Surrendered

by Jennifer Sienes

  Tess, too, for that matter.

  Mission accomplished, I slip back out to take a run. Routine’s good. Keeps me going when I’m not sure of my next step. Never would have guessed this would be my life. Even for a year. Five miles later, I’m back. More chores. More routine. Until I’m out of excuses.

  Restaurant’s quiet when I let myself in the back entrance. Payroll needs to be done, new menus ordered, the repairman to call for the sub-zero fridge.

  And Maris to deal with.

  What would Sean do? That question’s been bouncing in my head too long. I know what I’d do. Fire her. But then what? No way Katie’s ready to take on her job—even temporarily. It’s a lose-lose proposition. Why’d I let Sean put me in this position?

  I ease into Sean’s desk chair, close my eyes, and inhale. What I wouldn’t give to have him here, polluting the air with his cigar.

  The bang of the back door echoes from down the hall. Time to man up and deal. “That you, Maris?”

  “Who were you expecting? Tinkerbell?” she yells.

  I bite back a snarl. Sarcasm. Why is it God’s surrounded me with difficult women? “Need to talk to you. Mind coming back here a minute?”

  No answer.

  If I’ve learned nothing else, I now know silence is its own mode of communication.

  Maris steps into the doorway. “What is it? I have things to do.”

  Something my mom’d say about flies, vinegar, and honey comes to mind. No sense going there. “Have a seat.”

  Big sigh. “Could we chit chat later? I’ve got sauce to prepare, a special to decide on, and a list of mind-numbing tasks to prioritize.”

  Good thing Tess’s trained me for attitude. “Have a seat. Please.”

  She reaches for the chair across from me and yanks it back. When she sits, it groans in protest. “If this is about last night’s special…”

  Reaching beneath the desk, I pull out the accordion file and drop it in front of me. “Know what this is?”

  “No clue.”

  “Receipts and purchase orders.”

  Folding her arms across her chest, she glares. “So?”

  “Seems we’ve had an increase in expenses over the last year.”

  One eyebrow arches. “That’s the way business goes sometimes. Prices increase.”

  “The price per unit’s not the issue. We’ve nearly doubled the supply order. How do you account for that?”

  “We’ve been busier—”

  “Nope.” I stand. I might not be able to take her in a fight, but I’d bet good money I can outrun her. “If that were the case, we’d have a larger margin of profit. Instead, we’ve decreased.”

  Nothing. No fidgeting. No explanations. No guilt.

  “What d’you think’s going on?”

  “Can’t say.”

  I nod. Not like I expected different. “Since that’s the case, from here on out, I’ll do the ordering. You need something, run it by me. I’m relieving you of the company credit card. And no more reimbursements. You buy something out of your personal account, it’s on you.”

  Eyes narrowed, her mouth twists. “Who do you think you are?”

  “The man Sean put in charge.”

  She throws her hands up. “Sean was making me a partner.”

  “Your point?”

  “He trusted me.”

  That was his first mistake. “And this is how you repay him?”

  “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “Then explain it to me.” I push the file toward her. “Go ahead. Show me what I’m missing here.”

  Eyes tearing, she shakes her head. “I’ve been here for almost fifteen years. Way before Sean’s wife died. I wouldn’t betray him.”

  What’s with the tears? Another form of manipulation? “No one’s firing you, Maris.”

  She flings a hand at the incriminating evidence. “If you really think I embezzled, then why not?”

  She’s all but challenging me. But I doubt it’s what Sean would do. Not at this point, anyway. “I’m not firing you. You got a problem working here, the next move is yours.”

  “You think Tess is going to let you get away with this?”

  “With what? Lightening your load?”

  She pushes up from the chair and we’re eye-to-eye. “She won’t see it that way, boss man, and we both know it.” She flings the door back against the wall and storms out.

  She’s right about one thing. Tess won’t be on my side. Sure hope Sean knew what he was doing.

  * * *

  Tess

  July in Sacramento may not be as miserable as New Orleans, but it’s no picnic, either. Today is tolerable. A cold front from Canada lowers the temperature by a good fifteen degrees and blesses us with a brisk breeze.

  I sit on a bench in the middle of the campus, turn my face to the sun, and close my eyes. Sleep’s been a little sporadic with the late nights at the restaurant. Six short weeks and summer school is over. Halfway there. My stomach does a freaky gymnastic move whenever I think about it.

  “Hey, Tess.”

  I open my eyes as Carol joins me on the bench. “Right on time. You ready to get some lunch?” A couple of young guys walk by, laughing, and a squirrel flits up the pine tree across the path.

  “Sure. How’d you do on the final paper?”

  “Ninety-six. What about you?”

  She shakes her head, mouth twisted in a smirk. “It’s students like you who raise the grading curve.”

  I nudge her with my elbow. “McNeal doesn’t grade on a curve.”

  “You know what I mean.”

  “So, you don’t want to tell me how you did?”

  “Eighty.” She arranges her backpack on the ground between her feet, unzips it, and pulls out a bottle of water. “It’s not as if I’m working toward anything specific. Not like you, anyway. I’m just happy to get out of the house and use a few brain cells.”

  I can relate. But it’s more than a few brain cells I’ll need to use if I follow through with Dad’s game plan. “You know Sacramento pretty well, right?”

  “Sure. You have somewhere in mind for lunch?”

  Reaching into my own backpack, I shake my head. “This came in the mail yesterday.” I hand her the business-size envelope.

  “What is it?” As she slips the paper out and unfolds it, a breeze kicks up, tugging at the corners.

  “My student teaching assignment.” Again, with the gymnastics routine in my stomach.

  She grins at me. “How exciting.”

  I can think of another word. Like terrifying. Leaning over to look at the notice, I tap my finger on the name Will C. Wood High School. “Do you know where that is?”

  “Are you kidding? Old Sac, downtown. That’s where my kids go.”

  “Seriously?”

  “Brett and Nick graduated already, but Ashton and Sara…” She looks up from the paper and smiles. “Sophomore Honors English? You might have Ashton. She’ll be in Sophomore Honors next year. What are the chances? There’s about a dozen high schools in Sacramento, and you end up in ours.”

  I don’t know whether that’s comforting or raises the fraidy-cat level a notch or two. So much for being anonymous. “Yeah. What are the chances?”

  “Hey.” She tugs at my arm. “Are you okay? You don’t look too thrilled. I thought this is what you wanted.”

  The breeze catches at a loose strand of hair, and I push it back with trembling fingers. “I don’t think I’m ready for this.” I catch her look of motherly concern and drop my eyes. “I mean, thrust into a classroom full of teenagers. What if they hate me?”

  She laughs. “It’ll be good training ground for when you have kids of your own.”

  “A lot of good that does me. I don’t plan on having kids.”

  “You never know.”

  “I know.” Standing, I sling my backpack onto one shoulder and wait for Carol to follow. “I’m not even dating anyone, and as they say, my biological clock is ticking.”
>
  Carol moves beside me as we walk the pathway to exit the campus. “You have plenty of time. What are you, twenty-seven, twenty-eight?”

  “Try thirty-two. And the marital prospects are non-existent.”

  “I get the feeling that’s your choice.”

  She’s got me there.

  “What about this man, Jake, you’ve mentioned?”

  I grab her arm. “Are you out of your ever-loving mind? His life’s work is to make me crazy.”

  She grins. “Just so you know, that’s a pre-requisite.”

  “Oh, you’re hilarious. Jake and I are about as likely as a frog and a princess.”

  “Guess you never read The Frog Prince.”

  Shaking my head, I cross to the parking lot. “Katie never was one for fairy tales.”

  “I’m just saying, unlikelier things have happened.”

  “I don’t—” My cell phone trills out the theme from Shrek, and I fumble, one-handed, to retrieve it from my backpack. Maris. Why would she be calling? “Sorry, Carol.”

  “No problem.”

  With a flick of my thumb, I answer. “Hey, Maris.”

  “You need to set Jake straight or I’ll quit.”

  I take a deep breath. So much for the niceties. “It’s good to hear your voice, too.”

  “I mean it, Tess. He’s gone too far this time.”

  Carol flings a hand out to stop me as a car speeds through the lot.

  I grit my teeth. It’s a contest between my irritation with Maris for her attitude or Jake for pushing her to it. “What’s going on?”

  “He basically accused me of stealing from you. I mean, really, Tess. I don’t have to put up with this.”

  Great. This, I don’t need right now. “Calm down, Maris.”

  “Calm down? I’ve worked for your dad forever. I think that alone earns me some respect.”

  I roll my eyes and mouth an apology to Carol as we reach my car. Why couldn’t Jake just let it go? What are a few iffy receipts? “What did he say?”

  “What difference does it make? He’s decided I’m not to be trusted with the ordering anymore, like I’m pocketing the extra food or something. I mean, really, Tess. I don’t work for him. I work for you. And unless you want to do the cooking for the dinner crowd tonight, you’ll set him straight.” And the line goes dead.

  I scowl at the phone before trading it for my car keys. “Jake’s ruining my life. You think I should marry him, but he’ll be lucky if I don’t murder him in his sleep.”

  “Trouble in paradise?”

  I hit the button on the key fob to unlock the doors. “I swear, that man’s life mission is to make me crazy.” After slipping into the driver’s seat, I start the engine while Carol joins me.

  “Let me share a little marital wisdom with you.”

  I glare at her. “I just lost my appetite. Don’t reference anything marital when we’re talking about Jake.”

  “Twenty-two years of marriage has taught me that no one, and I mean no one”—she waits until I make eye contact—“is responsible for my attitude except me.”

  “Well, you don’t know Jake.” The joke falls flat.

  “It’ll save you a lot of grief, Tess, if you take responsibility for your own attitude. You have a choice.”

  It sounds good in theory, but I’ve no doubt it’ll lose something in translation once I’m face-to-face with Jake.

  * * *

  Jake

  Standing in the middle of the restaurant kitchen, I check my watch and grit my teeth. Two hours until we open for dinner, and nothing. No sauce simmering. No fresh-baked bread laid out. No Maris. Nothing.

  What did I expect?

  The back door slams, and relief slows my heart rate. She’s going to come through after all.

  But it’s not Maris’s full-figured body that materializes in the doorway. It’s Marty. “Hey, dude. Thought I’d check in and see if you and money bags had the talk.”

  Flinging my arms out, I grunt. “What do you think?”

  He looks at me like he thinks I’m going to crack. “Kinda quiet around here.”

  “Ya think?” I slam a hand on the butcher-block island. “Come on.” I push past Marty and head for Sean’s office. “Gotta call Katie. Maybe she can pull this off.”

  Marty follows. “Your conversation with Maris didn’t go well, huh?”

  “An understatement.” I round the desk and retrieve my cell. “She was offended. Thought I was unreasonable.”

  “You show her the evidence?”

  I thumb Katie’s cell number. “Wouldn’t have made a difference.”

  The back door slams again. Could be Maris. I end the call before Katie picks up. The footsteps don’t sound like Maris. They sound like—

  “Jake!”

  No mistaking that screech. “In here.” Feels like I’m waiting for the firing squad.

  “How could you…” She appears in the doorway, face flushed. “I—” She stops when she spots Marty sitting with one butt cheek on the corner of the desk.

  “Hey, Tess.” He grins at her. “Good to see you again.”

  Mouth tight, she nods. “Marty.”

  “You remembered.” He sticks his hand out. Lucky she doesn’t bite it.

  Without responding, she glares at me. “We need to talk.” Her eyes slice to Marty then back to me. “Alone.”

  Marty stands, smile still in place. It’d take a two-by-four across the forehead to deter him. “I’ll give y’all a minute.”

  Tess waits until he’s through the door before turning to me. Hands on hips, she cocks her head. “I got a call from Maris a couple hours ago.”

  Here we go. “Yeah?”

  “Do you have to work at making everyone crazy or does it come naturally?”

  Sliding my phone onto the desk, I sit in Sean’s chair. “I like to think it’s a gift.”

  She blows out a sigh. “More like a curse. You couldn’t just let it go, could you? A few lousy receipts—”

  “More than a few.”

  “Whatever.” She flicks a hand, like batting at a pesky fly. “She’s going to quit, you know.”

  “You told me to do what I had to.”

  “What are we talking? A couple hundred dollars? Is it worth it for—”

  “Twenty-five thousand.”

  “Excuse me?” Her eyes narrow as she plants her hands on the desk.

  “There’s about twenty-five grand in unnecessary spending and undocumented reimbursements over the last year or so.”

  “That’s ridiculous.” Her eyes narrow. “Don’t you think Dad would have known?”

  Does she think I’m making this up?

  I slide a key from the desk drawer and push out of the chair. “I tried to get you to look at it.” I unlock the file cabinet with a quick twist of the key, open the bottom drawer, and retrieve the accordion file. “It’s all here. You wanna take it to your accountant, be my guest.”

  “I find it hard to believe…” But the loss of color in her face tells another story. “If this is true”—she pushes at the file, like it’s offensive—“then why didn’t you fire her?”

  “Not my place.” The back door slams again. Marty leaving or someone else coming?

  “Seriously?” She rolls her eyes and throws her hand up. “It’s your place to accuse her of stealing, but when it comes to firing, you suddenly respect boundaries?”

  “We fire her, she collects unemployment.”

  “So?”

  I shrug. “She’s taken enough from Sean as it is. She wants to quit, that’s on her.”

  “And what do you suggest we do for a cook?”

  Maris’s bandana-covered head pokes through the door. “A half hour late and you’re in a panic. Maybe now I’ll get some respect.” And she’s gone.

  Don’t know whether to be thankful or disappointed.

  Tess places her hand on the file and bites her lower lip. “Do you think she’d show up today if she was guilty?”

  I blow out a brea
th. “Stranger things have happened.”

  “If you don’t mind…” She gathers the file and tucks it under one arm. “I think I’ll take this to Brent Jackson’s office. See what he has to say.”

  I nod. “Wise decision.” Baby steps. But it’s something.

  As Tess turns to leave, Marty shows up. “Looks like the restaurant will open after all, huh?”

  “Looks like.” She moves to go around him.

  He shifts, blocking her exit. “You have a minute, Tess?”

  Her back stiffens. “Actually, I’m on my way out.”

  “How ’bout I walk you to your car.” He stretches out an arm, inviting her to go ahead of him.

  He’s going to ask her out. Doesn’t matter that I warned him. A glutton for punishment. Some guys never learn. No skin off my nose.

  So why does it bother me?

  Chapter 15

  Tess

  I hate being late, even if it’s just an impromptu dinner with Jules and Max. I tap my thumb on the steering wheel and stare at the traffic light as if I can change it from red to green by sheer concentration. “Come on.” I squint at the setting sun. It’s not even mid-August and the days are noticeably shorter. Where did the summer go?

  “Finally,” I mutter when traffic moves once again. Where is this edginess coming from? I battle Sacramento traffic on a regular basis, but my patience snaps at the much less congested Placerville commute? If I can’t handle a little stress now, what’s going to happen when I’m driving down to Sac daily and my workload is double?

  Turning the corner onto Julia’s street, the accordion file slides across the passenger seat and thumps against the door. Maybe that’s the source of my tension. I don’t have to drop it off at Brent Jackson’s office to know there’s something fishy going on. And if I take it to him, then I’m committed to do something about it.

  I feel like such a fool. Knowing the truth only makes it harder to face Jake and nearly impossible to face Maris. Do we fire her? Do we prosecute? Oh, how I wish Dad were here. Pulling up to the curb, I swipe at the tears that flood my eyes and swallow the knot in my throat. Grief and anger switch places with the speed and agility of a rousing two-step.