Seth never shut the door, wanting to be accessible to the employees. “Yeah?”
“One of the customers is throwing a fit about the price of the wine on her bill,” Alicia said.
Seth rose to his feet. “Whose table?”
“Rob, but he left early because his kid was sick,” Alicia said. “I called him, and he says he’s sure he quoted her the price before she ordered it.”
Seth walked out of the office and joined Alicia as they headed toward the dining area. “Who’s on the table now?”
“Gwen.”
Gwen was no pushover, so the patron must have a fairly strong personality to put up such a complaint. “Okay, I’ll go find out what we can do,” he said.
It didn’t take Seth long to determine who the unhappy customer was. Sure, she was sitting in Rob’s section, but the woman was with a party of other women, and they all looked a bit dull-eyed with drink. Gwen stood a couple of feet from the table, her arms folded, as if she was just barely managing to hold in her frustration. Gwen was excellent with customers, but she wouldn’t put up with much.
Sometimes a simple change in waiters would put a patron on edge, and he wondered if that was the case now. Gwen saw him approach, but her expression didn’t change.
“Hello, ma’am,” Seth said to the customer. “I’m the manager here, and I wanted to see what I can help you with.”
She looked up at him, her giant fake eyelashes touching her eyebrows. “Thank you.” Her tone was far from conciliatory, though. She held the receipt in front of her. “I was told by the other waiter that this bottle of wine is forty-five dollars, but here it says sixty dollars.”
Seth took the receipt. “This wine is forty-five percent off this month,” he said, glancing over at Gwen who looked stone-faced. “Which does make it sixty dollars. It’s normally $110.00.”
“That’s what she claimed, too,” the woman said, pointing at Gwen. “I think this restaurant has some sort of coup going on. You quote one price, then charge another, hoping that the customers don’t check the receipts.”
Seth practically felt Gwen bristle behind him. He didn’t feel much better.
“That’s not the case, ma’am,” he said in as even a tone as possible. “I’m willing to discount the wine further tonight due to the misunderstanding, but our servers are trained to always quote the direct price, even if there is a discount. Rob would have told you the discount in addition to the final price.”
“Well, if he did, he didn’t tell it to me,” the woman protested.
Seth only nodded, refraining from what he really wanted to say. “I’ll be back in a moment with the corrected receipt,” he said. At this point, it was always better for him to handle the customer personally until he got them out the door. Otherwise, customers like this would continue to act disgruntled toward their servers.
Gwen caught up with him by the time he reached the sales register positioned behind the curtained-off section where they kept the extra serving trays.
“You know she’s playing you,” Gwen said in a low voice.
He looked over at her, and as he’d predicted her blue eyes were more gray, like there was a storm brewing. “I know.” He showed the woman’s credit card to Gwen. “Tell Alicia to flag her name. The next time she comes into the restaurant, I’ll give her table to you.”
“Um, thanks?”
“You’ll keep her straight, I’ve no doubt.” Seth ran the credit card and printed out the new receipt, although he doubted the woman would add any gratuity.
“Why do I get the nightmare customers?” Gwen moved closer.
At this proximity, Seth could swear he smelled lemons on Gwen. Had she been slicing the lemons herself for the drinks? He liked lemons. “Because I know I can rely on you, and because you aren’t a pushover, no matter how rich and famous someone might be. You don’t let flattery go to that pretty head of yours.”
Her blue eyes only turned darker as she narrowed her gaze.
“See? You get angry when someone compliments you.”
“I do not,” Gwen said. “I can spot fake from a mile away, and most compliments are fake.”
“Fair enough.” Seth took a step away from her. He had to get the unhappy customer out of the restaurant ASAP. “Rest assured that I’m never fake.”
She opened her mouth as if to reply, then shut it. And that was probably wise for both of them. He left the curtained section and headed back into the main dining area. He presented the modified receipt, then thanked the ladies for coming to the restaurant. Instead of returning to his office, he hovered near the kitchen doors to ensure that the ladies left without further incident. You’d think that a fine-dining restaurant wouldn’t encounter much drama. All in all, Seth had only involved security twice in the past year.
The women left, and Seth remained in his spot a while longer, watching Gwen. She had an easy way with the customers, was very attentive, and it all added up in her tips. She made the most money out of all the other servers in the place. Not that anyone would guess by the state of her car. It was like she’d hung onto her high school car and never replaced even the tires. He wondered how she’d made it through the winter coming up the winding pass on snowy days.
It wasn’t like he could ask her any personal questions, though. Every time he tried to move forward a step with her, she pushed him back two. She either acted annoyed with him or ignored him, and Seth wasn’t sure why. And for some reason, it only made him more curious about her. How such a vivacious and a beautiful woman like Gwen was unattached, and didn’t seem interested in dating anyone, he could only guess. She never really flirted with any of the male servers, or male customers, for that matter. She received plenty of attention from men, but she mostly brushed it off good-naturedly. If she needed to put someone in his place, she would. Seth had witnessed her set-downs more than once.
Her appearance drew attention, sure—her blue eyes framed with dark lashes, her flawless skin, those lips she painted dark red or deep pink, and her fingernail art . . . all of which he’d noticed. But she also made the customers feel like she really cared about them. It seemed that by the end of the night, they’d become old friends. In fact, some who made regular reservations often requested to be put at one of Gwen’s tables.
Yet . . . there was something Seth couldn’t quite figure out about Gwen. She was friendly with all the restaurant patrons, but he’d overheard a few digs about “wealthy people” she’d made to Alicia. He knew Alicia was helping her mom out, and this job wasn’t so much to make money but to keep a balance in her life. Apparently, she’d left a decent job to come help her mom. Gwen . . . he hadn’t figured out. But if he hadn’t seen her car, he’d have thought she’d grown up well off. It was just the way she carried herself with confidence and the attention to detail she put into her appearance.
Where some other women were a mystery, Gwen was an enigma.
Seth straightened and headed into the kitchen. He didn’t want to be caught staring at Gwen; eventually someone would notice. He didn’t always stay through all the cleanup because the final receipts only took half an hour to reconcile after the last customer had left, but tonight Seth pitched in, helping the bus boys clear the tables. He knew Gwen was usually one of the last ones to leave, so he’d wait it out until she was finished.
After the restaurant closed, the employees left one by one, calling goodbyes to each other. Gwen cast him a couple of curious looks—well, one might have been a glare—but Seth wanted to wait to talk to her when they were completely alone. When she finally headed out the door, Seth locked his office door, then walked out after her.
She was halfway across the parking lot by the time he came out of the doors. Had she been running or something? Within moments, she’d be inside her car, backing out. He had no choice but to call out to her.
She glanced over her shoulder but kept walking. With a half-wave, she said, “Goodnight, boss.” Then she did start to run.
What in the . . . Seth broke
into a jog. Maybe she was more upset about him giving into that customer than he realized. But it wasn’t like the discount would affect Gwen.
“Hey, Gwen, hang on.”
“I’m in a rush.” She had reached her car and unlocked the door.
Seth found it sort of funny she’d even bother to lock such a beat-up car. He caught up with her, but the look on her face told him he had about five seconds to spill what he wanted to speak with her about. “I need to talk to you about working the night of the Fourth—”
“I know, I’m working already,” Gwen cut in. “Can’t this wait until later? I’ve got to get to the grocery store before it closes.”
It had to be after eleven already, and even though Pine Valley was a booming resort town, there was no way the grocery store was open this late. “I think it’s already closed. Do you want me to Google the hours?”
Gwen pulled out her cell phone from her pocket. “Damn. It’s later than I thought.”
The numbers on her phone clearly read 11:05. Gwen groaned and braced her hands against her car, then dropped her head.
Seth didn’t know what to think. “Can I help you with something?”
She shook her head and sniffled.
“Gwen?” he moved closer. Was she crying? “Seriously, what’s wrong?”
Lifting her head, she wiped at her cheeks.
“Hey, let me help you.” He had no clue what would make Gwen Robbins so upset. He’d never seen this side of her.
She inhaled, then rubbed a hand over her face. “Unless you happen to have twenty boxes of cupcake mix, I don’t think you can help me.”
Seth stared at Gwen as if she’d grown a second head. And perhaps she had. All Gwen knew was that her entire plan to bring her homeless friends cupcakes tomorrow had been completely foiled. Around 8:30 p.m. she’d received a voicemail from the manager at the Main Street Café saying that their ovens were down, so they wouldn’t be able to fulfill the cupcake order until likely tomorrow afternoon. But that would be too late. Gwen needed the cupcakes in the morning so she could deliver them for the lunch hour. If she waited until the dinner hour, she wouldn’t be able to drive back at night. She didn’t trust Marge driving that far in the dark. If she broke down on the highway leading to Pine Valley, Gwen would be stranded.
“Sorry, I don’t usually cry over cupcakes.” She took a deep breath. “I was going to take Fourth of July cupcakes to the shelter. The oven is down at Main Street Café, so now I need to make them tonight.” She hated that her voice was trembling.
Seth wasn’t saying anything, and she wondered if he thought she was a crazy woman. He did look like he was concerned, and she kind of hated that expression on his face. It made it harder to be annoyed with him.
“I’ll figure it out,” she continued. Her voice was steadier now, and for that she was grateful. Surely she could buy cupcakes somewhere in the morning, but then they wouldn’t be decorated. So her attempts at decorating would have to be simple and quick. Maybe she could dye the frosting blue and then use red sprinkles? But . . . what grocery store would have that many cupcakes for sale?
“How many cupcakes are we talking about?” Seth asked.
“Two hundred,” she said. “There’s not that many at the shelter, but no one wants just one cupcake. I’m planning on at least two per person.”
“When do you need them by?” he asked.
He was leaning against her car, watching her intently, and Gwen could hardly believe she was having this personal of a conversation with him. “I planned to leave around 9:30 in the morning so I can get there by 11:00 and help set up the lunch line.”
Seth straightened from the car. “We can make the cupcakes at my parents’ place. They’ve got two ovens. I’ll just need to borrow some of the flour and eggs from the restaurant. And probably powdered sugar and butter—assuming you want to decorate them?”
Gwen stared at him. “I can’t . . . I mean, you’re talking about making the cupcakes from scratch?”
Seth raised an eyebrow. “It won’t take much longer than the boxed version. Plus—”
“I can’t show up at your parents’ in the middle of the night,” she said. “And I don’t expect you—”
“Gwen,” he said, putting a hand on her arm. “It’s not a problem. We’ve got all the ingredients right inside the restaurant, and my parents are out of town.”
Gwen stepped back from him, partly because his hand on her arm was making her feel . . . light, comforted? She didn’t have time to define it. And he was not acting like Seth Owens, Mr. Boss, should be. She didn’t know what he should be doing right now, but it wasn’t offering to make cupcakes with her.
She exhaled and pushed a few strands of hair behind her ear. “Look, Seth, I appreciate the offer, but I think I can find cupcakes at the store tomorrow. Slap on some frosting, a few sprinkles, maybe find those tiny paper American flags to put on . . .”
He started laughing.
Gwen didn’t know if she’d ever heard him laugh in such a way before. Maybe she’d heard him scoff, or snicker, but not a full-out laugh. Now she was annoyed. She folded her arms. “Why are you laughing?”
“I . . . just . . . you . . .” He continued laughing.
“All right, whatever.” Gwen yanked her car door open. She slid into the seat, praying with every part of her being that Marge would start. The only thing that could make this night worse was Seth having to jump-start her car.
Before she could even turn the ignition, Seth grasped her shoulder.
“Wait,” he said, his voice barely recovered from his laughing fit. “Please, wait. I didn’t mean to laugh.”
She looked up in to his eyes . . . that were filled with amusement.
“Come into the restaurant with me, and we’ll get the ingredients,” he said. “Seriously. You’ll have your two hundred cupcakes in no time.”
Gwen told herself it wasn’t the way he was looking at her, or the feel of his hand on her shoulder, or the fact that even after a long shift at a restaurant, he still smelled great . . . No, she was making this decision for the homeless people who were depending on her. Whether they knew it or not, they needed some sugar-holiday-happiness tomorrow.
“All right.”
Seth grinned, and Gwen couldn’t find it within herself to be annoyed with him. Of course, that would change in a few moments. Of that she was positive.
Seth moved his hand and stepped back so she could get out of the car. His mouth twitched, and she knew he was still holding back some laughter. But right now, she had cupcakes to make—from scratch, no less.
She headed toward the restaurant, and Seth joined her.
“Do you think Pierre has his recipes written down anywhere?” she asked.
“I know a few recipes.”
Gwen looked over at him. “You do? Like . . . off the top of your head?”
He shrugged and shoved his hands in his pockets.
Well, then. She was tempted to ask him where he found time to memorize recipes when he was on the golf course. Maybe he was an avid Pinterest fan or something. But she was trying to be nice right now, especially since he was doing her a pretty big favor. Although it could very well turn into a disaster. She wasn’t much of a “scratch” baker.
Seth opened the door for her, and she was struck with déjà vu from earlier that evening. They went into the kitchen, and he flipped on the lights. The place seemed different, and so large, with everyone gone. And that fact made her realize how she was completely alone with Seth for perhaps the very first time. Her pulse thrummed with awareness. He was just being a nice guy, right? This wasn’t some master plan of his to get another notch in his belt. Not that she thought he was attracted to her, but some men weren’t picky about their conquests.
Seth moved toward the cupboards and pulled them open. He started collecting ingredients—which was good, because Gwen wouldn’t have known where to look. She did know where the eggs would be. She crossed to the refrigerator and opened the door. The
egg cartons were stacked on the lower shelf. “How many eggs do we need?”
“Three dozen,” Seth said without hesitation.
She looked over to where he was picking up what looked like small bottles of vanilla extract. She gathered three egg cartons, set them on the counter, then said, “What about butter? How much?” Since apparently he did have a recipe in his brain.
“Five pounds,” he said again as if he didn’t even have to think about it.
Who was this guy? A walking recipe calculator?
“Five?” she clarified.
He turned to meet her gaze. She wondered how he could look even better late at night than right before work. Her appearance usually morphed into scraggly hair, tired eyes, and worn-off makeup. Oh, right. He was a guy. Guys got all the luck.
“We’re making two hundred, right?”
“R-rrright . . .” She waited. But he didn’t ad lib.
“I think that’s everything.” He held up a package of cupcake liners. “Let’s box it all up.”
So they did, and with Seth carrying the box full of ingredients, and Gwen opening doors for him, they made it to his car. Seth loaded everything into the trunk, then turned to her, brushing off his hands.
“How about we ride together, then I’ll bring you back here after?”
“No,” Gwen said immediately. She didn’t want to put him out any more than she already was. “I can follow you and then get out of your way when the cupcakes are done.”
Seth shut the trunk, then said, “Well, here’s the thing. My parents’ driveway is pretty steep. So you might have to park at the bottom of the hill, since I’m not all that sure your car—”
“—I’ll ride with you,” Gwen said.
Thankfully, Seth didn’t laugh. Gwen headed for the passenger door and opened it. Sliding onto the cool, interior leather seat that smelled like someone had oiled it with orange-scented polish, she finally allowed herself to hope that her crisis might be diverted after all. And . . . it seemed Seth was gaining quite a few points tonight. He might possibly reach the scale of “sometimes helpful and decent boss,” which was a huge step up from “pampered-pansy boss.”
Waiting for You_Pine Valley Page 2
