by Coleen Kwan
At the dinner table Sophie and Daniel’s wedding plans dominated the conversation. Heloise had a great deal to say about it, insisting that no expense be spared.
“I only have one daughter, and I want her to have the most spectacular wedding ever,” she declared before turning to her husband. “Don’t you agree, Blaine?”
Logan expected his father to object to some of the extravagances, but he didn’t, waving a hand like a king who couldn’t be bothered with menial fiscal details. Why didn’t his father protest? Some of what his mother was proposing—and Sophie eagerly seconding—sounded eye-gougingly expensive. How much could one wedding cost? One hundred, two hundred thousand, or more?
But his father didn’t want to know. Even now Blaine refused to fully acknowledge the dire straits of the family company. And clearly Heloise wasn’t aware of the true situation. If only she knew that all the trappings of their wealth—this mansion, the ski lodge in Aspen, the condo in Florida—were just a mirage, held up by debts and Logan’s determination not to let the family sink. But he couldn’t tell her—or Sophie—without wounding his father’s pride, and that he wouldn’t do. He’d come to realize that his father wasn’t really suited to business but had taken over the family corporation because it was expected of him and had done the best he could. They might not see eye to eye on everything, but Logan loved his dad and wasn’t prepared to expose his mistakes. The problem was his now, and his alone.
“I hear you’re caught up in one of the mayor’s schemes.” His mother’s voice broke through his milling thoughts. “Something about playhouses?”
“That’s right,” Logan replied. “I’m building a few for Ryan’s daycare centers.”
“Oh, that’s so sweet,” his sister said.
His mother didn’t seem impressed. “Sounds like Walter Horowitz is using you to generate publicity for himself.”
“Walter’s a good mayor,” Blaine said, but he eyed Logan doubtfully. “But don’t let him distract you from your real work.”
“It’s a worthwhile project,” Logan said smoothly. “And it’ll help me win over any doubters when the mega center goes before the planning committee.”
His father grunted. “I sure hope so.”
“What mega center?” Sophie asked from the other side of the table.
Logan briefly explained his plans to her and Daniel, who made an approving remark. Sophie declared him a genius, and Logan felt relieved he hadn’t objected to her extravagant wedding plans.
“I just hope it works out,” his father muttered to Logan while the others were talking about honeymoon destinations.
“It will, Dad,” Logan insisted. It had to, because he sure as hell didn’t want to be the one to tell his little sister that she’d have to downsize her big day. Or his mom, for that matter.
…
Amber put a hand on her mom’s shoulder. “You are not going to work.”
“I don’t feel too bad,” Cristal murmured, making a weak effort to rise from her bed.
“You have a temperature, and your voice is croaky.” Amber peered at her mother, concern rising. Cristal’s eyes were dull, and her forehead was hot and dry. Against her pasty complexion her artificially puffy lips seemed even more of an affront. She hadn’t yet recovered from the bad day she’d had earlier in the week.
“I’ve missed too many shifts this month,” Cristal said. “And it’s Saturday night, the busiest night at the club. If I call in sick too often, I’ll lose my job.”
Cristal worked as a server at the Pine Falls Country Club. After a myriad of dead-end jobs, she’d finally landed a half-decent one. Her part-time job didn’t pay much, but there weren’t many vacancies in the area, and she needed to hang onto it.
Amber patted her mom’s slender hand. “If it’s that important to you, then I can do the shift.”
“You? But how?”
“I’ll call your supervisor and explain the situation. I worked in that Mexican restaurant for two years, remember? I’ve got experience.”
“Yes, but this is the country club.”
“So?”
“Some of the members can be really stuffy. I have to bite my tongue often, so I don’t know how you’d cope.”
“Mom, I can bite my tongue just as well as you can. My mind’s made up. You’re not going to work. You’re going to stay in and have some of that tomato soup I made you. Now, are you going to call Fran, or am I?”
Rolling her eyes, Cristal acquiesced. “I’ll call her.”
After Fran had reluctantly agreed to the replacement, Cristal set down her phone and smiled faintly at Amber. “Thank you, Peanut. What would I do without you?”
Amber blinked at the unexpected compliment. She’d often sensed that Cristal felt constrained by motherhood, that she would’ve much preferred being child free. Amber had been a drag on her mom’s fun-loving habits, crimping her style in so many ways, but now Cristal seemed glad to have her around.
She smiled brightly. “I knew I’d win you over somehow.”
She busied herself heating soup for her mom. Hopefully Giovanni’s homegrown tomatoes would help speed her recovery.
“Go get ’em, tiger,” Cristal called out as Amber left the trailer.
Three hours later, Amber was almost midway through the shift at the Sierra Nevada restaurant at the country club. According to Fran, the supervisor, this Saturday night was particularly busy. The restaurant was so booked out that certain members hadn’t been able to get their preferred tables, which had led to a lot of grumbling. Amber might get some flack, Fran warned, because the section she’d been assigned to was one of those less popular areas.
Amber had already received complaints about the location of tables but had shrugged them off. She was used to difficult customers, and besides, this was a rare opportunity to see what went on in the exclusive country club, a place she had never visited before.
The restaurant was decked out with swag curtains, chandeliers, and big oil paintings. All very impressive and expensive. Too stiff and formal for Amber’s liking, but that was what the members paid for, and the people flocking to the dining room were equally expensively dressed to match the decor. She was largely invisible to these diners, which was fine by her. She didn’t want to draw attention to herself; her sole aim was to keep her mom’s job open for her. In a strange way she was even enjoying herself as she observed how the other half lived.
But just after eight, her complacency shattered when a new group entered the restaurant, and the tall, dark-haired man at its rear caught her attention. Logan. Damn! Why did he have to show up? He was in a party of five, with an older couple and a younger one. Amber froze in mid-stride, a jug of water gripped in her hand. For one irrational moment she imagined if she stayed still he wouldn’t spot her. But then she saw the hostess ushering the party toward her and the only free table in the restaurant, which just happened to be in Amber’s section.
Oh no! This could not be happening to her. But it was, and there was no escape.
Logan hadn’t spotted her yet. The hostess showed the five people to the empty table. The older woman, glamorous with a lightning bolt of white streaking through her raven hair, wasn’t happy. She reprimanded the hostess and flung out a hand, her diamond bracelets winking and clinking. Logan said something, and eventually the woman—his mother it appeared—grudgingly took her seat.
“That’s your table!” Fran hissed at Amber in passing. “Go!”
Amber started, almost spilling the jug. She dashed to the customers who’d requested the water, then, wiping her hands on her black trousers, she grabbed a handful of menus and approached Logan’s table. Her heart beat a little faster as she was reminded of the last time she’d been forced to serve Logan in a restaurant. This was different, she told herself. This time, she wasn’t a silly, pining teenager. This time, she would be in control.
“Hi, I’m Amber, and I’ll be your server tonight,” she said, handing out the menus.
Logan was too bus
y with his mother to notice her. “Mom, there’s nothing wrong with this table,” he murmured, sounding impatient.
“What are your specials?” the pretty young woman next to Logan asked Amber.
“It’s a slap in the face,” Logan’s mother snapped, rattling her silver necklace. “We always get seated by the windows. Now we’re practically in the kitchen! We’ve been members for decades. We’ve served on so many committees. And this is how they treat us?”
Trying to calm her nerves, Amber addressed the young woman. “We have sea bream seared in brown butter, chicken arrabbiata, blue swimmer crab, and a mushroom and fennel risotto.”
At last, Logan’s head swiveled toward her, allowing her to see the stunned recognition dawning on him.
“Amber?” He shook his head as if he couldn’t believe what he was seeing. “What are you doing here?”
She kept the bland smile on her lips. “Hello, Logan. I’m your server tonight.”
“My server?”
The others were shooting curious glances between her and Logan. Even a few diners at neighboring tables had turned their heads in curiosity.
“That’s right.” The muscles in her cheeks were beginning to hurt from the effort of keeping her smile pasted on. “Would you like to hear the specials again?”
“Yes,” the gray-haired man—Logan’s father, no doubt—said. “I didn’t hear them the first time.”
Logan was staring at her as if she’d sprouted two heads. A prickle of unease ran down the back of her neck. Why was he staring at her like that? Did he think she’d deliberately planned this?
As his flinty eyes bored into her, she lost track of what she was meant to say. “Um, sea butter browned in bream, chicken swimmer crab, and…and…”
“Mushroom and fennel risotto?” the young woman suggested, smiling encouragement.
“Chicken swimmer crab?” Logan’s father protested, his eyebrows shooting up. “What on earth is that?”
Logan’s mother was already gathering her purse and rising from her chair. “Come on. This is ridiculous. I told you this wouldn’t do.”
“I’m sorry,” Amber said, feeling her cheeks heat. “I got a bit mixed up. Let me start again.”
Before she could, Fran arrived with an anxious smile. “Good evening, Mrs. Wright. Is there a problem I can help you with?”
Logan’s mother drew herself up to her full height. Her voice was cold and cutting. “Not only is this table totally inadequate, but so is our server. I demand—”
Before she could go any further, Logan put his hand on his mother’s arm. “There’s no problem at all,” he said to the supervisor, his voice steely. His mother opened her mouth, but again he interrupted her. “We’re very happy with our table and our server,” he said to Fran, his gaze never straying to Amber.
Fran glanced doubtfully between him, his mother, and Amber. “Perhaps I should take over as your server.”
“No. Like I said, we’re perfectly happy with Amber.” Logan’s voice was quite polite, but there was no doubting the mettle behind it.
“Very well. Please don’t hesitate if there’s any problem.” With a final dubious glance at Amber, the supervisor reluctantly retreated.
Amber drew in a deep breath, aware of everyone at the neighboring tables listening in. Well, she had made a fool of herself, but it wasn’t that surprising. In this opulent, starched setting she was starkly reminded of the gulf between her and Logan. Logan belonged here. He was part of the establishment just by being a Wright, whereas she, a ringer from the trailer park, could never aspire to be his equal. Not that she wanted to be a member of the country club, but it highlighted what she was up against. She wasn’t just opposing Logan, but the entire ruling class that stood behind him.
She focused her gaze on the other man sitting next to the pretty young woman. He hadn’t said a word so far, and he had a nice, pleasant face. “Would you like to hear the specials again?”
But Logan interrupted, again. “Amber,” he said, still in that low, commanding voice, and she found herself looking at him. “Amber, I’m sorry. We got off on the wrong foot tonight.” Next to him, his mother shot him a furious glare, but he ignored it. “Let me introduce you. This is my mother and father, Heloise and Blaine, and this is my sister, Sophie, and her fiancé, Daniel Halliday. Everyone, this is Amber Miller.”
Oh my God, why is he doing this? Why couldn’t he just let her get on with her job? Was he trying to embarrass her even more?
His sister and her fiancé smiled at her. They seemed like a nice couple. His father grunted something. His mother looked like she’d sucked on a lemon.
“Amber Miller?” his mom said, her head on one side. Then her eyes sharpened as if she’d remembered something. “Aren’t you the one—”
“Amber and I are building those playhouses I mentioned yesterday,” Logan said.
Blaine Wright drew his eyebrows together, confused. “Am I missing something here?” he addressed Amber. “You’re a server and you’re building playhouses with my son?”
“I’m just filling in tonight for someone, sir,” Amber said politely. “I’m the owner of Bennett’s Home Center. Perhaps you’ve heard of it?”
Suspicion flashed through Blaine’s eyes. She wondered how much influence he still exercised over the family company. Logan might be the CEO now, but his father looked well preserved and not the type to fade into the background.
“Yes, I’ve heard of it,” Blaine barked, drumming his fingers on the tablecloth. “I’ve heard quite a lot about it.”
“Amber took over from old Tom,” Logan said. “She’s managed to turn the business around in tough times.”
Was that a spark of admiration in his eyes? This wasn’t how she’d thought he’d react to her presence. Instead of being discomfited, he showed nothing but respect, despite his parents’ coolness. She swallowed, overcome by a strange sensation. It wasn’t gratitude. It was something else…
Heloise leaned across the table to address her daughter’s fiancé. “I’m so terribly sorry about this, Daniel,” she gushed. “Normally we’re treated much better than this. Unfortunately the standards of the club seem to be dropping.”
The change in Heloise’s attitude from snippy to fawning snapped Amber out of her musing. Obviously this Daniel Halliday must be an important guy to have Heloise simpering at him. To his credit, the fiancé seemed embarrassed.
“No apology necessary.” He smiled at everyone at the table before turning to Amber. “And it’s nice to meet you, Amber. So what’s it like working with Logan?”
“It’s, uh”—she met Logan’s intense gaze—“interesting.” She cleared her throat, wishing he didn’t affect her like this. He was merely a customer tonight, and she was just doing her job. “Now, why don’t I repeat the specials?” And this time, she’d get them right if it killed her.
Chapter Six
“And the floor will be divided into sections, with linoleum and carpet, so the kids with vision difficulties can orientate themselves by the different textures. I’ve got some samples from a local store, and they’re perfect. Look!”
It was Sunday afternoon, and Logan hadn’t been able to stop himself from visiting Bennett’s Home Center. When Amber had raised her eyebrows in silent query, he’d said he was interested in her plans for the next playhouse. Of course, that wasn’t the real reason, but in front of her customers she couldn’t argue with him, which was what he’d gambled on. She had pulled out a surprisingly detailed CAD building plan, and as she’d explained it, her wariness had faded, replaced by growing eagerness. Her enthusiasm was infectious, and several customers had gathered around the counter to listen to her.
Logan watched as Amber grabbed a length of carpet from behind her, laid it on the counter, and rubbed her hand across it.
“Feel it,” she ordered, pushing the carpet toward him.
Logan obediently ran his hand over the carpet. “Feels good.”
“And my neighbor who runs the yarn st
ore, Eleni, has made some soft felt balls with bells in them.”
“That sounds great.”
She held up a finger. “Speaking of sounds, my other neighbor—Martin Kettle, you probably heard of him—does electrical repairs, and I got him to rig up a wall mural with buttons that light up and play different sounds when the kids press on them.”
Logan gazed at her in admiration. The conniving mayor had dragged her into the project, but once she’d agreed, she gave it her all.
“I’m impressed. You’ve put a lot of thought into this one.”
“Of course you should be impressed,” a doughty, elderly woman wearing a floppy hat and gumboots barked at him. “Amber always tries her hardest.”
Amber bit her lip, half suppressing a smile. “Thanks, Mrs. Keneally.”
The woman cast her critical gaze over Logan. “I know you. You’re that Wright fella who wants to shut down Amber’s business. You rich people are all the same. All you care about is making your bank account even fatter.”
Several counter-arguments rose to Logan’s lips, but he bit them back. He wasn’t here to argue with Amber’s customers, and Mrs. Keneally looked like the kind of person who wouldn’t be swayed once she’d made up her mind.
To his surprise, Amber came to his defense. “It’s not as simple as that, Mrs. Keneally. I mean, I hate to admit it, but Logan’s mega center will give you more choices and a big new garden center.”
“But I don’t want to shop in a huge warehouse,” the woman protested. “I can never find anything, and all that tramping about is hard on my feet. Besides, none of the staff will know anything, not like you do. No, I don’t want Bennett’s to close.” She aimed a challenging glare at Logan before stomping out of the store.
A small silence ensued. The other customers paid for their goods and departed, leaving Logan alone with Amber.
“Mrs. Keneally doesn’t like change,” Amber said as she bowed her head over her plans.
He didn’t want to discuss Mrs. Keneally. Ever since he’d arrived he’d been waiting to talk about the subject uppermost in his mind, and now, with only a handful of customers browsing the aisles, he seized his chance.