Rescued

by Linda Rettstatt

  “On that note, let’s get this restaurant opened, shall we?” Evan walked to a small table that held a microphone and a framed picture of his great aunt. An amplifier beneath the table squealed. “Sorry.”

  Alex downed her champagne and realized she’d left her notes in the car.

  “Hello? Welcome.” Evan’s voice boomed from the small speaker at his feet.

  People stopped chatting and turned to face him.

  “Hi. As some of you know, I’m Evan Whiting. Amelia Cade Whiting was my great aunt. I’m sorry to say I didn’t know her very well, not as well as most of you. I’ve learned a bit about Aunt Amy in these weeks I’ve been here. I know that she loved this community and its people. And she was loved by the people of this town. My decision to name my new restaurant after her is my way of honoring both my great-aunt and the town of Cade’s Point.” He paused for applause. “Now I’ll turn things over to Alexandra Ramsey who will say a few words about my Aunt Amelia.”

  Alexandra? Alex accepted the microphone. “Good evening.” A loud squeal made her wince and she pulled the microphone back. “Sorry. Um…I’m Alex Ramsey. Well, most of you know me. I had notes for this but left them in the car. I think I can wing it, though. I first met Amy Whiting when I was seven years old. I was in the process of attempting to shoplift a bag of Gummy Bears from the Family Dollar.”

  Laughter rolled through the crowd. “Miss Amy caught me in the act. Before the manager could make a fuss, Miss Amy paid for the candy and tugged me outside where I got a good lecture on the consequences of stealing. She took me across the street where we had ice cream sundaes before she escorted me home. She stressed that she was not reinforcing my bad behavior but, rather, rewarding the goodness she saw in me.”

  A warm flush crept up Alex’s neck and tears filled her eyes. “That day she made me want to be the good person she saw, to never again disappoint her. I’m sure I did from time to time, but she never commented on my failings. Amy Whiting was an amazing woman who came from a fine family on both sides. Her great-grandfather fought in the Civil War and founded Cade’s Point. Her grandfather built the first library in our town and her mother was head of the library guild for several years. Miss Amy assumed that role after her mother’s passing.”

  Alex glanced at the gathering where many dabbed at their eyes. She spotted Kellie and her date standing next to Uncle Jack and Angie. Alex forced herself to refocus.

  “Amelia Cade Whiting was a proud daughter of the South and loved both this town and her home state very deeply. She put her time, energy and resources into education and making Cade’s Point a better place for its children. I believe that, in many ways, Miss Amy saved my life, saved me from giving up. She encouraged me to always stand proud and believe in myself, to follow my dreams.” She turned toward Evan. “I’m very pleased, as I’m sure Miss Amy is, that you’ve named your restaurant for her.” Taking a second glass of champagne from a waiter standing nearby, she lifted it. “To Miss Amelia Cade Whiting and to Amelia’s.”

  People joined in the toast and applauded. Evan leaned toward her and whispered, “Thank you so much. That was beautiful.” He introduced the Mayor.

  Tubby Granger took the microphone. “I couldn’t have said that any better. Miss Amy was truly a cornerstone of our fine community. Perhaps I should hire Alex as my campaign manager.” People chuckled. “But you all know what I stand for, so don’t forget to vote. Now…” He patted his girth. “You gonna open this restaurant so we can sample your cooking?”

  “We are.” Evan retrieved three scissors from the side table and handed one to Alex and another to the Mayor.

  Tiffany worked her way up to the front and pushed past them. “Have to use the ladies’ room,” she whispered. “Excuse me.”

  “We’re going to cut the ribbon. Can’t it wait?” Evan asked.

  “Sorry. Can’t.” She tugged open the door and slipped inside.

  Evan turned around. “On the count of three.” He counted off and, on three, they each cut through the ribbon. Again, the crowd erupted in applause. Cameras flashed, capturing the moment.

  Evan hustled into the restaurant to greet diners. Music wafted softly from speakers at ceiling level in each corner. Evan had set up a buffet for the opening and invited the guests to help themselves. Alex wondered what this evening was going to cost him. She knew how these people could eat and drink.

  Alex walked around the perimeter of the dining room, studying the photographs and antiques Evan had salvaged from Amy’s house. They were perfect and lent a familiarity to the space. From the corner of her eye, she spotted Tiffany slip from the kitchen. The restrooms, however, were on the opposite side of the dining room behind the bar.

  The wait staff uncovered the buffet pans and people lined up to fill their plates. A photographer from the local newspaper snapped pictures of the diners and of Evan handing a filled plate to Henrietta Atkins. Before Evan could step away, Tiffany looped an arm through his and smiled broadly while the man took another picture. Evan tugged his arm, but she held it tightly.

  Alex grinned. The man had the look of a trapped animal in his eyes. Served him right. People had begun to eat and Alex noticed several making sour faces and gulping water. The food couldn’t be that bad. A table of six women from the Daughters of the Confederacy waved Evan over. Alex watched as he listened, shook his head, and then picked up a fork to sample something. He swallowed and his face seemed to pucker.

  Table by table, people were dropping forks, draining water glasses, and pushing away their plates. The man who’d been talking with Tiffany earlier spat food into his napkin and dropped it onto his plate. He held up his iPhone and spoke into it.

  Evan stood in the center of the room. “May I have everyone’s attention? Please, stop eating.”

  “Not a problem,” came a man’s voice from the back of the room.

  “I’m very sorry. Something clearly went wrong. If you’ll all be patient, I’ll be right back.” He disappeared into the kitchen.

  Alex noticed that Tiffany had not touched her plate of food and now sat with a satisfied smirk on her face.

  The kitchen doors burst open and the wait staff removed the trays of food from the buffet. Evan followed, red faced. “Ladies and gentlemen, I’m so very sorry. I don’t know how this happened, but apparently the food was tampered with. Don’t worry. It’s only salt and pepper, nothing harmful.”

  “Unless you have hypertension,” one woman muttered as she stood to leave. “All that salt could kill someone with hypertension.”

  Evan held up his hands. “Wait, please. I’m very sorry about dinner. I can assure you the desserts are fine and we’ll serve those with coffee, if you can give us five minutes.”

  Two couples had already reached the door. One man called back, “No thanks. I’d like dinner first. Hey, Jack. You gonna open up the Out Back.”

  To his credit, Alex’s uncle shook his head. “Nope, not tonight. I’m gonna have some fine dessert and coffee right here.” Then he said to the woman, “You don’t worry about your hypertension when you come to my place for all-you-can-eat wings.”

  Laughter was drowned out, however, by the sound of chairs scraping on the floor. Alex felt so bad for Evan. She hurried toward the kitchen and met him at the door. “What happened?”

  “I don’t know. Beth and I prepared all this food ourselves. It was perfect. I tasted it all. Someone had to have tampered with it.”

  Alex thought about Tiffany’s hasty retreat inside to use the bathroom while the rest of them including the staff were all outside for the ribbon cutting. “Yes, and I think I know who.” She stared at Tiffany who had taken up residence at the bar and was sipping a drink.

  “No. Why would she want to ruin this evening?”

  “Because you are still her husband and she does not want you to stay here in Cade’s Point.”

  “That’s ridiculous.”

  Kellie joined them and asked, “Who invited Carson Bentley?”

  “Who’
s Carson Bentley?” Evan asked.

  “That guy talking on his phone. He’s the food critic for the Appeal.”

  Alex watched Evan’s face as the truth tumbled into place. He gritted his teeth. “I’m going to kill her.” He strode across the dining room toward the bar.

  “Who’s he going to kill?” Kellie asked.

  “His ex-wife, well, wife, over there set him up.”

  “His wife?”

  “He thought they were divorced but apparently he forgot to sign the papers. Now she smells old money and has come to reclaim him for herself.”

  “But he can’t be married.”

  Alex furrowed her eyebrows. “Why not?”

  “Because he’s your…. Uh…he’s…uh…. Never mind. It just doesn’t seem right, that’s all.”

  “You’re not making any sense.”

  “Oh, look. Chocolate cheesecake.” Kellie hustled to the dessert bar where a waiter and a waitress were setting out plates of decadent desserts.

  Evan towered over Tiffany at the bar before taking her by the arm and practically dragging her into the kitchen. A moment later, Beth Lyons, the Sous Chef, emerged and pretended to examine the desserts.

  “What the hell do you think you’re doing?” his voice boomed.

  “Evan, you’re hurting me,” she squealed.

  “I’m not even touching you. Are you trying to destroy me completely? Is that your plan?”

  “Don’t be ridiculous. Why would I do that? I’m your wife!”

  The word ‘wife’ shot from the kitchen and ricocheted around the dining room. Silence fell around the few still occupied tables as eyes locked on the kitchen doors.

  “Only for another forty-eight hours,” Evan said.

  “Think again,” Tiffany shouted back.

  Alex stuck her head through the split doors and hissed, “Everyone can hear you out here.”

  Both Evan and Tiffany glared at her and said, “Good.”

  Anger at Tiffany’s conniving and the injustice that would result spurred Alex into action. She could not let Bentley leave and write a review based on this disaster that was clearly arranged by Tiffany. “We’ve got to stop him,” she said.

  “Who?” Kellie asked.

  “That reporter. We can’t let him leave with his phone and his terrible review.”

  Kellie sprang into action, hurrying across the room to sit at Carson’s table. “Why, you’re Carson Bentley. I read your restaurant reviews all the time.” She flashed her best broad smile.

  “Yes, I am, and thank you. Now if you’ll excuse me.”

  Alex came toward them carrying a tray of champagne glasses. As she reached the table, she stumbled, letting the liquid shower over Bentley and across the table. “Oh, I am so sorry.” She picked up a napkin and dabbed the man’s face.

  He jerked the cloth from her hand. “You clumsy twit.”

  While he was mopping champagne from his face, Alex picked up his cell phone and deposited it in her pocket. She had the identical phone and discreetly slid hers onto the table.

  Bentley dropped the sopping cloth napkin and snatched the phone from her hand. “Give me that.”

  “I was moving it to keep it dry.”

  “You can read my review tomorrow but, for tonight, my advice is don’t eat a thing in this place. God knows what he puts in the food but it’s not fit for a river rat.” He glared at Alex. “And the service isn’t much better.” He strode out the door.

  “That went well,” Alex said.

  “You’re a genius. And, for the record, he’s a snooty, egotistical jerk who wouldn’t know good barbecue if it bit him in that fat butt of his. Come on. Let’s join Uncle Jack and Angie for dessert. I’m dying to know more about that story.”

  “Yes, me too. But first we have a review to write.” She grinned, retrieving Bentley’s phone from her pocket. “I swapped phones.”

  The voices in the kitchen had quieted. Tiffany emerged, her face red and tear-stained, and walked straight out the front door. Evan came out a few moments later straightening his jacket sleeves and forcing a brittle smile to the few diners who’d remained. He moved among the tables, apologizing and begging people to come back again and have a meal on the house.

  “I’m so sorry, folks,” he said as he stood at their table.

  “Things happen,” Jack said. “Sit down. This bread pudding is about the best I’ve ever tasted.”

  “Thanks. It’s one of Aunt Amy’s recipes.” Evan loosened his tie and sat. Alex couldn’t take her eyes off his Adam’s apple and the way it bobbed when he swallowed.

  “Alex, are you okay?” Kellie asked.

  “Fine.” She picked up a water glass and chugged, wincing as the icy cold burned behind her right eye. “Evan, you know that guy who was talking to Tiffany earlier? Well, Kellie recognized him as a food critic for the Appeal.”

  Evan closed his eyes. “Oh, good God. Not again.” He explained what had shut down his New York restaurant and destroyed his reputation. “Maybe someone’s trying to tell me something. Once he writes his review, this place will be closed before it ever officially opened.”

  Alex lifted the phone and grinned. “Not if we send a good review first.”

  “And how do we do that?” Evan asked.

  “With Carson Bentley’s iPhone.” She waved the phone. “My phone looks a lot like his, so I made a little trade. All I have to do is….” She opened the email on Carson’s phone and typed. “There, and I hit send. Mr. Bentley’s review went to his editor. It’ll get to the newspaper before he does in the morning and go to print in the early edition.”

  Evan’s face broadened into a smile. “I could just….” He leaned over, took her face between his hands, and kissed her.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Alex grinned as she read the sterling review of the grand opening of Amelia’s. “The ambience and charm of Amelia’s, named for prominent Cade’s Point resident Amelia Cade Whiting, gives one the feel of Sunday dinner in your own Aunt Amelia’s dining room. The restaurant boasts a menu of both traditional Southern fare and specialty dishes by award-winning chef and owner Evan Whiting. It was unfortunate that the buffet presented for the grand opening was spoiled by overly-salted dishes. A woman who later claimed to be Evan Whiting’s estranged wife, was seen entering the kitchen during the grand opening ceremony and is believed to have salted the dishes prior to their serving. Evan Whiting issued an apology to his guests and will host another free buffet so that locals can sample his fare. This reviewer will be sure to be there and report back on the results.”

  Kellie laughed. “Oh, wow, you are brilliant. But I’m confused. I thought you were at war with Evan.”

  “War? No. We’ve had our differences. This is more about justice. Tiffany is trying to destroy him and take advantage of him.”

  “Oh, so now you’re part of the Justice League?” Kellie sipped her coffee. “I think maybe you like Evan more than you want to admit.”

  “He’s a nice enough guy who’s trying to start over and it’s not fair for anyone to set him up for failure like that. I owe it to Amy to at least be kind to her kin.”

  “Check the obituaries and see if Carson Bentley’s head exploded when he read his review.”

  “I probably should cancel my phone and get a new one before he decides to get even by running up a couple grand in international calls.”

  The doorbell rang and Alex was still laughing as she answered—until she saw Carson Bentley’s near-purple face and clenched jaw. He held out his hand. “My phone. Now.”

  “Uh…I….”

  “I know you have my phone, Miss Ramsey, because I seem to have yours. I want my phone back immediately.”

  Alex lifted her chin in defiance. “Where is my phone?”

  He slid her cell phone from his pocket. “Right here.”

  Alex retrieved Bentley’s cell phone and hesitantly offered it to him, reaching with her other hand to snatch her own phone. “You should be glad I saved you from making
a terrible mistake. You do realize you were set up by Tiffany.”

  He narrowed his gaze at her. “Have you ever read any of my reviews, Miss Ramsey?”

  “No, I can’t say I have.”

  “Well, anyone who has would know that drivel you wrote is not my standard review. Now I not only have to retract that review, find some reasonable explanation for how my column was hijacked by a hack, but have to return to that god-awful restaurant and write a new review. Keep in mind, karma can be vindictive.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  But Bentley had turned and stalked off, examining his phone as he went.

  Alex returned to the kitchen and checked her phone. “Oh, my God.”

  “What?” Kellie stood over her.

  “He sent emails to all of my donors for the shelter telling them we’re closing our doors as of Monday and euthanizing all animals that are not adopted. And he eliminated my contact list. I’ve got to get to the shelter.”

  Forty-five angry and confused phone messages, emails or texts were waiting for her. “No, no, no.” The no-kill shelter relied on the donations of these people to keep afloat and provide quality care for the animals in residence. If they thought the shelter was closing or that it was unstable—or she was unstable—funding could go away. Yes, Alex had inherited money to help with the shelter, but not enough to keep this one running while she paid to build a new facility. And, even then, Harley’s Haven would rely on volunteers and donors for day-to-day operation.

  “What can I do?” Kellie asked.

  “I’ll issue a letter explaining the error and that someone hacked my account and sent out this bogus message. Some of our donors are on a mailing list. Let me print out a statement and labels and you can start stuffing envelopes. I’ll tackle contacting folks online via Facebook and Twitter. We’ve got to stop this before it gets out of hand.”

  Susan tapped on the door and stepped inside. “Alex, we got a call about a dog injured alongside 61 near the casinos. I can’t get a volunteer who’s free to go. You want me to leave? I’m in the middle of cleaning kennels in the back.”