by Jane Graves
“I can’t talk right now,” he told her. “I’m busy.”
“Yeah. That’s obvious. What’s the problem?”
“The problem,” he said, “is that I have too many customers and not enough employees.”
“Why? Jamie’s gone, but what else?”
He stopped and took a deep breath, but he still felt manic. “If you must know, Tracy called in sick at the last minute. I hired a new waitress who started today, and she’s falling apart. Kayla and Danielle are here, but that’s it. I was barely making it tonight before Jamie went into labor. The band who’s supposed to play here tonight is pretty popular, which means a lot of people turned out; only now I can’t handle the crowd.”
“Get the band to start early. Take people’s mind off the food and drink.”
“Good plan, except when the drummer got here twenty minutes ago, he was too stoned to sit up, so they’re not going on. The other guys are making calls to see if they can get a quick replacement, but it probably won’t happen. This crowd came to see them, and they’re going to get a little testy if they don’t.”
“Can you call in another waitress or two?”
“I can’t get a hold of anybody else.”
“You need more help.”
“Yeah? You think? I haven’t got the time for this, Heather. Go home.”
He turned back to his task, every nerve in his body strung so tight it nearly paralyzed him. Suddenly everything seemed blurry and otherworldly. The glaring kitchen lights. Chuck and Emilio, flipping burgers in slow motion. Steam rising from the grill. Heather standing beside him, watching a guy who’d never done a damned thing worthwhile in his life reaching for something big and failing. In a daze of helplessness, Tony reached back under the warming lights and grabbed for a basket of fries. He fumbled it, tried to catch it, but succeeded only in turning it upside down and scattering fries everywhere.
“Damn it! Where’s the broom?” He looked left and right, finally spying it leaning against the wall. Heather grabbed his arm.
“Tony—stop.”
“Go away, Heather.”
“I said stop.” She gave his arm a hard squeeze, accompanied by a no-nonsense stare. “You’re going nuts. That’s not going to help. What you need is a plan.”
“I had a plan when I had a staff. Now I have a floor full of French fries and a bar full of pissed-off customers.”
“Then it’s time to go to plan B.”
“I don’t have a plan B!”
“Then listen up, because I do.”
“Heather—”
“Listen to me.” She slowly released the grip on his arm. “First of all, you get behind the bar and help Lisa until you’re sure the drink orders are caught up. If you keep alcohol in front of people, they tend to lose track of time and won’t realize it’s been too long on their food.”
“Don’t you understand? It’s already been too long for most of them. Hungry people are angry people.”
“Give every table free chips and salsa. Something to munch on until their order comes out. I’ll get Alison to do that so your waitresses don’t have to.”
“Give food away? How am I supposed to make money?”
“Wrong question. The question is, how are you supposed to keep customers happy tonight when it takes an hour to get their food so they’ll come back next time?” She grabbed an apron off a nearby hook and put it on. “Which section was Jamie’s?”
“The booths along the west wall. What are you doing?”
“Taking her tables.”
“You? Wait tables?”
“Don’t act so shocked. When I was in college, I was the weekend manager at a pancake house.”
“That’s not the same as working in a bar.”
“Beer and burgers. Coffee and pancakes. It’s all the same.”
Kayla hurried into the kitchen, shaking her head. “It’s getting ugly out there. Are my orders up?”
“Yeah,” Tony said, then looked back at the grill. “All four of them.”
As Kayla hurried over to grab one of the trays, Danielle burst into the kitchen. “Somebody spilled a drink. I gotta get the mop.” As she yanked open the door to the utility closet, the new waitress came into the kitchen, shoving her bangs out of her face and looking disoriented. She stopped and just stood there, looking small and scared.
“Erika,” Tony said, trying to keep the panic out of his voice. “Come on. You’ve got a couple of orders up.”
Tony saw tears filling her eyes, and he felt a wave of apprehension. No tears. For God’s sake, a crying woman is the last thing I need tonight.
“Erika,” he said. “Get it together. You have to get this food out. We don’t have time for—”
Heather put her hand on his arm, silencing him. She took the girl by the shoulders and stared down at her. “Hey, take it easy, okay? Tell me what’s the matter.”
“They’re all so demanding! I get one thing to them, and they want something else. The only place I’ve ever worked before is a cafeteria. On the line. Waiting on old people. Slow people!”
“I know, sweetie. But this place isn’t usually this wild. And Tony understands that you’re new. If things go wrong tonight, nobody’s blaming you, okay? I just want you to do the best you can.”
The girl nodded, then looked confused. “Who are you?”
Heather looked at Tony, as if she wasn’t completely sure how to answer that.
“Heather’s my wife,” Tony said. “She’s here to help out tonight.”
Heather’s my wife. That was the first time he’d uttered that phrase out loud. It should have given him a bad case of hives, but he was too preoccupied to wonder why it didn’t.
Lisa shoved the door open. “Tony. We’re out of Shiner Bock. Any more in the back?”
“Damn,” he muttered. “No. I don’t have a delivery scheduled for two more days.”
“Talk up a different beer,” Heather said. “Something they’ve never tried before.”
Lisa looked at Tony. He turned his palms up. Try anything. She nodded and started to leave the kitchen.
“Lisa, wait,” Heather said, then fanned her gaze over the rest of the staff. “Listen up, everybody. I know it’s tough out there tonight, but we appreciate all your hard work. If you guys keep things running smoothly, there’ll be fifty-dollar bonuses on your next paycheck.”
Tony whipped around. What did she say? Hundreds of dollars in bonuses to go with the free food? What was she doing to him?
Heather gave the troops a curt nod. “Okay, everybody. Let’s move!”
The women scrambled away, grabbing trays and mops and hustling out of the kitchen. Chuck and Emilio went back to grilling with a vengeance. Tony pulled Heather to one side, whispering angrily, “Bonuses? Are you out of your mind?”
“If you don’t think it’s worth it by the end of the evening, I’ll pay the bonuses out of my own pocket. Now, get out there and make sure everybody has a drink who wants one.”
“God, this is a disaster.”
“If you manage things right, it doesn’t have to be.”
“Tell me again why I bought a bar and grill?”
“Because it’s your dream come true, remember?”
“Doesn’t seem too dreamy right now.” Tony blew out a breath. “Maybe I’m just not cut out for this.”
“Maybe you’re right.”
Tony frowned. “You weren’t supposed to agree with me.”
She moved in close and lowered her voice. “You’re running scared because your new business is hard to manage. I’ve got news for you, buster. Hard is good. It means whatever you’re going after is worth it.”
As she turned and walked away, Tony just stood there in disbelief. The last thing he’d expected was for her to tell him to get over it and get moving. Actually, the last thing he’d expected was for her to be here at all.
Heather reached the kitchen door and turned back. “And, Tony?”
“Yeah?”
“Don’t fo
rget to smile.”
Then she had the nerve to give him a smile and a wink of her own, as if this whole mess wasn’t a mess at all. Just a little speed bump, then full speed ahead.
Smile? Was she out of her mind?
A few minutes later, he was slinging drinks as if his life depended on it and smiling as if he didn’t have a care in the world. He saw Heather bring Alison an apron and send her into the kitchen to deliver chips and salsa to all the tables. She looked at Heather as if she had one foot in the loony bin, but in the past few minutes, he’d learned just how persuasive Heather could be. Before long, every table had something to munch on even if it wasn’t the food they’d ordered. Once that was under control, Alison pitched in to bus tables and help out in the kitchen.
The band never found a replacement drummer, but they did find a guy in the crowd who played a little and wasn’t stoned, and he got up to jam with them. It was a Band-Aid on a gaping wound, but at least the crowd didn’t get ugly. A problem came up with a credit card, but Heather handled that in no time. Tony wasn’t surprised. She was an accountant, after all. A money person. Of course she could handle that.
What shocked him was how good she was at handling everything else.
She took care of Jamie’s tables, filling customers’ orders with amazing efficiency, at the same time issuing orders to his staff that didn’t sound like orders at all. More like suggestions with authority. The staff took her lead and buckled down to work. He was left to take up the slack, delivering food to tables, restocking the bar, retrieving more toilet paper for the restrooms, laughing at a few jokes, slapping a few backs, and shaking a few hands. A couple of customers did get a little irate, but since they were women, Heather immediately came to get him, telling him it was time to turn on the charm. That he could handle.
But, it appeared, not much else.
He’d gone from being irritated when Heather showed up to being doubtful about her plan to being grateful when things smoothed out to feeling like a flunky in his own establishment. Of course, he couldn’t say that her competence surprised him. That morning in Vegas, hadn’t she taken charge of things and started them on the road to annulment even as his own hangover had rendered him virtually useless?
When things finally slowed down and the place started to clear out, he went to the bar and asked Lisa to give him a beer. A crawly sensation settled in his stomach, and he took a swig, trying to drown out the feeling of total inadequacy that had settled over him. And it might have worked, if he hadn’t glanced over at Heather, who was still buzzing around like the Energizer Bunny, doling out help and hospitality, so capable of everything he wasn’t that he was forced to face the truth.
He didn’t know crap about running a bar and grill.
A few minutes later, Heather made things even worse by sliding onto the barstool beside him and giving him a playful nudge.
“So what do you think?” she said. “Everything worked out pretty well after all, didn’t it?”
“Yeah. It did.”
“You won’t believe what I made in my section alone.”
“Quite a bit, I’m sure.”
“Actually, things ran pretty smoothly once we got on a roll. Try running the breakfast shift at a pancake house. Now, that’s a nightmare.”
Yeah, but I bet you didn’t have a bit of trouble handling it.
“I’m sure you’re tired,” he told her. “Why don’t you head home? I’ll close out your final checks.”
“No. I’ll stay and help clean up.”
“That’s not necessary. I can manage just fine.”
“I don’t mind. In fact, once you close out, why don’t I get the bank deposit ready for you?”
“You don’t have to do that.”
“Not a problem. I’m an accountant, remember? We live for numbers. And tonight, we’re going to have some big ones.”
“Assuming there’s any profit left after the free food and employee bonuses.”
Heather’s smile faltered. “Come on, Tony. You’ve got happy customers and happy employees. What more do you want?”
“Money in the bank would be nice.”
Her smile vanished. “If you have a problem with the decisions I made, I’ll cover the cost.”
“No. It’s my fault. I let you do it.”
“Yeah, and it was the right thing to do.”
“The jury’s still out on that.”
“No. You’re going to clear plenty of profit tonight, even with those payouts. But even if you don’t, it was still worth it. You bought a lot of goodwill.”
“Yeah, and how much more goodwill can I buy before it sends me into bankruptcy?”
“Come on, Tony. Aren’t you being a little dramatic?” She ventured a shaky smile. “Wait until we add up the night’s receipts, and you’ll see I’m right.”
“I’ll take care of that.”
“But I really don’t mind. I’ll just—”
“Heather, whether you know it or not, I’m still the boss around here. And that means when I tell you to go home, go home.”
She stared at him a long time, her expression moving from surprise to thinly veiled anger. She pursed her lips, as if she wanted to snap back at him but was holding it in. She spoke calmly, even as icicles formed on her words. “Sure, Tony. Whatever you say.”
She went into the kitchen. A few moments later, she emerged minus her apron, her purse slung over her shoulder, and made a beeline for the door, refusing even to look at him.
“Heather!” Erika said. “Wait!”
Heather turned back, and the girl rushed up to her, holding two checks. “I got these messed up. I should have charged this beer to this one, but instead I charged it to this one. And it wasn’t even the right beer. What should I—”
“Talk to Tony.”
“Huh?”
“He’ll help you with that.”
“But—”
“He’s the boss around here. Don’t ever forget that.” She looked back at Tony. “I know I won’t.”
With that, she went to the door, yanked it open, and left the bar, anger trailing in her wake. Tony gritted his teeth, telling himself he didn’t care. He hadn’t asked her to help in the first place, and he certainly hadn’t asked her to take over the way she had.
Erika turned back to look at him helplessly. “I’m sorry,” she said, holding up the checks. “I didn’t mean to mess it up. Can you fix it for me?”
Hell, yes, he could.
Unfortunately, it took him ten minutes to straighten out a problem Heather could have solved in two. He sent Erika on her way to screw up something else, then went back to the bar and asked Lisa to give him another beer.
“Hell of a night,” Lisa said.
“Yeah. It was.”
“Oh, I didn’t get a chance to tell you. Jamie’s husband called. They had a little girl tonight. Five pounds, eleven ounces. So she’ll be out for a little while.”
Tony nodded.
“Thank God Heather showed up,” Lisa said. “Don’t know what we’d have done without her.”
Thanks, Lisa. That’s just what I need to hear.
“We’d have muddled through,” he said.
“But with her, we didn’t have to muddle.” She laughed a little. “Heather doesn’t strike me as someone who’s muddled a day in her life.”
Thank you, Lisa, for once again stating the obvious.
“So what does she do for a living?” Lisa asked.
“She’s a CPA.”
Lisa blinked. “Really?”
Her disbelief didn’t surprise him. It did, however, crawl under his skin and irritate the hell out of him. “Is there something wrong with that?”
Lisa turned away, dunking a pair of wineglasses in the wash basin. “Uh . . . no. I just thought . . .”
Tony knew what she wasn’t saying. She’d never expected that a guy like him would marry a smart, professional woman. Evidently the whole damned world thought that, and he wasn’t sure he liked it.
Lisa set the dripping glasses on the grid. “I just thought maybe she’d run a restaurant before. She seems to know an awful lot about it.”
“When she was in college, she was the weekend manager at a pancake house.”
“That explains it. I worked at one of those once. If you think it was bad here tonight, try the Sunday morning shift at a place like that.”
Tony let out a silent sigh. One more thing he didn’t need to hear.
Lisa looked over her shoulder, then spoke softly. “I gotta tell you, Tony. Some of the girls, and I guess me included, kinda wondered about Heather, you know?”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean, you two getting married so fast and all. And no offense, but she doesn’t really seem like your type. But after tonight . . .” She shrugged, her mouth easing into a smile. “Heather’s smart. And she’s nice. I don’t know how the other girls feel about it, but I think you did good.”
She dried her hands, then walked away to deal with a customer, leaving Tony sitting there in turmoil. He tried his damnedest to stay mad, to hold on to his conviction that Heather had taken over tonight when she had no right to. But it didn’t take long for all of that to fall by the wayside, leaving him feeling like the biggest fool alive.
First Heather had handed him the twenty thousand to buy the place he was incapable of running. Then when she’d pitched in to help him run it, he’d gotten angry, pulled rank on her, and told her to go home. A crawly feeling settled in his stomach, and he took another swig of beer, trying to drown it out. But there was no way around it.
Heather had gone out of her way for him—not once, but twice—and what had he given her in return? A whole lot of ingratitude she didn’t deserve.
He’d screwed up. Big time. And somehow he had to fix it.
Chapter 12
Thirty minutes later, when Tony arrived home, part of him hoped Heather was already in bed so he wouldn’t have to face her tonight. Instead, he saw the living room lights on.
Crap. She was still up.