Chapter 5
JIYA
After putting Lucas to bed, I explored a possibility that had been growing in my mind all evening. It was a considerable risk, and I knew that very well, but if it worked, it would surely pay off.
Sitting down at the table with my laptop, I began researching the costs of renovating restaurants.
I opened multiple tabs, read articles, compared numbers, and wrote emails to various suppliers and designers.
The glow of the screen lit the dim kitchen while the rest of the house sat wrapped in silence, and for the first time since being fired, my mind felt sharp instead of numb.
My daughter moved inside of me.
I paused and touched my belly instinctively.
The small movement made my heart swell with both love and sorrow at the same time.
The baby growing inside me made me think of Caleb every single minute of every single day.
There was no escaping him, not really. He lived in the child beneath my heart, in the memories I could not silence, and in the ache that still rose without warning.
I gazed at his picture every night before going to bed and again in the morning when I woke up.
Memories of the wonderful times we had shared filled my mind so acutely that tears often streamed down my face.
Many nights, I had stood in the bathroom silently weeping so Lucas would not hear me.
Should I check up on him again? Maybe I shouldn’t.
It had only been two days since I had last searched for him online.
Before I could talk myself out of it, I opened another browser tab and began surfing the internet again to find out what Caleb was up to.
Pictures of him appeared at various events with the company logo in the background.
I hunched over the laptop, choking down a sob as I stared at the screen.
Snapshot after snapshot showed him standing beside different women.
Caroline appeared in a few of them, but there were many other women I did not recognize.
Every image felt like another wound. He looked polished, handsome, completely at ease in a world that had once included me.
I hated that I was doing this to myself, hated that some weak and aching part of me still needed to know.
My body felt like it was crumbling in on itself.
It had been three months since I had walked away from him in the hospital, but I missed him terribly.
Some days, I could still hear his voice so clearly that it felt as though he might walk through the front door if I just waited long enough.
Other days, I reminded myself of what he had done and forced myself to remember why I had left.
Love and heartbreak had tangled themselves together so tightly inside me that I no longer knew where one ended and the other began.
Nothing appeared in the news or online about the kidnapping of Caleb’s nieces.
I found myself wondering how the girls were doing.
Were they alright? Did they continue to have nightmares about the incident the same way I did?
Did they wake up sweating and afraid, their little hearts pounding the way mine sometimes did in the middle of the night?
Since the incident, I had searched the internet every day for any mention of it, but there was never even a whisper in the media.
The more I thought about it, the more I realized Eleanor had ensured it remained quiet, exactly as Alex had recently suggested.
The police commissioner must have been well compensated for that silence.
Alex, my friend who worked as a police officer in Vancouver, had stayed in touch with me throughout the investigation involving the kidnapped Evans children and Jeremy.
Because he had known the truth from the beginning—along with the records of the charges I had filed against Jeremy, the threatening phone calls, and the final confrontation—it had been relatively easy for him to close the case. No charges were brought against me.
“Mrs. Evans came down to the station,” Alex had told me during one of our calls. “She insisted that nothing be leaked to the press and asked the officers involved to sign confidentiality agreements.”
“I’m not surprised,” I had replied. “She wouldn’t want anyone to know her family had been involved in something that made them look vulnerable.”
“Yeah,” he had said. “But she also made another request.”
“What was it?”
“She asked me to make sure your identity remained a secret—that your name never appeared anywhere.”
That request had puzzled me. I had already asked Alex to keep my file confidential, yet I still found myself questioning Eleanor’s motives. Was it guilt, protection, or control? With a woman like her, it was hard to tell where concern ended and strategy began.
“Caleb came to ask about you,” Alex had added.
Even now, remembering that moment made my pulse skip. At the time, my body had gone rigid with shock, and for one brief, foolish second, hope had flared before I forced it down.
“But as per your instructions, I told him the information was confidential,” Alex continued. “He wasn’t pleased. He even tried going to the Chief of Police and got the same answer.”
“Thanks for letting me know,” I had said. “Keep me posted if anything changes.”
Now, standing in the kitchen as I brewed a cup of herbal tea, I closed the browser tabs that displayed information about Caleb.
My heart still felt heavy, but I forced myself to refocus my energy on the idea that had been forming in my mind.
Steam rose gently from the mug as the scent of chamomile curled around me, soft and calming in a way I desperately needed.
I returned to my laptop and continued my research.
To see what’s happening in Caleb’s life during this time, read the first chapter in his Bonus Chapters.
With Halloween coming up that weekend, Lucas and I decorated the house together.
Watching his excitement helped distract me from my worries.
He ran from room to room holding up decorations and asking where each one should go, his face bright with enthusiasm.
I also decided to check out the restaurants along the waterfront while fitting trick-or-treating into our plans.
Lucas dressed up as Batman and Oreo as his Robin.
Their costumes made the neighbours adore them instantly.
The neighbours in my cul-de-sac had been incredibly kind and welcoming once they learned I was a single mother.
Lucas and I spent time visiting each home, exchanging phone numbers and sharing information about babysitters, doctors, teachers, and even the best ice-cream parlour in the village.
Their openness soothed something in me I had not even realized was still so raw.
After everything I had been through, kindness still caught me off guard.
There was only one house where no one answered the door.
I had rung the bell and knocked several times, but there had been no sound from inside.
It was two doors down from mine, and even from the outside, the place felt frightening.
Cardboard boxes filled with empty bottles cluttered the yard, weeds pushed through the tall grass, and vines crept along the walls while the paint on the front door peeled and faded.
I had never seen anyone go in or out of that house, and although the neighbours never mentioned it, I had not felt the need to ask.
Aside from that one house, I felt grateful that I had chosen this neighbourhood for us.
Lucas was thrilled with all the candy and chocolates he collected that Halloween weekend.
Worried that he might end up with a sugar rush, I was incredibly proud of him when he packed more than half of it into a bag to take to school on Monday so he could share it with the other children.
Watching him make that choice on his own had filled me with pride. He had such a generous heart.
While walking along the waterfront that weekend, I saw four restaurants and one pub. I carefully jotted down notes about each of them and later created a table on my laptop to compare them.
After studying everything closely, I reached a clear conclusion.
None of them had what the Tipsy Cow had.
An indoor and outdoor dining area.
A bar.
Pool tables.
All within the space of 3000 square feet.
Tourists constantly passed through Vancouver Island, and many of them stopped in this village.
I made a few phone calls and created a presentation on PowerPoint on Sunday night.
This could work. That hopeful thought stayed in my mind as I finally drifted off to sleep. It was fragile hope, but it was still hope, and after the week I had had, it felt like something precious.
Monday afternoon, I stepped into the restaurant and walked straight toward Jack. I wanted to speak with him privately, and I quickly realized that no one else was there except the man sitting in the corner.
“Jack, I would like to know if I can be a part of your restaurant?” I asked in a business-like tone.
“I don’t understand what you mean, Jiya.” He looked at me while rubbing his chin. “Would you like a job here?”
“No,” I replied and bit my lip. I quickly rephrased my question and blurted out, “I would like to co-own your restaurant and run it with you.”
His frown turned into laughter. “You think this is my restaurant?” He continued laughing. “Honey, I just work here.”
“Oh!” I jerked my head back in surprise. “I assumed you were the owner. I’m sorry.” I shook my head before asking, “Do you think I would be able to speak to the owner?”
He pressed his lips together. “Why don’t you tell me what you have in mind, and I can let him know and get back to you?”
I smiled widely, excited to explain.
“Well, for starters, I would like to renovate this place and employ a few more people.”
His eyes widened. “Do you have any experience at all running a restaurant?”
“I have worked as a waitress in two restaurants—one in Dauphin, Manitoba, and one in Vancouver,” I said as I handed him my résumé.
He scanned it briefly. “What makes you think you would be able to run a dead restaurant like this and bring it back to life?”
His question sounded harsh, but I understood it. I needed to convince him just as much as I needed to convince myself. I needed him to believe me.
More importantly, I needed to believe in myself.
The stakes were high. With nothing to fall back on and having lost the only job I had, I was determined to make this deal happen. This was not just about ambition. It was about survival. It was about building something stable enough to hold my children and me.
“I have a degree in Hospitality Management. I have studied this field, and my experience along with my education will prove to be valuable to this project that I hope to undertake,” I said confidently, straightening my shoulders and lifting my chin.
“What do you plan to do to attract customers?” he asked, his brow wrinkling.
“I will hire a restaurant expert who will transform this place and market it toward both locals and tourists. The restaurant would be shut down for about six to eight weeks.” My pulse quickened as I continued speaking.
“The renovation process would begin first. Hiring and training staff would begin two weeks before the grand opening, which would be around the fourteenth of December.”
I held my breath.
“Well, what about Will and me?” he asked.
“I want both of you to still be a part of this. I would like Will to be the head chef. And you,” I paused before continuing, “I would like you to be a Manager… a proper Manager.”
The silence inside the restaurant felt thick enough to cut with a knife.
My heart pounded loudly in my chest as I waited for Jack to respond.
I could hear the hum of the refrigerator behind the bar, the faint clink of glass, even the sound of my own breathing.
I had not even taken the laptop out of my bag yet to show him the presentation.
“But what about the budget to do all the renovations?” he asked, leaning against the bar counter.
I was ready for that question.
My research over the weekend had been extensive.
Despite spending time searching for information about my mother—which had still led nowhere—I had managed to gather a significant amount of information about renovation costs. The lack of progress about my mother still hurt, but I had pushed it aside long enough to focus on this.
“I estimate it would cost approximately $150,000, but I believe that number could decrease. Once the expert and designer examine the place, they will likely see that it only needs an uplift rather than a full-scale renovation.” I continued carefully, “Everything would be split in half between the owner and me if he agrees. All costs, profits, and losses.” I licked my lips nervously. “What do you think?”
He looked at me thoughtfully and then sighed. “God knows this place could use more customers and more business. Let me talk to the owner and get back to you.”
“Do you think I would be able to have a word with him? I have a folder and a presentation that I could discuss.”
“I’m sorry, Jiya. I can’t disclose that information yet. I hope you understand,” he said with a slight curl of his lips. “However, leave me your number and the folder. I’ll hand it over to him, and if he has any questions, I’ll call you.”
I slowly nodded.
Defeat washed over me, but I tried not to let it show. I had walked in carrying momentum and hope, and now both felt as though they had stumbled.
Still, this was not a no.
Not yet.
I scribbled my name and number on a sticky note and handed it to Jack.
I’m sure I can convince the owner, too, if I could just speak to him. Closing my eyes briefly, I whispered a quick prayer in my mind before stepping out of the restaurant.
I hope this works.
I climbed into my car and drove away.