Chapter 1
Livvie
Too bad I didn’t have any peach cobbler, or anything else sweet and fruity. How I, a pastry chef, didn’t have any pastries in the house, was a mystery. I sipped my Riesling and wished for a dessert to eat while I drank it.
Oh, well. First world problem. Especially since I could walk to the main building and snag something from the kitchen, if I had a mind to.
I did not have a mind to. Not this late at night. I wasn’t scared to walk over there. Just lazy and already two glasses of wine in. Might as well carry on as I was.
Clicking through the pictures on my screen, I contemplated the designs Wes had sent over. He’d come highly recommended by my best friend’s new boyfriend, Toby, to renovate my grandmother’s bed and breakfast.
He’d better end up being good. I had to pay for him to come all the way from California to do the job. Why I couldn’t have just stuck with someone from Bluewater or nearby, I didn’t know, but Toby was convinced Wes was the man for the job.
A structural engineer had come out and taken a ton of pictures and made a bunch of notes that meant exactly bupkis to me, other than it was sure to be expensive, then he sent it all to Wes.
I’d gotten a quote back on the job a couple of days after that. And then, I had to go to the bank, get loan approvals, get Nana’s signature, the whole nine yards. But finally, everything was approved and all that was left was for me to look over the final changes and then work could begin.
My stomach was a ball of nerves and energy. I gulped down a few more mouthfuls of wine to calm my jangled nerves. Maybe it would help me stop second-guessing myself. This renovation was absolutely needed, but the price tag kept me in a constant state of terror.
The poor bed and breakfast was terribly outdated.
Sure, there were some tourists who wanted to stay in a rustic place with old-world charm, but it had gotten to the point where not even those tourists enjoyed their surroundings.
Faded wallpaper and threadbare quilts were not the style. If they ever were.
Most tourists wanted luxury and relaxation for their vacations.
That was just the upgrade the bed and breakfast needed.
I hoped to fully take over the business, and that meant being a lot more than a pastry chef.
Not that there was anything wrong with being a chef, but I wouldn’t be able to spend every day in the kitchen anymore.
I’d definitely miss that.
With a sigh, I read through the last few plans and tried to envision how it would all look in the end. The drawings really didn’t do justice to how Wes had described it on the phone. He had a knack for making the vision feel like a beautiful reality instead of a distant dream.
I had to admit, California or not, I was thoroughly impressed with Wes’s work. I’d have to make Liza and Toby a big cake if his results proved as impressive as his buildup.
As nervous as I was, I replied to the email with my approval, then was pleased that I didn’t feel nervous about the decision. I was excited. Exhilarated, even. Hiring Wes was the right move. I was sure of it.
After chugging the rest of the wine, I went to bed with a smile on my face, ready to face the coming construction and all the chaos that would arrive along with it.
The next morning, I slept late, something I rarely ever did.
I was officially on the job at the bed and breakfast, leaving Nana’s business partner, Wayne, to take over the catering for now.
If all went well, we’d partner more fully, with me helping with the catering and him helping with the bed and breakfast kitchen, but for now my only responsibility was the renovations and getting this place open again.
That meant just a few days of being able to relax before all the work got started full swing. Wayne had been very understanding about me needing to stretch out and learn all this hotel-running information while I could. Nana was ready to retire, and I was ready to take this on full-time.
Stretching, I lolled about in the bed, playing on my phone before getting up and taking a long, luxurious shower. It almost felt like being on vacation for a few days.
But I knew it was short-lived. All the more reason to enjoy it while I could.
I did have to do something today. I was interviewing restaurant managers. I dried my hair then checked the time. Oh, shoot. The first lady would be here in a half hour.
Slapping on a bit of light makeup, I hurried down the path to the restaurant, which was still open for the moment. Technically, the bed and breakfast was as well, but we only had one guest.
Me. I’d taken our little cottage on as my home, and I liked it so much that I had no plans of giving it back, though I’d included it in the renovation plans.
After a quick cup of coffee and finally getting to eat one of the pastries, I went into our private dining room and started the first interview.
Four people and two hours later, I had my mind set on the first young woman who had come in.
She was competent, if a little green, but Wayne and I could easily get her trained.
Besides, the kitchen in the bed and breakfast had a great staff already, though nobody that was right to step up into the role of restaurant manager.
Rather, nobody that wanted the job. I’d offered it to two different employees, but neither of them had time to take on the extra hours.
They’d help the new one acclimate, anyway.
Food service management was a job that demanded long hours, all across the industry. Not many were cut out for it.
I took a break for a snack from the kitchen, plus another cup of coffee, before taking my last interview. I doubted I’d want anyone other than my first interviewee, but I wouldn’t break the guy’s appointment. That would’ve been rude.
“Come in,” I called when someone knocked on the door to the private dining room.
A man walked in with a little bit of gray in his dark brown hair, twinkling blue eyes, and laugh lines. He was a bit older than me, but by far not so old as to be unfit for the job. Not that I could ever admit that even if he was, age discrimination and all that.
“Hello.” I stood and held out my hand. “I’m Olivia Halstead.”
He shook my hand firmly. “Calvin Mills.” After, he handed me a black folder.
“Please, have a seat.” I opened the folder to find his resume on the right side, and a stack of commendations on the left.
“I call that my brag book,” Calvin said. “It’s all the awards and praise I’ve received over my career in hospitality management.”
My eyebrows lifted as I read over the names on his resume. I’d forgotten about this guy. When I’d selected a handful of resumes to interview from the online job board, his had been a stand-out, but it had completely slipped my mind. “This is an impressive line of work, Mr. Mills.”
“Please, call me Calvin.”
I raised my eyes to see him smiling. A dimple had appeared in the corner of his mouth. For some reason, he set me at ease, as if his smile felt sincere. “Then you can call me Livvie.”
His smile deepened. “Nice to meet you, then, Livvie.”
“Tell me about working at The Grand in New York.” It was the most recent job on his list. “I can’t help but wonder why you’d want to go from something so prestigious to a tiny bed and breakfast in the middle of nowhere, Maine.”
“I’ve just purchased a property here in Bluewater.
My family vacationed here often when I was younger, and it’s always been my dream to live on the ocean here.
I considered putting in for a position in the city, but I’ll be honest with you, Livvie.
” He leaned forward and spoke as if conspiratorially.
“The drive isn’t worth it. Nor would the extra hours be.
” Leaning back, he got more serious. “To be frank, running a kitchen this size won’t be without its challenges, but I believe I have the experience to run it efficiently and with fewer hours than I might have to work in a big hotel kitchen with a twenty-four-hour service.
It makes it worth it to take a pay cut.”
I shrugged, understanding that he was used to a far faster pace.
He thought he’d have it easy here. “I hope you’d be right,” I said.
“With the right person, the work could be easier than other places.” I narrowed my eyes a little in mock speculation.
“I wonder how you’d react if you find the work equally as challenging. ”
He looked shocked for a moment, but then I relaxed my face and laughed. “I’m just teasing.”
We both chuckled. “Well,” Calvin said. “If I found it challenging, I would work hard to figure out why and correct the problem. A well-run kitchen, with a good staff, shouldn’t be overly challenging. Not like most people think it is. It should be fun, fast-paced, and efficient.”
I liked the sound of that. “As restaurant manager here, you’d be in charge of the front of the house as well as back. You wouldn’t be chef and kitchen only.”
He nodded. “I’ve done both jobs before. Front and back, as well as a combo. I find I love to be a chef but having the responsibility of more than just the food makes life varied and rarely ever boring.”
That was a reasonable and valid point. I had a good feeling about the guy. “I think it’s possible you’d be very helpful for our little restaurant,” I said. “Let me finish my interviews and do my reference checks. I’ll be in touch as soon as I have a concrete yes or no.”
We shook hands again and when he walked out, I couldn’t help but be excited about the direction he’d be able to take the restaurant. A great dining experience could make or break a bed and breakfast and I just didn’t have time to do both.
After a long afternoon of checking references for both the first girl I’d liked and for Calvin, I knew who I had to pick. I understood Calvin wanting to move here and start something new on a personal level, meaning we’d likely get along great.
Calling most of the interviewees wasn’t a big deal, but calling the other girl was harder. I’d liked her so much I might’ve made her feel like she had the job. Now I knew better, and in the future if I had to do interviews, I’d do them dispassionately.
Calvin’s phone call was a breeze. I offered him the job and the salary. He negotiated a bit on the money side of it, but I was able to bring him down with an extra week of vacation. It worked out great.
After hanging up, I started preparations for my dinner, feeling light as a feather.
And as that thought crossed my mind, the spatula floated up out of the skillet and hovered in mid-air.
Damn it. This had been happening for a while.
Well, or maybe not. It’d never done it in front of anyone else, so I had no idea if it was real or in my head. Most days, I leaned toward some sort of repeated hallucination. It wasn’t like I could go to a doctor and explain that when I got stressed, things tended to float around on me.
This time, I’d thought about being light as a feather, and it had triggered it. I had to be more careful. I didn’t always have a trigger to make it happen. Most of the time it just… happened.