by Meg Benjamin
“What about Sunday brunch?”
LeBlanc glowered again. “I’ve been trying to get Mable to let us start one, but she’s dragging her feet. Hell, brunch makes a shitload of money and it burns off leftovers. What’s to lose?”
Kit shook her head. “What leftovers?”
His grin returned. “Piece of advice, darlin’—don’t get anything on a brunch table that’s served in a cream sauce.”
“So no brunch and no dinners.” She frowned. “Seems like a waste of a great kitchen and what could be a great restaurant.”
LeBlanc grimaced. “It is a waste of a great kitchen. Right now the only outside stuff we’re doing is catering for groups at the event center. Sooner or later Mabel will get her ass in gear, but right now she’s stalling.”
Kit took a bite of her mushroom bisque and sat up straight. The earthy, woodsy taste of the mushrooms was bound in a silken sauce of broth and cream. Her taste buds were applauding. “This is wonderful.”
His mouth spread in a slow grin. “Well, sure it is, darlin’. I don’t do crap.”
She didn’t bother to comment. Judging from his bisque, his opinion was justified. “No wonder we’re doing such great business.”
“Yeah, now maybe ol’ Mabel will hire somebody who actually knows how to serve food,” LeBlanc growled.
Kit sighed. “Elaine’s trying. She just needs more experience. I’ll work with her—she’ll pick it up. And Philip does okay.”
“Ol’ Phil knows his way around a table. Course he only learned it after Mabel hired him, but he’s a quick study.”
“He didn’t have any experience when he came?” Kit shook her head. “I thought that’s why you must have hired him. I mean he’s sort of mature for a beginning waiter.”
“Hey, darlin’, I was desperate. All the wait staff quit when Carville cut their wages. Mabel kept promising me people, but she didn’t get around to it. Phil showed up looking for a job and he wasn’t fussy about what he did, so I drafted him. Showed him how to be a waiter, so we at least had a warm body in the dining room when we got customers.”
“And Elaine?”
LeBlanc shook his head. “She was Mabel’s hire. I don’t know what she’s getting paid, but my guess is Phil gets more. He’s worth it too.”
Kit rubbed a hand across the back of her neck. “I don’t understand. Isn’t the restaurant separate from the hotel? Why is Ms. Morgenstern responsible for hiring people in the front of the house?”
“The hotel owns the restaurant, so Mabel can hire wait staff, but the kitchen’s mine. I hire the chefs. In a crisis, I’ll hire the wait staff too, but we’re beyond the crisis now, at least theoretically. You and I need to get on the same page about the kind of wait staff we need. Then we can make the case with Mable. Or try to, anyway. Tell her there are better places to save money than by hiring people who don’t know what they’re doing because they work cheap. Plus you need to be in charge of stuff like laundry and printing the menus. Maybe it’s time for another Come To Joe conversation.”
“Sounds like you and Ms. Morgenstern have some issues.” She took another spoonful of her soup.
“Mabel doesn’t know a mussel from a clam. She’s strictly interested in the bottom line. Me, I’m more in tune with the sensual arts.” He gave her a slow smile that made her stomach feel jumpy all of a sudden.
Kit blew out a breath. “Thanks for the soup. I guess I’d better run to check the reservations again. I’m still trying to figure out the software.”
LeBlanc’s faintly sardonic grin returned. She had a feeling he knew exactly what she was really running to, or from. “You do that, darlin’. I’ll check to make sure Gabriel got the dining room cleaned up. He’s okay, but sometimes he gets distracted.”
Kit swallowed hard as she headed for the restaurant office again. She had a feeling Gabriel wasn’t the only one who got distracted around here.
Brody put his frozen dinner into the microwave and set the controls. He’d much rather have grabbed a hamburger in town, but that represented one of those unnecessary risks he was trying to avoid. The less he showed his face in Konigsburg, the less likely it was that anyone would recognize him. He did his limited grocery shopping in Johnson City, and even there he was constantly on guard for people who might look at him twice.
His jaw tightened as the microwave timer ticked down. He was still trying to understand the unnecessary risks he’d taken the night before. Breaking into the bookstore had been part of the plan, of course, but he hadn’t realized just how good revenge would feel once he got in there. He hadn’t originally intended to go beyond knocking some books on the floor and walking off with a few of the more expensive trinkets lying around to attract the tourists. But once he got started, the rest of it just seemed to happen. Each book he’d tossed across the room had loosened something inside his chest until he’d started doing more than tossing. The sound of tearing paper had given him more pleasure than he’d had in years. More pleasure than he’d had since he’d been driven out of Konigsburg, in fact. For once, he’d felt like he was in charge of his own destiny again, the way he should be.
And the final coup de grâce, the final gesture of contempt. That had given him a kind of wild satisfaction he’d never thought he’d feel again.
Of course, once he was back at his miserable excuse for a room, he’d realized the stupidity of that final gesture. He’d left them some DNA, although it might take them a while to process it. Then again, he didn’t figure he’d wait around too much longer anyway. His plans should be in motion fairly soon, and then he could hit the road for good, never returning to Konigsburg again.
Still, he’d have given a lot to see Docia Kent’s face this morning. If he could have figured out a safe way to do it, he’d have waited in town until she showed up at her shop. But when push came to shove, he wasn’t willing to trade his safety for the pleasure of seeing her suffer.
At least he didn’t think he was. Yet.
Chapter Six
By the end of her first week at the Woodrose, Kit had finally gotten the reservation system to behave (after Mabel Morgenstern had promised to take the idea of a national reservation service “under advisement”), and she’d begun to give Elaine some rudimentary training in the art of waiting tables. And by the end of each workday she was thoroughly exhausted. She pulled into Allie’s driveway at six, after she’d gotten set up for lunch the next day. The house was dark, not that she’d really expected Allie to still be around.
Now that her wedding problems had been taken care of by dropping them in Kit’s lap, Allie usually took off for Wonder Dentist’s around dinner time. Kit hadn’t actually talked to her aunt since their last conversation about the wedding a couple of days ago, given that Allie got up at four to bake her breakfast pastries and Kit didn’t pull in until she’d finished riding herd on Gabriel and the dishwasher, Morrie.
Allie had told Wonder that Kit was going to take over the wedding. She’d even used the phrase “wedding planner,” which made Kit’s stomach tie a couple of new knots. She’d managed to pull her aunt aside before she disappeared that evening. “Allie, I don’t know much about event planning, let alone wedding planning. I said I’d help, but I figured you’d still be making the major decisions. I mean I’ve never done anything like this on my own.”
Allie shook her head. “You’ve got terrific taste, sweetheart. You’ll figure out what to do, I know it. If I try to do anything, I’m liable to have another panic attack. I’m just going to turn it all over to you.”
“But I don’t even know what you want to spend,” Kit said desperately. “How can I plan anything when I don’t know what’s in your price range?”
Allie frowned. “That’s a good point. Let me put together a budget, then you can work from that. Shouldn’t take me long.” She gave Kit another bright smile. “I’ve got confidence in you, kid. And I’m so grateful that I don’t have to worry anymore.”
Allie’s smile was so tremulous that Kit didn’t
have the heart to make any more objections. But she had a feeling she’d been cornered into doing something that would eat up great chunks of her life for the foreseeable future. Not that she had a whole lot of other things pending at that moment. And, of course, she’d volunteered for this.
You owe her. She did. She really did.
She changed out of her professional clothes, pitching her two-inch heels to the back of the closet. From now on she’d decided to wear flats, possibly even running shoes, even if she didn’t look like the hostess of the year. She walked to Allie’s kitchen in her bare feet, feeling her arches ache. Her aunt had left a note on the table directing her to the refrigerator for a plate of leftovers. There was also a printout from her spreadsheet. Kit squinted at the figures. Apparently, it was supposed to be the wedding budget. She sank into her chair, rubbing her eyes. She so didn’t want to screw this up. Any more than she wanted to screw up the job at the Rose. She wasn’t sure who she was trying to impress exactly, but she had a sneaky suspicion it might be herself.
She peeked under the aluminum foil at the plate of leftover spaghetti, which was perilously close to what she’d had for lunch, although Joe LeBlanc’s sauce was probably more complex. She sighed. What she really wanted to do, she realized suddenly, was have a beer and nachos at the Faro and maybe gossip with Deirdre Brandenburg when she had a minute.
You know Nando will be there, right?
Kit swallowed hard. Well, so he’d be there. So what? She didn’t intend to make life difficult for either of them, but she also didn’t intend to keep away from places where she wanted to go just because Nando might be there too. They both needed to be adults about this and just get over it. She was ready to show everybody she was a grown-up.
Which was close to a total crock. She sighed. Oh well, let’s just pretend it’s true for now. The Faro had seemed like her kind of place, and she’d find a way to share it with Nando. And if he showed up there with another woman…she’d deal. Somehow.
She grabbed her keys and headed for the door.
The Faro was having a good night, or maybe it was just a normal night. Having only been there once, Kit was in no position to judge. The tables looked mostly full, the crowd largely male but with enough women scattered around to keep her from feeling uncomfortable. She found a seat at the bar.
Tom Ames gave her a cautious smile. “Hi, Kit. What can I get you?”
“Whatever beer you gave me the other night. It was great.” She gave him a smile that she hoped was reassuring. No drama here—absolutely none. So help me.
“Kit, you came back!” Deirdre leaned on the bar beside her, grinning as she pushed her tray toward Tom. “Two Shiners and a house red,” she called and then turned back. “So how’s the Woodrose Inn?”
“Exhausting.” Kit grinned back. “I had no idea the Rose was so popular. I haven’t had a chance to eat anything since mid-morning. I was hoping you guys were still serving.”
“Let’s check—Clem’s still back there, I think. Let me drop off this order, and then we’ll go ask what’s around to eat.”
Kit wasn’t sure who she’d expected “Clem” to be—probably someone large and male, sort of like Joe LeBlanc. She was a little surprised to see a tiny woman with spiked black hair and a side braid, along with a pierced eyebrow and a harassed expression beneath her chef’s beanie.
“What’s up?” she asked. “I’m not serving anything to those assholes at the pool table. They don’t even know what they’re putting in their mouths anyway. And I saw Denny Steinbruner put his burger down on the table, right on the felt. Let ’em eat chips.”
Deirdre shook her head. “I just wanted to introduce you two and see if you had anything around we could munch on. Kit Maldonado, this is Clem Rodriguez.”
Clem narrowed her eyes. “Allie Maldonado’s niece? The one working at the Rose?”
“Geez, news travels fast around here.” Kit nodded. “That’s me.”
Clem shrugged. “People in the restaurant trade talk to each other. Joe’s a friend of mine. So’s your aunt. I saw them both at the market this morning. Sit down.” She waved a hand toward a table at the side of the kitchen. “You can finish off the risotto so I won’t have to figure out what to do with it. We’re not getting many orders for it.”
“I need to go wait on a few tables,” Deirdre said. “Save me a little and I’ll come back for it.” She pushed through the kitchen door into the dining room again.
Clem shook her head as she spooned up two servings of risotto. “Sooner or later she’s going to burn herself out running Coffee Delight and waiting tables. Tom’s been trying to get her to stop, but she likes hanging around the bar in the evening and she can’t just sit there for some reason.”
“So Deirdre’s his significant other?” Kit took a bite of risotto and her tense muscles relaxed. Parmesan, mushrooms, a little hint of sherry. Clearly Joe LeBlanc wasn’t the only outstanding new chef around Konigsburg.
“About as significant as you can get,” Clem said dryly. “Chico and I have a running bet going about when the wedding will be.”
Kit grimaced slightly, which wasn’t at all fair to the risotto.
Clem narrowed her eyes. For someone her size, she could look surprisingly menacing. “You got something against them getting married?”
Kit sighed. “Not really. Right now I’m just sort of anti-wedding in general. My Aunt Allie roped me into planning hers, and I don’t have a clue about what I’m supposed to be doing. She just gave me her budget tonight and I can’t tell if it’s realistic or insane.”
Clem shook her head. “You mean she still hasn’t married Wonder? For some reason I thought that had happened a long time ago.”
Kit shrugged. “She kept putting it off, and now she’s got some kind of phobia about planning for it. So she’s decided I can handle everything, even though I’ve got no experience doing anything like it. I don’t even know where to start.”
Clem leaned back in her chair. “Does she have a venue? Go for that first. Once you’ve got the place nailed down, you can usually build around it.”
Kit shoveled in a couple of bites. “What are the usual venues around here? I don’t think she wants to get married in a church.”
“People used to get married at Cedar Creek Winery,” Clem mused, “but they’re enlarging their patio right now, so it’s not available. If it’s a small wedding there’s always the party room at Brenner’s. Lee Contreras and Ken Crowder are friends of Allie’s anyway. They’d probably let her have it for free, or close to it.”
Kit frowned. “I don’t think the wedding’s going to be that small, given all the people Allie knows around town and the size of our family. I mean Aunt Allie and her sisters and brothers alone would fill up Brenner’s.”
Clem buttered a piece of bread for herself. “Well, kid, if push comes to shove, you’re working at the biggest wedding venue in town. That event center at the Woodrose is wedding central.”
“Yeah, and it’s probably booked for the next five years,” Kit said gloomily. Plus it also probably cost more than Allie’s entire budget.
“Not necessarily.” Clem leaned back again. “They had this really lousy chef, Aaron Carville, for a couple of years. He ran the restaurant into the ground and that started dragging down the rest of the inn too. My guess is they’ve been scrambling to make up for the damage he did.” She took a bite of her own risotto. “Of course, that’s going to change fast now that Joe’s in charge. He’s already taking a major bite out of the lunch trade here in town. It doesn’t hit us because we’re not in that price bracket, but I’ve noticed that Kip Berenger at the Silver Spur has been doing a lot more lunch entertainment and special events than he did before.”
“Joe’s a really good chef. So are you,” Kit added hastily.
“Yes, I am.” Clem grinned. “But Joe’s more high powered than I am. He was sous chef at one of the biggies in New York and head chef at a restaurant in New Orleans. He’s definitely the real deal.”
“What’s he doing here?” Kit shook her head. “I mean, not that Konigsburg isn’t a good foodie town, but…”
“But it’s not one of the big ones.” Clem nodded. “He had some…problems. Personal problems. A few years ago. But now he’s pulled himself together again. If anybody can get the Rose back on its feet again, it’s Joe.”
Clem shoveled in a couple more bites of risotto. Kit considered asking her some more specific questions about Joe LeBlanc’s “personal problems”, but she figured if Clem thought it was her business, she’d already have told her.
Deirdre pushed back into the kitchen again, tendrils of her dark hair flying around her face. Depressingly enough, she looked even more beautiful when she was messy. “Back again. Did you save me some food?”
Clem handed her a plate. “Sit down. Do not go through that door again. Let Sylvia and Marilyn handle the tables.”
“Okay. For the moment.” She took a bite of risotto. “Really good, Clem. Up to your standard.”
“Yep,” Clem agreed. “Now about the wedding food.”
“What wedding?” Deirdre turned to Kit, wide-eyed. “You’re getting married?”
Kit shook her head. “Aunt Allie and Wonder Dentist. I’m the designated wedding planner, god help me.”
Clem continued as if there’d been no interruption. “If you get the Woodrose, you probably won’t have a choice—the food will have to come from their kitchen. But Joe would do a great job for you anyway. And he’d probably work with you on price. You should get some kind of discount since you’re working there.”
“You’re going to do it at the Woodrose?” Deirdre grinned. “That’s where Docia was supposed to get married. They had the reception there, anyway. All I remember is the champagne, which was first rate.”
“Nothing’s set up yet,” Kit said a little desperately. “I don’t know how Aunt Allie would feel about the Woodrose, or who she wants to do the food for the reception.”
