by Molly Cannon
“Oh, okay then. Beulah will pick you up, and I’ll see you tonight.” Etta tried to be a big girl about the whole thing, too. She smiled and waved good-bye and waited until Daphne had disappeared down the hall to wipe away the tear that ran down her face.
For Daphne, starting a new school was old hat. For Etta it felt like she was throwing Daphne to the wolves. But after the trauma of dropping her at school it had been time to head to the airport. A quick trip to Chicago was unavoidable, and Donny Joe had insisted on taking her.
She’d seen very little of him while they’d been staying at his house. He went out every night after supper and came home in the wee hours. Even though he was quiet, she heard him come in from her small room off the kitchen. The refrigerator door would open and close, and then she’d hear him go out the back door to the patio. She’d been tempted to join him a few times when she’d been tossing and turning, unable to sleep. But she didn’t. Since they’d invaded his house they were probably playing havoc with his normal social life, so she figured he deserved to enjoy whatever little bit of privacy he could get.
Anyway, he said he had some business to take care of in Dallas, so it wasn’t a problem to take her to the airport. Once they were on the road he’d brought up the subject of hiring a cook. Reluctantly. He still didn’t seem thrilled with the idea. “So, what about this cook we need to hire?”
She turned to him with surprise. “So, you’re actually ready to discuss this?” This was a promising sign. It meant he was beginning to believe she was serious when she insisted she wouldn’t be staying.
“I just don’t know how we can afford anyone decent. But if you leave we don’t really have a choice, do we?”
“I’m not going to run off and leave you in the lurch. We’ll find someone.”
He scoffed. “Someone who doesn’t expect to be paid?”
“I’ve been giving this some thought, and I was thinking that luring someone away from one of the restaurants in Dallas or Fort Worth is our best bet. There are always some great cooks who probably feel stuck in dead-end situations.”
“And they’ll jump at a chance to move to a B&B in a small town for bad pay and a lot of work?”
She rolled her eyes. “Honestly. Can you be any more pessimistic? I hope to convince someone it’s a great opportunity. And yeah, maybe the money won’t be all they could hope for to start, but they’d be getting in on the ground floor. Help make a name for the place. A name for themselves in the process.”
“You talk a good game, but whoever this bozo is, I’ll want a thorough background check. And Beulah has to approve no matter what.” He pulled up to the departure unloading lane at DFW airport.
She got out of the truck and he got out, too, beating her around to the back, getting her small carry-on bag out before she could do it herself. “Well, in that case I won’t be able to hire the serial killer I had in mind. I’ll get an ad out next week. Thanks for the ride, Donny Joe.” She grabbed her bag and stalked off into the terminal.
Etta sat in a window seat on the plane headed for Chicago. Her mind was dizzy from all the balls she was trying to keep in the air. But this trip couldn’t be helped. She needed to talk to Diego in person. Talk about the whole Bed and Breakfast situation, the whole Sandra Mann situation, and probably a million other things, too. She hadn’t called him to say she was coming, though. But then, he’d never called her back like he said he would, and she couldn’t read anything good into that, either. Between not hearing from him, and the dire all-cap text messages she’d been getting from Mimi, Etta couldn’t help but be concerned.
Thank goodness for Beulah. She’d promised to pick Daphne up from school, but Etta had every intention of being back in Everson later tonight. She didn’t want Daphne to feel she was being abandoned by anyone else. If she didn’t accomplish another thing on this trip she could pack up a big suitcase of clothes and some other personal items she’d been doing without since she’d originally planned to be away from Chicago for only a short visit.
She also meant to spend the time on the plane thinking about what she was going to say to Diego when she saw him. He seemed to think he could pull some kind of fast one over on her while she was busy with Grammy Hazel’s affairs. Maybe she was reading the situation all wrong. There was only one way to know for sure and that was to confront him face to face.
But her mind kept drifting back to the Grand Opening of the B&B, particularly the Valentine’s Day menu. Planning menus was like play time for her. And this one needed to be spectacular. Something that would impress not only their very first inn guests but the locals, too. That way once the hoopla of the opening was over they’d be inclined to eat at the restaurant regularly as well. That was critical to their success.
As for the menu, she was leaning toward a nice cream of artichoke soup with hazelnuts to start. The hazelnuts as homage to Grammy Hazel, of course. Then maybe something with lamb and baby zucchini. She couldn’t decide. She’d have to look at her recipes. But without question dessert would be some extravagant chocolate concoction, along with fresh fruit and an assortment of cheeses. She could create a pretty menu with wine recommendations for each course.
Then for the practical work. She would write up her shopping list and find some local markets for fresh fruits and vegetables. She’d make up flyers, and she and Daphne would make a day of taking them around to local businesses. Her niece enjoyed being included in the plans and Etta found she enjoyed the time they spent together. And then they’d sit back and wait for the reservations to come pouring in.
At the top of the list now that Donny Joe had agreed was to start interviewing applicants for the cooking position. Having some prep work lists and suggested menus ready to go would make it easier for whoever stepped into the job. After that they’d be on their own. And the new kitchen was going to be wonderful. She checked in every day on the progress and it was going to be a dream kitchen for whoever did the cooking.
A small part of her was jealous. Being fully in charge of her own kitchen, even a small one like the one at the inn, had its appeal. At least Diego wouldn’t walk in the door at the last minute with an armful of groceries and some new recipe he’d been inspired to create. Some of his ideas were genius and some were disasters. Etta didn’t think their customers should be treated like last-minute guinea pigs. If she was in charge, regularly scheduled commotion would not be part of the plan. Oh, and how she’d love the chance to concentrate on cooking again. She realized that the management side of the business was important, and she was good at that side. But cooking, preparing food, feeding people—that was her first love, and Diego needed to understand that.
When the plane landed she grabbed a cab and headed straight to the restaurant. It was still early, not quite time for the lunch crowd to start arriving, but the kitchen staff would be busy getting everything ready for the rush. It was her favorite time of the day. The hustle, the bustle, the clink of the cutlery, the polishing of the glasses, the exchange of the latest juicy gossip. It was like a stage production with everyone doing their part. And every day, twice a day, they managed to feed a lot of hungry people. There was nothing better in the world.
She paid the cabdriver and got out of the cab. Standing on the sidewalk she let the crowd move around her as she took in the big city. It felt like she’d been gone months instead of a little over a week.
Even as the icy wind whipped around her, she stopped to breathe in the city’s gritty atmosphere. She reveled in the smell—an odd mix of exhaust, asphalt, food trucks, and garbage. Even the people hurrying by, filled with ambition and purpose, added some nuance to the aroma she’d come to love. But at the moment, they were probably hurrying to get inside somewhere out of the weather. Falling snow, big fat flakes, landed on her face, stuck to the sidewalk, and began to pile up in the corners of the buildings.
She shivered but resolutely ignored the bad weather for a minute longer. She took in Finale’s hand painted sign above the big wooden door from an old ch
urch they’d found at an estate sale. The burgundy and cream striped curtains hanging in the windows framing the funky lights she’d found to hang over each booth. A surge of love and pride for the place filled her from head to toe, and she wanted to savor the feeling, find a little strength before she faced Diego. Normally, she would’ve used the kitchen entrance, but today she opened the front door and walked inside. The wait staff was busy setting up tables. Leonard the barkeep was behind the bar checking inventory. Everyone was occupied with their daily rituals, so no one noticed her as she headed toward the kitchen.
All at once her path was blocked by a woman with a severe black haircut, like the ones worn by flappers in the 1920s. The woman was probably in her early thirties. She smiled expansively and tried to steer Etta back toward the door. “I’m sorry but we aren’t open yet. Lunch service won’t start for an hour. You’re welcome to come back then.”
Despite the new hairdo Etta recognized her as soon as she started talking. She usually had long bleached blonde hair worn in a riot of curls all over her head. Nonetheless, this new version of Sandra Mann was standing in the middle of her restaurant acting like she owned the joint and telling her to come back later.
Etta held out her hand and said, “I’m not here for lunch. I’m Etta Green, Diego’s partner. You must be Sandra.”
“Oh, Etta? Does Diego know you’re here?” The woman sounded startled and didn’t look happy to see her.
“I was about to go tell him.” Etta waited for the woman to get out of her way, but she didn’t move.
Instead she put a hand on Etta’s arm. It felt patronizing, just like her next words. “Why don’t I go get him for you?”
Etta brushed past her. “That won’t be necessary.”
From behind the bar Leonard noticed her for the first time. “Hey, boss. When did you get back? We were all sorry to hear about your grandmother.”
Etta waved at the bartender but kept moving toward the kitchen. “Thanks, Leonard. I appreciated the card. It meant a lot.” They’d sent a card signed by the whole staff, and she’d cried like a baby when she opened it. She felt herself tearing up again and hurried on to the swinging doors that separated the dining room from the kitchen. Sandra Mann stayed right on her heels.
A familiar commotion greeted Etta as she pushed through the doors. Diego had his back to her over at the stove shouting orders to Mimi. Mimi shouted back while chopping vegetables, and George was pulling bread out of the oven. Henry, the pastry chef, was whisking something in a huge bowl, but he stopped when he saw her and came around the counter and wrapped her in a big hug. “Etta, you’re home. We missed you.”
“Thanks, Henry. I missed everyone, too.” Henry Barron was a very tall, very thin man who baked like a dream. Some of their most loyal customers came to Finale’s just for his desserts. Diego had always been jealous of the attention his sweet treats got, but he was smart enough to know that when you name your restaurant Finale’s you better have good desserts. And Henry was an absolute treasure.
Diego took his time, placing a lid on the big pot simmering on the stove before he turned to face her. The look in his dark eyes sliced right through her, and she felt his temper simmering at the edge of his smile. She was tired of that look. The one that said she’d disappointed him once again.
Sandra had been hovering behind her and must have felt left out, so she rushed forward announcing loudly, “Look who’s here, Diego.”
Diego’s eyes flitted to Sandra, acknowledging her contribution. Then he returned his gaze to Etta. “So, Etta, you’re back.” His tone was overly polite.
She tried to match his attitude of remote civility. “Not exactly, but we need to talk.”
“I agree. I have maybe ten minutes to spare.” He shrugged an apology, but she understood. The lunch crowd would be beating down the door soon.
“Thank you. That’s all I need, Diego. I have to catch a plane back to Texas later today.”
His nostrils flared at that announcement. “Why don’t we use the office then? Mimi, take over for me, please.”
“I’ve got it, boss,” Mimi said, but she was eyeing them both like they were aliens from the planet Zorcon. Most days found them laughing and yelling and teasing each other like fishwives on a bender. It was a free for all. This strained courteousness must have signaled some kind of real trouble brewing on the home front.
Etta smiled reassuringly at the kitchen staff and walked toward the office. She opened the door and Diego followed her inside. Sandra Mann entered on his heels.
“I’m sorry, Ms. Mann, but this is a private discussion.” Etta clenched her fists, and fought the urge to physically push her back out the door.
Diego spoke up right away. “Etta, Sandra needs to be part of this discussion, too.”
“Thank you, Diego.” Sandra smiled and cozied up to Diego’s side, letting anyone who was interested know that if there were teams, the two of them were on the same side, and Etta was on her own.
If she was on her own, she was going to come out swinging. “I’m not trying to be rude, but why in the world does she need to be here?”
“Well, there have been some developments while you were gone. But it’s good news. And I’m glad you’re here so I can tell you in person.”
It didn’t feel like she was about to hear good news. As a matter of fact, Etta had a real bad feeling in the pit of her stomach.
Diego smiled at Sandra like she hung the moon and a whole host of stars to go along with it. Then he took a deep breath and proudly announced, “Congratulate me, Etta. The day before yesterday Sandra and I got married.”
Chapter Eleven
What? Are you crazy? You just met.” The words flew out of her mouth before she could stop them, but neither Diego nor Sandra seemed concerned by her outburst. They were probably used to that reaction by now.
Diego wrapped his arm around his new bride and gave her a squeeze. “I know. What can I say? Love at first sight is such a cliché. I never thought it would happen to me.”
Sandra played with his ear and said, “Oh, baby. You’re so sweet.”
Etta did a quick calculation, trying to figure out how this spur-of-the-minute marriage was going to affect her, and the restaurant, and the rest of her world as she knew it. At least it explained Sandra playing hostess when she’d first arrived. It looked like she was already staking a claim on her territory. “I have to say I’m shocked. You’ll have to forgive me.”
“I know it was sudden, but aren’t you happy for me, Etta?”
“I have no idea how I feel, Diego. This is a lot to process.”
“Sure, and I’m sorry to spring it on you like that, but then you haven’t exactly been around, have you? And now you’re saying you have to go back to Texas tonight?”
“Yeah, my sister is still out of town and I’m watching my niece. But I told you that. And I’m trying to oversee the renovations on my grandmother’s house. Didn’t I tell you it is being turned into a B&B? I have to find someone to run the place full time and cook on top of that, too. Nothing’s settled yet.”
“It sounds like quite an undertaking,” Sandra volunteered.
Diego nodded. “You certainly have your hands full.”
“And I know I’m leaving you in the lurch with the restaurant. I’m hoping it won’t be much longer.”
“We think we’ve come up with a solution that will work out for everyone,” Sandra said brightly.
“We?” Etta asked, feeling her temper rise again. Even if she was Diego’s wife she should keep her trap shut.
Diego took Etta by the arm and led her to the chair in front of the old metal desk. It took up most of the cramped office. “We planned to call you this week anyway. Why don’t you sit down, and I’ll explain.”
It was already two against one. Etta didn’t want to be the only one sitting down on top of that. “I’m fine. Just tell me what this is all about.”
“Okay, Etta. I’m going to say it straight out. After all we’ve be
en through together through all these years, you deserve that much.”
Her toe started tapping. “I’m waiting.”
“Sandra wants to buy out your interest in the restaurant.” He smiled when he said it, like his words hadn’t just blown her life to smithereens.
She sank into the chair. “What are you talking about?” She could hear a note of hysteria dancing in her voice.
He folded his arms across his chest. “Remember I have a controlling interest in this place.”
Oh, so he was going to fight dirty. “As if you ever let me forget.”
“And under the circumstances I’d be within my rights to fire you outright,” he declared dramatically.
“Fire me? Damn it, that threat is getting old, Diego.”
“It’s not a threat this time. You walked out without warning, at the worst time possible, and then not only did you stay in Texas, you just admitted you’re on your way back there now.”
Etta didn’t respond. Everything he said was technically true. But he was taking her grandmother’s death and using it to justify breaking their partnership.
“And Sandra has been an angel. She has great ideas for making the restaurant better, and she has the money to make them happen.”
Aha. Maybe he married her for her money. She could believe that before she’d believe that love-at-first-sight crap.
Sandra must have taken her silence as an admission of guilty to all charges. She opened a drawer in the desk and pulled out a thick stack of papers and held them out in her direction. “Here’s the offer. Instead of firing you, I’m willing to put up money as a severance package that basically buys out your interest in Finale’s. It’s more than fair.”
Etta snatched the papers and skimmed the first page. The amount of money being offered was very generous, but it wasn’t enough to buy another restaurant. Not even close. Basically, it left her out in the cold, while they’d reap the rewards for the hard work she’d invested in Finale’s. “I don’t think this is legal.”
