Emerald (Jewels Cafe Book 9)

by Jade Waltz

  Copyright © 2019 Jade Waltz

  Emerald is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

  All rights reserved.

  Published by: Jade Waltz

  First Edition: December 2019

  E-Book ISBN: 978-1-7335136-4-7

  Paperback ISBN: 978-1-7335136-5-4

  Cover Artist:

  Josie Cluney

  Editor:

  Personal Touch Editing

  http://personaltouchediting.simplesite.com/

  Formatter:

  Inked Imagination Author Services

  https://www.facebook.com/inkedimaginationservices/

  Contents

  1. Emerald

  2. Emerald

  3. Chryso

  4. Emerald

  5. Maw

  6. Vesuv

  7. Emerald

  8. Chryso

  9. Emerald

  10. Vesuv

  11. Emerald

  12. Chryso

  13. Vesuv

  14. Chryso

  15. Emerald

  16. Emerald

  17. Emerald

  18. Maw

  19. Emerald

  20. Emerald

  21. Emerald

  22. Emerald

  Epilogue

  Jewels Cafe

  Next in Series

  A Christmas Surprise

  Author’s Note:

  Connect with me at:

  Other Works Found At:

  Emerald

  A Sci-Fi Alien Romance Novella

  Jade Waltz

  Mafic,

  Thank you for answering all of my geology questions.

  ~Jade Waltz

  There was nothing like starting the day with a Viking send-off.

  Tears fell into the toilet bowl as I leaned over to light the matchbox boat. Inside was my favorite—now dead—pleco fish, Godzilla, hanging over the sides in all of his glory. Flames caught the homemade boat, quickly covering my long-lost friend as “Under the Sea” played over my portable Bluetooth speaker.

  “May your algae be endless in whatever aquatic city you conquer next.”

  Wiping the tears away, I pulled the toilet’s lever down and watched my beloved old friend swirl away to his underwater burial.

  “What a way to start the day,” I mumbled, throwing the unused matches onto the bathroom counter. “Now isn’t the time to sit and wallow.”

  Checking my reflection in the mirror, I gave my cheeks a couple slaps to try to balance the redness around my eyes before tying my hair into a tight bun. Satisfied with the results, I grabbed my room key and dashed out the door. It slammed shut behind me as I rushed down the hallway to the sounds of its automatic locks securing my private suite.

  I slammed my hand on the elevator's down button and checked my smartwatch. There were a few minutes until the emergency meeting that would decide the fate of the hotel. I grunted in frustration. Usually, I would be early to such things, following the belief that had been engraved in me over and over in my life by my grandma and mother.

  ‘Only good things come to those who are always early rather than on time, while on time was more acceptable than being late, and late was better than never. If you ever show up without notice, you better grovel.’

  Tapping my foot, I growled at the elevator as it slowly made its way up to the topmost floor—only to pause two levels below.

  “Fuck it. I don’t have time for this.”

  I dashed down the stairway and flung open the side door. Nodding to the front desk clerk, I took a few even breaths, then made minor adjustments in the display mirror before speed walking into the meeting room.

  “You are late.”

  Peering up at the clock on the wall, I winced at the confirmation I was indeed five minutes late—twenty minutes later than when I usually arrived.

  “I am sorry. I had some unplanned—”

  “Is this how you manage things?” scoffed an unfamiliar male dressed in a business suit far more expensive than what was typically worn.

  Dread filled me as I scanned the room and noticed there were no open spots available around the meeting table. This wasn’t a normal quarterly business discussion. A black portfolio folder and pen sat in front of every member around the table. My longtime managers shook their heads in disappointment, and the hotel owners had blank looks on their faces as the unknown businessmen scolded me.

  “No, Mr. Advic,” my General Manager, Stacy replied, narrowing her eyes. “Typically, all of my employees are on time and presentable.”

  Presentable? I glanced down at my dress shirt and slacks. Sure, it wasn’t a suit, but I usually worked in the back of the house as the Executive Housekeeper. I was never required to dress up for these meetings. Today was my regular scheduled day off, but obviously, they didn’t give me the memo they were having guests at this meeting and to dress classier.

  Stacy’s jab hurt. What happened to being friends? Granted, we didn’t do anything outside of work other than having a few drinks as a group here or there, but still. Now, she was throwing me under the bus? I forced my face into an emotionless expression as I tried to remain calm and not show the sense of betrayal and worry that coursed through me.

  “Not like it matters anymore,” mused the blonde-haired woman in a tight red dress. “Not after today.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Emerald, you know the hotel has been struggling to make a profit,” Stacy replied.

  “Correct.” I licked my lips. “That was why I was willing to take a major cut to my pay in exchange for living in one of the old suites.”

  “I will be the first to tell you, that is going to end today,” the lavishly dressed male said. “Starting at midnight, I am the new owner of this rundown hotel, and the first thing I am going to do is fire most of its staff—which includes you.” He knocked his knuckles on the table. “Then, I am closing its doors and doing a complete update.”

  “You can’t do that!”

  “I will, and I can.”

  Clenching my fists, I stared at Stacy and the hotel’s old owners.

  “When were you going to tell me?”

  They refused to meet my gaze, focusing on the table or the pen in their hands. It was too late for them to regret their actions. They’d just proven they didn’t really see me as a friend and didn’t respect me as a coworker. I sacrificed my pay to help them stay afloat and was willing to be the on-call manager when problems arose.

  “So, this is how you repay me, huh?” I hissed. When they didn’t reply once again, I turned my focus to the hotel’s new owner. “So, there is no way I can stay?”

  “You didn’t have a contract with them, and even if you did, you don’t have one with me, so I can treat you as a guest who refuses to leave,” he chuckled.

  “Fine. I will be packed and gone by noon.”

  “Happy fucking birthday to me,” I muttered as I sped along the highway, away from that mess.

  My car was jammed packed with the few things I had collected over the years as I drove aimlessly thru northern New York to the sounds of the local Top 40 radio station. There was nowhere I wanted to go or had to be.

  The people I thought were my friends obliviously weren’t, and my whole family had moved to Toronto while I was pursuing my hospitality business degree. It was mid-December, and everyone had their holiday help already hired and we
ll established for the final push. My best bet for survival would be to find a cheap place and bunker down until the students returned to school, then try to find a place hiring.

  No matter what I did, it seemed my dreams of managing a sizable exotic resort hotel had come crashing down when I had failed to secure the assistant front desk manager position after graduation. That was the beginning of how every interview process went until I started to work for that hellhole.

  I may not have my dream job—or any position at the moment—but I wasn’t ready to give up being independent and crawl my way back to my parents. Even though it was more common these days, moving back home to my parents would show everyone how much of a failure I was. I may as well take this time to self-reflect and find myself while looking for a new job and a place to stay.

  I sighed, refusing to allow the tears that threatened to fall from the heaviness of how everything was going unplanned once again.

  What happened to the American Dream?

  Get good grades and graduate from a nice college, score an entry-level job to the dream career you wanted, and work up the corporate ladder—been there, done that. What did I get in return? Single, no home, fired by my current and only real job, and hardly any possessions to my name.

  Today was my thirty-third birthday, for fuck’s sake, and the only thing I had was my paid-off car and being debt-free. I’d lost my home, job, and my favorite pet pleco fish, Godzilla, all on the same day. Everyone always said things came in threes. Well, today’s events better count as three items because I could use some good luck.

  “Like that will happen.”

  As I drove on, I studied the road signs and looked for a random nice-sounding town. Everyone always says to never judge a book by its cover, but every city with a cute and easy to pronounce name had never failed me with their nice cozy hometown feel. I always avoided the towns with the super long-ass names that were hard to pronounce. The one thing I always failed at was pronouncing the guest's names correctly, so there was no way I would settle in a town I couldn’t easily say. How could I tell people where I lived if I couldn’t even pronounce it?

  A highway sign for “Silver Springs” and “Scarborough” caught my eye. Silver Springs was the perfect name for a town to stop for the night. Smiling, I turned off the exit and turned right in the direction of both cities.

  Following the winding mountain ridge road between a thick forest, I scanned the brush for any wildlife. The lack of vehicles on the street was concerning as I tried to spot any distance markers for two towns.

  There were only trees—no houses, no roadside food stands, not even a gas station, even though my gas gauge stated it had a third of a tank left.

  Three songs later, I spotted the turnoff sign for “Scarborough.” Nope, not a friendly named town, but at least I was getting closer to my destination.

  Suddenly, my car vibrated violently, making a loud grinding noise. Cursing, I pulled off to the side of the road, putting my car into park, right in front of the “Silver Springs 5 Miles” sign before turning it off. Growling, I slammed my hands on the steering wheel and glared at the sky.

  “Fuck!”

  Holding up my cellphone, I paced along the side of the road as I hopelessly tried to get a signal from this junk. Of course, the one night I fell asleep without charging it would be the same day I needed it the most. A total of two cars had driven by in the last hour, and neither even slowed down as they passed. And to make matters worse, my phone was slowly dying as it failed its scans for the faintest signal. All I wanted was one little bar, and I could call AAA to tow my car to the nearest auto repair shop. Hell, I would settle for a Lyft or Uber, so I could find a place to crash while my car was getting fixed. I groaned, hoping I didn’t need a new one—that would be one more thing that went wrong today.

  There was no way I was going to turn my car on and try driving it for at least another five miles in hopes of finding an auto shop. In the current condition, even with my lack of knowledge about cars, it would be foolish. The violent jerks and noises were enough to prevent me from even trying, and with how everything was going so far today, it would be just my luck, it would catch on fire and burn everything I owned with it.

  I needed to do something. The day wasn’t getting any younger, and it would be dark soon. Granted, I was used to the crispness of the winter weather, but darkness removed the only heat source I had—the sun.

  Five miles wasn’t far. It would be a leisurely stroll, two hours tops. Checking my cellphone, it read 1:37 pm, with only fifteen percent of life remaining. I had a few hours left of daylight before the sunset. I could do this.

  Opening up my passenger side door, I shuffled through her center console and grabbed a couple of hand-warmers, tossing them in my purse. After bundling up in my hat, mittens, and scarf, I threw my purse over my shoulder and locked the door.

  Carrying any luggage would only weigh me down—especially since I had to return with the tow truck. The quicker I got to town, the better. I just hoped the rest of my day would go more smoothly.

  The journey wasn’t exciting, and I was concerned about the lack of traffic, especially since not one car stopped to see if I needed help. Was I wrong about putting all of my hope in some unfriendly—but nicely named—rundown town?

  The tall trees blocked out the progress of the sun, but it was getting dark fast. I rubbed my arms as a sudden chill passed through me when I glanced at the forest brush beside me. A pair of amber eyes glared at me between a couple of evergreen trees a short distance away. Blinking hard, I shook my head and peered in that direction, only to find them gone. Spinning around, I searched the area but couldn’t make out a set of eyes anywhere.

  Were they a figment of my imagination? Perhaps the stress of the day finally got to me, making me imagine things. Whatever it was, I couldn’t stay here. I needed to get out of here—and fast.

  Digging through my purse, I grabbed the pepper spray and ran.

  Running down the cobblestone sidewalk, I passed dead trees decorated in white Christmas lights and bare pots covered with holiday decorations. Silver Springs looked like something out of a Hallmark movie. Couples held hands as small groups of people traveled close together, all laughing and enjoying themselves.

  The narrow streets were empty of vehicles, only a few mopeds and bicyclists passed by as I made my way downtown, keeping an eye out for an auto repair shop. I was still concerned because no vehicles meant there probably wasn’t a high demand for maintenance, especially since there wasn’t a dealership in sight, not even a used one. Was Silver Springs a modern Amish-like town? Or perhaps it was like historic places like Mackinac Island, which didn’t allow civilians to drive vehicles within its limits.

  I slowed down and came to a stop at the crossing. Closing my eyes, I bent over with my hands on my knees, trying to catch my breath. The cold winter air felt like daggers with each intake, making it hard to calm my rapidly beating heart. I was too old for this—or just out of shape. One thing for sure, I didn’t want to do that again anytime soon.

  It didn’t matter if what I saw back there was real or not, the forest gave me a creepy vibe. Whether it was because someone was watching me or there was no traffic during my journey into town, a woman traveling alone in the middle of nowhere just screamed trouble. I was just happy I made it into civilization before something terrible happened—especially since I was stranded with a near-dead phone.

  My gasps settled, yet my throat remained raw as I opened my eyes and surveyed the crossing. There was an old, weathered board sign in the middle of the sidewalk with the words “Now Serving: Pumpkin Spice Lattes” written in such perfect handwriting, it was questionable whether it was stenciled or freehand.

  One thing for sure, baristas were the like bartenders of coffee—they always knew the local drama and happenings. Cafes usually provided free Wifi along with a place to plug in your appliances. All you needed to do is to be kind and give them the respect they deserve, and they would always sho
w you their appreciation in one form or another.

  That was precisely what I needed—a place to ask where I could find help, and while I waited, I could warm up with a coffee and call places as I charged my cellphone. I could only hope I could find someone to take me to meet a tow truck back where I left my car, so I could gather my necessities and find a place to crash for at least the night. There was no way my car could be repaired today when regular closing hours were in an hour, two max.

  Gray awnings covered the doorway, and potted plants sat in the windowsills, giving a welcoming, homely feel compared to the decorated bare trees outside. Pushing open the door, a tiny bell jingling as a wall of warmth slammed into me, jolting me with the sudden temperature change. Jewels Cafe had an open plan, a chic design with wood floors, tables, and chairs. Behind the counter was an extensive chalkboard menu filled with things I had never heard of.

  “May I help you?”

  I turned toward the male voice. Sitting behind a laptop at one of the hightop tables was a tanned, black-haired male with a slightly annoyed expression. He tilted head, scrunching his nose as his dark eyes trailed my body.

  I lifted an arm and took in its scent, smelling nothing out of the ordinary. Dropping my arm, I rolled my eyes. Was this town filled with crazy people?

  “Yeah… I need an auto repair shop.”

  “And I need to get laid,” he mumbled, closing the lid of his laptop.

  “What?”