The waiter glanced from the platter in his clumsy hands to the emancipated shellfish at his feet.
Was the kid high? Linnie caught a pungent whiff of pot. The aroma reminded her of Freddie’s third year at Ohio State. During his Greenpeace phase, he’d never been without a stash.
She snapped her fingers before the waiter’s nose.
His eyes lurched to hers, and she said, “Clean up this mess before someone slips on the ice. You have one minute. Throw the shrimp away, and use the towels under the sink. Get moving.”
The kid trudged past. Ellis, fed up with the texting, hurled the sous-chef’s phone into a drawer. He slapped an onion into the woman’s palm.
Satisfied when she began chopping, he turned his sights on Linnie. “When are the others coming in?” He prowled between his assistant and the stove with a panther’s dangerous grace.
“Soon. Some of our former employees will also work tonight.” She’d managed to pull together eighteen ready hands from the staff let go seven years ago.
He glanced at her swiftly. “Good of you to bring back some of the old help.”
“Let’s hope I can make it permanent. We’ll see.” Given the money Freddie had returned, she could reinstate some of them quickly.
Ellis picked up a wooden spoon. Whether he intended to smack his sluggish assistant or stir the pot bubbling on the stove wasn’t clear.
“Just don’t leave me in the lurch,” he said. “We still have to finish dinner service for the inn’s regular guests.”
He moved toward the pot, and she exhaled with relief. “You’ll have enough people.” Eleven more employees culled from first and second shifts, plus the former employees who were coming in. “Jada also found several college students to help with service in the Sunshine Room.”
“Yeah, she mentioned the Hail Mary pass. Most of the students are due within the hour.”
“If you’re still running short, we’ll move several of the temp waiters to kitchen duty. I’d rather have slow service in the ballroom than no meals at all.”
“You’ll switch Freddie’s pretenders to kitchen duty?” He eyed the kid chasing shrimp across the floor. “I don’t mind giving the old employees a refresher course, but don’t do me any favors with the idiots Freddie brought in.”
“Your call, totally.”
“I’ll find a way to manage.” He scooped up a chunk of ice, tossed it into the garbage. “I think.”
The matter settled, she tiptoed away from the cloud of discontent forming around him. In the service corridor, the chatter of early diners in the Sunshine Room collided with the romantic notes of big band music drifting from the ballroom. Linnie followed the music toward the front of the inn.
The party hadn’t yet officially begun, but the nine-piece ensemble on the dais was already playing. From the chandeliers, crests of light silvered the ruby-red bunting festooning the walls.
At the opposite end of the ballroom, Silvia and Marco stood at the head of the receiving line. Among the first arrivals were many of the Sirens and their husbands.
Guests clustered around tables frosted with white linens. The tables showed off centerpieces of ivory roses—Silvia’s favorite flower. By the windows framing the grounds, several of the older Sirens shared laughter in a private circle.
Near the empty dance floor, Linnie came to a standstill. The ballroom’s glimmering excitement stood in stark contrast to her mood.
Daniel’s harsh words in the forest continued to haunt her. Somehow she’d led him to believe her attachment to the inn trumped her affection for him. She was falling deeply in love, her passions spurring her on without full consent of an intellect more prone to careful action. Why hadn’t she revealed how much he meant to her? Since their first, fateful kiss, she’d done nothing but confide doubts in their ability to forge a lasting relationship. She’d asked Daniel to take it slow. She’d thwarted him at every turn. Not once had she admitted how completely she’d fallen for him.
“Why the long face?”
Frances drew Linnie from her musings. Waves of charcoal fabric rustled pleasingly as she came forward.
“Well?” she prodded. She carried a vintage fan, which she waved for emphasis. “Stewing alone won’t solve the problem. Why not tell me what’s the matter?”
“Nothing, really.” Linnie inked her voice with false cheer. “Just have a lot on my mind.”
“I imagine you do.”
“Oh, I don’t mean the party. We’re short several pounds of shrimp, but everything else is going well.”
Softly Frances chuckled. “I didn’t think the party was the source of your distress. Is your mother’s visit troubling you, or does this concern Daniel?”
Denying the truth didn’t appeal, and Linnie admitted, “Both, I guess.” The silence lengthened before she came to a decision, saying, “Frances, you’ve known my parents forever.”
Amusement crinkled at the edges of her hazel eyes. “I certainly have.” She drew Linnie close, whispering, “I have the impression you’d like to ask something important.”
She recalled Daniel’s parting shots in the forest. “This will sound infantile.”
“Why don’t you let me be the judge? Ask away.”
“Do they love Freddie more?” The possibility was cold, foreign.
She expected the question to put surprise on the wealthy matron’s face. Instead Frances peered down her nose with enough mirth to give Linnie the impression she’d asked the wrong question.
A suspicion Frances corroborated when she said, “You might consider if you’re viewing your parents from the wrong angle.”
“How so?”
“Although they love you and Freddie equally, they work to win his love. They take yours for granted. Any idea why?”
She lifted her shoulders in a careless shrug. “Got me,” she admitted.
A secret amusement glittered in Frances’s eyes. “I have a question for you,” she countered. “But first, you must promise to answer from the heart.”
“All right.”
“Do you ever put yourself first? I don’t mean horning in on another’s good fortune or marching over the people you love for material gain. We’re speaking of the spirit. On the ethereal plane, do you put yourself first?”
“Honestly, Frances. When you leap into the Siren lingo, I’m hearing gibberish.”
“You hear well enough. You resist the message.”
“About putting myself first?” She picked at her gown’s tight bodice and screwed on her thinking cap. “I guess I’m not comfortable with the idea,” she said, unsure if she was failing a critical test. “It feels . . . greedy.”
“There’s a world of difference between greed and abundance. Discovering your deepest needs and then fulfilling them has everything to do with self-love.” As Linnie attempted to absorb this nugget of wisdom, Frances added, “Linnie, your parents take your love for granted because you’re predictable. Everyone needs a shock to the system once in awhile. You, your parents—surprise them. Go against the grain. Surprise yourself.”
“Got it.” She didn’t, but she spotted Cat rushing across the dance floor. Was she approaching with the first problem of the evening? Half of the guests hadn’t even arrived yet. Linnie had assumed they’d get past hors d’oeuvres before the first snafus occurred.
Frances said, “This looks like trouble.” She patted Linnie’s cheek. “Try to enjoy the party.”
She left as Cat bounded up. Sheer layers of royal-blue and ivory chiffon spilled from the waistline of Cat’s gown. She resembled a sexy princess, minus the tiara.
“I was beginning to think you’d taken another hike in the woods. I’ve been looking for you everywhere.”
“What’s up?”
“The guests aren’t receiving drinks.” Cat motioned to the people milling near the receiving line. “Thank goodness my parents are still greeting people. If my mother notices, we’ll all catch hell.”
Linnie pointed to LaTasha Peale, a former em
ployee who was already on the floor and hurrying between guests. “LaTasha’s serving. I’m sure the others are too.”
“The problem’s with Freddie’s hires. You have to do something. They’re sneaking rum and Cokes.”
And Frances wondered why Linnie didn’t put herself first. How to find the time with all the fires she needed to put out?
“I’d like to check on dinner service for our regular guests in the Sunshine Room,” she said. “Can’t Jada deal with Freddie’s so-called waiters?” Foisting the duty on her irritating brother was preferable, but his flight back had been late. He was probably still dressing.
“Forget about dumping the task on Jada. She didn’t finish my parents’ anniversary cake until ten minutes ago.” Cat bounced a thumb toward the ceiling. “She’s in the south wing getting dressed.”
“Fine. Point me in the direction of the drunken revelry.”
“Go through the lobby to the johns near the service corridor. You’ll hear them.”
Resigned to the task, Linnie slipped through the crowd. In the lobby, Daisy from housekeeping waved as she rushed past in her pretty frock. A family of four, tracking in sand from the beach, stopped to watch partygoers breeze to the ballroom.
Walking past, Linnie zeroed in on raucous laughter.
Sure enough, a group of workers stood at the end of the hallway outside the lavatories. Three women and two men—most held tumblers of liquor.
“I’m paying you to wait tables, not raid the bar.” She nodded at the tumblers. “Drop them off in the kitchen and get back to work.”
A man with caterpillar eyebrows threw a look of impatience. “What’s the big deal?”
Employees never questioned her authority. Linnie bristled. “Do I need to spell it out? No drinking allowed. Break the rule, and you’re gone without pay.”
A girl with translucent skin glared. “We’ve had about ten seconds to get into our roles. We’re working out the kinks. Is one drink the end of the world?”
“While you’re on the job? Yes.”
“Well, I’m having trouble with motivation.”
“How’s this for motivation?” Linnie growled. “Two hundred guests are filling the ballroom, and they’re thirsty. You’re a waitress. Serve them.”
“I get that, but what’s my motivation?” The woman flapped her arms, sloshing booze from her glass. “Am I angry or grateful for the job?”
Linnie teetered on her heels. Then panic seized her. Did Freddie come up empty at the temp agency? Evidently he’d brought in actors, which meant she should hand him off to Ellis. Let the cook roast his hide.
Footfalls thundered from behind. Freddie, looking glorious in a tux and bow tie, raced toward them.
“There’s no rehearsal—we don’t have time.” Panting, he skidded to a halt.
The woman noticed her empty glass, grabbed Caterpillar’s drink. “I want to renegotiate.” She downed the booze.
“You’ll do fine, my dear.” Turning to the others, Freddie blasted a thousand-watt smile. “I’m looking for realistic interactions. Be spontaneous. Think of the golden age of television, when actors gave their finest performances live before thousands of viewers. You’ll be marvelous!”
The group digested the speech with grumbling suspicion. Linnie, considering the ramifications of actors faking roles as waiters, tried to move her frozen larynx.
Her alarm went unnoticed by her dastardly brother. “I have every confidence you’ll excel in your roles,” he added, sugaring them with more encouragement. “Greet the guests, bring their orders to the bar, and wait for the drinks. My assistant will show you how to fill out the order slips.” Patting his golden locks, Freddie craned his neck. “Lexie? Are you here?”
His orange-haired assistant jogged up. Evidently Lexie hadn’t received the memo about dressing formally. Black leather pants, a biker’s leather jacket over a plunging green top with tassels in unspeakable places—all she was missing was a leather whip.
With an executioner’s grin, she herded the temps to the ballroom.
Linnie blocked her brother from traipsing after them. She took hold of his lapels, giving him a shake. “Why did you hire actors to work the party? I need waitstaff, not a bunch of second-rate talent. Are you completely out of your mind?”
Her fury bounced off his expensively clad shoulders. Pulling from her clutches, he tripped his attention down her outfit. Delight sparked on his mouth. Long fingers pressed to his chin.
“A marvel of nature,” he murmured.
She wasn’t following. “What is?”
“You, Linnie. The gown is exquisite. Make fire-engine red your go-to color.”
The compliment was a forgery. Wasn’t it? Never in their long and complicated relationship had Freddie proffered a compliment.
“And the cut of your gown!” He clapped his palms together. “Remember Marilyn Monroe in Some Like It Hot?”
“This dress will asphyxiate me before the night’s out.” She peeked in the mirror beside the entryway to the women’s restroom. “I do like the style. I’m not sure about the heels. Jada insisted. Feels like I’m standing on a ladder.”
“Beware of Silvia’s nephews, the ones from Cleveland. They’re on the hunt. Heartbreakers, both of them.”
Linnie swayed on her dangerous pumps. It was a toss-up what was more disorienting—the protective tone in her brother’s voice or his inability to recall the many hearts he’d broken in a long and inglorious career.
Softening beneath his genuine tone, she said, “Give it to me straight. Why did you hire actors to work tonight?”
“Culled from a theater in Columbus,” he supplied. “They were in the second week of Music Man. An electrical fire closed the place.”
“In your suite, you told Lexie to call a temp agency. I was there. I remember.”
He ambled down the hallway. “She misunderstood. We were mired in screenplay revisions. The lead actress threatening to quit, the August film schedule in jeopardy—Lexie thought we were moving production to Ohio if we lost our leading lady.”
She hurried to catch up. “That doesn’t make sense. All your films are shot in California. Why would she assume you’re moving production here?”
“I don’t restrict shoots to California.”
“What?”
He sighed with exasperation. “You are out of the loop. Last year, we shot in India. The year before, Brazil.”
Her brother, a globe-trotting filmmaker? She was out of the loop.
“Don’t blame Lexie,” he said. “She hasn’t been herself since the Sirens stormed my suite. She isn’t used to middle-aged women employing craft store weapons.”
“Okay, I won’t blame your assistant. I’d rather blame you. What am I supposed to do? I can’t have summer stock actors faking roles as waitstaff.”
“They’re serving drinks and dinner, not performing surgery. They’ll manage.”
“Consider yourself on bar patrol, Freddie. Your hires, your problem. Keep them out of my booze.”
“Fine. I will.”
Nearing the lobby, he stopped. She nearly collided with him.
“How was the visit with Mother?” he asked. “I’m sorry I missed her.”
An authentic compliment about her gown wasn’t the same as détente between siblings. “I’m sure you know exactly how the meeting went,” she said, scaling the battlements.
“Hardly. I’ve been too busy to check in with her. I do hope the pup has stopped piddling on the floor.”
“Give me a break. Did you book a late flight back to Ohio so she’d get me alone? I’m sure you’ve been laying the groundwork, making sure she knew you wanted control. Not today or tomorrow, but someday—and why not have Sugarpop run the place until you’re ready to claim your inheritance?”
“You’re under the impression I . . . coached Mother on what to do?”
The question didn’t merit a reply. His rapport with their father bordered on nonexistent. There was no doubt he’d influenced their moth
er.
“Think I’ll roll over and take this?” she demanded.
“You usually do.”
The jab plunged into the ventricle recently bruised by Daniel. “Not this time. Plan on a fight to the finish.”
“Don’t bother with the ultimatums.” He gave a devil’s grin. “Get your own script.”
“How’s this for new lines? I’ll hire the best law firm in the tri-state area.” She didn’t have the stomach to destroy her family. But sticking up for herself felt great, so she plowed ahead with the fabrication. “I’ll get a legal team with lots of experience wading through messy family agreements.”
“You’re threatening legal action?”
“You catch on fast.”
“A twist in the plot. And without a hint of foreshadowing. Intriguing.” He narrowed his regard, a shark scenting blood in the water. “To clarify, you’d risk court without Daniel at your side? Did you have a spat?”
“Don’t ask for details about my private life. We’ve never been close, remember? You’re the last person I’d confide in.”
They reached the lobby. Guests stepping in from the veranda stalled beneath the raised voices.
Relishing the attention, Freddie nodded at the audience. “Now I haven’t a clue where the plot shall lead,” he said, lifting his voice another octave. “Saint Daniel stumbles. What did he do to upset my normally placid sister? You look absolutely volcanic. Do you need a sword to cut him down? If there’s a joust scheduled, I’ll buy a ticket. Front row, please.”
To her horror, Daniel materialized from the crowd. There was no telling how much he’d heard.
“She’s not selling tickets.” He towered over her brother. “Fair warning, Freddie. Stick around, and I’ll make sure you wish you hadn’t.”
“Enter the Saint of Sweet Lake. Good evening, sir.” Freddie sniffed the pain and fury colliding before him. “This is peculiar. Should I depart? My sister is beginning to resemble an incendiary device.”
Linnie’s hold on her emotions loosened. She wasn’t prepared for Daniel, not with an apology forming on his handsome features and his eyes attempting vainly to catch hers. The bouquet of roses in his fist hung loosely, nearly skimming his polished shoes. He’d worn the charcoal-grey suit, the outfit he saved for court appearances. He looked dashing in a harried and visibly upset way.
Sweet Lake (Sweet Lake #1) Page 19
