The River Valley Series

by Tess Thompson

  Linus crossed his legs and gave a prim smile. “This little town isn’t going to know what hit them.”

  Lee hid a smile behind her hand and pretended to write a note in her book.

  * * *

  Within two days, Lee had a dozen calls from interested candidates for the staff positions. Linus screened them first over the phone and selected five to come into the restaurant for interviews. The initial four yielded two solid hires. The first, Karen, was a woman in her mid-fifties, a local watercolorist and recent empty nester whose husband had been injured in the woods and couldn’t work. They were out of money, she’d said, and hoped they didn’t think she was too old to learn new things, because she’d raised four kids and nothing could be harder than that. The second was a former technical writer turned fiction writer working on his first novel. Frank was outgoing, articulate, and cultured. He’d moved from San Francisco six months earlier and loved River Valley because it was inexpensive and quiet, perfect for writing, but he was almost out of money. Linus thought he was trainable, especially after he confessed to love food and wine almost more than a good book.

  The final interview was with a glass-blower in his mid-thirties named John. He had clear blue eyes, bleached blond hair, and wore a diamond stud earring in his left ear. Lee asked him to sit down at the table, noting his fuchsia silk shirt, and read through his application while she waited for Linus to begin asking questions. Several minutes slipped by in complete silence, with Linus staring at the candidate as if he’d forgotten where he was. Lee cleared her throat. “Linus is a consultant from Seattle helping me hire serving staff.” She looked at him out of the corner of her eye. “He’s going to ask you some standard questions.”

  Linus squirmed in his chair, crossed and uncrossed his legs, and knocked his stack of notes on the floor. “Yes, right.” He leaned over to pick up the papers and banged his head on the edge of the table. “Ouch. Sorry. Let’s see here.” He massaged the side of his head and traced the candidate’s name with his index finger. “John.” He looked back at the candidate, smiled, and flushed. “How are you, John?”

  “Fantastic.”

  “Good, good.” Linus looked at the application. “So, you’re an Aquarius?”

  John brushed a lock of hair out of his eyes. “That’s me. Independent. Kind of eccentric.”

  “Really? How interesting.” Linus leaned forward. “I’m a Virgo.”

  “My former partner was a Virgo.”

  Lee pinched the area right between her eyes and took a deep breath. “Tell us, why are you interested in this job, John?”

  He fluttered his fingers. “I loved your ad. I mean, who puts it out there like,” he made a frame with his hands, “Wanted, artists. That was just so fabulous.” He crossed his legs. “Plus, my glass doesn’t sell enough to make a decent income.”

  Linus grinned and dipped his head to the right. “The ad was my idea.”

  Lee stared at him for a moment and then glanced down at the resume. “You have a theatre degree. How did you get into glass?”

  “I spent ten years in Los Angeles. Had an agent, did stupid television commercials, the whole bit. I took a glass-blowing class for fun and fell in love with it. Just happened to see an ad for a glass studio for sale up here and bought the whole darn thing from this crazy hippy lady.” He took a breath. “I love the drama of nature here. The mountains, the river, the vegetation are all mirrored in my glass.” He smiled and played with his earring. “Of course, the problem is money.”

  Lee sipped from her glass of water. “So you must have worked in a restaurant before, being an actor?”

  “It’s been a long time but, yes.” His eyes drifted around the room. “I didn’t think I’d ever do it again but this place is so beautiful, I think I could bear it.” He looked back at Lee. “The windows are faboo.” He smiled and looked at Linus. “I had a theatre professor who used to say even a bad play could be hidden if the lighting was good.”

  Linus twittered and smoothed his hair. “When can you start?”

  * * *

  The entire staff, including Cindi, Annie, and Billy, sat scattered amongst the various tables, scribbling notes onto their pads. Linus stood at the flipchart, going over the sequence again. “Within one minute you must greet your table, welcome them, and take their drink orders.” He scanned the faces. “Who can tell me what’s next?”

  Karen raised her left hand. “Bring their drinks within three minutes.”

  “Excellent. And what next?”

  Karen started to answer but was interrupted by John. “Answer menu questions. Describe the Italian tradition of eating in three courses. Tell them the menu is prepared from fresh local ingredients.”

  Billy leaned forward. “Then take their orders.”

  This was the third and final day of restaurant boot camp and Linus had taught them everything from how to set the tables, timing of courses, wine 101, how to answer questions about the food, and the nuances of customer service. This afternoon he would complete the training by teaching them how to open a bottle of wine at the table and giving them their white aprons.

  Lee left them with Linus and went outside. She squinted into the sun to watch the construction workers hang the royal blue awnings onto the top of the restaurant directly above the framed windows. The window frames and outside walls were all painted marinara sauce red except for a foot wide brown strip that ran along the bottom of the outside walls. The door was red too and had a large rectangular window, a shiny gold cylinder handle, and matching foot shield. On the sidewalk were planter boxes which would soon be filled with seasonal flowers chosen and planted by Ellen. Next to the flower boxes were two wooden benches, made by a local woodworker, where patrons could wait for their tables, if by some miracle they were ever lucky enough to have more customers than tables.

  She was about to go inside when Mike came around the corner of the building, wearing his cowboy hat and aviator style sunglasses. “Looking good,” he called out. “Makes the rest of the town look like the ugly stepsister.” It was true, on the left, with an alley separating them, was an empty two-story building with boarded up windows. On the other side, not attached to, but within feet of the restaurant, was a used clothing store.

  She could see herself, misshapen, in his sunglasses. “Come by to see our progress?”

  “No, I’m looking for Zac.”

  Lee’s stomach clenched. She knew it was only a matter of time before Mike realized Zac hadn’t shown since the day he threatened her. “I told him I didn’t need him for the last several days before the opening.”

  “Lee, don’t bullshit me.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “What kind of food and beverage manager isn’t here before the grand opening?”

  Lee looked at the sidewalk. “I don’t know what to say. I haven’t seen him for a while.”

  “How long?”

  “Since the day we announced the new plan.”

  “Gosh darnit, Lee, this wasn’t part of the deal.”

  “I know, but he doesn’t want to be here. What do you want me to do?”

  “I’ll take care of it.”

  She sighed and wondered if that meant Zac might appear this afternoon? She couldn’t have him here, disruptive and hostile, when she had so many things left to do. “Mike, I don’t want him here.”

  He stared at her. “You’re telling me an extra body wouldn’t help you open this place? He should be pulling down his share of the work.” Mike’s face was red and he growled, “He’s on the damn payroll.”

  * * *

  It was midnight, three days before the opening. The restaurant was dark except for the overhead lights above the bar, where Linus sat sipping a Syrah from Walla Walla. Lee, next to him, poured over the long list of things to do before the opening, feeling so fatigued that the edges of objects appeared gray and out of focus. “How are we ever going to be ready?”

  “We will.” He took another swallow of wine. “This is excellent. Did yo
u know the climate and soil in Walla Walla is almost identical to the Rhone region in France where they make Syrah?”

  “Do I care?”

  “You should. You’re a restaurateur now.” He caught a drip of wine from the side of the glass and wiped it into a paper cocktail napkin. “Isn’t the Northwest just a fabulous part of the country?”

  “Your chipper mood’s starting to bug me.” Lee rubbed her eyes and yawned.

  Linus laughed and then they were quiet except for the scratch of Lee’s pen. After a few moments, Lee looked up and asked the question that was on her mind for over two weeks now. “How is it that you can be gone from Figs for three weeks?”

  He tipped his glass, swallowed the remainder of his wine, and reached for the bottle. “I got fired.”

  “What?”

  Just then the sound of pots banging on the tile floor erupted from the kitchen. Lee’s insides turned to hot liquid, thinking of Von. She grabbed Linus’s hand and tried to talk but no sound came out.

  His eyes were fixated in space, listening, body upright, muscles tense, his voice a whisper. “I thought you locked the door?”

  “I did.”

  Linus’s eyes got big. He put his finger to his lips, picked up a wine opener from the table, pulling out the one-inch blade and holding it above his head. They tiptoed to the kitchen, catching the swinging door so it didn’t make any noise. The door to Lee’s office was open several inches. Linus grabbed one of Annie’s chef knives, nudging Lee behind the cook’s island. They knelt, peering through the opening in the office door.

  It was Zac, with a freezer bag full of money grasped in his hand.

  The desk was askew, pulled out about a half of a foot from the wall and she knew by his unsteady and exaggerated movements he was drunk. He dropped the bag several times and had to steady himself on the desk to keep from falling. He fumbled with the zipper of the bag for several more seconds before stuffing it into what appeared to be the space between the wall and the desk. He stumbled to his feet and pushed the desk back in place with both hands. Linus grabbed Lee and they ran on their toes through the swinging doors to the front of the restaurant. They perched on the barstools, tense, listening for Zac’s next move. They heard the clattering of what Lee supposed was Zac colliding with the busboy cart, and then the back door opened and slammed shut. The engine of his vintage Firebird roared and they turned to the window in time to see him zooming down the alley and onto the street, wheels squealing. They jumped from their stools and headed for the office. Linus yanked back the desk, revealing an opening in the wall the size of an apple box.

  It was stuffed with Ziploc bags full of money.

  * * *

  They sat on the floor in the office, staring at the pile of cash at their feet. After counting it twice, they determined it was 778,000 dollars. Neither spoke for several minutes until Linus flopped against the wall, gazing at the ceiling with a dumbfounded expression. “I didn’t realize there were no banks here.”

  Lee stared at the pile of money. “This is enough to pay DeAngelo.”

  He jerked to his feet. “We’ve got to get this back in the hole.”

  Lee began handing him the bags. “No wonder he threatened me.”

  “How dangerous is he?” asked Linus, stuffing another into the hole.

  “He threatened to hurt me if I got in his way.”

  “Would he know it was you if it disappeared?”

  “I think so. He and I are the only ones who have keys to this office.” She handed him another bag. “Why is he keeping it here?”

  “I don’t profess to understand the criminal mind but having watched a lot of police shows, I say he figures you would never assume he would keep it right under your nose.” He gave her another baggie to fill. “Or, maybe he’s really stupid.”

  A horrible thought came to Lee. “What if the drugs are here too?”

  “No way, he hasn’t been here enough. Should we go to the police?”

  She put her head in her hands. “I don’t know, I’m so tired. I need time to think.”

  “Let’s sleep on it,” he said.

  She raised her head, watching his long fingers zip another baggie. “How did you get fired?”

  “Von started showing up every night at Figs. He’d sit at the bar for hours. A couple of times he got rough with me at the end of the night.”

  Horrified, her body went hot and then cold. “To get you to tell them where I was?”

  “Right.”

  “Linus, how rough?”

  He fluttered his hands. “Beat me to a pulp a couple of times. The first time he broke my arm.” He pulled the sleeve of his shirt past his elbow. “Broke it right here. I had a cast for eight weeks. The second time he beat me so badly I had to spend a week in the hospital.” He looked at her, his face crumpling. “Now, don’t cry, love. It’s okay.” He bent his arm several times. “See, it’s fine.”

  “How did you get him to stop?”

  “When I was in the hospital they gave me a cop outside the hospital door. Unfortunately, the owners of Figs thought the whole situation unseemly—bad for business and all that, so they fired me while I was in the hospital. After I was well enough to be released I hired one of those rent-a-cop types to help me pack up and escape to Chicago.”

  “When did this happen?”

  “Couple of months ago.”

  “Why Chicago?”

  “I wanted to see Will’s mom. I figured they couldn’t find me there, since I have no family there or anything.”

  “Why didn’t you tell me this before?”

  “I didn’t want you to fret. What could you do at this point? I’m fine now.”

  “I don’t know what to say.” She began to cry. “I’m sorry Dan and I have managed to ruin your life too.”

  He shrugged and took her hand. “Change is good. I’ve been in a rut and would never have left Figs if I wasn’t forced. I was bored and lonely. There are other jobs, other towns.” He looked at her fingers. “Good God, you need a manicure. Your hands look terrible.”

  Chapter 20

  Finally the day of the opening arrived. Before they opened the doors for the first dinner, Lee, Linus, and the entire staff sat at a rectangular table eating their before-shift meal of pasta with red sauce that tasted of garlic, fresh tomatoes, basil, onion, and another ingredient Lee couldn’t discern.

  Twirling spaghetti around his fork, Linus said from the head of the table, “Opening night. It’s like Christmas.” He gazed at the staff. “Are you all as excited as I am?” His fork hung in mid-air, the strands of spaghetti coiled in perfect symmetry.

  No one said a word.

  “Excuse me, is anyone out there?” said Linus.

  Billy and Annie sat together on one end of the table picking at their food. Cindi, at the other end, studied the wine list between bites of pasta, her forehead glistening with a mixture of orange-tinted make-up and sweat. The servers sat together, memorizing the Specials list.

  Linus snapped his fingers, waving his other hand in the air above his plate. “In a mere ninety minutes, history will be made. Gourmet food will have invaded this hungry town and by hungry, I mean starving for something decent to eat.” He motioned to the three high-school kids, hired for washing dishes and bussing tables, as they shoveled pasta into their mouths. “Just look at these three, for example.” Lee couldn’t help but notice the wiry one’s acne was the same hue as the pasta sauce. Linus pointed his fork at the boys. “Have you gentlemen eaten in the last several years?”

  The tall one with sloped shoulders grinned and murmured into his bowl. “Lee had us here at seven this morning and wouldn’t let us take a break to eat.” He blushed and peeked up at Lee, only to blush a deeper pink and stare into his pasta bowl before shoveling another sloppy bite into his mouth.

  There were twitters from various corners of the table. “Please,” said Lee, rolling her eyes in jest, “I let you have a little break for bread and water around noon.”

  The o
ne in the middle, the handsome, letterman-wearing one, raised his eyebrows at Lee. “Oh yes, master, give us some more.”

  The other boys laughed. “Finish your dinner,” Lee said. She noticed Annie was rocking in her chair with one arm pushed into her stomach. “What’s the matter with our chef?”

  “I think I’m going to be sick I’m so nervous.”

  Linus laughed and sat back in his chair. “You artists are all the same. Describe the specials to the servers and you’ll be fine.”

  Annie grabbed a note card from her apron pocket. “We’ve got two main dishes for specials. The first is cabernet-braised pork short ribs served with gorgonzola polenta and mixed-herb gremolata. The ribs were seasoned and chilled overnight and then braised in the oven for several hours, spiced with fresh rosemary and thyme, and the sauce, obviously, is made from cabernet wine and butter. The second is grilled New York steak with San Marzano sauce. This was chosen because of our seasonally based menu, since tomatoes are ripe.” She cleared her throat and an abrupt self-conscious laugh escaped. She clamped her mouth shut for a moment and stared at the table. “Sorry, I’m freaking out a little. So, yeah, the sauce is made from a plum-type tomato and fresh basil. We’re serving it with a side of goat cheese ravioli in a simple brown butter sauce. It complements the complexity and acidity of the tomato sauce in contrast to the richness of the steak.”

  Linus leaned back in his chair and crossed his legs. “Who wants to recommend a wine for the ribs? Karen?”

  “Let’s see. I’m not much of a drinker myself…”

  Linus shook his head. “No, no, darling, you’re not a mother of four housewife when you’re wearing the white apron. You’re a sophisticated wine and food connoisseur, whose obligation is to help the less privileged lead a more fabulous existence.”

  Karen grinned. “Right, sorry, I forgot what you said about that.” She closed her eyes for a moment.