Returning to their table, they were barely in their chairs when Ned reappeared to take their drink orders. After Sarah and Emily ordered water and Thomas asked for water and coffee, the three stared at their menus. When Ned returned with their drinks, they ordered: a Shrimp Louie salad for Sarah, Howellian chicken salad for Emily, and a hamburger for Thomas. Orders completed, Thomas turned the discussion to Emily’s employment.
“Emily, at least for six months, more if I can twist your arm, the kitchen we just walked through would be totally yours. You’d be responsible for all food preparation for this restaurant and the hotel’s room-service menu under the hotel’s Howellian signature name and you’d oversee Monday to Friday delivery of food to our Wheaton commissary. Of course, I don’t expect you to do this alone. We have some line cooks who, from what I understand, you can probably whip into shape, but I’ll be glad to put a sous chef of your choosing on payroll.”
“That sounds wonderful, but I was wondering if I could also use the kitchen, during off hours, for a limited amount of catering jobs?”
He waved his hand in the direction of the main dining room. “That’s a no-brainer. We already have a catering operation through which you can handle any jobs that come your way.”
Recognizing Emily and Thomas were talking about two different things and, that for some reason Emily wasn’t speaking up, Sarah interjected herself into the conversation. “Emily isn’t referring to catering under the Howellian name. She’s talking about using the kitchen to prepare the food for some jobs contracted by Southwind customers.”
Realizing she might not have phrased it in the correct terms, Sarah looked to Emily to clarify what she was trying to say. “Em? Did I explain that right?”
Emily nodded before hastening to assure Thomas it wouldn’t be many jobs and only until the Southwind permits came through. Her words tumbled together as she rushed to explain how Marcus and she weren’t allowed to make anything in the Southwind kitchen for public consumption until the permits came through. She concluded by declaring that the Howellian kitchen, which was approved for everything, would be a big help.
Thomas sat quietly for a few seconds and then threw a quizzical look in Emily’s direction. Sarah listened to him but kept her gaze on Emily’s face.
“You want to run catering jobs for two places from here?”
“Only occasionally and only until Southwind’s permits come through in the next few weeks. These wouldn’t be big jobs that competed with the ones the Howellian handles, only a few small dinner parties or gatherings. As you can imagine, if you permit us to do a few jobs using your kitchen, it would certainly help cash flow until Southwind reopens.”
Thomas crinkled his perfectly shaped brows, causing his eyes to narrow. “It seems slightly irregular having an unrelated restaurant cooking out of my kitchen, but it’s something I’m willing to consider once you take over.”
Although Emily appeared satisfied with his response, Sarah wasn’t. It sounded to her like catering for something other than a Howellian enterprise wouldn’t get off the ground. “Will the commissary location in Wheaton also operate under your signature name and, if I may ask, won’t it take more effort and time for it to be profitable than if you did something similar here in Birmingham?”
“Some.” Thomas didn’t reply to her first question. “But Lance and I already identified a well-trafficked location to put it in in Wheaton.”
Sarah was perplexed. While trying to get the big house zoned for restaurant use, Harlan and she had been keeping tabs for the past few months of any restaurant-related applications filed in Wheaton. There wasn’t one she could think of with Thomas Howell’s personal or hotel name attached to it.
“Where do you propose putting this restaurant?”
“At the bank.”
“Excuse me? I don’t remember seeing any space approved for a restaurant in the bank building.”
“It’s not a restaurant. A commissary is the way office building owners often provide quick food access for their tenants. State regulations allow us to sell the food we make here in this restaurant and at one other location, without jumping through a million hoops. Although something might need to be warmed using a microwave or conveyor oven, the commissary only serves prepared things like salads, sandwiches, and yogurt and fruit cups. Nothing is cooked on-site.”
“And you’re going to put that into the bank?”
“Yes. Several office buildings have been built near the old bank during the past few years, including the large one that abuts the alley, but no restaurants were added to the area. Before he died, Lance and I identified a perfect spot in the back of the bank building, which had been intended, but never used, for storage. Without much modification, we decided the space would work well for a small commissary operation.”
His voice rose with excited animation. “We figured low labor costs because of only needing one or two employees to man the operation. Our outlay for equipment also would be minimal: one refrigerated display case for the day’s salads and sandwiches, beverage dispensers, and a one-stop counter space where customers order, pay, and pick up napkins and silver. Best of all, because the space already offers security camera–controlled access to the back alley and the bank’s lobby, our only structural modifications are framing and Sheetrocking a firewall and installing another set of street doors to bypass direct entry from the lobby.”
Now it was Emily’s turn to be skeptical. “If I understand you correctly, you expect me to order, prepare, cook, package, and deliver, as well as handle inventory control, for all of your operations from the hotel? But what about day-to-day operations in Wheaton? Who is responsible for filling in if employees don’t show up for work or the power goes out?”
“You. Of course, if you think you and Marcus aren’t up for the challenge, then I guess our discussion is over.” He reached for his water glass.
“It isn’t the challenge. You simply added more than I thought you were proposing, so it will take some additional planning, but I think Marcus and I can handle this.”
Scared her sister was setting herself up for failure by forgetting she was only one person, Sarah decided it was better to raise her concerns now instead of after the fact. “Maybe I’m butting in here, especially because being in a kitchen frightens me, but this still seems like a big undertaking to me.”
Emily laughed, but, to Sarah’s ears, it sounded forced. “Sarah, people run different restaurants all the time. Isn’t that what Marcus and I are looking to do in Wheaton? It’s simply a matter of organization and delegation.”
Sarah stared at Thomas, who steadily met her gaze. “But other than the sous chef, you’re not providing more personnel, are you?”
“That’s where the partnership with Southwind and its employees comes into play.”
This was beginning to sound to Sarah more and more like Marcus’s prediction. Southwind would do the work and Thomas would take the credit. “Will the food at the commissary location be labeled as coming from Southwind or under the hotel’s logo?”
Emily leaned forward to catch Thomas’s response to Sarah’s question.
He cleared his throat and frowned. “I’d planned on doing it under the Howellian logo, but I guess, with what you pointed out, we’ll have to design a new joint logo.”
Sarah glanced at her sister. Despite his hesitation and sidestepping, Emily still bobbed her head in full agreement with him. She seemed to be having no problem with any of the red-flag issues bothering Sarah. Perhaps Emily was too excited at the opportunity to help Marcus or to have a chance to prepare food in this state-of-the-art kitchen. Or maybe it was Sarah who was overreacting. Em might simply be comfortable because, being in the business, she knew the things that seemed odd to Sarah were standard operating procedures.
In the face of Emily’s positive attitude, it was difficult for Sarah to be defensive on her sister’s behalf. It was even harder balancing a sense of wariness of Thomas’s comments with the desire to become better
acquainted with him. She had a feeling it would be nice if his flashing a smile was directed only at her. She willed herself to focus on the discussion. Her purpose for attending this lunch was to be her sister’s advocate, not to snag a date.
“Wouldn’t it simply be easier to use the Southwind logo at this location, too? After all, it has a respectable following in Wheaton.”
“True, but restaurants go in and out, have fires, and, if Southwind’s quality or popularity diminishes, it could and would impact the commissary. Better to come up with a new logo incorporating a reference to the Howellian, too.”
Sarah couldn’t resist pushing back at his argument. “But don’t hotels change ownership, go up and down in the rankings, and lose popularity as they age?”
“That’s not going to happen in the class the Howellian falls into. Multidiamond or star establishments strive to maintain their achievement levels.”
Sarah couldn’t help sparring with him. “We all strive for things but don’t always accomplish them.”
“But that’s when one most needs to redirect one’s efforts. We received a wonderful star rating for our hotel accommodations, but our restaurant needs improvement for us to attain the rating I want.” Thomas reached out and put his hand over hers, while glancing at Emily. “Sarah, I know you have your sister’s best interests at heart. I do, too. Trust me. This arrangement will be a win-win situation for all of us.”
“I hope so.”
“I know so.”
Sarah didn’t move her hand, but she glanced around the restaurant rather than at him. She hadn’t realized both rooms had filled up with customers. Here and there she recognized familiar faces. Her gaze stopped at a terrace table where Jacob, his sister, and Mr. Bailey, from the bank, were engrossed in conversation. She couldn’t imagine the three were good buddies, so she wondered if it was bank, development, or city business bringing them together today. Seeing Mr. Bailey also reminded her she needed to find a time to check on Eloise.
Thomas’s abrupt removal of his hand from hers brought her attention back to their table.
A shadow loomed over it. She looked up. Cliff’s hulking presence filled their alcove as he bent forward and thrust his finger into Thomas’s chest. “I should take you outside and beat the crap out of you.”
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Thomas pulled back. “Are you out of your mind? Can’t you see I’m having lunch with these lovely ladies?” He glanced at his watch. “If you want to meet me in my office in an hour . . .”
“No. This can’t wait. We need to talk about Uncle George now.” Cliff spread his legs in a wide stance as he moved closer to Thomas’s portion of the table, his fists clenched.
Although his tight blue jeans and suede-elbowed sports coat should have made him blend into the lunchtime crowd, the way he inched into Thomas’s space went against the cultivated image of the restaurant. Sarah shuddered as Thomas abruptly stood, almost clipping Cliff’s nose.
The two men scowled at each other. With slight body shifts, they danced around in the alcove’s limited space, much like boxers prepping for one to throw the first punch. While Sarah debated whether to intervene verbally or physically, using her body as a buffer between the two men, she stole a glance at her twin. Emily’s mouth was slightly open, and her hand was braced on the table. Sarah bet the same thoughts she was having were going through Emily’s mind, but neither said anything.
Turning away from Cliff, Thomas dropped his napkin on his chair and rearranged his features from scowling to smiling. “Ladies, I apologize. I don’t know if you’ve had the pleasure of meeting my brother.”
Sarah opened her mouth, but nothing came out. Cliff Rogers and Thomas Howell were brothers? It didn’t compute. She finally sputtered out a few words. “You’re brothers?”
Thomas grinned in Cliff’s direction, but Sarah noticed neither Cliff’s expression nor his clenched fists had changed. “Sons of a different father, but we both claim the same dear mother, for whatever good that did either of us.”
Sarah glanced at Cliff. He reminded her of a firecracker about to blow.
“As you can see,” Thomas said, “Cliff’s the more emotional one. If you two will excuse me, I’m afraid I need to deal with this interruption.”
Thomas pointed to where Ned stood just outside the alcove, having rested a serving tray with their food on a collapsible stand. “I’m glad we already took the tour. No telling how long this is going to take, but please enjoy the remainder of your lunch and walk around the hotel afterward as my guests. Emily, I’ll call you later. I think we covered almost everything, but why don’t you two continue to talk, and if you have more questions, we can discuss them then. Sarah, it was a pleasure getting to know you. I hope our paths cross again in the very near future. Now, please excuse me.”
Thomas flipped his hand over in the universal “after you” gesture. Sarah wasn’t sure if Cliff was going to go peacefully, but he did. Once the brothers left, Ned promptly stepped into the alcove and placed Sarah and Emily’s food in front of them. Sarah looked behind him to where he’d left Thomas’s plated hamburger on the serving tray. She hoped it wouldn’t go to waste.
Ned hovered at the side of their table. “Is there anything else I can get you now?”
Sarah looked at Emily, already tasting and analyzing her Howellian chicken salad. “No, thank you.” She waited until Ned was out of earshot before poking around her plate with her fork while asking her sister how the chicken salad was.
“It needs seasoning and more chicken. Too much mayonnaise. How’s the Shrimp Louie?”
Sarah took a taste and put her fork on the table. “This isn’t something I’d order again. Besides feeling like it’s a treasure hunt to find a shrimp, it tastes funny.”
She pushed her plate toward Emily, who stabbed a bite.
After another taste, Emily passed the plate back to Sarah. “The shrimp not only is nonexistent, but it isn’t fresh. In fact, I don’t even think they fully defrosted what they used. Skimping on the main protein is guaranteed to produce unhappy customers. I can assure you that won’t be the case when I take over.”
“Whoa! Emily, don’t you think you’re jumping into this? I know finances are tight, but I’m getting a bad feeling about the things Thomas wants you to do.”
“Sarah, I know you’re worried about me, but don’t be. There’s nothing Thomas said that’s any different than being an executive chef elsewhere. Lots of balls in the air.”
“But it seems you have a lot of moving parts here. Between the pub and the fine-dining concepts for Southwind, the restaurant and room service here, and a commissary that is going to have to be handled without your direct supervision, I’m afraid you’re spreading yourself too thin.”
“For six months, I can handle it.”
“What if you drop one of the balls? Won’t that impact your name and Southwind? Aren’t those your priority? And if you do succeed, won’t that promote the Howellian name instead of yours? Maybe Marcus was right?”
Emily didn’t answer.
Sarah tried again. “Look around this hotel. Despite its opulence, I get the distinct feeling Thomas Howell cut corners with his restaurant or it would be a success, too.”
“Even the best establishments can have bad restaurants if everything doesn’t jibe.”
“But why put yourself in that position? You don’t have to. You have so much going on in Wheaton, why take a chance of tainting it with this? Look, let’s enjoy the parts of our lunch that are edible and take a quick peek into the jewelry store off the gallery before I go back to work. You can chalk this up as another life experience.”
Emily put her fork down. “Sarah, stop. I’m going to do this. I think I can make a difference here that will reflect positively on Southwind and me in the long run.”
Sarah stared at her sister. Emily seemed beyond listening to reason. “At least will you let Harlan and Marcus, instead of me, attend further meetings with you and go over any contract Thomas prop
oses before you agree to anything?”
“That really isn’t necessary. I told you. I can handle this. Sarah, I’ve seen enough restaurant employment contracts that I don’t need to pay an attorney to review one anymore.”
“I know you have plenty of experience, but Harlan offered to review any contract Thomas and you hashed out for free. Why not take him up on his offer? It would make me feel better. Pretty please?”
“What are we, back to being five? Pretty please with sugar on it?”
“If that’s what it takes.”
Emily laughed. “Okay, I’ll let Harlan look at the contract.”
Sarah debated whether to continue the conversation or simply give up. There were pros and cons to both sides, but, considering the reason she’d been invited to the lunch, she knew she couldn’t simply look the other way. She had an obligation to play devil’s advocate.
“Emily, it seems like you’re leaving Marcus with more of a burden. I mean, he’s going to have to deal with the rest of the buildouts, plus find financing.”
Although Emily shook her head in the negative, Sarah pressed on. “You’re the one who told me after you paid off the share of Southwind my ex gave Jane that Marcus and you were short of money to open the pub, let alone the fine-dining establishment.”
“That was yesterday.”
Sarah was confused. Where had she been to miss something this important? “Did Bailey approve your loan after Lance was killed?”
“No, but after a lot of talking and being talked to, Marcus and I were convinced to take in a minority stockholder late last night. This partner wants no say in the business, only repayment of the initial investment plus a set interest amount either when the pub is on its feet or when both establishments are profitable.”
Remembering Marcus’s choice of partners in the past included such winners as her ex-husband and his bimbo, Jane, Sarah immediately felt skeptical about this turn of events.
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