by Mia Carson
“You can’t simply expect me to carry on as if nothing is happening,” she said as her mom walked away. “Mom?”
“Let it go. Clean up the kitchen and get home. We’ll see you tomorrow.”
Jaylyn had been dismissed by both parents. She stayed at the bar for a long while, watching the last few customers leave. She smiled and waved at them, though inside, she screamed and wanted to pull her hair out. Not knowing what could happen in the next few weeks or days would drive her nuts. What was she supposed to tell Frankie? She couldn’t leave him in the dark, not when his job might be on the line.
She poked her head through the kitchen door and called for Frankie to meet her outside when he had a minute. He said he’d be right there, eyeing her curiously. Jaylyn wouldn’t tell anyone else, but Frankie had to know.
“Jaylyn?”
She stopped her mad pacing long enough to look at him, then away, too full of guilt to hold his gaze long. Not that she had anything to feel guilty about. She wanted to fight for her crew and for the restaurant. What she didn’t understand was why her parents acted like they had already lost?
“We have a problem,” she said finally. “You can’t tell anyone else. I’m not supposed to tell you, but I can’t not let you know.”
“All right, I’m listening,” he said slowly.
“That man who came in? He told Dad we no longer own the restaurant.” She rambled on about what she was told by her parents and what she thought the paperwork basically said. Frankie’s expression never changed and he let her come to an end before he even moved. “Well?”
“Well what?” he asked.
“Aren’t you going to get mad? Threaten to quit? Do something besides standing there looking at me like this is not a huge deal?”
Frankie scratched the tip of his nose, shrugging his massive shoulders. “What good will that do?”
Jaylyn’s mouth fell open. “Seriously?”
He held her shoulders and bent so they were eye level. “Yeah, seriously. You said it yourself, you’re not sure what’s going to happen. I’m not going to freak out until I need to and I’m definitely not going to quit and leave you alone for however many days we have left. We’re in this together until whatever shitty end comes our way.”
Her head fell forward. “I don’t deserve you as a friend.”
“Ha, ain’t that the truth.”
He guided her back inside, an arm over her shoulders, and they grabbed beers from the bar before heading back to the kitchen to finish cleaning up. Jaylyn embraced his light-hearted mood, at least until she drove home a couple hours later. She lay in bed, wide awake, wondering if her dream was about to go up in flames.
A week passed and the situation involving the ownership of the restaurant only made the tension between Jaylyn and her parents worse by the day. Mariah was a bit more talkative, but Darien made sure not to find himself alone with her. She snooped around the office at the restaurant but found no sign of the papers. She tried at home, too, but Darien hid them and she’d grunted in annoyance as she stormed to her room that morning. There’d been no sign of that lawyer, either. She should take it as a good sign, but her gut told her the worst was yet to come.
Sunday morning, after she’d spent an anxious week biting what little nails she had, Darien left a note for her in the kitchen to head to the restaurant early. When she arrived, the entire staff was there, sitting in the dining room and looking confused as hell.
“What’s going on?” she asked her mom when she saw her by the bar.
“Just have a seat,” Mariah said, smiling, but it didn’t reach her eyes.
“Mom?”
“Good,” Darien said before Mariah spoke again, and Jaylyn turned. Her dad stepped out of the kitchen with two men flanking him. One she recognized as the lawyer who’d dropped off the papers. The other wasn’t familiar. “If everyone can have a seat?”
Jaylyn didn’t want to sit down, but Mariah glared at her so she found Frankie towards the back of the room and sat beside him. “Any ideas?” he asked out of the side of his mouth.
“One, and it’s not good.” Darien shot them a look, and she held his glare with one of her own.
“These two men are here to help explain a new transition about to take place here at Jaybird’s Roost. Please, listen to what they have to say.”
Darien stepped back and the lawyer and the other man stepped up. The one Jaylyn didn’t know was attractive in a weird, older man kind of way with the greying hair at his temples and his black-rimmed glasses he removed as he observed the gathered employees.
“I had hoped my son would be present today since this is currently his project,” the man started. “However, as he couldn’t be here, I will be more than happy to explain the situation. My name is Leo Allard. I have recently taken over ownership of the lodge property this restaurant sits on, as well as the restaurant itself.”
A few whispered murmurs sounded throughout the room, but the man didn’t stop to hear them.
“One of those changes is that we will hire new staff members for the lodge…and replace the jobs here at the restaurant.”
“What?” Jaylyn snapped loudly, jumping to her feet.
Darien looked as shocked as she felt. “I’m sorry, Mr. Allard, that wasn’t what we discussed a few days ago,” he argued. “You can’t simply fire everyone here.”
“You’ll find that I can and am doing just that,” Mr. Allard said in his haughty, British accent. “As of today, none of you work here. You will be compensated for the remainder of the month, but after that, you will have to find employment elsewhere.”
“There’s barely two weeks left in the month,” Jaylyn pointed out furiously.
“Yes, I understand that.” His scowl held no sympathy, only annoyance at the interruption. “I’m sorry, who are you?”
“Jaylyn Wilson, the head chef and the one who’s come up with the recipes for this kitchen for the past two years.” She squared her shoulders and lifted her chin with pride. “I’m the reason we’ve made a profit.”
Mr. Allard clasped his hands behind his back. “A bit full of ourselves, are we? All chefs are.”
Jaylyn’s mouth fell open, and Frankie was on his feet beside her. “Now one damn minute, sir. She’s not just saying it to say it. It’s true. You get rid of Jaylyn and this place will never do as well again.”
“I’ll take my chances. I will not have a chef in my kitchen who isn’t loyal to me.”
“You think I would ruin this place because I don’t like you?” She marched towards him and stopped a few inches short, glaring up into his face. “Now who thinks he’s all important? This is my father’s place and mine. Y’all can’t walk in here and take it away from us without a fight.”
“Lyn, stop,” Darien whispered behind her.
“No, he can’t do this! We’ll come up with a plan—any plan,” she replied, but he shook his head and started to cough. He clutched his chest as the fit continued, and Mariah handed him a handkerchief. He bent over double, and Jaylyn rushed to his side when he collapsed to the floor. “Dad?”
“Fine,” he gasped. “Fine…we have to…have to let it go.”
Jaylyn blinked back tears of rage and fear as Darien continued to cough. “Someone call an ambulance!”
Frankie said he was on it and drew out his cell. Mr. Allard stood close by but offered no sympathy, nothing but a cold-hearted stare when Jaylyn and Mariah helped Darien to a chair. He moved farther into the room and told the employees to clear out their items, but if they stole anything, he would know, having taken inventory that morning. Jaylyn suddenly saw red. He was in the midst of another sentence when she tapped him on the shoulder and punched him square in the jaw. She cursed, holding her hand and hopping at the pain blooming in her fingers, but the red mark on Mr. Allard’s jaw as he staggered backwards and the shock in his eyes was worth it.
“I could press charges!” he seethed, holding his face.
“Then do it. What the hell do I care
?”
He grunted at her but said nothing else as he stormed out the front door.
The ambulance arrived moments later and took a protesting Darien away. “For once, Darien, shut up,” Mariah snapped at her husband. “You’re going and it’s final. Jaylyn, lock up and meet us there.”
Mariah tossed her the keys and Jaylyn watched them load her father up and take him away.
“He’s strong, your dad,” Frankie said, standing beside her.
“Yeah…yeah, he used to be.”
She heard his sigh but didn’t look at him. “I’ll help everyone get their things together and you can lock up.”
She mumbled some thanks, and he gathered everyone around to clear out their employee lockers and anything else they didn’t want thrown out when they left. Jaylyn stood at the front door, praying her dad would be all right. She only had an inkling of what might be wrong, but her parents never let her know what he was sick with or how bad it really was. She let herself play the naïve daughter and pretend Darien would be all right. Reality was harsher still, knowing they were losing the restaurant.
Once everyone was packed and gone, she locked the front door for what might be the last time. Frankie walked her to her truck and offered to drive her to the hospital in Laconia, the closest major hospital, but she said she’d be fine.
“Text me when you get there, at least,” he pleaded. “Hannah and I will be waiting for news.”
“You headed to the bar?”
“Yeah. I’ll let her know what happened here.” He kissed the top of her head and hugged her. “Go see your dad.”
Numb, she climbed into her truck and started the long drive south, out of Woodstock.
4
“I quit. No one can work under these conditions.”
Walker paused with the glass halfway to his mouth as the yelling continued from the kitchen. Brittany’s eyes narrowed as she glared at the door. “What is going on in there?”
“Nothing. I’m sure it’s nothing,” Walker lied and tried to take another drink. Glass shattering made them both jump and he cursed, spilling brandy over his hand. “Will you excuse me for a moment?” he asked politely. Brittany nodded and he pushed his chair back calmly from the dining table and entered the kitchen to find the china set out for that evening’s meal in pieces all over the floor.
“Ah, sir, impeccable timing,” Douglas announced. “It appears Benjamin has put in his notice.”
“What the bloody hell for?” Walker demanded, watching as the latest chef he’d hired grabbed pots and pans he’d brought with him and stacked them on the counter. “Benjamin?”
“I refuse to cook for these…these crazy women a moment longer! How much pickier can they get? No chef should have to put up with this shit. And I am too good to waste away in your kitchen cooking for your floozies.”
Walker winced when Benjamin yelled angrily, slamming pots around the kitchen and muttering incoherently under his breath. “I understand they can be difficult, but—”
“No!” Benjamin shouted, hoisting a skillet and pointing it at Walker’s face. “A toddler is difficult. Your women are impossible—outrageous. I quit.”
Douglas scooped glass up into the dustpan and tossed it out. “We are sad to see you go.”
“That’s it? That’s all you’re going to say to this man?” Walker said in disbelief.
“What else do you want me to say? You and I both know the man speaks the truth,” he added in an undertone. “Your dates, of late, have been quite picky.”
“They’ve always been picky and we both know it,” Walker corrected, walking to Benjamin. He held out his hand and the man stared at it like it might reach out and strangle him. “I understand, truly I do. I wish you all the best. I’ll be sure you’re paid for the full month, even though you were only here three weeks.”
Benjamin accepted the handshake. “I’m glad you understand, and if I can be honest?” He leaned in and whispered, “What are you doing with these crazy women anyway? They don’t seem your type.”
“They’re not,” Walker admitted. “My father, however, approves of all of them.”
“What is this, the Dark Ages?”
“Some days, it does feel as if it is.” Walker remained in the kitchen as Benjamin packed the rest of his belongings and left. “Now then, what shall we cook for dinner?”
Douglas opened the large freezer and peered in. “There are several frozen pizzas.”
“Are you trying to kill my date?” Walker broke into a smile the same time Douglas did. “You know what, pizza it is. I’ll explain the situation. Maybe she’ll leave.”
“And I’m assuming you wish me to put another ad out tomorrow?”
Walker puffed out his cheeks in annoyance. “Yes, I still need a chef, I’m afraid. Unless you want to call the fire department every other night if I attempt to do it. I’m not sure I can find someone to appease these three—what did Benjamin call them?”
“Floozies, sir,” Douglas supplied with a perfectly blank stare.
“Yes, floozies.”
The doorbell rang and Walker glanced at the clock in the kitchen. “I’ll see who it is. Can you manage to put this in the oven?” Douglas asked, nodding to the frozen pizza on the counter.
“I’m sure I’ll manage.”
Douglas chuckled as he exited the kitchen through the other door not leading to the dining room, leaving Walker alone. The past few weeks had been interesting, to say the least. His father wasn’t speaking to him directly after he’d refused to be present when Leo fired all the old employees at Jaybird’s. He claimed he was ill that day, but his father knew better. Walker didn’t have the stomach to let so many people go. Thinking about it made him queasy, and he doubted he would be able to eat dinner at all now. A deep voice reached his ears from the dining room, and he heard Brittany reply with a high-pitched giggle that made him want to tear his ears off.
Douglas returned through the other door, a forced smile on his face as he cleared his throat. “Your father is here, sir.”
“What? Why?”
“He says he wishes to discuss the hiring for the lodge.”
“He should have simply called. We’re nearly at full staff,” Walker said, agitated.
“And for the restaurant?”
Walker smirked. He couldn’t help it. He had been informed about the incident and how the chef hauled off and punched his father in the face. The man deserved it, especially when the old owner had to be taken away by ambulance and his father simply walked away, not even bothering to check on the man’s condition. Walker had, several times, and the man was home now, resting according to his assistant, who’d managed to get ahold of the wife. The entire situation could have been avoided had his father let the man keep the restaurant under his control and keep his staff.
“That is proving far more difficult. No one around here wishes to work for us after what my father did. Serves him right.”
“If this property fails, you fail, remember?”
“Yes, I remember.”
“Then I suggest you find a way to entice new hires,” Douglas told him. “And you might want to go out there and speak with him before he feels the need to barge in here to find you.”
“Are you going to serve my father, Leo Allard, a frozen pizza for dinner?”
Douglas opened the oven and slid the pizza inside. “If it’s beneath him, he should have called and warned us he was coming for dinner.”
Walker put on a straight face as he exited the kitchen and saw his father seated beside Brittany at the table. “Father, what a pleasant surprise. And the bruise on your face is completely gone.”
Leo’s eyes narrowed a touch as Brittany turned to him. “Bruise? What bruise?”
“There was an incident at our new property. Nothing to concern yourself with, my dear.”
Walker had a little bounce to his step for getting a jab at his father, while he moved towards the drink cart. “Brandy?”
“Yes, thank you,”
Leo replied stiffly. “Brittany tells me there was an incident in the kitchen?”
“Yes, I’m afraid my chef has quit on me. Terrible loss, really. He had such potential,” Walker explained as he fixed two brandies, one for himself and one for his father. “Thankfully, Douglas has a backup plan, so dinner will be out shortly.” He set one glass in front of his father and resumed his seat at the head of the table.
“So your trouble with finding a chef extends to your home as well as your restaurant.”
Walker sipped the liquor, eyeing Leo over his glass. “Apparently, I’m simply unlucky in that regard, but rest assured, the restaurant will have a full staff before the lodge opens in May.”
“That is only four months away and counting.” Leo’s gaze slid to Brittany, her eyes narrowed as she moved her head, studying his face. “Whatever are you doing, my dear?”
“Searching for a sign of a bruise. I don’t see anything at all, but for a man of your age, you have a wonderful complexion,” she informed him brightly, patting his hand.
Walker stifled a laugh and took a large swallow of brandy as Leo’s whole body stiffened in his chair. “Yes, well, I have good genes.”
“I can tell, and you passed them down to Walker. He is, by far, the most handsome man I’ve ever had the pleasure of dating.” She wiggled her fingers and winked at Walker as he toasted her with his glass. His smile became stuck in place when he felt her foot gliding up his leg, reaching higher to his groin. “I can tell he gets his serious side from you, too.”
Walker shifted his leg, but her foot remained firmly planted on his thigh. “We Allards have always been a serious lot, isn’t that right, Father? Never having any real fun. Not that we’d know anything about fun.”
“Don’t I know it.”
Walker drained his brandy and used his empty glass as an excuse to stand and pour himself another, but the decanter was nearly empty. “If you’ll excuse me? I’ll fetch more from the kitchen.”