Don't Forget Me (9 page)

After the first half hour, she’d been dividing her time between seating customers, pouring water, tea and coffee, and occasionally helping Gabriel clear tables, which meant discouraging his not-particularly-subtle passes and avoiding the occasional wandering hand.

After his fifth attempt to impress her with muttered promises of his sexual stamina, Kit’s patience snapped. “Listen, kid, I’m old enough to be your big sister,” she snarled. “And if you don’t stop hitting on me and start doing the work you’re paid for, you’ll be looking for alternative employment as a boy soprano. Now zip it!”

Gabriel had given her his version of puppy eyes, but Kit ignored him. She didn’t have time for hurt feelings. Hell, she didn’t have time to breathe!

Ms. Mabel Morgenstern had looked in during the height of the rush, waving cheerfully when she saw Kit with a water pitcher but wisely choosing not to stop for a chat. Other than that, she saw no one but customers and wait staff.

She soon figured out that Elaine was at the beginning of what passed for her food service career. She was sweet and friendly and likeable and only borderline competent. Phillip knew what he was doing, but he wasn’t likely to warm up the customers with an expression that made him look like a former serial killer. Still, when a group of six came in, she put them on Phillip’s station, although it would bring him close to capacity, since only he was remotely capable of handling a group of that size. She hoped his tips would make up for it.

The rush began to die down around one thirty, although they still got a few groups of four and some couples.

When she’d run the last credit card and watched the last table of four head through the dining room entrance, Kit collapsed into one of the booths near the bar. If this pace kept up, she’d forget about looking professional and start wearing running shoes.

LeBlanc appeared beside her, carrying a bowl and a couple of plates. Apparently he’d been a waiter in some earlier incarnation. He placed the bowl in front of her. “Mushroom bisque. Saved you a bowl. The server corps managed to move the rest of it.”

He dropped down opposite her, putting a plate of cheese, bread and fruit in the middle of the table while he set a large Panini in front of himself. “See what you got yourself into, darlin’?”

Kit picked up her spoon. “This is insane. If it’s like this at lunch, why aren’t we open for dinner? Surely we’d pick up some of this crowd.”

LeBlanc’s smile curdled. “You got that right. I don’t know what the hell Mabel’s waiting for. You want a fine dining experience in Konigsburg, right now it’s Brenner’s. It’s taken us a while to build back up from where that asshole Carville left us, but word’s gotten out little by little. We could definitely give Brenner’s a good run for the dinner crowd.”

“Do you do breakfasts too?”

He shrugged. “We buy pastry from your aunt, and either Jorge or Leo comes in early to make omelets. It’s mostly for the inn guests anyway.”

“What about Sunday brunch?”

LeBlanc glowered again. “I’ve been trying to get Mable to let us start one, but she’s dragging her feet. Hell, brunch makes a shitload of money and it burns off leftovers. What’s to lose?”

Kit shook her head. “What leftovers?”

His grin returned. “Piece of advice, darlin’—don’t get anything on a brunch table that’s served in a cream sauce.”

“So no brunch and no dinners.” She frowned. “Seems like a waste of a great kitchen and what could be a great restaurant.”

LeBlanc grimaced. “It
is
a waste of a great kitchen. Right now the only outside stuff we’re doing is catering for groups at the event center. Sooner or later Mabel will get her ass in gear, but right now she’s stalling.”

Kit took a bite of her mushroom bisque and sat up straight. The earthy, woodsy taste of the mushrooms was bound in a silken sauce of broth and cream. Her taste buds were applauding. “This is wonderful.”

His mouth spread in a slow grin. “Well, sure it is, darlin’. I don’t do crap.”

She didn’t bother to comment. Judging from his bisque, his opinion was justified. “No wonder we’re doing such great business.”

“Yeah, now maybe ol’ Mabel will hire somebody who actually knows how to serve food,” LeBlanc growled.

Kit sighed. “Elaine’s trying. She just needs more experience. I’ll work with her—she’ll pick it up. And Philip does okay.”

“Ol’ Phil knows his way around a table. Course he only learned it after Mabel hired him, but he’s a quick study.”

“He didn’t have any experience when he came?” Kit shook her head. “I thought that’s why you must have hired him. I mean he’s sort of mature for a beginning waiter.”

“Hey, darlin’, I was desperate. All the wait staff quit when Carville cut their wages. Mabel kept promising me people, but she didn’t get around to it. Phil showed up looking for a job and he wasn’t fussy about what he did, so I drafted him. Showed him how to be a waiter, so we at least had a warm body in the dining room when we got customers.”

“And Elaine?”

LeBlanc shook his head. “She was Mabel’s hire. I don’t know what she’s getting paid, but my guess is Phil gets more. He’s worth it too.”

Kit rubbed a hand across the back of her neck. “I don’t understand. Isn’t the restaurant separate from the hotel? Why is Ms. Morgenstern responsible for hiring people in the front of the house?”

“The hotel owns the restaurant, so Mabel can hire wait staff, but the kitchen’s mine. I hire the chefs. In a crisis, I’ll hire the wait staff too, but we’re beyond the crisis now, at least theoretically. You and I need to get on the same page about the kind of wait staff we need. Then we can make the case with Mable. Or try to, anyway. Tell her there are better places to save money than by hiring people who don’t know what they’re doing because they work cheap. Plus you need to be in charge of stuff like laundry and printing the menus. Maybe it’s time for another Come To Joe conversation.”

“Sounds like you and Ms. Morgenstern have some issues.” She took another spoonful of her soup.

“Mabel doesn’t know a mussel from a clam. She’s strictly interested in the bottom line. Me, I’m more in tune with the sensual arts.” He gave her a slow smile that made her stomach feel jumpy all of a sudden.

Kit blew out a breath. “Thanks for the soup. I guess I’d better run to check the reservations again. I’m still trying to figure out the software.”

LeBlanc’s faintly sardonic grin returned. She had a feeling he knew exactly what she was really running to, or from. “You do that, darlin’. I’ll check to make sure Gabriel got the dining room cleaned up. He’s okay, but sometimes he gets distracted.”

Kit swallowed hard as she headed for the restaurant office again. She had a feeling Gabriel wasn’t the only one who got distracted around here.

Brody put his frozen dinner into the microwave and set the controls. He’d much rather have grabbed a hamburger in town, but that represented one of those unnecessary risks he was trying to avoid. The less he showed his face in Konigsburg, the less likely it was that anyone would recognize him. He did his limited grocery shopping in Johnson City, and even there he was constantly on guard for people who might look at him twice.

His jaw tightened as the microwave timer ticked down. He was still trying to understand the unnecessary risks he’d taken the night before. Breaking into the bookstore had been part of the plan, of course, but he hadn’t realized just how good revenge would feel once he got in there. He hadn’t originally intended to go beyond knocking some books on the floor and walking off with a few of the more expensive trinkets lying around to attract the tourists. But once he got started, the rest of it just seemed to happen. Each book he’d tossed across the room had loosened something inside his chest until he’d started doing more than tossing. The sound of tearing paper had given him more pleasure than he’d had in years. More pleasure than he’d had since he’d been driven out of Konigsburg, in fact. For once, he’d felt like he was in charge of his own destiny again, the way he should be.

And the final
coup de grâce
, the final gesture of contempt. That had given him a kind of wild satisfaction he’d never thought he’d feel again.

Of course, once he was back at his miserable excuse for a room, he’d realized the stupidity of that final gesture. He’d left them some DNA, although it might take them a while to process it. Then again, he didn’t figure he’d wait around too much longer anyway. His plans should be in motion fairly soon, and then he could hit the road for good, never returning to Konigsburg again.

Still, he’d have given a lot to see Docia Kent’s face this morning. If he could have figured out a safe way to do it, he’d have waited in town until she showed up at her shop. But when push came to shove, he wasn’t willing to trade his safety for the pleasure of seeing her suffer.

At least he didn’t think he was. Yet.

Chapter Six

By the end of her first week at the Woodrose, Kit had finally gotten the reservation system to behave (after Mabel Morgenstern had promised to take the idea of a national reservation service “under advisement”), and she’d begun to give Elaine some rudimentary training in the art of waiting tables. And by the end of each workday she was thoroughly exhausted. She pulled into Allie’s driveway at six, after she’d gotten set up for lunch the next day. The house was dark, not that she’d really expected Allie to still be around.

Now that her wedding problems had been taken care of by dropping them in Kit’s lap, Allie usually took off for Wonder Dentist’s around dinner time. Kit hadn’t actually talked to her aunt since their last conversation about the wedding a couple of days ago, given that Allie got up at four to bake her breakfast pastries and Kit didn’t pull in until she’d finished riding herd on Gabriel and the dishwasher, Morrie.

Allie had told Wonder that Kit was going to take over the wedding. She’d even used the phrase “wedding planner,” which made Kit’s stomach tie a couple of new knots. She’d managed to pull her aunt aside before she disappeared that evening. “Allie, I don’t know much about event planning, let alone wedding planning. I said I’d help, but I figured you’d still be making the major decisions. I mean I’ve never done anything like this on my own.”

Allie shook her head. “You’ve got terrific taste, sweetheart. You’ll figure out what to do, I know it. If I try to do anything, I’m liable to have another panic attack. I’m just going to turn it all over to you.”

“But I don’t even know what you want to spend,” Kit said desperately. “How can I plan anything when I don’t know what’s in your price range?”

Allie frowned. “That’s a good point. Let me put together a budget, then you can work from that. Shouldn’t take me long.” She gave Kit another bright smile. “I’ve got confidence in you, kid. And I’m so grateful that I don’t have to worry anymore.”

Allie’s smile was so tremulous that Kit didn’t have the heart to make any more objections. But she had a feeling she’d been cornered into doing something that would eat up great chunks of her life for the foreseeable future. Not that she had a whole lot of other things pending at that moment. And, of course, she’d volunteered for this.

You owe her.
She did. She really did.

She changed out of her professional clothes, pitching her two-inch heels to the back of the closet. From now on she’d decided to wear flats, possibly even running shoes, even if she didn’t look like the hostess of the year. She walked to Allie’s kitchen in her bare feet, feeling her arches ache. Her aunt had left a note on the table directing her to the refrigerator for a plate of leftovers. There was also a printout from her spreadsheet. Kit squinted at the figures. Apparently, it was supposed to be the wedding budget. She sank into her chair, rubbing her eyes. She
so
didn’t want to screw this up. Any more than she wanted to screw up the job at the Rose. She wasn’t sure who she was trying to impress exactly, but she had a sneaky suspicion it might be herself.

She peeked under the aluminum foil at the plate of leftover spaghetti, which was perilously close to what she’d had for lunch, although Joe LeBlanc’s sauce was probably more complex. She sighed. What she really wanted to do, she realized suddenly, was have a beer and nachos at the Faro and maybe gossip with Deirdre Brandenburg when she had a minute.

You know Nando will be there, right?

Kit swallowed hard. Well, so he’d be there. So what? She didn’t intend to make life difficult for either of them, but she also didn’t intend to keep away from places where she wanted to go just because Nando might be there too. They both needed to be adults about this and just get over it. She was ready to show everybody she was a grown-up.

Which was close to a total crock. She sighed.
Oh well, let’s just pretend it’s true for now.
The Faro had seemed like her kind of place, and she’d find a way to share it with Nando. And if he showed up there with another woman…she’d deal. Somehow.

She grabbed her keys and headed for the door.

The Faro was having a good night, or maybe it was just a normal night. Having only been there once, Kit was in no position to judge. The tables looked mostly full, the crowd largely male but with enough women scattered around to keep her from feeling uncomfortable. She found a seat at the bar.