by Meg Benjamin
Nando nodded slowly. “I can do that.”
“Yeah, knowing you, I figure you can. It would also help if you could save a couple of drowning puppies or help some old ladies across the street or catch somebody on the Ten Most Wanted list, but even if that doesn’t happen, keeping your nose clean would be a very good idea.”
“Right. I understand.” Nando nodded again.
“Good.” Toleffson blew out a long breath. “Now go wait for Delaney. I have to tell Linklatter and Helen about him and that you’re the new Assistant Chief.”
The chief gave him another dry smile as he stood, ushering him out of the office. Nando limped back to his desk. He figured when he was feeling like a human being again, he’d probably be real happy about this whole deal.
Kit sipped a cup of coffee that was the best thing that had happened to her thus far on her trip to Konigsburg. Deirdre Brandenburg’s coffee shop smelled like what the celestial realms would smell like if the angels were all heavily into French roast, as Kit figured they would be. She gathered that Deirdre ran the coffee roaster in the morning so that the smell had time to dissipate before the dinner hour at the Faro Tavern next door. But that smell alone had been enough to draw a shop full of coffee drinkers who were almost weeping with pleasure.
Now the morning rush had begun to die down and Deirdre was gathering up cups and swabbing down tables as she talked to Kit. “I’ve got an opening for a barista during the morning rush,” she explained, “but it’s basically just pouring coffee, and I’m afraid it’s only part time. I’m doing all the managing myself, and I’ll go on doing it for the foreseeable future, although that could change if we keep doing the business we’re doing now.”
Kit figured Coffee Delight, Deirdre’s shop, would be doing this much business until all of them were old and gray unless somebody decided to pass a law against coffee. “I’d like something full time, but I’m not sure how much luck I’ll have in finding anything in this market. Could I maybe let you know about the job in a day or two?”
“Sure. I can hold it open for a while. I haven’t even advertised it yet. I guess you heard about it from Docia.”
Kit nodded. “She suggested I talk to you. She said your coffee business was booming.”
Deirdre gave her a dazzling smile, which demonstrated just how gorgeous she really was. Deep blue eyes, ebony hair, pale, flawless skin with the slightest blush around her cheekbones. Deirdre looked like something out of Hollywood, but amazingly enough, she didn’t seem to be conscious of it at all, a beautiful woman completely unaware of her beauty.
Kit had been aware of her own beauty since elementary school. She knew she looked very good, and if she put some effort into it, she could look stunning. She sometimes used her looks to charm people, as she had when she’d worked in the tasting room at Cedar Creek Winery. More often she simply ignored the whole thing.
“This is great coffee,” she said, draining her cup. “I’m not surprised you’ve got people lined up around the block.”
“Well, I wish I had something better to offer you in the way of a job. I’d love to hire someone with your qualifications.” Deirdre sighed. “Of course, Tom’s always looking for another barmaid at the Faro, but I’m guessing that’s not what you had in mind either.”
Kit smiled at her, a little dryly. “Not exactly, although I may need to check that out, too, if none of my other possibilities pan out.” At least the tips at the Faro would probably be good. She got to her feet, carrying her coffee cup to the counter at the back of the shop. “I’ve got a few more people to talk to today. I’ll try to get back to you later this afternoon.”
Deirdre shook her head. “Don’t worry about it. Like I say, I’m doing okay for now. Good luck with the job search—I remember what that’s like.”
Kit sighed as she headed to her car. A part-time barista job wasn’t much of a fall-back, but given the number of people she’d talked to over the last couple of days who had no openings at all, serving coffee for Deirdre might turn out to be her best bet.
She checked her handwritten list of business names once again. Only a couple were left. She thought about doing eenie meenie but decided to just go for the nicest location, even if it was outside Konigsburg proper.
She drove up Highway 16 for a mile or so, then turned onto the road to Oltdorf, a wide spot in the road about ten miles from Konigsburg. Early bluebonnets dotted the dark green on either side of the road, along with the occasional deep red of winecups. A few cows wandered through patches of prickly pear cactus, detouring around limestone outcroppings. The hills wore the olive green of spring. Kit was enjoying the view so much she almost missed the large white sign with its elaborate script letters: The Woodrose Inn.
She turned onto a graded gravel road that was surprisingly smooth. The inn appeared around the first bend, sprawling across the hilltop, a three-storey, white wood-frame building with blue shutters. Wide galleries stretched around the first and second stories and wide stairs led down from the front door to a white gravel walk that twisted among the live oaks on the front lawn. Kit thought it looked like a stage set: Texas elegance and charm personified.
The parking lot had the predictable mix of Suburbans and Mercedes, with the occasional pickup looking wildly out of place. She found a spot under a live oak that could shade her Civic from the afternoon sun and headed for the front entrance. Beyond the parking lot, the inn’s event center perched on a rolling hillside. With its white limestone walls and tin roof, it was classic South Texas architecture with what looked like a spectacular view from its plate-glass windows.
Aunt Allie had suggested she try the Woodrose, based mainly on restaurant gossip. Resorts Consolidated, an international hotel chain, had just bought the place, and a new chef had taken over a month ago after the previous chef had been fired for letting the Woodrose’s four-star restaurant go to seed. Nobody had heard exactly what was going on at the place, but the word was the inn was looking for new people. Kit figured she was qualified for something at the lower management level. Plus a job at the inn with its solid reputation would look great on her résumé.
She’d already spoken to the manager, a Ms. Morgenstern, about an interview. Morgenstern hadn’t exactly given her an appointment, but she’d said she’d be willing to talk to Kit if she dropped by during the afternoon. Kit didn’t know if that was good news or bad, but at this point she was ready for almost anything.
The desk clerk looked to be around sixteen, but Kit figured that might be because of the red stretch jersey worn maybe a half size too small and the bright blue Capri pants. Her dark hair was spiked with acid green tips, and Kit could see the edge of a tattoo curling around the back of her neck. If this was the best the Woodrose could come up with for greeting guests, the inn really must be in trouble.
“Can I help you?” the clerk asked her, without much interest.
“I’m here to see Ms. Morgenstern,” Kit said crisply. “Is she in?”
Capri Pants raised a pierced eyebrow, but picked up the house phone. “Ms. Morgenstern? Somebody to see you.”
The woman who came out of the office behind the desk had Dress For Success written across her chest, at least figuratively. She wore an electric blue knit jacket over an ivory shell and black skirt, with at least four silver chains wound around her neck. Her black patent stilettos rose a good three inches. Kit momentarily regretted that she hadn’t worn the four-inch platforms she’d scored at the last Nordstrom’s sale. At least she was wearing her best gray business suit with the silk blouse she’d bought at Neiman’s Last Call.
Do not get competitive with the potential employer. Kit stepped forward. “Ms. Morgenstern? I’m Kit Maldonado. We spoke on the phone earlier.”
Ms. Morgenstern’s brow furrowed briefly before she gave Kit a blinding smile. “Oh yes. I remember. Won’t you come into my office? Her voice was remarkably warm for someone she’d just meet, sort of like dripping honey.
Kit followed her around the desk clerk, who had
already turned back to her computer screen. Kit caught a glimpse of something that looked like Facebook.
“Darcy dear,” Morgenstern said, her voice a shade less warm. “Have you checked the reservations?”
Darcy raised one shoulder in a sort of half shrug. “Yeah, but we’ve only got a couple of people coming in. Luella should be able to handle it.”
“Did you remember to tell Luella which rooms had been reserved?” Morgenstern was still smiling, but it looked more like she was gritting her teeth.
Darcy shrugged again. “I’ll check.”
“You do that, sweetheart,” Morgenstern said in a level voice, then turned back toward her office at the side of the hall. Kit followed her.
One wall of her office was taken up with a pair of French doors that opened onto the gallery at the side. Kit could see a man on a riding mower clipping the green expanse of lawn stretching down to the glass-enclosed event center at the bottom of the slope. Even the office views were spectacular. Morgenstern walked behind her desk, gesturing to a chair in front for Kit.
“Please have a seat, Ms. Maldonado,” she said. “Now tell me what kind of work you’re looking for.”
Kit took a copy of her résumé from her folder, handing it across the desk. “I’m interested in hospitality management. As you can see here, I have a degree in Management from UTSA, and I’ve worked in the hospitality industry for most of my life. My family owns restaurants in San Antonio and Brownsville, and my aunt has a restaurant here in Konigsburg. I interned at the Gunter Hotel in San Antonio, and I’ve worked for Cedar Creek Winery in their tasting room.”
“So—” Morgenstern’s forehead furrowed slightly as she glanced at the résumé, “—mostly food service.”
Kit gritted her teeth. She’d known this would come up. “I’ve worked in various parts of the industry. My internship at the Gunter was largely hotel management.”
Morgenstern put the résumé down on the desk. At least she hadn’t handed it back. “Well, dear, as a matter of fact we’re in need of someone with hospitality experience at the moment. There’s been some…turnover in the kitchen of The Rose, our restaurant. I’m looking for someone to manage The Rose, in fact. Would you be interested in that?”
Kit licked her lips. Not hotel work, exactly, but not waiting on tables either. “Of course. The Rose has an excellent reputation.”
Morgenstern’s brow furrowed again. “It certainly did once. We’re trying to bring it back to what it was.”
“That sounds intriguing.” Kit’s pulse quickened slightly.
“Oh, it is.” Morgenstern nodded. “You’d definitely be in on the ground floor. It’s just, well, the kitchen staff can be somewhat temperamental.”
Kit let herself smile. “I’ve worked with cooks since I was a child. I know how they feel about their work. Does the manager work with the chef on ordering supplies?” She’d done that at Antonio’s. Or rather she’d helped Papi when he’d done that at Antonio’s.
Morgenstern shook her head, her smile sliding to sympathetic. “Oh my, no. All the purchasing goes through my office. We do the accounting for the hotel.”
“What about wait staff? Hiring servers?”
“Well, of course you’d handle the applications and the job interviews, but I approve all the actual hiring and firing.” Morgenstern gave her another sunny smile. “It’s better to keep everything in one office, you know. Keeps the accounting simpler.”
Kit felt a cold lump of apprehension tightening her chest. “What sort of thing does the manager do then?”
“Oh, you know.” Morgenstern waved a vague hand. “Reservations. Seating guests. That sort of thing.”
“Hostessing.” Kit managed to keep the disappointment out of her voice.
“A very important job,” Morgenstern said. “We’re trying to rebuild the Rose’s reputation. There have been a few…problems over the last few years.”
“I see.” Kit forced a smile. “So this would be for lunch and dinner?”
Morgenstern shook her head, her smile sympathetic again. “Oh no, dear. We’re only open for lunch at the moment. But you’d have several hours before and after the serving time. And, of course, overtime for extra hours, at least at first.”
Kit’s heart fell to her toes. “It’s an hourly job.”
“Oh.” Morgenstern’s eyes widened. “Of course. We don’t have many salaried positions here, dear. The salary is eleven-fifty an hour. But, as I say, you’d get lots of hours.”
Kit refrained from grinding her teeth. She’d probably make more money as a barmaid at the Faro, given that she wouldn’t get any tips as a hostess.
“Well, Ms. Maldonado, you’re certainly qualified for the job. And we’d be so lucky to have you. Are you interested?” Morgenstern’s smile was blinding again.
Kit took a breath, trying to decide just how desperate she really was. The salary was ridiculous, and it was basically just serving as the restaurant hostess rather than any management duties. But she’d have the manager’s title, and maybe that would give her some access to the management of the inn. And she’d be on site, with an inside track if something else came available. “I…” she began.
The office door flew open behind her, banging against the wall. “Morgenstern,” a voice boomed. “What the fuck have you done with my prep cook? I need her, goddamn it! The freakin’ vegetables don’t chop themselves.”
Kit twisted over her shoulder to see a massive man standing in the doorway. At least six four or so, a good two hundred pounds, wide chest straining his white chef’s coat. He had a moustache and trimmed beard that made him look a little like a diplomat. A very big diplomat. As she watched, he pulled off his black chef’s beanie, revealing a gleaming shaved head. “What the hell is going on here anyway?”
“Darcy is watching the front desk for an hour or so while Luella took care of an emergency,” Ms. Morgenstern said, her smile curdling. “It’s good experience for her.”
“Bullshit!” the chef snarled. “She’s a freakin’ culinary school graduate. She doesn’t want to learn how to be a desk clerk—she can make twice as much in the kitchen. Plus she’s got work to do for me. Don’t you go poaching my staff, Morgenstern. They’re not your lackeys.” He glanced toward Kit, his eyes sharpening, then turned back. “Who’s this?”
Kit’s lips tightened. She hated being treated as if she wasn’t in the room. “I’m Kit Maldonado. Who are you?”
“Joe LeBlanc.” The chef’s mouth spread in a wide grin. “Maldonado, huh? Any relation to Allie?”
“She’s my aunt.”
“Great bloodlines there. Want a job in my kitchen?”
Ms. Morgenstern cleared her throat, her face settling into a parody of her earlier sunny expression. “Ms. Maldonado is already applying for a job. As the manager of The Rose.”
“The manager? What are you going to let her manage? I do all the ordering for the kitchen. You gonna let go of some of the front of the house stuff? Let her hire enough waiters to run the place right?” LeBlanc’s grin deepened, revealing a dimple in one cheek.
Kit took a deep breath. Just what I want to hear.
Morgenstern waved her fingers in a shooing motion, giving him a look that was probably meant to be indulgent. “You can take Darcy back to the kitchen if you need her. Now you get out of my office, Joseph. We’ve all got work to do.”
LeBlanc grinned at Kit again, nodding his head. “See you around, kid. Don’t let her lowball you on the salary—she needs you real bad right now. Should be interesting.”
That’s one way of putting it. Kit felt like sighing, but she managed not to.
“So, Ms. Maldonado, about this job. Are you interested?” Morgenstern fluttered her eyelashes like a southern belle magically transported to an executive office. “I might be able to make it fifteen an hour for someone with your experience.”
Kit took a breath, then waved a quick mental goodbye to her dreams of a full-fledged management position straight off the bat. “When
do you want me to start, Ms. Morgenstern?”
Ninety minutes later, Kit was back in town again, trying to decide if she was happy or depressed. Some of each, as it turned out. At least she had a job, even if it wasn’t what she wanted. And at least the Rose looked interesting. She’d never been in at the beginning with a restaurant before. If what the chef, Joe LeBlanc, had said was true, she might have a chance to do some real managing sooner or later, rather than just working the hostess stand.
She pulled into a parking spot in front of an antiques store a half block down from Allie’s restaurant, Sweet Thing. The sidewalks had their usual collection of blue-haired elderly ladies and families with rambunctious children. Given that the kids frequently came complete with waffle cones or candy apples, the possibilities for disaster were endless.
Kit started toward Sweet Thing a bit gingerly, trying not to collide with either retirees or ten-year-olds, when something flashed at the end of the next block. She glanced up to see what it was.
A couple of Konigsburg cops were standing next to a parked cruiser talking as the sun reflected off their gold badges. One of them was a stranger—blond and apparently very young. Maybe he was a new officer. There had to have been some turnover since she’d been in town last.
The other was familiar. Kit’s heart gave a quick thump as her chest clenched tight. Very familiar. Even at a distance she recognized that tall, muscled body, that fall of dark hair. He held his Stetson in his hand, ready to put it on. She caught the quick flash of his teeth as he grinned at something the kid had said. Then he turned in her direction.
She stumbled backward into a doorway, her heart pounding almost painfully. No, no, no! She didn’t want to see him the first time like this. She wanted to be ready—controlled, collected, maybe even a little amused. Oh, hi, Nando. Long time no see.
