“Investors usually don’t do things without definite payback dates or maintaining some control until fully paid back. You remember how it was when the rat was your partner? Have you checked this person out?”
“We didn’t think it was necessary.”
Sarah inwardly groaned. “Emily, you’re a great cook, but I’m beginning to question your business savvy. Look, it’s easy to make bad decisions when you’re jumping from famine to feast, and Marcus and you have had a lot on your plates, but greed and business change people.”
“Oh, I hope Mother doesn’t change much. I’m just getting used to calling her Maybelle.”
Sarah started to say something and then realization dawned on her. She cracked up and Emily followed suit. “You had me going, again.”
“Yes, I did.” Emily gasped between peals of laughter. “Mother or Maybelle sat us down last night and made it perfectly clear this was a business deal. A little loosey goosey, but her terms were simple: she wants her money back and she wants us to succeed. We debated it, but the reality is, she’s the answer to our prayers.”
“So why complicate things with this hotel job?
Emily stared at her hands. “I need it for me.”
Sarah looked at her sister. All the years her sister had been the popular slender blond cheerleader, Sarah never thought Emily had a doubt in the world. For the first time, Sarah saw through the veneer. As accomplished as Emily was in the culinary world, she was as insecure as Sarah often felt. Understanding her twin was no different than she was, Sarah’s concerns, other than the toll it might take on Emily’s energy and time, evaporated. “Well, I guess I better help you with your research. Shall we order dessert?”
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
When Ned placed their desserts in front of them, Sarah felt a pang of calorie guilt. Normally, Emily and she skipped dessert or shared one, but because they were eating on Thomas’s dime and Emily was ostensibly researching everything the kitchen put out, they splurged. Happily so. The desserts, in Sarah’s opinion, were the best part of the meal. Apparently, Emily agreed with her. She told Sarah the pastry chef would stay under her new regime. They were both licking their forks when Thomas, sans Cliff, rushed to their table.
“I’m glad you’re still here.” He grabbed one of the chairs and turned it around so he could straddle it. He angled himself to primarily face Emily. “I’m sorry you had to see that little display of family discord. We haven’t been seeing eye to eye on an extended-family matter, but that’s not what I need to discuss with you. Another kitchen issue has come up and I wondered, or should I say hoped, you would help me out.”
“What’s the problem?”
Thomas looked from Emily to Sarah and down at the floor. “I didn’t handle things too well.”
The twins looked at him, waiting for more of an explanation.
With one of his perfectly manicured hands, he brushed an immobile piece of hair from his forehead. “I was so excited and positive after our lunch, I shared our potential plans with my acting chef and he up and quit.”
“What? How could you say anything to your present chef when Emily and you don’t have a deal yet?”
Thomas cocked his head downward. “I got excited and wasn’t thinking. Besides, he was doing the job in an acting capacity, and, as I’m sure you tasted, it came across in his food.” He raised his head and flashed them a sheepish grin. “My excitement at you joining the Howellian family, whether for a limited time or indefinitely, overtook my reasoning. Maybe I did get some of Mother’s emotional genes.”
He flashed his perfect white teeth in Emily’s direction. “Anyway, I hope your ears were burning when I bragged on you, Emily. I said some very nice things about your cooking being Michelin level without really assessing how my words were coming across. By the time I realized he wasn’t taking too kindly to the idea of being replaced, he’d quit.”
“We don’t have to go forward with my hiring. You’re welcome to forget our discussion and go after him.”
He waved his hand. “I don’t want him back. You’re the one who is going to take the Howellian to the next level.”
Emily blushed.
“I know we haven’t ironed out all the contractual details, but is there any possibility you could start today or tomorrow morning? We have several jobs on tap for the end of the week, and it doesn’t appear he did anything to prepare for them.”
“Of course.”
“Em.” Sarah tried to catch her sister’s attention to slow down her acceptance. She wished she could make her sister understand his desperate need for immediate help gave them bargaining chips, but there was no stopping this train wreck.
Thomas was already on his feet pumping Emily’s hand in agreement and appreciation. Other than catching that one of the jobs was Friday’s meal after Lance Knowlton’s funeral, none of the other functions mentioned for the next few days made an impression on Sarah. What did strike her was how fast Emily agreed to run home, change, and return in a few hours to take control of the kitchen without a second thought to Marcus, a formal employment contract, or her promise to make the refreshments for tomorrow’s animal-shelter meeting. Sarah didn’t know which one to worry the most about, but she hoped the people coming to the meeting would like brownies from a mix or her velvet chocolate pie.
“This is wonderful,” Thomas said. “You’re a lifesaver. I’ve got to run to put out another fire, but have the front desk page me when you get back. Okay?”
Emily nodded as he left them for the second time. She immediately began gathering her things together to leave. Sarah didn’t move.
“Sarah, don’t you have to get back to work?”
“I do, but I think we need to talk for a minute.”
“I really don’t have time right now.”
“Make time.” Sarah pointed to the chair Emily had vacated, but Emily remained standing.
“Well?”
“Well, what’s gotten into you? You remind me of a horse champing at the bit to start a race. You know how much that catering job meant to Marcus, both in terms of prestige and money, but rather than let it collapse in Thomas’s lap or suggest a duo catering role, you’re jumping in to save the day under what I’m sure is going to be labeled a Howellian job.”
“Is that all you have to say? Thank you for your concern. I’ll handle this. Let’s go.”
Sarah banged her hand on the table. “I’m not ready to go, yet. Don’t you realize you’re behaving like Jane used to at Southwind? High and mighty and not thinking of the feelings of others. What kind of morale do you expect to find in the kitchen if they know Thomas fired their boss for you?”
“Their boss quit. It happens all the time.”
“Sorry, I don’t buy it. Whatever bug Cliff got under Thomas’s skin, I’ll bet Thomas took it out on his executive chef. Most chefs don’t quit in the middle of lunch service. This wasn’t a normal parting of the ways.”
“I don’t care. Look, I told you I’m going to do this for six months. If getting Thomas Howell through this weekend with flying colors gains me some brownie points, I’m all in favor of it. Things go wrong in kitchens and some will go wrong under me, but if I have some goodwill in the bank going into one of those bad days, more power to me.”
“But what about my meeting? If you’re tied up here starting today, how are Grace and you going to handle the refreshments? Should I go get a brownie mix?”
“Don’t worry. We’ll whip up a few things or I’ll send you two recipes tonight for some really simple treats.”
Sarah shuddered. She hated the word “simple” because she knew even a simple treat wasn’t going to be simple in her hands. The guys had nailed it at the meeting. If there was a stove or oven involved with Sarah, people should flee for their safety or, at least, keep a fire extinguisher handy.
Emily stood. “I’ve got to run. Coming?”
“In a moment. I want to finish my coffee first. Love you.”
“Love you, too. Even if yo
u can be a Debbie Downer.” Emily bent over and gave her sister a parting peck. She left smiling.
Sarah couldn’t say the same about her own lips. She felt sure, as she reached for her coffee, they were pointed downward. Before she could bring the coffee to her frowning mouth, Ned refreshed it. Even with her sister and Thomas Howell gone, Ned was still on duty, attentive to her needs.
Drinking her coffee, she let her mind wander. Sometimes letting her brain go where it wanted helped her gain insight into situations she had no answer for. Hopefully, today would be one of those times. There wasn’t anything she could do to change her sister’s seemingly out-of-character spontaneity and odd behavior toward Marcus and Southwind. Thinking of those two made her realize that if Southwind came out losing because of Emily’s actions, her mother, now being a partner, would also lose.
That was another strange thing. Her mother, who usually ran over at the mouth, hadn’t told her about the silent partnership, which was out of character. Maybe the moon or Mercury was in retrograde. The world definitely was out of whack. No matter, whatever Emily, their mother, or anyone else was up to, Sarah vowed to protect her mother.
Finishing her coffee, Sarah observed the terraced area and the dining room from the seclusion of her table one last time. To her surprise, she saw the third person at Anne and Jacob Hightower’s table had changed. Bailey was gone. Thomas sat in his seat. Apparently, his burning fire had petered out. From the shared wine in their glasses and the ease with which they all were laughing, it didn’t much look like work talk. In fact, Thomas Howell didn’t appear to have a care in the world.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Realizing she’d been gone from the office for almost three hours, Sarah hurried back to work. She felt a little guilty that there was no time today to stop at home to play with RahRah or to have made a little time to really look for Fluffy for Mr. Rogers. One of the advantages of living in a small town like Wheaton, where Harlan’s office was only a few blocks from the carriage house, was the ability to go home for lunch.
Sarah knew most working pet owners left their animals home alone during the day, but she’d vowed as far back as her childhood to only have a pet if she didn’t have to be one of those people. Instead, she’d announced to her family she would devote her extra time and love to shelter animals. She’d kept her promise until her ex-husband’s mother died and made Sarah the de facto owner of RahRah. Now she couldn’t imagine life without RahRah.
She still would have snuck home for a few extra minutes because Harlan knew this was going to be an extended lunch hour, but there were too many things she wanted to discuss with him. Unless he’d added an appointment, his calendar should be free for at least the next hour.
Happily, the office waiting room was empty and there was a faint twang of country music coming from his office. That was good, because it meant he was alone. He never played background music when he conferred with a client.
Hand up to knock on his door, she paused and listened to his music choice. She’d learned she could predict her workload by identifying what he was working on based upon the tempo of the music he played. He’d never admit it, but he was consistent in his musical choices. Harlan researched and wrote briefs to ballads and motions and shorter pleadings to more upbeat songs. Today’s song was fast and peppy, which meant he would be less intense when she interrupted him.
She knocked and called his name through the door. Acknowledged, she turned the knob and walked in. “Harlan, why didn’t you tell me Thomas and Cliff are brothers?”
“You didn’t ask. Besides, I thought you knew. After all, you’re the one who lives across the street from George.”
“When I lived in the big house with Bill, we didn’t have much to do with the Rogers family. I don’t remember why or what it was about, but Bill was crossways with them.”
“Sounds like your ex.”
Sarah smiled while taking a seat on his leather couch. “Yeah, the rat was good at doing that. Anyway, other than saying hello to Mrs. Rogers and complimenting her on her garden, I rarely saw either of them or their guests. I moved into my studio apartment almost immediately after Bill asked for the divorce. By the time I came back to care for RahRah in the carriage house, I discovered Mrs. Rogers had died and Mr. Rogers was the neighborhood’s darling eccentric.”
“And the uncle of two nephews, Cliff and Thomas.”
“That fact eluded me. When Mr. Rogers was here, I thought his rotten nephew was Cliff, but now I’m confused.”
“Why?”
Sarah told Harlan what had happened between the brothers at the Howellian. “From how Cliff threatened Thomas, I’m not sure George was worried about Cliff trying to move him to a retirement home.”
“He’s not. George would have no problem if Cliff were his only nephew.”
Harlan came around his desk and took his favorite wingback chair. He propped his cowboy-booted feet on the coffee table in the conversation area he’d created. “Although Cliff is a big proponent for developing Main Street, he has no desire to kick George out of his house. He probably can imagine a million possible uses for George’s property, but he’s made it clear he can wait for his uncle to voluntarily vacate the property with or without his boots on.” He raised his feet from the table and wiggled the toes of his boots in the air.
Sarah groaned at his immature behavior. “For a guy who has his hands full in Birmingham, why does Thomas want to kick his uncle out of his home?”
“I could say it’s because we’re a growing bedroom community of Birmingham.”
“You could, but you know the growth is going out Highway 280.”
Harlan put his feet on the floor, which Sarah knew was a dead giveaway that he once again was Harlan Endicott, serious lawyer. “His hotel looks opulent, but it has been a money pit. He may have some ideas to sell it and go into a smaller venture, or he may be looking for more investors to bail him out.”
“But he said they’ve had a great occupancy rate.”
“He’s telling the truth on that, but areas like the model kitchen, wine tasting, and restaurant aren’t pulling their weight. He’s playing a dangerous game.”
“What’s that?”
“In one breath, he’s playing up to the redevelopment advocates, but his long-range goal, for developing his uncle’s land and whether he can keep the Howellian afloat, requires financing. He tapped out most financing resources building it, but he’s managed to keep Lance’s bank and supposedly a group of Wheaton investors behind him, up to now.”
“So he was willing to do anything Lance wanted while Lance was alive, but now?”
“I don’t know.”
“What kind of relationship can he expect with Bailey by the Book?”
“I think Bailey has some leeway, but instead of Lance, he’ll have the board and shareholders looking over his shoulder determining if the decisions he makes are good for the bank.”
“The way you explain it, I can understand him kowtowing to Bailey, but if he wants to develop his uncle’s land, why would he be courting the Hightowers?”
“What do you mean?”
“After he left us, he joined Anne and Jacob at their table. The three looked quite chummy.”
“I haven’t heard anything about him trying to partner with any of the Hightowers, but I wouldn’t be surprised. He’s not one to let grass grow under his feet. Maybe he’s trying to court Anne’s vote for any future development he makes in Wheaton, especially if she wins the next mayoral election.”
“That makes sense. Jacob was at the table, but my impression was Thomas was playing up to Anne.” She filled him in on what she’d observed in the Terrace room. “Tell me, though, why do you think the Hightowers were having lunch with Bailey?”
“Probably to discuss banking business. He has been named the acting president of the bank.”
“What?” She thought for a moment. “Maybe that’s why he looked so bad. I swear he was even paler than the last time I saw him.”
&n
bsp; “Could be. He’s got a lot on his plate. Not only is he in charge of the general operations of the bank, but he’s still handling most of the loans. I’m sure, like our acting police chief, he wants to make good.”
“Does Bailey have competition?”
“Sarah, everyone has competition. Though, in the bank, after Lance, Bailey probably is the most knowledgeable. He’s been handling the loans and most of the big deals and customers since Lance got so busy with the city council. With our bank being a community bank rather than part of a larger group, its board is extremely sensitive to the opinions and feelings of its investors and patrons. After finding out Lance was murdered in his supposedly locked office, they know a lot of folks are skittish. That’s why the board decided it would be a good move to name someone everyone knows as acting president. Bailey is sort of the comfort-food choice.”
Sarah nodded. It made sense. “I’m sure Eloise can help him. According to my mother, she’s been there almost the same amount of time as Lance was. She’s cool under pressure, and I bet she not only knows everyone, but she knows where their skeletons are buried. Still, what about those who haven’t had good experiences with Bailey-made decisions? I can easily think of a few: my mother, Emily, Marcus, and Cliff.”
“The consensus is the few dissatisfied customers like your mother are in the minority and unlikely to make any kind of fuss. Instead, they’ll look elsewhere for financing. The loss of a few accounts a year is expected.”
Sarah knew Harlan was right. Rather than making a formal protest, her mother would simply move her accounts. “Is there a chance he could get the job permanently?”
Before Harlan answered, the office line ringing interrupted them. Sarah jumped up to run to her desk to grab her phone before the answering machine kicked in, but Harlan pointed at the extension on his desk. She grabbed his receiver. “Endicott and Associates. May I help you?”
Sarah listened to the voice on the other end of the call, thinking if callers ever wondered who the associates were. “Yes, sir. He’s here. I’ll put you through to him immediately.”
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