CHAPTER 14
Rose
The muscles in her left ring finger twitched, the familiar, telltale sign of anxiety returning to coat the pit in her stomach. Swallowing the invisible cotton ball in her mouth, Rose tapped on the back door of Pier Ninety-Two.
A slow, deliberate breath released through her lips as she squared her shoulders and fluffed her long, brown hair.
Just breathe, Rose. You’ve got this!
The lock clicked and the knob twisted, revealing Michelle’s somewhat familiar face.
“Happy first day!” the redhead shouted and pushed the door open. “Welcome to Pier Ninety-two, head chef!”
Rose’s cheeks burned with embarrassment. “Oh! Umm, thanks, Michelle!” A flurry of tingles tickled her skin, snaking along her spine as she stepped inside. Pressing a hand to her heart, she smiled. “I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t super nervous.”
Michelle grinned and gestured down the long hallway. “Oh, my gosh, don’t be! We are all thrilled to have you here.” She snorted. “Trust me.”
“Er, okay.” Rose tailed Michelle to the first door on their right. The brass nameplate read, Miguel Rodriguez, Owner.
Michelle knocked and twisted the knob. Poking her head inside, she whispered, “Boss?”
But only silence answered.
“That’s weird. He must not be here yet.” Turning her wrist over, she frowned at her watch and tapped the screen. “Umm, sorry.” Michelle cleared her throat. “I’m sure he’s just running a few minutes late.”
Rose grinned. “Happens to the best of us.” The nerves in her belly toppled over, the ongoing game of Jenga coming to a conclusion as Michelle closed Miguel’s door and headed for the set of double doors further down the hall.
“Welcome to your new kitchen,” she said and pushed the doors open.
Rose’s eyes widened, ready to burst from her head as the gleaming, stainless-steel space sparkled in the early morning hour. Cooks and kitchen staff bustled back and forth, an hour before the first customer would even appear.
“Oh! Hey, Rose! It’s good to see you again!” A woman to her right dropped a bowl on the counter and grinned. “Congrats on the job!”
“Thank you.” Rose nodded and forced a smile on her lips.
What was your name again?
“You probably don’t remember me. I’m Martha. Just a part-time kitchen aid, but we met at your interview.”
“Oh, of course!” Extending her hand, Rose grasped Martha’s boney fingers and shook. “It’s so nice to see you again.”
“Likewise!” Her aged lips twisted into a smile. “Whatever you need, just holler.” Martha winked before scooping up her bowl and stepping away.
“See.” Michelle nudged her in the elbow. “I told you. We’re all happy to have you here.”
Relief crashed through her. Breathing out a breath of stale air, Rose smiled and cupped her warm cheeks. “I’m so glad to hear you say that. I honestly wasn’t sure what it would be like stepping into a system already in place with... er, you know, with more seasoned employees.”
“Don’t be silly! If there was someone here who wanted the head chef role, Miguel would have hired them a long time ago.” A frown creased her lips as she looked around the busy kitchen. “And speaking of...” Her gaze scoured the space. “I still don’t see him. That’s so weird.”
Rose nodded.
“Really unlike him, too,” Michelle added and motioned for Rose to follow her through the doors to the dining room. “Maybe he’s out here.” She shrugged and pushed through the elegant wooden barrier.
Rose followed as the clanks from the kitchen echoed behind them. As she scanned the length of every empty table, another smile blossomed imagining the hordes of future customers, all ordering delectable meals from her signature menu.
I can’t wait to get started!
“So weird,” Michelle muttered again, pulling Rose from her moment of Utopia. She stuffed her hand in her back pocket and gripped her phone. “Give me a quick second. I’ll call him.”
“Oh, yeah. Of course,” whispered Rose as Michelle tapped on the screen. “I’ll just wait right here.” Motioning to the closest barstool, she tiptoed over and dropped her butt onto the faux leather seat.
Rose ran her hand over the smooth surface of the bar and released another heavy exhale—until the ringtone of an iPhone claimed her gaze and broke through the silence of the dining room. Pointing at the device causing the racket, she waved at Michelle.
“Umm, I think someone may have left their phone here last night,” Rose muttered as Michelle stepped closer to investigate.
Or is that Miguel’s phone?
Michelle scooped it up and furrowed her brow. “I don’t understand.” Her head spun on a swivel as she searched the space again. “This is Miguel’s phone.”
Oh!
Staring at the growing concern on her face, Rose tilted her head to the side, bringing into view a second phone on the counter. Her heart raced with recognition at the familiar teal case.
Rachel?
Rose leaned forward and examined the second device. The breath left her, escaping from her lungs as if a vacuum had sucked the air clean from her windpipes. “This is my sister’s,” she huffed out and scooted down from the barstool.
“I’m so confused. They were both here last night when I left. But it was like 10:45. We’d closed.”
“Did you see his car in the lot when you got here this morning? What does he drive?”
Peering outside, Michelle stood on her tiptoes. “A Mazda 3, but he usually parks in the side alley.” Motioning for Rose to follow, she dashed toward the back door. “Come on, let’s go look,” she called over her shoulder.
Rose followed, quickly shadowing her steps through the kitchen and back to the long hallway. Her skin tingled, the growing worry in her gut overpowering the nerves she’d started the day with.
What’s going on here? Rach, where are you?
Michelle pushed the back door open and brought her hand to her forehead to shield her eyes from the morning sun. She pointed to the side alley with her opposite hand. “There. Right there,” she muttered as Rose followed her finger with her line of sight. “That’s his car.”
“So, he’s still here then.” Rachel dropped her gaze to her sister’s phone in the palm of her hand, eyeing an unread message on the home screen sent by Tess at 11:03 PM. “Michelle, this is really freaking me out.” She shook the phone in the air, and a shiver zipped through her. “My sister never leaves her phone, let alone with unanswered text messages.”
“Let’s not panic just yet, okay?” She stepped back inside, and the door slammed behind her. “We’ll keep looking. Just because they’re not in the dining room or kitchen, doesn’t mean they’re not still here.”
Rose tailed her steps again, half running, half walking down the hall. This time, Michelle passed Miguel’s office and entrance to the kitchen completely.
“There’s a basement, a lounge, private party room, and a storeroom...” Huffing out a breath, Michelle reached the end of the hallway and turned right. She rammed her key into the lock and pushed on the staff lounge door, revealing nothing more than a sink and an empty set of tables and chairs. “Ugh,” she groaned and rolled her eyes.
“You said there’s a basement?”
“Mmm-hmm.” Pulling the door closed, she bit her bottom lip. “But I can’t imagine why they’d be down there. Let’s try the storeroom first.”
Rose nodded and followed as Michelle led the way. Swallowing the anxiety rising in her throat, she wiped a sheen of sweat from her brow.
“Maybe they were restocking the bar or something,” Michelle muttered as they turned the corner. “That door sticks, so—”
A muffled pounding echoed, disturbing the quiet but fueling the angst in Rose’s heart with adrenaline.
“Oh, shit!” Michelle sprinted and screeched to a halt in front of the storeroom door.
Dull bangs and calls gripped her ears as Rose arrived, witnessing the moment Michelle shoved her key into the lock. Twisting the knob, she pushed the door open and sighed with relief.
“I have to pee so bad!” Rachel flew past them and dashed down the hall in a mad rush.
“Oh, my God! Are you okay?” Michelle grinned as Miguel emerged.
Shaking his head back and forth, he dropped his hands to his knees. “Rose, as our new head chef, your first job is to make sure I get this fucking door replaced.” He tapped the knob and straightened, dragging a hand through his unkempt hair.
Rose snorted. Covering her mouth with her palms, she stifled a laugh as he accepted his phone from Michelle. “Absolutely.” She giggled. “Consider it done.”
Miguel stretched his arms in the air and gripped the top of the door frame with a wink. “Welcome to Pier Ninety-Two.”
She snorted and eyed the buttons on his shirt, rammed through incorrect holes.
Welcome to Pier Ninety-Two. But I think my sister may have gotten a different kind of greeting...
––––––––
Rose grinned as Cole squeezed her around the middle and pressed a kiss on the top of her head. “How was your first day?”
She snorted and tapped the rusted railing on their condo’s balcony. “Really good. But you’ll never guess how it started.”
Cole sank into a plastic patio chair. “Give me a clue.”
“Quirky. Brunette. A pyro with a real estate license.”
He squinted and leaned forward to grip his bottle of beer. “What does Rachel have to do with your first day?”
The late-afternoon sun kissed her skin as Rose moved from the railing to take the seat opposite him. Crossing her legs beneath the table, she bonked her knee on the metal frame.
Ouch!
“Rose?”
She groaned and lifted her gaze to his familiar face, taking in the curiosity radiating from his baby blue stare. A bubble of discomfort grew in her gut as he pushed a glass of wine in her direction across the smudged glass tabletop—along with the dreaded blue pocket folder.
“Why the folder?” She frowned at its fraying edges and the scribbled phone numbers covering the front like a work of amateur graffiti.
“Rachel first.” Snickering, Cole tilted his head in amusement.
A breath left her as the folder rested between them, the papers stuffed inside bursting with endless wedding possibilities. Bridesmaid dresses and floral arrangements... As she swallowed the guilt brewing in her belly, a chill gripped her. Cake flavors and party favors... The folder taunted her, the December 21st date written in permanent marker searing into her soul with finality. Marriage licenses and wedding rings...
“Rosey Posey?” Cole nudged her beneath the table with his toe. “Are you okay?” He brought the bottle to his lips and sipped as a motorcycle roared into a parking space below.
Pull yourself together, Rose!
She nodded and forced a smile. Bringing the wine to her mouth, she gulped the summer blend of cranberries and apples. “Sorry,” she muttered and returned the wine to the table. “My mind is all over the place today.”
“I can tell.” Cole leaned forward and rested his hand over hers. “Did today not go well?”
Rose shook her head, relishing the warmth emitting from his fingers. “Oh! No, today went really well. Pier Ninety-Two is absolutely amazing.”
“Good.” Releasing her fingers, he sank back in his seat and grinned. “What’s Rachel Ray got to do with it then?”
Rose snorted. “You know she hates it when you call her that.”
He nodded, the lingering smile on his lips highlighting the dimple on his left cheek. His face flushed—the sun sinking lower in the sky—blinding them both. “I’ll stop. I promise,” he added with another gulp of beer.
No, you won’t.
Rose rolled her eyes. “I can’t believe I’m even saying this, but I found her locked in the storeroom with my new boss this morning.”
Cole choked on his beer. Sputtering, he coughed and replaced the bottle on the table. His eyes watered as his gaze lifted to hers. “I’m sorry, what?”
Rose laughed. “I’m not kidding. I mean, I knew they were seeing each other...” She sipped more wine and giggled again. “But I definitely didn’t expect to find her half-clothed in his arms at 7 AM.”
His eyes widened. “Half-clothed?”
Miguel’s askew buttons returned to her mind, inviting a belly laugh from her gut. “I’m exaggerating. But they were definitely doing something in there all night.” She winked. “The buttons on his shirt were all messed up when we opened the door. I don’t think he noticed.”
Cole chuckled and lifted his arms in a stretch. Massaging the muscles in his neck, he snorted. “Leave it to Rachel,” he muttered.
“She really likes him.”
“So, she locked him in there on purpose?”
“Cole!” Rose rammed a kick into his shin and laughed.
“Okay, okay!” Holding his palms out, he cringed away from her playful attack. “I’m kidding! I’m kidding!”
Rose downed the rest of her wine and basked in the slow fog relaxing her body.
“Well, your sister’s storeroom sex aside, today went well?” Cole lifted his right brow and opened the folder.
Swallowing the immediate dread consuming her heart, she nodded. “Definitely. Everyone is really nice. It’ll take some time to get used to their setup, but they all seem super patient,” she choked out in a single breath.
His fingers flipped through pages, sorting and stacking until he landed on the ones he sought. “That’s good,” he muttered and flicked the pile of papers in her direction.
Her gaze fell to the black ink, the bold words reading contract agreement at the top.
“I want to hear more about your day, but I promised Janet the venue coordinator I’d have this signed and sent back to her before 5 PM.” Nudging the papers forward, he pointed to the blank signature line beneath her name. “Sign this one right here to solidify our date.”
Her gaze drifted to his signature—already signed, already committed to the grand marital affair at Maravilla Gardens on December 21st. Her hand shook as she gripped the pen.
Cole pulled out his phone and tapped the screen as Rose studied the contract and pressed the tip to the paper.
“Hurry up, sweetie,” Cole cooed. “I’ve got like five minutes to send it.”
Her breath hitched, lodging deep within her chest as she forced her fingers to drag the pen over the paper in a loopy scroll. Blinking back the burn behind her lids, she pushed the papers across the table.
Cole snapped a photo and tapped away, oblivious to the slow poison swimming in her veins.
This is all wrong.