Don't Forget Me (40 page)

Chapter Twenty-Five

Kit awoke with sun in her eyes and Nando nibbling on her ear. “Hmmm.” She burrowed deeper into the bed beside him. “Fifteen more minutes please. Just let me sleep fifteen more.”

He sighed, moving his palm along the side of her hip. “I’d love to let you, babe, but you told me to get you up at seven.”

She squinted in the sunlight, then opened her eyes all the way. “Oh, hell. The wedding.”

“Yes, ma’am.” He kissed the sensitive area behind her ear, his breath warm on her throat.

“Oh, don’t,” she whispered. “I’ve really got to get up.”

“You will. I promise.” She heard the smile in his voice. “Both of us will. Eventually.”

She curved her spine against him, soaking up the warmth of his body against hers. “Okay,” she murmured, “fifteen more minutes. No more.”

Nando chuckled against her ear. “Ah, woman, I do love a challenge.”

An hour later she was on her way to Allie’s house to make sure everything about the wedding was on schedule, feeling warm, sated and almost ready to face the total chaos that she feared the day was going to slide into. Nando had promised to try to make it to the reception, assuming he could get someone to cover for him at work.

She found Allie sitting at her kitchen table, her eyes slightly glassy, staring with dismay at the plate of scrambled eggs on the table in front of her.

Kit took a deep breath. “You okay, Auntie?”

“I’m fine. Perfectly, absolutely fine. Really.” She took a swallow of coffee. “Of course, I’m feeling a little nauseous but that’s understandable, right?”

Kit poured herself a glass of orange juice and dropped into the chair across from her. “Do you need a pep talk? It’s going to be wonderful, Allie, I promise. Everything is going to fall into place today.” She restrained herself from rapping her knuckles on the wooden kitchen table.

Allie glanced up at her, smiling slightly. “It’s all right. I’m not going to run. Yesterday I confirmed that I love Steve right down to his socks. And once we’re married, I can always buy him new ones.”

Kit snickered. “Do you want any help getting ready?”

“No. Docia and Janie are supposed to come over to do my hair and makeup. Although what they think they’re going to do with this escapes me.” She gestured toward her short black bob.

“It’ll be beautiful, regardless.” Kit pushed up from the table. “Okay, enough conversation. I need to get my wedding clothes together and get out to the Woodrose to make sure everything does, in fact, fall into place out there. I’m working lunch, but I’m off afterward.”

“Kit…” Allie stretched across the table and took her hand. “I haven’t thanked you enough for all this. I know I wasn’t much help. And I know you basically saved my wedding and my butt.”

Kit felt the quick sting of tears. She had a hunch that would be happening a lot today. “No problem, Aunt Allie. You’ve saved my butt more times than I can count. Including this time around when I showed up on your doorstep with no job and no idea of what I was going to do up here.”

Allie pushed herself to her feet, wrapping her arms around Kit’s shoulders for a quick hug. “I was glad to do it, sweetheart. But I’ve got one more favor to ask.”

“What’s that?” Kit frowned, her shoulders tightening.

“It’s about the house. I’ll be moving in with Steve when we get back from the honeymoon. But I’m not ready to sell this place yet. It means too much to me.” Allie’s eyes took on a misty look. “And Steve says it’s okay if I keep it. Would you maybe consider staying on here until I decide what to do? I promise I won’t charge you much rent, just enough to cover my mortgage payment and utilities.”

Kit felt the first of what would probably be a lot of nervous churning in her stomach. “I’d love to, Aunt Allie. We can set it up after the honeymoon.”

Allie sighed. “Okay. We’ll talk about it when Steve and I get back from Cancun.”

The front door opened behind them and Janie’s voice echoed down the hall. “Where’s the bride? We’re here to work our magic. And we’ve got champagne.”

Allie rolled her eyes. “Oh groovy. A drunk wedding.”

Joe did a quick survey of his kitchen. Since the restaurant was closed after the lunch service, they could concentrate on Allie’s reception, which, given the high profile the wedding had in the foodie community, was probably a very good thing. Not that he had any real worries. He’d planned the menu to show off the local produce, and to show what he could do for a crowd.

The appetizers were sitting in the cooler, although some would have to be heated before they were served. The cases of wine and champagne were stacked in the cellar, waiting to be transferred to the bar in the event center. The tenderloins were sitting in their bath of salt and spice rub. The redfish was waiting to be dressed. Jorge, the faster of the two line cooks, was dealing with the baskets of asparagus. Leo, the slower, was working on the potatoes. And Allie’s wedding cake sat in solitary splendor at the side of the kitchen. He’d get Jorge and Leo to carry it to the restaurant when Gabriel had cleared out after the lunch rush.

He sighed. Allie Maldonado was the greatest baker he’d ever worked with. Watching Kit smash her groom’s cake had been a major trauma. If anyone other than Allie herself had been at risk, he might have tried to come up with an alternative, like shooting the asshole. Allie had been pretty nice about it, given that he’d basically allowed the culinary equivalent of a Picasso to be destroyed.

He checked his watch, then headed down the hall. He still had a good half hour before Kit was due for the lunch crowd, and he needed to do this when she wasn’t around to dither. No time like the present.

Mabel glanced up as he walked in her office door. It was probably tough to transform her initial scowl into her usual artificially sunny smile, but she managed it. “Joseph, how nice to see you so early in the morning. I wouldn’t be here myself if it wasn’t for the Maldonado wedding. And how are the preparations going for the reception?”

Joe leaned forward, placing his fists upon the edge of her desk. “What’s this bullshit about closing the restaurant, Mabel?”

Mabel’s smile contracted to a grimace. “Oh dear, I’d hoped you wouldn’t hear any gossip about that. Nothing has been decided yet. It’s still very possible that the restaurant will only need to close for one more day a week rather than closing altogether.” She gave him a rueful smile. “I know I should have brought this up with you before, but we’ve all been so busy, haven’t we? And so much drama!”

“Cut the crap, Mabel.” Joe straightened. “What are you trying to pull?”

Her eyes hardened, but her smile stayed firmly in place. The woman was obviously a pro. “Well, to be blunt the restaurant is too expensive for the inn. It’s pulling down the rest of our profits. I’m going to propose three alternatives to Mauritz—cutting back on the days we’re open, closing the restaurant altogether or firing you.” She gave him a flint-eyed smile. “Your salary accounts for a major part of the restaurant’s expenses right now.”

“All of that would make sense if the restaurant wasn’t paying for itself.” He gave her a humorless smile of his own. “In fact, of course, it’s more than paying for itself. And has been for the past two months.”

Mabel’s smile didn’t waver. “I’m sure you wish that was the case. Unfortunately, it isn’t.”

“Oh but it is.” Joe broadened his smile slightly to show more teeth. “You see, when we had our first conversation, way back before Kit Maldonado was hired, when you said you couldn’t afford to hire more wait staff or a professional hostess, and the wait staff you brought in was clearly incompetent, I started keeping track of the daily receipts in the restaurant. And I made copies for myself going back a few months.”

He wasn’t entirely sure, but Mabel might have paled slightly. She managed a quick shake of the head, along with another patronizing smile. “Unfortunately, receipts don’t tell the whole story, Joseph. As I said, your salary is a major expense. So is the overhead in the restaurant—wait staff, maintenance, laundry, the cost of food, even the cost for printing menus. All of it adds up, and it undercuts the restaurant’s success.”

“Yeah, I figured the restaurant’s expenses would probably be your excuse. So I kept track of the Rose’s expenses too. I contacted the vendors directly, and I made copies of everything. You forget, Mabel, I’ve been in this business for a lot of years. Sometimes in places where I was in charge of the front of the house as well as the back.”

Mabel swallowed, her smile curdling. Her hand contracted to a fist on the desktop. “Nonetheless, I keep the books. I’m only too aware of how expensive the Rose has become. And I’ll be sending the records to Resorts Consolidated at the end of the month. They’ll make the final decision, of course.”

Joe shrugged. “I really wouldn’t do that if I were you, but of course it’s your call. I’ve already taken the liberty of sending a couple of spreadsheets to Mauritz. I wanted to get his input on the hiring situation for the restaurant. I also recommended we start dinner service and a Sunday brunch. We’ll switch the closed day to Monday since Sunday is a big day for dining out. As I understand it, he’s all in favor.”

“You don’t have the complete figures,” she snapped. “All the expenses. You can’t. I’m the only one who has them.”

“Yeah, that’s true. That’s why I broke into your office a few times over the past couple of weeks. You really need a better lock on that door, and you sure as hell need better security on your computer.”

Mabel’s eyes widened. He could hear the rasp of her breathing.

“I wanted to find the figures you were looking at. The real figures, that is.” His smile disappeared. “Not the ones where you charged off the event center’s expenses to the restaurant.” He shook his head. “Sloppy, Mabel. Very sloppy. Running the event center at a loss is a really bad idea, by the way. My guess is Mauritz will think so too. And if he and his accountants should happen to find a certain amount of rake-off going on with your suppliers, they’d be very, very unhappy.”

“I didn’t…” Mabel took a quick breath, folding her hands in front of her. “It hasn’t been running at a loss. And I haven’t been raking off anything. I may have accepted a few gifts from our suppliers, but that’s standard in this business. And it’s standard accounting practice to spread the expenses around the entire facility.”

“Right. That’s a standard accounting practice called juggling the books where you secretly switch expenses from one part of the inn to another. Makes it look like the event center’s a champ rather than a loss leader. Particularly interesting since that center used to be very profitable from what I understand. Mauritz is likely to hold you responsible for taking it down, Mabel. He won’t be pleased.”

She licked her lips, staring up at him, her brown eyes suddenly sharp. “What are you going to do?”

“You mean who am I going to tell? Nobody. As long as you don’t send in those juggled figures to the head office.” He rested his fists on the desk again. “That means hands off the restaurant, Mabel. Sooner or later the auditors are going to catch up with you, you know. I’d recommend sending in the real figures and taking your lumps, but that’s up to you. They probably won’t fire you for letting the event center go to hell. Just reassign you someplace else.” Like their resort in Alberta. According to Joe’s sources, it was snowed in for a large part of the year. Mabel should have plenty of time to work on her promotional skills.

“I’ll take that under advisement.” She sounded like she was gritting her teeth.

“You do that. Incidentally, Kit will be hiring more staff over the next two weeks. And she should be taking over the management for the restaurant, including all the ordering, given that she’s better at it than you are. You’re lucky to have her. We need a couple more waiters and busboys, plus I could use a pastry chef, particularly if we start doing a brunch. Although we might be able to work something out with Allie Maldonado. Assuming she’s happy with her reception this afternoon.” He gave Mabel a lazy smile. “Speaking of that, I’d better get back to my kitchen.”

He started for the door, then paused. “Do we have an understanding, Mabel?”

She stared down at her desk for a long moment, then looked up at him with a ghost of her former smile. “Of course. I’m so glad we had this talk, Joseph.”

“Oh me too.” Joe grinned at her. “Definitely.”

Nando came back to the station after lunch. With any luck he’d get a large chunk of the Brody paperwork out of the way this afternoon so he could spend the evening with Kit. He felt a brief clenching in his chest as he thought of her and wondered how long it would be until that feeling went away. Probably until he could forget the look in her eyes as she’d confronted Brody with the cake. In other words, a very long time.

Helen glanced up as he came in, then turned back to her screen. “Chief wants to see you.”

“Is he in his office?”

“Last time I looked.”

Oh well, he could do paperwork some other time. He headed up the hall.

Toleffson was sitting next to the folding table, his chin in his hand, staring at the contents of the trash sack that was spread out in front of him again. “Come on in.” He gestured toward the chair on the other side of the table. “Help me make some sense of this.”

Nando sank into his seat, frowning down at the pile of objects. “Making sense sounds kind of optimistic. I’m assuming Brody didn’t tell anybody anything.”