One Last Promise (A Bedford Falls Novel Book 2) Page 23

  “Are you his number one fan?” asked Damon with a sly grin. “President of the unofficial fan club? Maybe posting romantic fan fiction?”

  “Funny,” she said in a voice heavy with sarcasm. “He was my first crush, and no matter how much I loved my sister, I kind of hated her back then for having had him as a boyfriend.” She couldn’t help but travel back in time when she subsisted on dreams that would never come to fruition. “I was supposed to be Mrs. Scott Mettle. We’d get married in a music venue. Instead of that boring organ crap, his music would blare from the speakers, and I would come down the aisle, wearing all white with black fingernails and raccoon eye-mascara and spray a ton of aerosol hair spray around my head, so my hair would pile up real high.”

  “So the traditional wedding?” Damon said. “I’ll tuck that away for future use.”

  “I was eleven,” she said. “And yes, I’m a traditional girl. Didn’t you hear me? I wanted a white wedding dress.”

  Damon, far from intimidated by the yearning she’d done fifteen years ago, slipped an arm around her shoulders. “How come it didn’t work out between him and your sister?”

  Kelsey’s near-fanaticism vanished. “No one knows. Ashley never told anyone.”

  “Everybody ready?” Alex asked from behind them. Marisa walked alongside him with Cassandra tagging along behind them.

  Kelsey felt bad for Cassandra and vowed to do whatever it took to bring her closer into her tight-knit friendship with Marisa. Honest and loyal friends were hard to find, and she had no intention of letting Cassandra, who seemed like she’d be a lot of fun during a night on the town, or even if they’d stayed in for a night of board games, fade into the distance.

  The trio swished past her and headed out to the car while she locked the front door.

  “Are you busy next weekend?” Damon asked. “I’d like to tarnish your plans for a drawn-out, illicit affair and take you out on a proper date.”

  Kelsey loved his sense of humor. She never knew what he might say from one minute to the next. And it allowed her plenty of opportunities to exaggerate, her favorite form of humor. “Depends,” she said, acting as though men approached her for dates on a daily basis. “What did you have in mind?”

  “The best first date spot in existence.”

  “Is it a concert? Or maybe ice skating? Or what about—”

  “Even better: Costco.”

  “What?”

  “They’ve got everything we could want. They’ve got huge flat screens that play movies and comfortable furniture to sit on. It’s way cheaper than going to the movie theater. Now, I realize it’s noisier there, but they’ve got tons of food to choose from. If you want popcorn and candy, we’re covered. If you want—”

  “Really? That’s your best idea for a first date?”

  “Oh, you’re partial to Sam’s Club?”

  “Hmmm. I’ll consider Costco if…that proper date includes a bottle of vodka and mischief aplenty, followed by a deep massage and a bubble bath.”

  “A bottle of vodka? No problem. Costco has plenty of liquor. And mischief aplenty? I can provide that while giving you that deep massage…in a bubble bath. But something tells me Costco won’t supply the water, which makes bubbles unlikely. And I’m taking a wild guess here, but they might frown upon members who drink vodka and climb into a Jacuzzi to get frisky.”

  Even though she wouldn’t dare let that happen on a first date (or second, third, or fourth, for that matter), she couldn’t help but relish the prospect of such an encounter. “Whoa. Who said anything about getting frisky?”

  Her ringtone of “Don’t Get Me Wrong,” the ’80s song by the Pretenders indicated an incoming call from Forever and Always. She had enough staff coverage this morning: two short-order cooks and two waitresses. Only Nina Gilford, the waitress she’d been mentoring, would call if an emergency occurred. She answered the phone with an eerie feeling in the pit of her stomach. Hopefully, nothing drastic like a malfunctioning HVAC unit or plumbing issues took shape.

  “Hi, it’s Nina. You’re not going to believe this, but it’s just me and Brittany here.”

  “What?” Kelsey asked, trying to keep her composure. “Where are Ramon and Hillary?”

  “I’ve called them, but neither is answering their phone. I’ve got all of our regulars and a family of four already waiting.”

  “They haven’t left a voicemail?”

  “No. It’s like they disappeared off the face of the earth.”

  “We have to close up. Please apologize to our customers. Tell them they’ll each get a free meal on their next visit. Then shut out the lights and put out the ‘closed’ sign. Stick around in case Ramon and Hillary show up late. I’ll try to reach them by phone.” She hung up. It figured that disaster would strike during the only weekend she’d taken off this year.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  After failing to contact her two short-order cooks on the way home, Kelsey couldn’t take action to reduce the stress that had caused a massive headache and tangled her nerves into a knot. She sat in the passenger seat, feeling miserable and wishing Scott would push the accelerator past 100 miles per hour so she could get home that much quicker, even though they were now only about 20 minutes from her home. That’s when she got another call from Nina. “Any news?” she asked.

  “Yes, but I don’t think you’re going to like it.”

  Kelsey’s head pounded even harder than before. “Tell me.”

  “They both quit.”

  Kelsey covered the speaker portion of her phone and cringed, wanting to scream a rash of obscenities that would impress a person suffering from Tourette’s syndrome. Instead, she tried to keep a level head. Three years ago, after polling short-order cooks who worked for her competitors, Kelsey eventually hired both Ramon and Hillary, who hadn’t worked for the competition, at a fair wage and had compensated them annually for their quick service and excellent skills. In addition, she paid them for sick days, while shilling out time and a half on holidays. In all their time at the diner, they had never requested a raise, although she had given them annual raises beyond that of inflation.

  “No two weeks’ notice?” she asked. “Did they say why they quit?”

  “I didn’t even speak with them. Ramon must have noticed that I’d called so many times. He sent me a link to an article on the Internet.”

  Puzzled, Kelsey tried to make sense of that statement. “What did it say?”

  “It’s probably best if I forwarded it to you. And since we won’t have a cook at the diner, Brittany and I are going to head home. There’s no use paying us if we can’t work. But let me know if you need us…for anything else, okay?”

  She didn’t like Nina’s hesitation and the ominous undertones with which she spoke. Kelsey had no doubt that the article her protégé sent would prove troublesome, to say the least. She ended the call and prepared herself for the worst.

  “What’s wrong?” Alex asked from the second row beside Marisa.

  “Yeah, what happened?” asked Damon from the back row with Cassandra nodding her head, seeking an explanation. Max had jumped up on the seat between them. He tilted his head to the side, a curious expression on his face.

  Kelsey shook her head. “I don’t know. But it’s not good.” An incoming text with the article arrived on her phone. She didn’t want to click on the link, preferring ignorance to whatever bad news awaited her. But that inclination only lasted a few seconds as curiosity got the best of her. She checked out the article published a couple hours ago by Gayle Hart of the Bedford Falls-Vista Heights Times …

  “One of the more popular dining establishments in the city, Forever and Always, a 1980s-themed diner that specializes in serving customers for breakfast and lunch, suffered a rash of resignations yesterday, which will likely lead to the diner shutting its doors, at least temporarily. According to sources, six of the eight staff members the diner had employed abruptly quit under mysterious circumstances. Attempts to reach the establishment’s
proprietor, Kelsey Lawford, have gone unanswered.”

  “Oh my God!” Kelsey said, startling everyone in the station wagon. “Most of my staff at the diner quit. The reporter, Gayle Hart, says they resigned under mysterious conditions. But what mysterious conditions? I was only gone for a day. What huge issue could have happened in a day? And the reporter said she tried contacting me, but I haven’t received any phone calls or text messages lately from any phone numbers I didn’t recognize.”

  Marisa scoffed. “Gayle Hart is all about sensationalism. She tried to make a stink when our library changed a policy. She doesn’t care about accuracy. She just wants to ruffle feathers and cause a raucous.”

  “Yeah,” Alex said, “she’s bad news.”

  Max barked once, obviously in agreement.

  With the possibility that she might need to shut down the diner for an extended period of time, which would result in a loss of capital that might make it difficult to remain open long-term, Kelsey’s heart throttled and her vision swirled. She regained her focus and picked up reading where she left off…

  “Lawford, who has recently opened another themed restaurant, The Witching Hour, inspired by Hollywood Horror films, may have even more misfortune on the horizon. According to our sources, more than half of the staff at this new establishment has also resigned, leaving the prospect of re-opening soon tenuous, at best.”

  This time, Kelsey just stared at the words on her phone, assuming that she’d misread the article, or that the information applied to a different Kelsey Lawford, one who didn’t spend almost all of her waking hours trying to provide a comfortable environment for both customers and staff.

  She just sat back in her seat, dazed.

  “Now what?” asked Marisa.

  Kelsey’s mouth felt as arid as a desert. Her mind overloaded with tension; she couldn’t grasp a coherent thought. “It’s all over. All of the planning. All of the money I set aside. Three and a half years of seventy-hour weeks. All of it…for nothing!”

  “What are you talking about?” Alex asked.

  Kelsey heard the tremor of fear in his voice, but she didn’t respond. In quick succession, she listened as her friends pelted her with questions, but she just looked out the windshield and stared at the black pavement, unwilling to let her mind process the truth.

  The song “Who Can it be Now,” by the group Men at Work played on her phone, indicating a call from an unknown caller. Kelsey avoided it.

  “Are you going to get that?” Marisa asked.

  Kelsey didn’t respond. And she didn’t bother answering the phone. She saw Scott dividing glances between her and the road, a concerned expression on his face. Then she heard some rustling behind her, and Alex appeared next to her before tearing the phone from her limp hand.

  “Hello?” he asked. “Who’s this? Paul? Listen, asshole, Kelsey doesn’t want to talk with you again. And if I ever see you again, I’m going to fuck you up…I don’t care if you’re recording this conversation. Listen…no, you listen: if you…”

  Kelsey only paid partial attention as her brother’s manic voice grew more unhinged with each sentence he shouted into the phone.

  A few moments later, Alex placed the phone beside her ear. “Kelsey,” Alex said in a surprisingly even tone. “You should take this.”

  She accepted the phone without feeling, as though she was a robot. “Hello,” she said in a monotone voice.

  “Hey, how’s it going?”

  “Hello, Paul.”

  “You sound somber. It wouldn’t have anything to do with the news about your restaurants, would it?”

  That broke Kelsey from her stupor. She hadn’t expected him to contact her again; after all, he’d stolen their money and destroyed their personal property. She could bring charges down on him – if they had evidence that he’d been behind the plot. But hearing Paul mention her restaurants…confused her. Had he read the news and sympathized with her? Did he call to apologize and offer her help? If so, she would never accept it. She wanted nothing to do with him. Ever!

  “I hope you understand,” Paul said in a gleeful voice, “that it’s nothing personal.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Why your staff quit.”

  Breathless, Kelsey waited for Paul to continue.

  “Do you remember the first time we met?”

  “At the kennel?”

  “No. Before that. At your whore cafe about a month ago. You were there with your mom.”

  She recalled a man named Mr. Jarvis, the new proprietor of the Blissful Burger. He wore that bad toupee, oversized glasses and had a bushy mustache in need of a trim. What did that man have to do with…oh, no!

  “I’m Mr. Jarvis. Surprise!”

  “But why did you dress up that way? And your teeth were disgusting.”

  “The clothes and fake teeth helped me get into character. Yes, I missed my true calling: acting. Oh well. I’ve chosen my path. But I told you I was impressed with your wait staff and your cooks. So I decided to hire them away from you.”

  She felt like someone had kicked her in the gut. “No!”

  “Yes.” He released pent-up laughter that disclosed how much joy he gained from this conversation. “Most certainly. I could even say, indubitably.”

  “But that’s unethical.”

  “According to you. In my opinion, it’s a smart business decision. You trained them to be a friendly and speedy group who make very few mistakes. You succeeded. Congratulations! So why should I waste my time hiring and disciplining and molding a new staff if I could just…give your staff a nice raise and convince them to work for me?”

  Now her stomach felt as if she’d swallowed a cup of grease. But rather than succumb to the sensation, she felt an inner strength reviving her. She turned to see five friends captivated by her conversation. They looked upset yet unflinchingly supportive. The notion that she could rely on these people helped clear the haze from her mind. “Paul, tell me, how many people did you hire away from me?”

  “Six from your greasy spoon,” he said, smiling as he talked. “And twelve from your whore café! Seems like you’ll be shut down until you can hire another eighteen people. In the meantime, I’ll get many of your clientele. Smart business decision, don’t you think?”

  “But why did you want to—”

  “Date you? I’m a good judge of character. I figured that if I liked you, I’d like the staff you employed.” He paused. “And because you’ve got a hot ass. I’m still open to hooking-up, by the way. Just give me a call.”

  Kelsey’s breath came so quick that her vision started to swirl. “You’re wrong.”

  “About your ass? No, it’s nice and tight. I’d like to tap that—”

  “You’re wrong about my restaurants closing down.”

  Paul roared with laughter. “Okay. Sure.” He paused to compose himself. “I guess we’ll see about that. But hey, give me a call if you want to hook-up sometime.” He hung up.

  “What happened?” Damon asked.

  Kelsey turned around to face the group. “Paul hired away over 50 percent of my employees. He did it to cripple my businesses and to increase patronage at his new restaurant, the Blissful Burger.”

  Alex grinded his teeth. “That shit-eating—”

  “It’s okay,” Kelsey said. She was still shaky and overwhelmed by the job ahead of her, but she felt more level-headed now that she had the full story.

  “What’re you going to do?” Marisa asked.

  “I’m going to close the diner for at least a week. Many of my customers are regulars, and they’ll understand. I’m confident they’ll return. But The Witching Hour just opened. We haven’t developed a customer base yet. Plus, I’ve invested too much time and energy to let it collapse. I need to keep it open. Which means I need to start looking to hire some new cooks and wait staff. Do you guys know anyone who has experience working in a restaurant?”

  Each person thought it over in silence. Marisa said, “I know a friend and a co
usin who’ve waited tables. I could give them a call.”

  “Great. Alex?”

  “Not that I know of, but I can put it out there on Facebook.”

  “I was a waitress,” Cassandra said, eager to help. “I can also help you train staff if you want.”

  Kelsey wished she could give the woman a hug. “That sounds perfect. Damon, can you help me?”

  “I’m between books right now, so I’ll give you all the help I can. Plus, I have over half a million likes on my Facebook author page. I can do a signing to get readers to visit, and post that you’re looking to hire.”

  Scott smirked. “I’ve got three times as many likes on my Facebook page. I’m sure I can get some people to stop by to interview as soon as you need.”

  “Hey, rock star,” Damon said. “How about playing a gig at The Witching Hour? That’ll get customers to drop by.”

  Kelsey sucked a gust of air into her chest at the mere mention of it.

  “I don’t know,” Scott said, shaking his head. “I haven’t played a gig in like seven years.”

  “You’re recording right now, right?” Damon said. “What better way to get people interested in the new music you want to put out. Plus, you can play some old favorites like “Right Love, Wrong Time” or “Loving You is Killing Me.”

  Kelsey stared at Scott, pleading with her eyes for him to agree to Damon’s idea then turned to Damon. “I thought you’d never heard of him?”

  He had difficulty meeting her eyes. “I might have heard a song or two…somehow.”

  She grinned at his dedication to help her get things back on track. She turned back to Scott. “What do you say? Please!”

  Scott didn’t drag his gaze from the road. “I can’t. I’m out of practice. I’d need—”

  “If I get Ashley to come, would you do it?”

  He whipped his head toward her. “Really?”

  “I guarantee it. Would you play for us? Your music would go great with our atmosphere.”

  “Sure,” he said, his voice raising a notch with both excitement and fright. “You bet.”