“Just make me proud. You are probably the most over-qualified waitress I’ve ever hired.” Sherry laughed and shook her head.
“Not always what you seem,” whispered Cassidy, playfully bobbing her eyebrows. But she silently prayed no one would discover the true identity of Gold Diggers’ newest cocktail waitress.
Chapter 5
Cassidy discarded several skirts and blouses before deciding on a suitable combination: a black denim skirt hemmed four inches above the knee and a white silk blouse which she belted to emphasize her slim waist. The open top buttons revealed an inch of lacy white camisole.
While she considered the outfit in the mirror, Patricia’s cat circled her ankles.
“What do you think, Ginger. The skirt’s a decent length for someone my age. But hopefully short enough to entice the male customers to order several rounds.” Cassidy sashayed across the floor, modeling for her new best friend. “I’m feeling nervous, but saucy today.” As an afterthought to maximize her tips, she opened another button on the blouse.
“I might require your assistance, Ginger, getting these darn boots on.” Cassidy braced herself against the hope chest at the foot of the bed and struggled into her new black-and-gray-patterned boots. “The clerk assured me cowboy boots should fit this tight, but I’m not entirely convinced. Mind you, I’ve never owned cowboy boots before, so what do I know.”
Cassidy stood in front of the mirror in her walk-in closet, approved of what she saw, and then grabbed her purse off the bed.
“Don’t wait up, sweetie.” She kissed the cat on top of her furry head, headed down the hallway, set the alarm system, and then slipped out the front door.
Cassidy arrived at Gold Diggers at quarter to five, feeling downright giddy. Sherry had arranged for Rachael to start early, and Cassidy eagerly anticipated learning the ropes.
“Why are you leaving Gold Diggers, Rachael?” she asked, wrapping her work apron’s strings around her waist and tying them in front.
“I attend Anchorage University during the winter, and I completed final exams this morning. Tomorrow, I fly home to Washington for the summer.” Rachael smiled.
“Good luck on your exams. And I thank you from the bottom of my heart for quitting, so Sherry could hire me.” Cassidy laughed. No doubt, the slim, blonde, blue-eyed stunner earned more than her fair share of tips, she thought. In Rachael’s absence, she might have a fighting chance.
“My pleasure,” said Rachael.
Just before six o’clock, two others gals rushed into the bar shortly before their shift started and quickly introduced themselves. Sherry completed the area assignments for the four waitresses and bid adieu to the two gals who’d just completed the early shift.
“So how is it going?” Sherry whispered in Cassidy’s ear from behind.
Cassidy turned and smiled. “Rules and routines have been explained, the kitchen has been toured, operation of the coffee maker and till perfected, and I’m ready for my first customers. At least, I think I’m ready. Ask me how I’m doing again in an hour.”
“You’ll do fine.”
Cassidy bit her lower lip. Sherry’s encouragement and obvious confidence in her abilities didn’t counterbalance Cassidy’s nerves. “I’ll be satisfied if I don’t spill a whole tray of drinks on the Mayor.”
“Don’t recall the Mayor ever drinking here, actually. So that shouldn’t be a problem,” said Sherry, grinning.
Four young men dressed in jeans, boots and western shirts strolled in and headed directly for Cassidy’s section. “Those guys appear harmless enough. Here goes.”
Cassidy grabbed her tray and strode across the room. She smiled broadly, hoping the customers didn’t notice her shaky knees and trembling hands. “Good evening. What can I get you gentlemen?”
“I’ll have a Miller and your phone number, darling,” drawled one of the fellows.
It had begun…
Cassidy soon envied the other waitresses’ ability to handle a full tray of drinks with the finesse of Indian women who carry water jugs on their heads without spilling a drop. She hadn’t dumped any drinks on any patrons or on the floor, but there’d been a couple of close calls. And the other waitresses never confused an order and frequently found time to banter with the customers.
Despite her obvious lack of experience, the evening sped along without a hitch, mostly. Cassidy constantly fell behind, and she snapped at one customer who insisted on flirting instead of ordering quickly. Her remark raised an eyebrow with Clayton, and Cassidy immediately apologized to the customer for her impatience.
Sherry appeared pleased with her work, however, and Cassidy anticipated a hot bath and a glass of wine as a reward for surviving her first shift. While hanging up her apron and filling in her timecard in the staff room, Cassidy overheard Sherry and Clayton in the next room. She caught snippets of raised voices during their conversation including ‘too green’ and ‘damned inexperienced’.
Cassidy’s heart dropped to her knees.
Clayton would order Sherry to fire her. She’d tried her best, but apparently, her best efforts hadn’t been good enough. Darn it. She’d enjoyed the work immensely. But someone else controlled her destiny, again, and this time that someone was Clayton Morrison. She wouldn’t be afforded the luxury of time to prove herself. Why had she set herself up for a major disappointment yet again? Perhaps her destiny was failure.
Get over it, she scolded herself. Quit feeling sorry for yourself. She grabbed her purse out of her locker and dug out her car keys.
Just then, Sherry breezed into the staff locker room. “Hi, there.”
“Am I finished?” Cassidy heard the disappointment in her own voice.
“Yep.” Sherry raised her shoulders to her ears, dropped them again, in a familiar stretch, and then yanked open her locker door.
“I had fun anyway. Too bad it didn’t work out.”
Sherry swung around to face Cassidy, and frowned. “What are you talking about?”
“I didn’t intentionally eavesdrop, but these walls are paper thin. I overheard you and Clayton discussing my dismissal.” Cassidy fought back tears.
“No. You overheard Clayton discussing your dismissal. I informed him you weren’t going anywhere. I refuse to judge someone’s performance on their first night. You’ll be up to speed in no time.”
“I’m not fired? You just said I was finished,” blurted Cassidy.
“You’re finished tonight’s shift, but I expect you back here tomorrow night no later than quarter to six. Now, head home and soak those sore feet.”
“How did you know?” groaned Cassidy. She’d discreetly limped for the past half hour from the serious blisters raised by her snazzy new cowboy boots.
“Been in your shoes...no pun intended.” Sherry laughed. “Good night, new friend.”
“Back at you, new friend. And thanks so much for your confidence in me.” Cassidy hugged Sherry before leaving the locker room, head held high and spirits revived. What a night she’d had! No one back home in Chicago would believe it.
“Can I interest you in a nightcap before you head home?” Clayton Morrison called out to Cassidy from behind the bar just as she reached for the front door handle.
Cassidy looked around. The bar had emptied out at two o’clock, except for the cleaners and Terry. Included in the head bouncer’s duties was walking the waitresses to their cars every night. Clayton could only be talking to her.
“On the house, I’ll take it out of my promo fund.” Clayton pointed to a barstool.
“Doesn’t the owner frown on staff members fraternizing after hours?” Cassidy cautiously lowered herself onto the barstool as if she feared it would suddenly swallow her whole.
“The boss encourages friendship among the staff, but he strictly prohibits staff dating customers.” Clayton finished mixing the cocktail behind the bar and set the glass in front of Cassidy. “Bottoms up.”
“Cheers,” she whispered and took a sip. In spite of the bartender’s re
cent campaign to remove her from her job, Cassidy smiled at him. “Delicious! A Harvey Wallbanger and real orange juice. I’m impressed.”
“You recognized a drink that was popular decades before you were even born. Perhaps I’ve misjudged you.” Clayton appeared pleased and a tad surprised.
“Actually, this is my mother’s favorite drink. I’ve mixed a few of these in my time.” Cassidy took another sip.
“So, where are you from?” Clayton saluted her and then upended his glass of beer.
“And so begins the inquisition?”
“Just curious. You mentioned this morning that you’d recently moved to Anchorage.”
“Like Sherry, I’m saving money for college, topping up my tuition fund.” Cassidy considered that little white lie a stroke of genius. But had Clayton noticed she’d sidestepped his question?
“Sherry’s set on becoming a school teacher. So what are you going to be when you grow up?” Clayton’s question sounded almost challenging.
For some reason, the bartender’s tone didn’t ring true with Cassidy. Was there a motive behind his third degree? Did he suspect something? Sherry had assured her that an outsourced accounting firm handled the bar’s payroll, and no one at the bar including Clayton was privy to anyone’s payroll records.
Could something have triggered his suspicions? She couldn’t recall letting anything slip during their brief conversation this morning or while working with him tonight. Maybe it was the way she’d dressed. She lowered her head and grimaced. What was she thinking? Would a student, struggling financially, wear silk blouses? And she’d worn two hundred dollar designer jeans this morning. She vowed to wear cotton shirts and jeans bought at the second-hand store from now on!
“I haven’t actually settled on a profession.” Cassidy gulped her drink and stood up to leave.
Clayton Morrison hadn’t spoken more than a dozen words to her all evening, except to clarify a couple of her drink orders. Now he was suddenly interested in her life story? Whatever his reasons, she thought, he definitely doesn’t trust me. Does he suspect I’m lying to him? Or is he simply annoyed that Sherry refused to dismiss her from Gold Diggers’ employ?
“Calling it a night?” Clayton glared at her.
“Yes. Thank you for the drink. Pleasure working with you.” She forced herself to smile at the man who’d almost terminated their working relationship.
“Good night. Great to have you join the team.” Clayton grabbed her empty glass.
Cassidy considered it an odd comment. Fifteen minutes ago he’d headed a one man campaign to fire her. If Clayton Morrison suspected she was a fraud, to what lengths would he go to satisfy his curiosity? She shouldn’t have accepted the drink. He could test her DNA with that empty glass. He even had her fingerprints. And then she decided her imagination required serious reining in.
“Good night,” called Cassidy over her shoulder as she bolted from the bar with the bouncer following on her heels. Cassidy almost protested, and then she remembered the company policy—all female waitresses were walked to their cars after late night shifts. She didn’t want to get Terry in hot water with Clayton.
“Get a grip, Cassidy,” she muttered, as she fumbled the key into Fiona’s lock.
“Did you say something?” Terry Wilson loomed over her.
“No, nothing, Terry, I’m just talking to myself. Thank you for walking me to my car. See you tomorrow.” Cassidy smiled, yanked Fiona’s door open, and climbed into the driver’s seat. She slammed the door closed and depressed the lock.
“Good night, Cassidy,” called Terry through the closed window before turning and retreating toward the bar.
Cassidy took a deep breath.
After a minute, she turned the key and Fiona roared to life. She snapped her seatbelt into place, shifted the car into gear, and drove home with the frightening certainty that Clayton Morrison represented trouble in her life.
****
The next morning Cassidy awoke at loose ends. She’d settled into her new life in Anchorage while covering all her bases to protect her whereabouts from everyone back in Chicago. And she’d acquired a new job, for now at least, until Clayton convinced Sherry to fire her.
She crossed the kitchen floor, poured herself a cup of coffee, and slid open the glass patio doors. She inhaled the fresh morning air and then stepped outside onto the cool wooden floor of the backyard deck. Still dressed in her pajamas but hidden from the neighbors’ eyes by shady spruce trees, she settled into one of the upholstered loungers.
“Why am I so antsy?” she asked herself aloud, sipping her coffee. One of the neighbor’s dogs barked relentlessly for several minutes and then quieted at his master’s harsh command.
Suddenly, Cassidy realized why she’d been so restless. “I miss my mother,” she whispered aloud.
Every Sunday since she’d returned from Harvard, she’d joined her parents for Sunday dinner at their home. She’d talked to her mother on the phone at least twice more during the week. But she hadn’t heard her mother’s voice for almost a month, and her eyes welled with tears at the realization.
Cassidy strode into the house and rummaged in her purse for her throw-away cell phone. The number couldn’t be traced. She’d talked to Jeannie a half dozen times since arriving in Anchorage. No one had found her. But did she dare call her mother?
No, she decided, too risky, and she tossed the cell phone onto the bed. What if her father answered? She checked her alarm clock on the bedside table. Ten o’clock in Chicago. Dad would have departed for the office hours ago. Would her mother still be at home? Or out of the house, attending a meeting? Or shopping with a friend?
Cassidy quickly grabbed the phone and punched in the number for her parents’ home before she changed her mind.
“Hello.” The woman’s voice sounded so sad and dejected and broken. Not at all like her mother.
“Mom?”
She heard her mother’s gasp. “Cassidy, darling, is that you?”
“Yes, Mom.” She blinked back tears. “I miss you so much.”
“Come home, darling, come home.” Her mother’s voice pleaded. “I’m certain the difficulties between you and your father can be worked out with a bit of compromise.”
“I’m done compromising where Dad and the office are concerned. But our relationship is totally separate, Mom. I just called to hear your voice, and to assure you I’m all right.” Cassidy fought to control her emotions. Could her mother detect how upset she was?
“I’m absolutely beside myself worrying about you, darling.” Her mother cleared her throat. “Where are you?”
“I’m still in the United States. I didn’t run away to Europe or anywhere too far. But I’ve started fresh, on my own, free of Dad’s influence and control.” Cassidy sighed. “I need this Mom. I can’t entrust my career or future to anyone but me. When I left everything in Dad’s hands, you saw what happened.”
“But Cassidy, so much has happened since you left.” Her mother’s voice brightened. “Please, darling, call your father. He’ll explain everything.”
“No, Mom. I’ve got to go. Just know I love you, and I miss you, and I’ll call you again soon.”
“But darling, you must contact your father…”
Cassidy cut the connection, and then burst into tears.
Talking to her mother, hearing her voice, felt wonderful. She missed her mother terribly, but this separation couldn’t be helped. A price paid. A chosen sacrifice in return for her freedom. She’d made the right decision, but why did her heart hurt so much? Because she might never see her mother again, for years.
After she heard her mother say ‘so much has happened’, Cassidy was sorely tempted to call her father. What had changed? Had her Dad realized what he’d lost by denying her the promotion? Would he reconsider the partnership if she returned? And then she shook her head. There remained the matter of Jonathan Ward. Would the partnership depend on her acceptance of Jonathan as a husband?
No way would sh
e be blackmailed into returning, partnership or no partnership. But would her decision be proven right or wrong?
Chapter 6
Cassidy completed her shift a few minutes ago and cashed out. Now, on route to the staff room, she heard Clayton mumble, “By the way, I’m sorry.”
She stopped in her tracks, convinced she’d heard him wrong. She couldn’t imagine Clayton Morrison apologized for anything, ever. “What did you say?”
“I’m sorry I suggested Sherry fire you after your first shift.” Clayton shrugged his shoulders. “When I’m wrong I admit it. And I was definitely wrong about your abilities.”
Cassidy slid onto the barstool opposite the bartender and crossed her arms. From Clayton’s expression, as she suspected, admitting he was wrong about anything probably ranked dead last on his list of favorite things to do.
“How so?”
“Within a week you’ve proven yourself exceptionally capable. I admire your work ethic; you’re always on time. You charm the customers with playful repartee, but never cross the line and openly flirt with any guys. You never mix-up an order, and you can calculate an order in your head faster than the till does it. What can I say? You’re one of the best waitresses we employ here.” Clayton rapped the counter with his knuckles. “What can I get you? On the house.”
Cassidy met Clayton’s eyes and realized she hadn’t acknowledged his apology. “Thank you. I appreciate recognition of my efforts. My granny taught me that ‘any job worth doing is worth doing right.’” She smiled and straightened her back. “I’d love a Harvey Wallbanger, please.”
“Real orange juice, right?” Clayton paused.
“Is there any other way?” Cassidy raised one eyebrow.
While Clayton mixed the cocktail, Cassidy observed him as he worked. If she overlooked his tendency to annoy her at every turn, she had to admit he was extremely handsome. When he was dressed in western gear, you might mistake him for a wrangler right off a Montana ranch. Or not. She’d wager her next paycheck, his lily white hands hadn’t worked a day of manual labor in their life.
Not What It Seems (Escape to Alaska Trilogy) Page 5