Chapter 25
25
CéST FOU’S DAYS WERE NUMBERED. The next afternoon I exited the back of the café, heading to pick up Hayley and Emma from the library. I walked past a trap net erected on the courtyard ground. Parrot treats, which resembled Fruit Loops, covered the trip wire. That morning, the wildlife specialist had arrived eager to get to work, impart parrot-specific facts, and charge a hefty fee.
He presumed my nuisance to be Quaker parrots. These creatures easily lived thirty years, granting validity to Mrs. Adélaide’s claims. I’d learned this type of bird was territorial and defecated as a means of marking their turf. That explained the amount of poop. I’d also learned a fee would be charged with each capture and relocation of a parrot to a wildlife sanctuary in northern Mississippi. That explained the burning sensation that had started in my gut.
I’d paid for the initial assessment and setup with the company credit card. Normally I paid the card off every month, but between the new fryer and now this, I wasn’t sure if I’d be able to swing that full payment. Especially with wanting the bank account to appear as robust as possible in case I got a nibble from a potential investor.
Pulling onto the library grounds, I slowed to a stop before the carriage house occupying the rear corner of the property. Its front barn doors had been slid open. Back in the day it had housed horses. Now it served as a spot for the library to sell old books once a month. Volunteers, including Hayley and Emma, kept it organized and running. Hayley appeared in the entranceway and held up her hands, indicating they’d be ten more minutes.
I continued on to the line of parking spots next to the repurposed mansion, parked beside Micah’s Jeep, and entered the library.
He peered up from the reception desk, his expression gliding into one of pleasure.
My pulse quickened. Goodness, he was handsome.
A playful smile spread across his face as he stood. “How may I help you, Miss Landry? Are you looking for anything in particular?”
I set my purse on the counter, resting my elbows next to it. “I was wondering if you had a book on library etiquette.”
He chuckled, tossing his pencil atop a notepad. “Really?”
I scanned the area, ensuring our privacy. Standing on my toes I eased forward, lowering my voice. “I’d like to know if library kissing is appropriate.”
His jaw slackened, a spark igniting in his jade eyes. He perched sideways on the lower portion of the desk, leaning in. “Are you speaking of past library kissing or future library kissing?”
“Definitely future.” I let my arms fall, bringing my hands within touching distance.
He reached, one of his hands covering both of mine. Ever-so-faintly, his thumb brushed back and forth, the gleam in his eyes turning hungry. “Are you trying to get me fired?”
Biting my lip and my growing smile, I edged down from my toes, putting more space between us.
Still toying with my fingers, he used his other hand to tug at his collar.
My gaze flicked to his Hawaiian shirt, complete with a fleur-de-lis pattern in purple, green, and gold. “You’re a little late for Mardi Gras.”
“Yeah. It was accidentally sent to my old address and finally rerouted here. If you like, I can order you a matching one for next year.”
My heartbeat skittered, having nothing to do with his touch grazing underneath my wrist. “Next year, huh?”
“Yes.” He held my stare, squeezing my hand. “Next year.”
Hayley plopped her book bag on the counter.
I startled.
She gave a pointed look to me and Micah. “Old people flirting is gross.”
Micah dramatically widened his eyes and slowly released my fingers, lifting his hands as though Hayley aimed a gun at him.
She rolled her gaze to the ceiling, all the while combating a smile.
I bit back a chuckle and nudged her elbow with mine. “Where’s Emma?”
“In the bathroom.”
“Before we were so rudely interrupted by the PDA police...” Micah shot a teasing glance at Hayley.
She smirked and unzipped her book bag, rummaging through it.
He continued. “I was thinking about starting a Mardi Gras party tradition like your grandma used to have.” He tapped the counter in front of Hayley, garnering her attention. “Every year your mom tried a new beignet creation.”
Her gaze shifted between us. “I’ve heard a few stories about those parties.”
Gratitude swelled through my chest at his attempt to connect Hayley to the past in a positive way. “Do you remember in eighth grade when she stuck gummy worms in them?” I asked.
“Yeah.” He cringed, straightening from the desk.
“What a disaster. Those poor worms oozing out.”
“Those poor worms? Poor me!” He pointed at himself. “I actually ate one.”
Hayley smiled, and my heart lightened. It wasn’t a full toothy grin, but I’d take any encouraging reaction to the mentioning of Claire. The door behind us opened, and an elderly man entered.
Micah watched the guy disappear into the periodicals section. “Instead of beignets, which I’d either burn or start a grease fire with, I’d make my mom’s seafood gumbo.”
Gorgeous, caring, and he could cook. He was like a slot machine, all the bars spinning around and lining up for a jackpot. But ... gambling never ended well. Not for the person betting, anyway.
Hayley’s face tipped over her phone. Sigh . At least we’d had some interaction from her.
“I bet your dad would love that,” I said. “Getting to eat your mom’s cooking again. How’s he doing today?”
“Um...” Micah’s attention fell to his desk. “Better.” He gathered several sheets of paper, straightening them into a pile.
My scalp prickled. “You sure?”
“Yup.” He gave a half smile and slipped the papers into a file folder.
I reached across the counter, stilling his motions.
His head tipped sideways. “I promise. He’s much better.” He opened a drawer and dropped the folder in. “Did you ever hear from that lady at the crawfish boil?”
My thoughts tumbled to a stop. Well, that’s random.
He took in my expression and shrugged. “Just popped in my head.”
Needing an evasion tactic, I dug through my purse for my keys. “Julia and I were actually talking about that woman the other week.” I peered at the clock on the wall, and then to the back of the library, where the bathrooms were. Come on, Emma.
Hayley glanced up from her phone. “Mrs. Julia thinks Aunt Kate should teach a class for people too scared to start a business.”
Sarah McLachlan. I fumbled my keys, gawking at her.
She shrugged. “I overheard y’all from the balcony when I came to bring Precious out.”
My mind returned to that evening. With us sitting beneath the first-floor porch, we wouldn’t have seen her lurking up there. And we certainly hadn’t heard her open the door. I pressed my tongue against a back tooth. “You must’ve been taking your sweet time coming down those stairs.”
The edges of her mouth curled, mischief sparkling in her blue eyes.
I’d have to start putting a bell around her neck. “Next time you will make your presence known.”
“Yes, ma’am,” she mumbled.
Returning my focus to Micah, I found a wide grin on his face. Too wide. And a glint in his eyes. I narrowed my own.
He scratched the back of his ear. “I think you teaching a class like that is an excellent idea.”
I scoffed. “I can’t.”
“You can. It could be held here at the library, once the repairs are done. I’d handle spreading the word, getting everything scheduled. We could even record it and make it available for download.”
My headshaking slowed, my gaze drifting around the room. It would be so much easier with someone else heading it up. Plus, the library’s resources with marketing and reaching more people. But I’d still have to come up with a curriculum. And the time for it all. My headshaking ramped back up again. “I can’t.”
Micah studied me in a way that caused my skin to itch.
“I don’t have the time for it.” I raised my brows for added measure.
“All right.” He lifted his hand, letting the topic fade. “What are y’all doing for dinner? Want to take Precious to Lucy’s again?”
Hayley perked, lowering her phone.
My belly sank. “Not tonight. I’ve barely got enough time to drop Emma off and get Hayley home and settled before heading out.”
The disappointment on their faces made my heart twist. All of this extra work is temporary . Unless I actually acquired the Vieux Carré Café. Then there’d be a round of renovations, getting the place up and running, and splitting my time between two locations. My phone chimed, and I tensed at the all-too-familiar calendar alert notification, reminding me I had an hour until my next meeting.
Micah, now accustomed to the alert, inclined his chin toward my purse. “What’s on the schedule tonight?”
I lowered my finger from pressing the Crease. “A venture capitalist networking event.”
His face puckered, and he turned to Hayley. “Is she speaking English?”
“No.” Hayley sighed. “It’s a form of business-ese. Get used to it.”
The following two weeks flew by. For the sake of being home at night with Hayley, and being able to make it to all of her end-of-school-year functions, I’d begun participating in daytime luncheons to push special events for the café and sniff out investors. Which meant delaying unfinished café tasks to complete at night and on the weekends, along with finalizing the new business plan. Despite needing to order more business cards, I hadn’t had any bites for a silent partner. But I had made connections that resulted in two corporate party bookings.
The only times I’d seen Micah were when picking Hayley up from the library and at church. Thankfully, other than walking a bit wobbly with a cane, Mr. Gary looked good.
Not looking good was the fact that extra caffeine had done little to put a much-needed pep in my step. It was Monday morning, and I was in my office finishing payroll. The muted clinking of silverware and muffled conversations drifted down the short hallway to me. I gave two long blinks, the computer screen before me still bleary despite the espresso I’d chased my café au lait with. Doubts about continuing at this pace had started creeping in this morning when I’d smacked the snooze button on my alarm clock.
A knock sounded at my open door, Micah filling the space.
Unexpected glee at his presence chased my weariness. Maybe I needed to see him every morning instead of increasing my caffeine intake.
Wearing shorts and a plain T-shirt, he paused next to a guest chair. “I’m about to make a grocery run for my dad and thought I’d pop in to say hi.”
I pushed to my feet. “I’m glad you did.”
Mayté abruptly stepped into the room, shutting the door behind her. “Can we talk?”
“Sure.” Confusion shaded my tone.
Micah glanced between us. “Should I...?” He motioned for the door.
Mayté lifted a staying hand. “This won’t take long.” We were in the post-breakfast lull, but the clench in her jaw indicated she wasn’t enjoying the break. “Corey put in his notice.”
“What?” I deflated into my chair, my arms dropping over the sides.
Micah’s forehead furrowed, and he retreated, standing next to the filing cabinet in the corner.
Mayté crossed her arms over her white chef’s coat. Her stiff posture radiated control, but the fire in her eyes spoke volumes about losing her sous chef.
“Please tell me it’s not to work for Ryan.” After learning of my thieving ex’s plans to copy the café, and considering he’d tried stealing Mayté, we’d assumed he’d go after our sous chef next. We’d preemptively talked to Corey weeks ago.
She gave one sharp nod. “It is.”
A shock of cold exploded through my chest, splintering out with jagged edges.
Mayté continued, “He’s supposed to work in their Atlanta restaurant and move back when they open the location here, as their executive chef.”
The iciness within me surged to heat. I pushed up from my chair, my muscles quivering, and paced the length of the small room, my heels clicking against the floor. Ryan already planned to copy our menu. Click-click-click . Of course he’d want our sous chef to make stealing our recipes easier. Click-click-click . He was taking an employee I’d found, invested in, and trained. Click-click-click.
“I told him it’s risky,” Mayté said. “That they don’t even have a place here yet.” She expelled a heavy sigh. “He said it’s a sure thing.”
“A sure thing,” I grumbled, striding past the window again. “What if we offer him the same position if we open another location?”
Mayté shook her head. “He’s not ready to be a head chef. And frankly, I don’t want him in my kitchen anymore. I’ve got no room for disloyalty.”
Think, Kate. Think . Forcing myself to pause, I pulled in a deep breath and dropped my hand from rubbing the Crease. “Ryan could go after everyone at this point. We need to have an all-hands staff meeting.”
“I agree,” Mayté said. “I’ll get it scheduled.”
“Thank you.”
She left, closing the door behind her.
My gaze floated to Micah. He took me in, concern edging his eyes.
“I’ve known for the past month that if Ryan gets the Vieux Carré Café, he’s planning to turn it into a beignet restaurant and try to copy our menu.”
Micah pushed off the wall. “Can he do that?”
“Yes. And considering he’ll now have my sous chef, it’s that much easier.”
“Are your recipes trademarked or ... copyrighted?”
I massaged my throbbing temples. “Recipes aren’t protected works.”
“What can we do?”
Pain struck the back of my throat, the tendons in my chest tightening. “There’s nothing I can do about him stealing our menu and employees, but I can stop him from having Claire’s dream location.” My line of sight connected with the signed napkin Claire and I had framed all those years ago. I drew near, standing before it, my heartbeats slowing.
“What if we grab lunch in a few hours and talk all this through?”
I turned, taking Micah in. Part of me wanted to fall into his arms, if only for a minute. Just to stand there, being held and breathing him in. But Ryan’s continual blows reverberated, stirring my old sense of caution. The one that had kept my heart safe all these years. Was I falling too fast for Micah?
“Kate?” He stepped forward, his brows pulling together.
I snapped back to the moment. “Can’t. I’m meeting with my CPA. She’s doing me a favor, squeezing in an assessment of my business plan.” My phone dinged with a text, and I lifted it from my desk, checking the screen. “That’s actually her. Asking to move our appointment up, which barely allows me to finish payroll.” And most certainly would push back creating the next staff schedule. Well, beggars couldn’t be choosers. Hurry-hurry-hurry pulsed through my veins. I rounded my desk, lowered onto my chair, and moved the mouse, waking my computer.
“Then maybe we can meet for a late lunch?”
I shook my head. “I’ve got a showing this afternoon for a possible wedding.” With a wince, I shifted my gaze to the window and the courtyard beyond. I needed to disassemble the parrot trap and hide it before the potential clients arrived. And ensure there wasn’t a speck of poop in sight. Darn you, Cést Fou.
“What about dinner?”
I texted a positive response to my CPA. “Um...” Hurry-hurry-hurry. “Maybe. If we stay in. I need to catch up on some stuff from the café.”
The undertone of a smile brushed his lips but nowhere near reached his eyes. “Just let me know.”
My heart pinched, or really, it was more of a tear. “I will.”
The next night after the café had closed, I gathered with my employees in the main section of the restaurant. Everyone except Corey had shown up. Mayté had ended his employment yesterday, right after our discussion.
Some stood around the perimeter of the room, others sat at the tables. I took up my position next to the hostess stand, everyone’s attention resting on me. Though I held the Landry Mask in place, my insides quivered. Oh, how I wished Claire were here to help shoulder this burden.
Mayté calmly made her way through our employees, coming to a stop before me. Determination loomed heavy in her gaze, and she lowered her voice just for me. “You’ve got this, because God has you.”
Emotion flooded my throat. Lord, thank you for Mayté.
She moved to step away, but I lightly grabbed her hand, si lently asking her to stand with me. I released the touch, and she slid beside me, notching her chin high and placing her hands behind her back.
And Lord? Please give me the right words in this moment.
“Thank you all for coming. I’m going to keep this brief so you can get on with your closing duties or returning home. I’m not sure how many of you are aware of this, but I’ve discovered Paul Rodgers’s partner is scouting a location here for his next restaurant.”
Dead silence filled the room. Not a single murmur or reaction.
“Okay,” I said lightly. “I guess everyone knows.”
Chuckles and bobbing heads followed.
I loosely clasped my wrist before me. “I’m guessing everyone also knows this man has approached at least two of you, offering employment.”
Another round of nodding from most of the employees.
“I’m not here to influence your decision if he does approach you,” I said. “I just want you to be aware of the facts.”
Some of the workers who sat in chairs leaned forward.
“Number one.” I held up a finger. “They don’t have a location yet, which means nothing’s stopping them from changing their minds and pursuing a restaurant elsewhere. Nine months ago, Paul Rodgers planned to open a place in Chicago and pulled out at the last minute.” I had Mayté to thank for that nugget of information.
Mutters spread throughout the group.
I brandished a second finger. “Number two—”
Jonathan raised his hand.
I gestured for him to speak.
“With respect, we don’t need a second reason,” Jonathan said. “Or a first. I don’t see how anyone would trust the guy after what he did to you and Hayley.”
Cowering Chihuahuas! I was not intending to bring my personal life into this.
Murmurs of “Truth” and “That’s right” erupted. It seemed everyone also knew my history with Ryan. Just peachy .
Mayté stepped forward, raising her hands. “We don’t need to get into personal details here.”
Jonathan straightened from leaning against the opening to the music room. Behind him, the cardboard cutout of Harry Connick Jr. came into view, along with Mrs. Adélaide. What in the world? We’d closed fifteen minutes ago. Had she not realized it? She sat at a table, sipping from a coffee cup, a book open before her. It was too late for her to be walking home alone. I’d have to give her a lift after the meeting.
Jonathan placed a hand to his chest and pitched his voice to the room. “This job is personal for me. Miss Kate looks out for me and my family.”
My nose pricked.
“Ditto!” Tara, one of the prep cooks, spoke up. “I look forward to coming here. It’s a positive space for me, one I don’t have at home.”
A stinging sensation struck my eyes. I cast a glance at Mayté and found pride blooming in her features.
Penny stood from her chair. “There’s no way I’d jump ship, especially not from someone who’s been loyal to me. Who cares. Who wants to help us advance in life.” She turned to the group. “How many of you has Miss Kate helped with completing college and grant applications?”
Several hands lifted.
My vision blurred. Where was that Landry Mask?
One of the line cook supervisors, Marcus, also pushed to his feet. “Plus, they don’t skimp on pay and benefits. Or put up with slacker employees. I’ve worked lots of other kitchens. This one’s legit.”
More and more workers added their opinions, their acclamations filling the room, and my heart.