gate of the patio and walking up towards her. “Hey,” he greeted. “Thanks for coming here so early.” “Oh, perish the thought!” Rarity responded with a flick of her hoof. “I was so excited to hear that you wanted my help that I couldn’t help but come right over.” “Well, I’m very happy to hear that. Now, shall we walk inside?” “After you, darling,” she mentioned with a graceful motioning of her hoof. Peter nodded in appreciation as he stepped inside the double doors before Rarity, holding both the outside and inside doors open with this arm and leg. Rarity merely giggled as she pulled the other two doors open with her magic, stepping inside and looking about the place. While she too seemed impressed by the lack of dust and cobwebs, she still felt a bit overwhelmed by the empty nature of the place. “Good heavens,” Rarity spoke, “we have our work cut out for us.” “Tell me something I don’t know,” Peter sighed as he walked in as well. “Well, answer me this. How do you see this place?” “I personally envisioned a modern bistro, kind of like the one my dad used to run.” “A bistro?” Rarity asked, a touch of offence in her voice. “Why?” he asked, slightly hurt. “What’s wrong with that?” “Oh, nothing at all. It’s merely that I don’t normally dine in bistros, so I can’t exactly envision the look all that well.” “Oh, I see.” “That said,” she approached, “I will not leave you on your last leg because of this little hiccup. I’m still more than capable of producing a color palate for you. Tell me, Peter, what do you see being the primary color here?” Peter glanced around the walls and floors of the place, trying to envision a fully finished and packed restaurant and how it would look once ready to open. “I have many shades of brown in mind,” he answered, walking into the main dining hall. “I want a nice dark shade in here to calm and pacify the guests, as well as slightly lighter shades for the rocks surrounding the fireplace and flu.” “Alright,” Rarity responded, making a mental note. “Any kind of furniture?” “For the tables, I just see regular wooden chairs. For the booths, I see a matching wood color with dark-red cushions.” “Fair enough…” “As for the bar…” pondered Peter, stepping into that section, “I want this to be a lighter brown, because this is going to be a bit more lively area than the dining room.” “Duly noted.” “And have this little area over here be just like the dining room,” he mentioned, pointing to the smaller dining area on the right. “Drapes?” “Sturdy and red.” “Glasses? Silverware?” “Martini, wine, ale, water, and of course silverware.” “And the patio?” “I was thinking black metal chairs and tables; nothing too difficult.” “I see. It’s certainly doable, but there’s a bit of a problem.” “Hmm? What’s that?” “I don’t think you’re going to find what you’re looking for in Ponyville. You’re certainly going for a more urban approach when most of what Ponyville has to offer is quite… rustic and rural.” “And having it hand… or hoofmade here will take too much time and money.” “But,” added Rarity, “like I said, it’s very doable. We just might need to wait a couple of days so we can order some catalogs.” “Catalogs?” “Why, yes, darling! For the style you wish to achieve, you’re going to need to order from the shops in Manehattan, and all of the catalogs are available by mail-or-pick up, and even then to order all of that in bulk…!” “Rarity,” Peter laughed, “I knew this wasn’t going to be a cakewalk, and I’m fully prepared to take whatever steps I need to take in order to make my restaurant.” Rarity eased down and stepped out of Peter’s space, having not realized it before. “Oh…” she sheepishly spoke, “of course. Well, that’s very responsible of you. I know just the places to ask for them too. So whenever they come,” she said, walking to the exit, “I’ll be sure to give you a message and let you know when we can browse them together.” “Uh, yeah…” he called back with a wave. “No problem.” “I’ll see you then! Farewell, Peter!” Peter smiled as Rarity’s sing-song humming floated away down the street. However, her singing abruptly stopped when she called out to an approaching pony. “Miss!” Rarity’s voice called out, which Peter barely made out. “You can’t go in there! That’s private property!” “I know,” the mare said as she began to walk into the building, revealing herself as Crème Fraiche to an elated Peter. “I know the owner.” “Crème Fraiche!” Peter greeted, walking towards her with open arms. “Peter!” she responded, standing to her hind legs and letting Peter give her a tight embrace. “So this is your restaurant, huh?” “Yeah,” he answered, setting her back down. “In fact, that white unicorn and I just went over the proposed interior for the place.” “Oh, that’s splendid, Peter! You wouldn’t mind confiding in me, would you?” “Certainly not. I was thinking a classy, but modern bistro.” “That sounds like a great, idea. Also, I got your letter, and as you could probably tell by my appearance here, I accepted!” With a happy laugh, Peter and Crème Fraiche shared another hug with each other over the happy news. “I’m guessing Celestia was alright with your leaving?” asked Peter “Are you joking?” Crème Fraiche responded with added vigor. “She’s the one who convinced me to do it!” “That’s still very good to hear, and I’m glad that Celestia has taken it so well. Where are you staying then?” “In an apartment right now,” she said. “It might take a while to get used to after spending nearly your entire career in Canterlot, but the little towns still have an unbeatable charm to them.” “I see… Oh!” he suddenly remembered. “That unicorn, Rarity, by the way, was going to order some catalogs for the furniture for this place, but they won’t be in for a couple of days. Why don’t we, in that time, perhaps spend some time drafting up a menu?” Crème Fraiche giggled with her hoof to her mouth, extremely humbled. “Peter,” she declared, “I would be honored to have part in the creation of your restaurant’s menu!” “Speaking of food,” Peter suggested, “how about breakfast? My treat of course.” “That sounds lovely! I’m famished!” Peter and Crème Fraiche began to walk out to the exit of the restaurant side by side. “Have you given any thoughts to a name for your new bistro, yet?” “I have one in mind…” Peter responded with an enigmatic tease. The two pushed open the double doors to the outside into the rising morning sun. ____________________________________________________________ At Twilight’s study, Peter and Crème Fraiche sat at a table beside each other as both of them scribbled on a notepad with various ideas and misconceptions about the menu and the items within. “What about…” thought Peter aloud, “a cheese plate?” “That actually doesn’t sound bad at all,” Crème responded. “What kind of cheeses were you planning?” “Without a doubt, brie, parmesan, and bleu. I think cheddar is a bit too… common.” “Not if you can find a good aged cheddar.” Peter shrugged and cocked his head, having quickly been trumped. “Aged cheddar it is,” he agreed as he wrote the item down. Behind the two of them, Spike came down the stairs with two teacups and a teapot with a doily and cozy set beneath an on top of it all on a tray. “Here’s your tea, guys,” Spike said, placing the tray on the table as Crème Fraiche took all the contents off. “How’s your work coming along?” “Great, actually,” Peter said. “Crème Fraiche was the one who taught and inspired me to cook, so we have a lot of similar interests for the menu. In fact, we might just have a pretty solid draft before dinner.” “That’s great, Peter. Say, you wouldn’t mind putting something with gemstones on the menu, would you?” Peter giggled at Spike’s naivety, disheartening Spike somewhat. “Spike,” explained Peter, “you’d probably be the only dragon who would even want to step foot into my restaurant, so I can’t put an item on for such a limited clientele, but tell you what. When you come over to my restaurant, I’ll be sure to whip you up something special. How does that sound?” “Oh, yeah!” he responded, brightening up. “Thanks, Peter. Well, I’ll be upstairs if you need anything else.” “Thanks, bud.” “And thank you for the tea, Spike,” Crème Fraiche said as she poured her and Peter a cup. “Yeah, no problem. Call me if you need me!” Spike left Peter and Crème Fraiche to their business, who promptly turned back to their notebook to continue their work. “And what should we use as a palate cleanser?” asked Peter. “A water cracker sounds nice, but I was thinking of some kind of nut and fruit combination.” “Walnuts and figs,” Crème Fraiche decided with absolute certainty. “Nice.” Peter wrote it down, smiling gladly to see his menu coming along so well. ____________________________________________________________ Peter rode his bike through town with a small messenger bag on his side. As he passed the townsponies’ various shops and stalls, or the ones just walking about, he gave them a wave, which each of them returned. As he kept his eyes out over the entire area to ensure that no one would be in his way, he saw one pony that took his attention away, noting her mint green coat. It was Lyra. “Watch out!” shouted a child’s voice. Peter looked down to see the orange pegasus filly Scootaloo riding a blue scooter ride out right into his path. Peter quickly swerved around the filly from behind, Peter tried to make his way back to his intended path to avoid a brown stallion with an hourglass cutie mark. Even as he applied his brakes, the grass proved too slippery for the tires to catch, sliding his bike out and tipping over, falling to his side as the brown pony skittered out of the bike’s way. Peter groaned as he sat up, the white unicorn filly Sweetie Belle and the yellow filly Apple Bloom running to Peter’s aid while Scootaloo rode up on her scooter. “Peter!” Apple Bloom half-greeted half-shouted. “Are you okay?” “Oh, yeah,” he spoke, failing to mask the feeling of soreness he felt. “Just a little scuffed up. Bike should be fine too.” “I’m sorry,” whined Scootaloo. “I didn’t mean to!” “Don’t worry about it. I did some things as a kid I wasn’t too proud of either. It just comes with growing up.” “Peter!” shouted Lyra’s voice. Peter turned his body and head to see Lyra coming up and charging her horn up. As she stood before him and the three fillies, she lifted him off his rump and let him stand on his own two feet. “I saw you fall and I just…” she panted as Peter brushed his shirt and pants off. “You’re not hurt, are you?” “No, Peter said, pushing his lower back in with his hands, “and thank you.” “You ought to be more careful,” she said to Scootaloo in a much sterner expression. “You could have really hurt him or yourselves.” “I said I was sorry,” she responded with sincerity. “What’s going on over here?” Applejack’s voice called out. She approached the four ponies and human as Lyra looked up to see the orange mare approach them. “It’s nothing, really, Applejack,” assured Peter. “Just foals being foals, is all.” “Scootaloo rode out in front of Peter and made him crash his bike!” “What? None of y’all are hurt, are ya’?” “No,” Peter defended, “and don’t be too hard on her. It was an accident. I’m not angry about it, and I’m the one who fell.” Scootaloo shook her head in front of Applejack upon her gaze being made her way. “Well, that’s good to hear,” she sighed. “Well, I’m just checking in.” “Actually,” Peter called back, reaching out to her as she turned to leave, “now that both of you are here, I have something to ask from both of you.” “Huh? Sure, Pete. Whatch’ y’all need?” “I was actually heading over to Rarity’s to look at some furniture for the new restaurant. When I order it and it’s shipped here, do you know anyone who could help me bring it in and set it up?” “Why, sure, Pete! In fact, y’all are lookin’ at her!” Peter’s eyes widened at the stunning statement. “Huh?” he asked. “You would do that?” “Well, not just me. I can get Big Mac and a bunch of others from my family to come and help. I’m sure they’ll be jumping over themselves to help a friend in need.” “Wow… I honestly don’t know what to say, except… thank you, Applejack.” “Aw, shucks, it’s no big deal. Just tell me when you expect the stuff to show up, and we’ll be there.” “Yeah, of course.” “And what did you need from me, Peter?” asked Lyra from behind. “Right…” Peter unzipped his messenger bag and pulled out his notebook, which still looked to be in decent condition despite Peter’s fall. Lyra hovered the notebook before her and flipped through the pages, noting the different meals and other food options upon it. “Is…” she stammered. “Is this your menu?” “No way!” Sweetie Belle exclaimed as she, Apple Bloom, and Scootaloo clamored behind Lyra to peek upon the pages. “I want to see!” Apple Bloom begged. “I want to see!” “Girls!” barked Peter. “That menu for Lyra’s eyes only as of now. As my maître d, she needs to study the menu and get to know it well for when the restaurant opens.” “Oh…” the three of them sulked as they stepped away from Lyra. “Listen, the restaurant will be open very soon, and you can see the menu then. Honestly, all we have to do is get the place furbished and hire a staff and we’re all set. You think you can be patient for me?” The three fillies managed to smile for Peter and gave him a synchronized nod. “Good,” she said, “now, you three run along.” Sweetie Belle and Apple Bloom all galloped off down the street while Scootaloo sped away, close by their side. Applejack watched them go off before she turned to face Lyra. “So you’re the tomaterdee of Pete’s restaurant?” Applejack asked. “Maître d,” corrected Peter with an index finger pointed up. “That’s the head waiter and host of the restaurant.” “Golly, looks like you got your work cut out for you, but I’m pretty sure Pete made the right decision in picking you, and I’m darned sure you’ll make a fine… whatever you are.” “That’s very nice of you, Applejack. I’m really looking forward to it.” “Well, I don’t see any reason to keep Pete here any longer than he needs to.” “No,” objected Peter, “it’s quite alright. I wanted to talk to the both of you anyway.” “Still, you have your work cut out for you with Rarity, and boy do I mean that,” she mumbled with a slightly nauseous tone. “Thanks again,” Peter said as he walked over to grab his bike, which he found leaned against the side of a pony’s market stand. The brown stallion from earlier gave Peter a nod, signaling the deed he did for him. Peter gave him a thankful nod back and walked the bike down the road. “See you two later!” he shouted out as he hopped onto the bike’s seat and sped away. Lyra and Applejack waved as Peter disappeared from sight. ____________________________________________________________ Rarity sat at her dining room/kitchen table with a light flower sandwich on white bread on her plate, along with a glass of ice water. She took a small bite of her sandwich and chewed often, savoring the taste. With a knock on her front door, Rarity’s eyes bulged open, and with an unnecessarily strong gulp of her sandwich, she darted to her door. Slamming the door open, Peter jumped back a couple of feet to see Rarity with her overly happy smile greeting him. “Jesus Christ, Rarity,” Peter gasped. “I’m here, okay?” “Oh,” she said, straightening her already flawless mane, “my apologies. It’s just with the catalogs coming so soon, I was just so excited to finally get to work with you.” “I’m happy for that, but let’s just try and keep the Annie Wilkes at a minimum, alright?” “I’m sorry…” she responded with a cock of her head, “who?” “I… never mind. Let’s get started.” “Yes, please do co-ho-HOH!” she suddenly shouted as she noticed the green and brown stains on his pants. “Dear me! What happened to you?” “I just had a bit of an accident,” Peter responded, feeling trapped. “No need to fuss.” “Nonsense! Those are practically unwearable now! Do come inside so I can clean them!” “Can we just–” Peter was interrupted by a yanking of the waist of his pants forcing him inside as he yelped in surprise. ____________________________________________________________ Peter, still feeling flustered with Rarity’s vigor, wiped sweat off his brow as both he and Rarity sat on her couch before a wooden table. Replacing Peter’s pants was a silken towel that covered his waist all the way down to the middle of his shins. Rarity pointed her hoof excitedly at a brown, wooden, cube-shaped stool with a red cushion beneath it. Rarity nodded to Peter, hoping to earn his approval. Peter, letting out a nervous chuckle, patted Rarity on the lower back, hoping he could calm her down. Realizing the fool she was making of herself, she let out a slight smile and blush as she flipped the page open to the next possible sets. Peter, appreciating her change in tone, moved his hand to below the base of her mane and gently pet her, pointing to a classic brown, four-legged chair, Rarity marking this choice with a red marker. ____________________________________________________________ At the crack of dawn, Applejack stood outside the premises of Peter’s restaurant with Big Macintosh and four other ponies. One was a light-orange stallion with a combed brown mane and tail with three blue horseshoes for a cutie mark. Standing beside him was a yellow stallion wearing a brown cowboy hat and vest, with an orange mane and tail and three red apples upon his flank. Two stallions with similar builds to Big Macintosh, but with slenderer faces stood beside the yellow stallion. One was green in color and had a golden-yellow mane and tail and the bottom-halves of three apples for a cutie mark. The other was orange in color with a green mane and tail and a basket of apples as his cutie mark. All around them were wooden baskets of tools, as well as several buckets of paint. “Alright, y’all,” Applejack commanded, “Pete’s gonna’ be here leadin’ the delivery ponies right here with the chairs and tables and whatnot. I promised Pete that we’d do a bang-up job before sundown, and gosh darn it, I ain’t breakin’ no promises!” “We got this, cuz’,” the yellow stallion responded. “It’ll be just like when we fixed your barn.” “Listen here, cuz,” Applejack responded with a stern stink-eye to him, “this ain’t no barn we’re fixing up. This is going to be a fine eating establishment. I want this place to look good enough that even Aunt and Uncle Orange would kill to walk in here.” “Aha…” the pony nervously chuckled with a few drops of sweat, “of course.” “Right this way!” Peter’s voice called out from behind the buildings. Applejack, Big Macintosh, and the four other ponies turned to the source of the sound, only to see Peter jogging towards his restaurant with a parade of burly brown earth ponies pulling around a dozen carriages, going down the restaurant’s street as per Peter’s instruction. Walking alongside the sixth cart was Rarity, her bags stuffed with cleaning supplies and cloths. “Good morning!” she loudly chirped in sing-song. “Oh,” Peter panted, walking up to Applejack and her crew, “I forgot to tell you. Rarity’s going to help with cleaning and polishing the place up while you guys work.” Applejack rolled her eyes upon this mention. “You have nothing to worry about,” Rarity assured her. “With my help, we’ll make Peter’s restaurant the finest looking in all of Ponyville!” “You really don’t,” added Peter. “I’ll be overseeing the lot of you, so I’ll make sure no one gets out of hand.” “Oh yeah!” Applejack exclaimed. “I forgot to introduce you to the rest of my crew.” Applejack trotted over to the three other ponies standing next to Big Macintosh, Peter eager to follow. “You’ve already met Big Mac,” she said. “Eeyup,” the red stallion replied proudly. “Now, you haven’t met these guys, but most of them are my cousins from places in Equestria. Pete,” she motioned to the light-orange pony, “this is Caramel. He ain’t no apple, but he’s Ponyville family all the same.” “Hey,” Caramel greeted as Peter shook his hoof. “Can’t wait to see this thing when it’s done.” “You and me both,” Peter said. “Now, Peter,” motioned Applejack, going to Braeburn, “these are all my cousins. This here is Braeburn from Appleloosa.” “Howdy,” Braeburn happily yapped as he shook Peter’s hand with both hooves. “Pleasure to finally meet ya’.” “And these here are twins,” Applejack introduced motioning to the green stallion and then the orange one, “Apple Slice and Bushel.” “Howdy,” Apple Slice cordially spoke with a hoof over his heart. “Glad to meet ya’,” Bushel said. “I’m glad you were all able to make it,” addressed Peter, stepping back to the back end of one of the parked carriages, “but we have a lot of work to do, so let’s get started.” Peter grabbed hold of the latch to the carriage doors and opened them up, sighing contently at what was within them. ____________________________________________________________ Big Macintosh hoisted a brown, square table with a heavy metal stand into the room, setting it down at a comfortable space from the other tables and chairs they had set, panting and sweating as they took a seat on the polished wood floors. By the fireplace, Braeburn removed the gray, rocky bricks from the fireplace with a crowbar and replaced them with a reddish-brown granite, keeping them firmly stuck in with a thick cement. Apple Slice and Bushel stood on tall, sturdy ladders as they painted the walls in a nice dark brown. Rarity stood in the capsule-shaped bar, her magic grasping a couple of cloths, one of them made of silk, a spray bottle, and a few martini glasses. With one cloth and the spray bottle, she sprayed cleaner on the countertop and wiped the dust and grime off. With the silk cloth, she polished the three glasses and then slipped them in the now-spotless gold hanging racks above her head. Peter stepped inside with a greasy apron on, observing with pride at the massive improvements already made with their help. “Lunch break!” Peter shouted, jogging back outside. At once, the other ponies, elated with the sound of a meal, set their tools and materials down and made their way to the exit. As they stepped outside, they saw as Peter grabbed half a cap of a portabella mushroom off a small grill and placed it on an light, airy bread that already had leaves of lettuce, sliced tomato, a spicy orange sauce, and a shredded white cheese on it. “Smells awful good,” Braeburn whooped. “What’re we eatin’?” “Since you asked,” Peter explained cheekily as he placed the finished sandwich on a large plate containing seven others on a messy picnic table with his knives and bits of food everywhere, “this is portabella mushrooms grilled and basted with garlic-butter, chopped romaine, tomato, a southwestern-style sauce, and shredded white cheddar cheese on ciabatta bread.” “Oh, for Heaven’s sake!” Applejack shouted with a drooling mouth. “Just give us one already!” “Of course,” he responded, presenting the platter. As each of the ponies grabbed a sandwich, the sound of two ponies carrying a large cart containing an equally large rectangular object concealed in a heavy cloth brought Peter’s attention away. He saw as two large unicorn ponies stopped before Peter and his crew with their package. Knowing exactly what it was, Peter grabbed his sandwich and turned to face Applejack and Rarity, whose eyes were closed and their mouths smiling and chewing their sandwiches. “Hey,” he asked them, “you can keep a secret from Twilight until tonight, right?” Both Applejack and Rarity nodded, still focused on their delicious sandwiches. Peter, his trust sated, took a bite of his own. ____________________________________________________________ Peter stood inside his newly completed and empty interior that night, seeing everything was as he wanted. A dark brown dining room with the granite fireplace, brown tables and booths, red cushions on the chairs, and red drapes covering the windows. The bar was a polished-light brown with matching high-stools with red cushions, and looked nearly perfect minus the complete lack of alcohol. The kitchen seen through the pass still looked barren, but far cleaner than he saw it coming in for the first time. Looking at his watch, he turned to the exit, stepping out and stopping to look at the patio on both sides. The floors were free of loose leaves and cut grass and the tables and chairs gleamed even in the faint moonlight. A small fire pit was set in the corner on the left more clean tables and chairs surrounding it. Stepping further outside and facing his restaurant, the building’s color matched the dark-brown interior of the dining room. The only kind of blemish was the cloth-wrapped rectangular object from earlier in the afternoon. Soon the sounds of nine distinct voices came up from the back, Peter turning back around to see Twilight, Rainbow Dash, Applejack, Fluttershy, Pinkie Pie, Rarity, Lyra, Crème Fraiche, and Spike appearing from behind the block and seeing Peter’s restaurant, their eyes widening on the sleek and newly fixed building they now saw. Peter beamed and hugged his fists to his upper chest, upon hearing their positive clamoring. “Wow, Peter,” Twilight complimented. “This place looks great.” “Thank you,” Applejack and Rarity responded in tandem, each of them giving each other a smug smile. “But it’s not quite done yet,” Peter said, motioning the ponies to come closer. The ponies, minus Applejack and Rarity, unsure of what Peter meant, sported confused looks as they approached. It was Lyra who noticed the cloth-wrapped rectangle on the front of the restaurant’s wall. “Oh,” she exclaimed, “I get it! It’s the sign!” “The sign?” asked Twilight. “You came up with a name already?” “I did,” Peter answered. “In fact, I was wondering if you would like to have the honors.” “Honors?” “Yeah, go ahead. Pull the cloth off.” Twilight’s ears drooped and her cheeks blushed at the honor she had been given. “I… uh…” she giggled nervously. “If you say so…” Twilight stepped up and charged her horn, a magenta aura covering a corner of the cloth. With a whip of her head the cloth came off, and once Twilight looked back up to see the name, she and her friends gasped, stunned by the name Peter had christened his restaurant with, Twilight more so. Sparké Twilight put a hoof to her mouth, her eyes leaking tears. The others were too very surprised at the name, while Applejack and Rarity smiled, touched by Peter’s kindness.” “So?” Peter asked. “What do you think, Sparky?” “Peter,” Twilight sobbed. “You…” “I wanted to name this place after the one who became my best friend throughout my stay in Equestria. The spark of my life.” Twilight leapt onto Peter and hugged him tight, wiping her tears on his shirt. “I love it!” she cried. “This is wonderful, Peter.” Peter fished his phone from his pocket, swiping through the menu and pulling up the camera, redirecting the lens to aim at him, Twilight, and his the sign of his restaurant. “Twilight,” he spoke. Twilight, looking at the phone and realizing a picture would be taken, beamed and giggled, her eyes still wet. The other friends, happy to see Twilight as she was, warmly smiled at their togetherness. “Check it out, dad,” he said to the camera with a happy laugh. Peter pressed the red icon, capturing the moment of his next step to his true dream.