“Does he have them often?”
“Regular as clockwork,” Paul assured her.
“Really? Why does Quinn put up with it?”
“Quinn says he can’t find a better cook. I guess it’s easier to put up with his hissy fits.”
“I hope Andre is okay tonight.”
“Yeah. Me, too.” Paul took a drink of his black-and-tan. “My band is playing, and I hate it when there’s a fight. It’s distracting.”
“You have a band? And it’s playing at the Harp?”
“Quinn didn’t tell you?”
“We didn’t discuss details when I agreed to work here.”
“Yeah?” Paul studied her. “What did you discuss?”
“What time I needed to show up.” Changing the subject, she said, “I’ll do my best to keep the patrons in line.”
The door opened and Laura Taylor walked in, wearing jeans and a polo shirt. She looked a lot younger than she had wearing her red suit.
Paul scowled. “There’s one patron you won’t have to worry about. Laura has a stick so far up her butt she can barely sit down.”
“Really? She’s my Realtor, and she seems very nice.”
“The woman doesn’t know how to have fun.”
Paul was still watching Laura, and Maddie smiled. “Maybe she just needs someone to show her how. Why don’t you volunteer?”
“No way. We have different life goals, as Laura would say.”
“Too bad,” Maddie said. “It might have been fun for both of you.”
“Not according to Laura.”
TWO HOURS LATER, patrons stood shoulder to shoulder in front of the bar, and all the booths and tables were filled. Apparently, people in Otter Tail liked to go out on Friday nights. Or maybe they were here to listen to Paul’s band.
Laura and Paul had carefully avoided each other. But Laura was still here.
So far, Maddie hadn’t had to break up any fights. And Andre hadn’t said much to her.
Paul and three other musicians were setting up at the front of the pub, and Maddie was busy taking orders and delivering drinks. She’d waitressed before, so it hadn’t taken long to get into the rhythm of the Harp. And the roll of bills in the pocket of her apron was growing.
After that uncomfortable moment when he’d reminded her that she was the boss and he was the employee, Quinn had been all business. He’d been too busy pouring drinks and drawing beer to do more than keep up with her orders.
Maybe working here wouldn’t be so bad.
It was an easygoing crowd, and everyone seemed to be having a good time. They were mostly locals, judging by their conversation. So many people had introduced themselves and welcomed her to Otter Tail that their names were a blur in her mind. They didn’t realize she’d met some of them years earlier, when she’d been a kid. They had no idea they’d teased her about her weight and the color of her hair.
As the evening wore on, she became more and more uncomfortable. Would all these people be as friendly if they knew she was going to sell the Harp to someone who would most likely tear it down? Even though everyone called her by name, she felt like an outsider looking in.
“Hey, Maddie, you okay?” Paul Black waved a hand in front of her face.
“I’m fine,” she said, pushing the guilt away. “Do you need another black-and-tan?” His beer glass was almost empty.
“No, we’re getting ready to start. Could you get me a glass of cola, though?”
“Will do. Would you like something to eat before you start playing?” Quinn had told her to give the musicians food if they wanted it.
Paul shook his head. “No, thanks. I’ve had everything Andre makes too many times.”
The menu was limited. The fish and chips and hamburgers looked good, and people were ordering them, but there weren’t a lot of choices. People apparently came here to drink, not eat. And Andre acted as if he was doing her a favor every time he slid a plate onto the warming rack. “I’ll get your soda, then.”
The rest of the band stood near the front window, fiddling with speakers and amplifiers. Paul played the guitar, along with a guy with shaggy brown hair. A tall, thin man was setting up a keyboard, and a blonde woman was arranging a drum set.
As Maddie wove her way through the crowd with Paul’s soda, someone tapped her on the shoulder. She glanced back at Jen Summers, the waitress from the Cherry Tree Diner. “Hi, Jen.”
“Hey, Maddie. I didn’t realize you worked here.”
“Neither did I,” Maddie answered drily.
She grinned. “Quinn can be persuasive. And it’ll give you a chance to meet people.”
“Everyone’s been pretty friendly tonight,” Maddie commented carefully. She thought she’d known everything about the place fifteen years ago. One friendly night wasn’t going to change her opinion.
“That’s Otter Tail. Everybody’s hoping you sell the place to Quinn.” Jen bumped into Patrick O’Connor and stilled. “Sorry, Mr. O’Connor,” she said in a low voice.
“Jen.” He nodded to her, his expression cool, and kept going toward his seat.
“Wow.” Maddie watched him disappear into the crowd.
Jen sighed. “He was my math teacher senior year of high school. We had some…issues. Neither of us has forgotten, although we don’t talk about it.”
Patrick sat at the end of the bar. “He seems lonely,” Maddie mused.
“He keeps his distance from people.” Jen nudged her forward. “I was just going to say hi to Delaney. I’ll introduce you.”
As Maddie handed Paul his drink, Jen bent and said something to the woman with the drums, who stood and gave her a quick hug.
“Delaney,” Jen said, “this is Maddie Johnson.”
“Good to meet you. You’re the new owner of David’s house, right?” Delaney tucked her streaky blonde hair behind her ear. “David ordered a desk from me before he died, but he wasn’t able to pick it up. It’s still in my workshop.”
“He did?” Maddie shifted her tray from one hand to the other. “Did he, uh, pay for it?”
“Paid in full.” She hesitated. “If you don’t want it, I can refund the money and find another buyer.”
It would be nice to have the money, but David must have wanted the furniture for some reason. “Maybe I should take a look at it first.”
“Great.” Delaney pulled a card out of the pocket of her jeans. “Give me a call when you’d like to come over.”
“Thanks.”
“So you own the Harp, too,” she said. “It’s about time we had some new gossip in this town. Everyone’s wondering what you’re going to do with the place.”
“I haven’t decided yet.” Maddie clutched the round tray to her chest.
Delaney’s smile disappeared. “I didn’t mean to pry,” she said hastily. “Sorry.”
“Don’t worry about it,” Maddie told her. “I’m sure everyone’s wondering.”
Jen was talking to Paul, so to fill the awkward silence, Maddie added, “Everyone’s been telling me how good you guys are.”
Delaney shrugged uncomfortably. “It’s just a sideline for me. I prefer carpentry.”
“You’ve got an interesting mix of talents. Do you build houses, too?” Maddie joked
“When I have to, to pay bills.”
Maddie’s jaw dropped. She’d been kidding.
“My true love, though, is making furniture.” Delaney glanced at her drum set, then picked up the glass of iced tea Maddie had delivered earlier. “So you’re taking Crystal’s job. I’d heard she quit. She didn’t think the work was upwardly mobile enough.” She relaxed enough to smile. “You want my opinion, I think her definition of upwardly mobile was getting into Quinn’s bed. When he didn’t cooperate, she took off.”
“He didn’t tell me that.”
Jen turned away from Paul. “Quinn is so used to it by now that it probably doesn’t register. When he came back three years ago, every woman in Otter Tail made a move on him.”
Madd
ie couldn’t help glancing at the bar. Quinn was talking to Patrick O’Connor. She forced herself to look back at Jen and Delaney. “I thought Quinn grew up here. He hasn’t lived in town his whole life?”
“He was a cop in Milwaukee for a long time,” Jen said, swigging her beer. “He opened the pub two years ago.”
Someone grabbed Maddie’s arm. “I need another Leinie,” the man bellowed. He was swaying on his feet, and his eyes were bloodshot and bleary.
“It’s going to take me a while,” she said in a calming voice. She urged him toward a table that had just been vacated. “Why don’t you have a seat and listen to the band?”
“I don’t want to listen to the band,” he slurred. “I want another beer.”
“Take it easy, Doug.” Another man stepped between them. “Let’s go play darts.”
God in heaven. Maddie wove her way after them. A drunk with a dart in his hand?
Before she reached them, a couple stopped her. “Could we get a couple of cheeseburgers with grilled onions?” the man asked.
“Sure.” Maddie scribbled on her order pad. “Anything else?”
“How about a tossed salad?” the woman asked.
“No problem.” She glanced at the drunk, who’d lost interest in the darts and was now heading toward the door. Thank God. “Coming right up.”
“No onions!” Andre shouted at her when she gave him the order. “I do not grill onions.”
“You don’t? I’m sorry, but I told them they could have them.” She hesitated. “Couldn’t you just toss them on the grill while the hamburger is cooking?”
“No,” he snapped, pointing his spatula at her.
“All right,” she said after a long moment. “But please tell me you can improvise a salad. Any salad. The woman didn’t specify. I realize we don’t serve salads. Normally. But just this once?”
“No salads. Coleslaw.”
Maddie sighed. “I’ll make the woman a green salad. Where’s the lettuce for the burgers?”
“No salads.” He threw a hamburger patty on the grill. “And no onions.”
“Fine,” Maddie said. “I’ll fix the onions and make the salad.”
“Stay out of my kitchen,” the cook warned.
“Or what? You’ll throw onions at me?”
Andre tossed down the spatula. “That’s it. I’ve had it. I quit.”
As he was tearing off his apron, Quinn stepped through the door. “What’s going on? I heard you two yelling all the way from the bar.”
“I quit,” Andre bellowed. “I do not take orders from waitresses.”
“She’s the one getting the orders from the customers,” Quinn said mildly.
“She’s telling me what I have to cook.” Andre glared at Maddie. “No one tells me what I cook.”
“A customer asked for grilled onions on his cheeseburger and his wife wants a salad,” Maddie said impatiently.
Andre shook his finger at her. “I decide what’s on the menu. Not you.”
“Knock it off, Andre. We’ve got a full house tonight. Save the drama for when it’s slower. Make the damn onions and the salad.”
Andre sucked in a breath. “You’re taking her side over mine?”
Silence fairly reverberated through the kitchen. Then Quinn said, “Fine. You want to quit? Get out.” His voice was low and deadly. “And don’t come whining to me tomorrow to get your job back.”
Andre’s eyes widened. “You’re firing me?”
“No. You quit, and I’m sick of your tantrums. You’re not the only cook in Otter Tail.”
“You think so?” Andre’s glance at Maddie was full of venom. “Go ahead and find someone else.”
He stalked to the kitchen door and pushed through it. Quinn and Maddie watched it swing shut behind him.
CHAPTER SIX
ANGRY AT ANDRE, but more angry at himself because he’d seen this coming and ignored it, Quinn turned on Maddie. “You work here one night and you make my cook quit? What’s the matter with you?”
“Maybe I shouldn’t have argued with him,” she said, her back stiffening. “But I didn’t make him quit. Why don’t you have a reasonable menu?”
“I should have known this would be a mistake. You think because you own the place you can say anything you want?” This was all David’s fault.
“Mistake is exactly the right word.” Her eyes flashed as she reached behind her to untie the apron. “I’ll be more than happy to leave.”
He clenched his teeth and struggled to get a grip on his temper. “Fine. You’re right. It wasn’t your fault.” He adjusted the temperature on the grill with a vicious twist. “Andre was a major pain in the ass. I should have gotten rid of him a long time ago. Are you satisfied?”
What the hell was he going to do for a cook?
“You should have said something to me,” she muttered. “I would have been more careful.”
“Couldn’t you tell he was temperamental?” Quinn grabbed a spatula and scraped the grill with hard strokes.
“Temperamental? He’s a nut job.” She gestured toward the stove. “What kind of chef won’t cook onions?”
“Andre has his quirks, but he has me by the short hairs. I haven’t been able to find anyone else.”
“How hard have you looked?”
Quinn’s head felt as if it were going to explode. “You’re the owner. Since you think it’s so easy, maybe you should find a new chef.” He threw two hamburger patties on the grill. “In the meantime, go take over at the bar. Try to hold down the fort while I put this order together.”
“I’ll do it,” she said, shouldering him aside. “I’m the one who made Andre quit. You get back to the bar.”
The brief touch sent fire shooting straight to his groin, and that made him angrier. “Have you ever cooked in a restaurant?” When she didn’t answer, he said, “That’s what I thought. Get out of here before you destroy my kitchen.”
“How tough can it be to fry a hamburger and make a couple of salads?” she asked.
He’d grabbed her by the shoulders to move her away from the grill when the swinging door to the kitchen opened and Jen walked in. “Are you okay, Maddie?” Then she saw him. “Oops. Sorry.”
“Oh, for heaven’s sake,” Maddie said, twisting away from him. “Quinn and I were just having a discussion.”
“Yeah, I’ve called it that, too.” Jen grinned as she backed out the door.
“Wait a minute,” Quinn said. Jen Summers would tell everyone in the pub he was in the kitchen making out with the new owner, and he’d never hear the end of it. “Andre quit. We’re trying to figure out who’s going to cook. Would you go stand behind the bar and pull beers until we get this straightened out?”
“He quit?” Jen raised her eyebrows. “I heard the commotion. When Andre stalked out, I was afraid he’d left Maddie bleeding on the floor.”
“God. Both of you get out of here!” Quinn grabbed the apron from Maddie and herded her and Jen toward the door. “I’ll tell everyone the kitchen is closed.”
“You don’t have to do that,” Jen said quickly. “I can run the kitchen for you the rest of the evening.”
Quinn shook his head. “Thanks, Jen. I really appreciate that. But this isn’t like cooking at home.”
“I work in a restaurant,” she said, grabbing the apron from him. “I want to cook at the Cherry Tree, but Benny’s too territorial.” She glanced at the order slip hanging above the counter. “Two cheeseburgers with grilled onions and tossed salads coming up.”
“Jen, get out of my kitchen,” Quinn said.
“No, let her do it,” Maddie interjected.
Quinn rounded on her. “You’ve worked here for three hours and you’re telling me how to run the business? You may own the building, but this is my pub. I’m still making the decisions around here.”
“You just told me to find a new cook. I did. So let her.”
Jen already had the apron on, and Maddie stood with her hands on her hips, daring him to cont
radict her.
“Fine. Get your ass out there and keep taking drink orders.”
He slammed through the door. As it swung behind him, he heard Jen say, “That went well.”
Still angry, he ducked beneath the door at the end of the bar. The familiar smells of spilled beer and pretzels greeted him, and he sucked in a deep breath to steady himself. The Harp was his. He ran it the way he wanted. Where did Maddie get off, waltzing in and ordering him around?
He could curse David. Hell, Quinn would have been happy with a long-term lease. But instead some woman no one had ever met now owned his place.
“Earth to Quinn,” someone called. “How about another?”
As he built Jed the Guinness, another customer—Ian Hartshorn—asked, “What’s going on with Andre?”
Damn it. Quinn slammed the tap into the off position. This would have to happen on a night when half the town was here. “He quit.”
He set the glass on the bar, and Jed Burns frowned. “There’s no shamrock on the foam.”
“We’re out of shamrocks, Jed.” Quinn glared at him, and the man finally walked away.
No shamrocks tonight. His hands were shaking too badly.
“Who needs another drink?” he called. Besides me.
His gaze went to the half-full bottle of Jameson in one of the glass-fronted cupboards above the bar. Now dusty, it had sat untouched for two years. It would stay there today, too, he vowed. No redhead with an attitude, even the one who owned his pub, was going to make him take that bottle down.
Paul’s band struck a few chords, and Quinn took a deep breath as the customers turned to watch. The music would give him a chance to calm down. No one would pay any attention to him while the band played.
Maddie worked her way through the crowd, taking drink orders, a smile plastered on her face. When she headed toward the bar, though, she dropped the smile. She didn’t quite meet Quinn’s eyes when she lined the slips of paper up on the end of the counter.
Not exactly the way he’d planned on making her feel welcome and part of the town and the Harp. Don’t think about her. He had to get through the rest of the evening without losing it.
Quinn heard the first notes of a Fleetwood Mac song, and the bar went still. Everyone watched Delaney set down her drumsticks. They knew what was coming.
An Unlikely Setup Page 5