Sarah tried to calm herself by tightly grabbing the bench’s metal armrest. She was jumping to conclusions. Harlan might not be mad at her at all. Maybe he simply wanted to talk friend to friend. She kept her gaze on him, but he still watched the child playing near the fountain.
“It’s been a few months since RahRah and you came into your inheritances. Now that you’re financially secure and have options open to you, have you given any thought as to what you might want to do long-term and with whom?” He turned and looked at her.
She averted her eyes and concentrated on the child squealing when the wind blew water at him. What was Harlan asking her? He’d always been there for her—a true friend. Had she been so wounded she’d missed some subtle signs? She looked at him. She had to think, but she couldn’t now. Not while she sat on this bench next to him.
“It’s been nice moving into a bigger place and knowing I have a little financial security, but, Harlan, my job at your office is still very important to me. I understand helping Mom and me wasn’t good for business today, and I’ll be glad to pay for your time.”
“That’s not necessary.”
“Well, I will. I’m just so sorry this is happening again. I don’t know what to say.”
Harlan cut off her nervous babbling. “Sarah, relax. I’m not trying to fire you.”
“That’s a relief. I was worried.”
Harlan laughed. “I thought we’d put that topic to rest. You’re doing a good job. Believe me, if you weren’t, you’d know it.”
Sarah puzzled over how, while she’d grown in her position and confidence, she still had moments of insecurity or inadequacy, but Harlan had no complaints. Either he was clueless, or she was too hard on herself. She released the armrest. Raising her hand to push her hair back, she noticed a red mark creasing her palm. She hadn’t realized how tightly she’d been holding the bench. She looked at him again. “Well, in that case, maybe this would be a good time for me to ask for a raise?”
Harlan immediately opened his eyes wide while denying her request in a monotone. She couldn’t help but laugh. She was glad to see the realization she was kidding prompted a fleeting smile before he addressed her with an air of earnestness.
“My concern is whether, with the change in your circumstances during the past few months, you’ve taken the time to give any thought to your future?”
She shook her head. “Between everything that has happened with Southwind and RahRah, Mother being upset when she got home and found out how much danger we’d been in, settling in to the carriage house, and waiting to see what the city council does with our proposal for the big house, I’ve been taking it one day at a time.”
This time he met her gaze. “You’re talking about things relating to everyone else. I’m talking about you.”
Sarah glanced away. She appreciated his concern but wasn’t sure what was prompting it or how to react to his attempt to have a serious discussion. “It’s all interwoven. I own the big house, so the council vote impacts me, too.”
“I understand, but let’s zero in on you. Would you want to work with Emily at the pub or the big-house restaurant on a daily basis in the future?”
“Not really. Cooking and restaurants are the last things that interest me. That’s not to say I won’t take shifts serving or cashiering during holidays or if they have a big party, but I can’t see myself involved in day-to-day operations. I don’t live and breathe that world like Emily and Marcus do.”
He laughed. “Yeah, I remember the Jell-O in a Can recipe you demonstrated at the food expo. So, we’ll scratch that off your wish list, but what’s on your list? What about going back to school?”
“Getting a degree is something that interests me.” She didn’t tell him about the brochures she’d shoved under her bed shortly after her divorce. “You know, I enrolled at the community college after I graduated from high school so I’d be in the same town where Bill worked, but before I ever went to my first class, he convinced me there was no need for us to wait four years to get married. Back then, I thought a Mrs. degree was the only thing I wanted in life.” Sarah stood and walked a few feet away from the bench.
Harlan scrambled to follow, but before he reached her, Sarah stopped and looked back over her shoulder at him. “Things don’t always turn out the way one thinks they will, do they?”
He stood perfectly still. “No, they don’t. You’ve been through a lot during the past few months. Things that can change a person.”
Sarah frowned. “I don’t disagree with that. In some ways I feel like I’ve lived four years instead of four months.”
“In a way you have. It changed you. You aren’t the scared woman who’d had the rug pulled out from under her who I originally hired.”
“I simply hide my knees shaking better.” She shook her head, causing her hair to flow over her shoulders. “No. I shouldn’t say that. I’ve changed, but I’m still learning who I really am.”
“That’s why I’m asking these questions.” He took a step closer to her. “You’re young and can do so much, especially now that you have financial stability.”
“Are you sure you’re not trying to fire me in a graceful manner?”
“Absolutely not. I’m simply concerned about you.” He scuffed his shoe on the path but kept his gaze focused on her face. “What about your personal life? What do you want for that? And don’t tell me it’s to work for me, volunteer at the animal shelter, help Emily out with big gigs, and take care of RahRah.”
“I haven’t really considered that question. The things you listed keep me busy and don’t give me much time to think about serious topics like that.”
“But you owe it to yourself to take the time.”
“I know, and I will if Chief Gerard does his job. Otherwise, I’m going to be busy developing some suspects for him, other than my mother.”
Harlan jerked his head upright. “Sarah, have you forgotten what happened last time you got involved in an investigation?”
Now it was Sarah’s turn to look away as she thought about how her meddling almost got her killed. It wasn’t something one easily forgot.
“You’ve got to promise me you’ll leave finding out who killed Lance to the professionals.”
Surprised at the intensity of his answer, she faced him. Sarah knew Harlan was only trying to protect her, but if Chief Gerard refused to consider anyone besides her mother, she couldn’t imagine simply sitting on the sidelines. Still, she could tell from the earnest tone of Harlan’s voice and the furrows in his forehead how important this was to him. Keeping her hands to her sides, she slightly crossed two fingers. “Promise. Satisfied?”
Uncrossing her fingers, she started walking away from him again but stopped dead in her tracks at his next question. “How about dating? Have you thought about putting yourself out there again?”
She paused for a moment to give her words more emphasis. “I already have a special man in my life.”
She smiled when he stuttered over his words.
“You . . . you do?” He took a step backward.
“Most definitely.” She grinned but said nothing more.
“Well, um.” He muttered something else she couldn’t quite hear, but she didn’t ask him to repeat it.
“Right now, RahRah is my special guy. He takes a lot of my attention.”
Harlan rubbed his hand across his cheek. “I meant someone human.”
Now, there was no question what he was getting at, but she wasn’t ready to address it with Harlan or anyone, no matter how wonderful they were. “Sharing my life with someone again is far from my highest priority. I need to figure me out first.”
He kicked another acorn. “You know squirrels plan ahead. They don’t want to be caught without nourishment when winter comes.”
Sarah reached out and gave his arm a squeeze. “Guess I’m lucky we have grocery stores. Thanks for caring.”
CHAPTER ELEVEN
“Try one of these.” Emily handed Sarah a bit
e-size appetizer, which she promptly popped into her mouth.
“Delicious. What is it?”
“A sweet potato puff. Grace and I wanted to do a play on the standard potato puff pastry bite.”
Sarah glanced from Emily to Grace, her favorite Southwind line cook and Emily’s right-hand person, who was holding out a plate with more of the same appetizers. Sarah took another one and bit off half of it. Swallowing, she tried to determine what they seasoned the sweet potato with. The filling’s sweet taste was a nice contrast to its crispy outside.
“These really are good.”
“Grace’s recipe.”
Sarah swallowed the remainder of the potato puff. “I’ve got to come around more for treats like these. I’m glad to see you, Grace. It’s been too long. What have you been up to?”
“Not much. The new term at school started, so my schedule isn’t fully settled, yet. I’ve only had a few hours a week to help out here. I guess our paths just haven’t crossed.”
Sarah nodded. She hadn’t seen much of any of the line cooks since the fire because Marcus only had enough insurance money to assign them limited hours. She was glad Marcus was doing whatever he could to keep everyone on payroll. They were all such great people.
During the food expo, she bonded with several of them, especially Jacob and Grace. When Sarah had been forced into cooking during the expo, it was Grace who had been her rock. Many, observing button-down-shirted Sarah with the tall copper-toned woman with the full-sleeve tattoo and Afro, would not think of the two of them as associates, but in fact, there they were.
Grace held the plate out, offering her another sweet potato puff.
Waving her hands, Sarah begged off. “No thanks. I don’t want to spoil my dinner. I’ve been looking forward to a Marcus-cooked meal all afternoon.”
“Then you’d better have another puff,” Emily said. “Between not getting the permits and being busy with the contractor this afternoon, Marcus still can’t cook in this kitchen. The only thing we have to nibble on are the various appetizers Grace and I made at her place.”
“If the other ones are anything like your sweet potato puffs, I’ll be in heaven.”
Sarah looked around the kitchen. Although some appliances had tags on them and not everything was in its final plugged-in position yet, even to her untrained eye, the kitchen appeared ready to use. The dining room, as she well knew from having helped hang pictures and unload and position chairs and tables, was ready to go.
“When I got here after Mom went home,” Emily said, “I realized how annoyed Marcus was at still not having the permits and that he might be tied up all afternoon with the strip center owner and insurance people, so I slipped over to Grace’s apartment. We’ve been playing with a few things, and this afternoon gave us time to work on them. We brought the finished product back here for Marcus to taste.”
“Emily thought our appetizers might sweeten his mood, but he’s been too busy to taste anything.”
Sarah helped herself to another puff and glanced around the restaurant. “He’s definitely missing out. Where is Marcus?”
“Outside. Tread lightly when you see him. Between the loan being denied and the postponement of today’s council meeting, Marcus is fit to be tied. He thinks he’s jinxed because there always seems to be another problem that may delay things, even if our Southwind permits go through at next week’s meeting.”
“What’s the problem?”
“We’re about to hear.” Marcus came into the kitchen, with Cliff behind him. Marcus bent and gave Emily a quick kiss.
Sarah smiled. The contrast between Emily’s blond cheerleader look, so different from Sarah’s willowy dark look, and Marcus’s sheer bulk, emphasized by his colorful billowing chef pants, amused her. Now that Emily and Marcus admitted being more than simply business associates, Emily maintained a professional reserve, even in front of Sarah, but Marcus made no attempt to hide his public displays of affection.
Both Marcus and Cliff took one of the sweet potato puffs Grace offered them. Giving the puff a thumbs-up, Marcus reached for a second one. He swallowed it in one bite. “These go on our pub menu, if this guy ever stops finding headaches to keep us from opening.”
Cliff shrugged and held up his hands like a bad guy giving up. “I’m just the messenger.”
“Messenger?” Emily asked.
“We got word today that one of your major equipment suppliers is experiencing a one-week delay.”
Grace offered Marcus another pastry puff, but he declined. “Chef Marcus, at least look at it from the bright side. Hopefully whatever it is that still needs to be delivered will be here and installed by next Tuesday, so you can open immediately if the council approves everything.”
“Ah, our Pollyanna. From your mouth to God’s ears, but I’m afraid there’s more to it than simply waiting for our ceiling hood to arrive. Cliff, explain it to them.”
“The strip center had a surprise visit from the building inspector today, and, well, he has a problem with the ventilation for the ceiling hood Marcus is waiting on. The inspector insists the venting approved for the mall renovation is insufficient for that particular hood.”
“What does that mean in terms of our budget?” Emily asked.
“It means we either come up with twenty-three hundred dollars for a ventilation modification from what the landlord is required to provide or we go with a different hood.”
“But that’s the best hood for our needs.”
“Right. So, we’re stuck with another twenty-three hundred we need to absorb into our portion of the build-out costs.” Marcus opened a cooler sitting next to the bar. “Anyone want a soda or beer?”
Cliff shook his head. “No thanks. I’ve still got to deliver a message from the building inspector to the owner of Miscellaneous Shoes.”
Emily took a sparkling water. “Cliff, is there any way Marcus and I can appeal the determination or ask for a variance?”
“Like I told him when we were outside, appealing will delay us further and cost more money than it would be worth. Besides, the odds of winning that kind of appeal are slim to none. Better to change the hood or come up with the twenty-three hundred.”
After putting the almost-empty plate on one of the tables, Grace broke the momentary silence at Cliff’s bad news. “Much as I’d like to, I don’t think I have a way to give this a cheerful spin. I’ve got class tonight, so I’ll think about it there.”
“And while Grace is going, I’ll take my leave to let the three of you stew on it.” Cliff waited for Grace to grab her purse so they could walk out together. “Let’s hope Slim at Miscellaneous Shoes doesn’t shoot the messenger.”
After Cliff and Grace left, the three sat at the table with the remaining sweet potato puffs. While Marcus kept turning his beer bottle around, the twins finished off the puffs.
“I’m bummed,” Marcus said. “I expected we’d at least get our kitchen permits today to allow us to take on catering jobs. Between the supplier, building inspector, and postponed council meeting, we’re worse off tonight than we were yesterday.”
Sarah was confused. She understood the problem posed by the $2,300 ventilation cost and that every day Marcus and Emily couldn’t operate Southwind cost them money, but at this point, how significant was losing one more week’s worth of business? She posed the question to Marcus and Emily.
He jumped on her inquiry. “Sarah, even if we can’t operate the restaurant, we have a profit margin built into all of our catering jobs. I had to turn down handling the reception after Lance’s funeral. Do you have any idea how much revenue and free advertising Emily and I lost refusing that funeral lunch?”
“Marcus, a man died. Money and advertising? How callous can you be?”
“I’m not being callous. Would you call a funeral home callous? We provide a service to people in sorrowful and joyful times. If we take the burden and worry off the family at a time like this, we’re doing our job right, so I don’t begrudge us making money,
too. Handling the catering after Lance’s funeral probably would have been one of our biggest jobs, outside of holiday catering, for the year. It would have paid for the twenty-three hundred overage and made up a portion of the loan his bank denied us. Equally important, people from Wheaton and Birmingham would have tasted our food and seen the Southwind logo there, so they would have filed the name of our business away for future use.”
“Guess I didn’t look at it that way.”
Emily put her hand on her sister’s arm. “How could you be expected to? You’re not in the business. We’re more sensitive because, with our loan being denied, not only does every dollar count, but so does getting our name out there. We can’t afford to let people forget us for their future catering needs.”
Marcus nodded. “People are fickle. If someone else steps up and does a good job, that’s who they’ll call next time. Every day we must make the public, our potential customers, understand the quality and service we offer is better than our competitors’. This job would have been nice and eased some of our burden, but I’ll concede one job and one week isn’t going to break us. My fear is how next week’s council meeting will play out.”
Sarah glanced from Marcus to Emily. “I don’t think I understand. What are you worried about?”
“Marcus is worried about who will be appointed to finish Lance’s term in office and whether Anne Hightower will be elected president of the council.”
“Doesn’t whoever fills Lance’s slot automatically become president?”
“No. That person becomes a council member, and there is a new election for president. Considering Anne’s views about downtown, if we don’t get someone in there who is friendly to our stance, she’ll easily be able to use procedural delays to keep our plans for using the big house for a restaurant from coming to a vote or she might have enough votes to shut us down completely.”
“Who appoints the council replacement?”
“Normally, the mayor and council. Right now, names are being gathered for consideration. Whoever is appointed will have to stand for election next year when the term runs out.”
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