Caught Bread Handed (22 page)

“It looks good, Jules,” Stephanie said when I showed her the cake.

“Yeah, I think it turned out well.” I boxed it up. “I'm going to take this over to Craig. Be right back.”

The coffee tasters had started to queue at the counter. Sterling was taking each order on the paper tickets we used and handing them back to Stephanie. That was something else I wanted to upgrade along with our ovens. It would be much easier and faster if we used iPads to take orders. That way Sterling—or anyone working the front counter—could log an order and a payment at the same time. I'd been doing some research into point-of-sale systems and they were surprisingly affordable. Plus, the vast majority of our customers pay with debit cards. Implementing a new payment and ordering system would allow them to swipe their cards and take a seat.

I stopped at the office on my way out. The door was still shut. I knocked lightly and called, “Hey, you two, are you still in there?”

Mom swung the door open. She held a crumpled tissue in her hand and her eyes looked red. Had she been crying? “We were just finishing up.”

Carlos sat in a chair next to the desk. He stood. “
Sí,
your mother and I were having a nice talk.”

Mom nodded and stuffed the wadded tissue into her pocket. She squeezed his arm. “We were.” She sighed. “We were reminiscing about your father.”

Or were they talking about me? I had a feeling that Mom was covering for something, but I didn't have time to ask.

“I'm heading out on a quick delivery. I think Sterling and Steph might need a hand. The lunch rush is starting.”

Mom glanced behind her at the clock. “Oh, dear! I had no idea it was so late.” She jumped back and nearly bumped her head on the filing cabinet. Carlos stepped aside to let her pass. She made a beeline for the kitchen. I heard her call to Andy and Sterling, “I'm here!”

Carlos stood in the doorway.

“What were you talking to Mom about?”

“Nothing.” His eyes danced with delight. “She was telling me about your father and how they started this place. That is all.”

“Right.” I knew he wasn't telling me the truth. “I should go.”

“I will be here.”

For now, I thought. Tomorrow, Carlos would be gone and things would be back to normal again. Whatever normal was.

I was lost in my thoughts and didn't hear someone shouting my name.

“Juliet!” a voice boomed.

I startled and almost dropped the cake.

Richard Lord waved from the front porch of the Merry Windsor where one of his young staff members was scrubbing the wooden steps under Richard's watchful eye. He had changed out of his bathrobe, but the police car was still parked in front of the building. “I want a word.”

“No time, Richard.” I pointed to the cake box. “Highly perishable.”

“Juliet! I'm coming over when you're back,” he called after me as I continued along the sidewalk.

Great. It was too bad we didn't have a secret back entrance at Torte. I was going to have to hope that when I returned Richard would be berating his staff and not notice me slip back inside.

Craig practically did a backflip over the marzipan torte. “This is awesome, Jules. Thank you.” He lifted the lid on one of the cake plates, revealing a quarter of a red velvet cake. “People are eating this up. It's barely noon and I've sold more than half of that cake.”

“Cake for breakfast?”

“I guess. Breakfast beer and cake—who knew?”

“Let me know if you need a restock later.”

“Will do.”

As I started to leave, Craig stopped me. “Hey, before you go, did you hear the news?”

“No, what news?”

“About Jose.”

“Jose Ortega?”

Craig started to answer when the sound of glass shattering reverberated throughout the room. A customer had dropped a pint glass. Beer and glass shards sprayed on the floor. “I better help,” he said, reaching for a rag.

“Of course. We'll talk later. Be sure to keep the torte in the fridge.”

Craig gave me a thumbs-up and went to mop up the spill. Two people had referenced Jose in the past couple of days. First Richard Lord and now Craig. I wondered what was going on with Jose.

 

Chapter Twenty-three

I tried to slink back to Torte. There was no sign of Richard on the porch as I passed the Merry Windsor, just his maintenance kid rubbing oil on the already shiny wooden porch slats and a uniformed police officer who appeared to be scanning the plaza. Carlos had mentioned that the police had been at the Windsor last night as well. I wondered again if it could have something to do with Mindy's murder and whether Richard could be involved.

Whew, what luck, I thought as I scurried past the hotel. At least I avoided a Richard Lord encounter.

At Torte the coffee crowd had dispersed to tables. Sterling took an order at the counter. Andy was working the espresso machine and Mom held a tray of sandwiches in her arms. “Jules, you're back. There's someone who wants to talk to you, but I need you to finish your soup.” She nodded to the far booth. Richard Lord was seated with his arms crossed and a scowl on his face.

“I would have finished the soup myself, but I'm not sure what ratio you use for the sour cream.”

“Not a problem. That will buy me a minute. Thanks for the heads-up.” I ducked between two customers waiting for coffee and made my way to the back. What was Richard's problem?

Carlos manned the Panini machine. “Julieta, it is busy today, no?”

“Mondays,” I replied, lifting the lid on my soup. Since many restaurants in town are closed on Monday, it ends up being one of our busiest days. Mom had added noodles. It needed a quarter cup of sour cream to give it a nice tang and it would be ready to serve. I stirred in the cream and dished up four bowls. “How many more do we need?” I asked Stephanie.

She flipped through the order tickets. “Three.”

I arranged the soup bowls on a tray. “I'll take these out and come back for the next round.” Carefully holding the tray with two hands, I squeezed past Carlos and the customers waiting for coffee.

Most restaurants number their tables, that way any member of the wait-and kitchen staff can bring orders out with ease. On the cruise ship it was a much bigger production. Our waitstaff had specific sections they were responsible for. At Torte all of us lend a hand when needed. Mom took an Ashland approach to identify tables—she named them after Shakespearean characters. We had fun with her inventive names.

“There's a problem with Othello,” Sterling would say. “They want more sugar. Classic.”

My order tickets for the soup were for Macbeth, Brutus, and Caesar. I sensed a theme. I handed customers two of the bowls at Caesar, weaved my way to Brutus, and ended at Macbeth. “Here's your soup,” I said, passing over a full bowl.

Mathew took the bowl from my hand.

“Oh, Mathew, I didn't know you were here.”

He was dressed in jeans, a dress shirt, and jacket. A stack of real estate fliers, file folders, and pens were spread out on the table. “Doing a little business over lunch,” he said. “I'm sure you know how that goes.”

“Lunch
is
my business.”

“Fair enough.” He pointed to the empty chair across from him. “Do you have a minute?”

I looked toward the back. The line had thinned. Andy was wiping down the espresso machine and Sterling was restocking the pastry case. “Sure.” I sat. “How's everything over at ShakesBurgers?”

Mathew clicked a pen on and off. “The police are still hanging around.”

“Have they told you when you can reopen?”

“We could reopen now according to the police, but we're not ready. The place is a mess.”

“Really? Usually the Professor and Thomas are good about that. Did they dust for prints? We had that happen here once and it was a pain to clean up. I have the name of a good cleaning company if you need it.”

Mathew tapped the pen on the table. “I don't mean messy, I meant the restaurant is a mess. I don't know what Mindy was thinking, but we don't have any systems set up. Who knows where Reggie is. I can't find him anywhere and I'm not sure I want to.”

“Why is that?”

He stirred the soup. “This smells great.”

“Thanks. Don't mind me. You should eat while it's hot.”

Mathew blew on his spoon and took a bite. “Wow, really good. Do you want a job?”

“I'm pretty set here, but I'm flattered.”

“I can't figure out what Mindy was doing. She and I have worked together for so long that I trusted her when she said she'd found an ideal location here. What was she thinking, trying to open across the street from your place?”

“I don't know.” I shrugged. “Didn't you two talk that through?”

Mathew shook his head. “No. Not this time. This venture was all Mindy's plan. She faxed me a few contracts to sign. I should have given them a closer look, but like I said, I didn't think I had to. We've done dozens of these deals.”

“But ShakesBurgers has a very different menu than everything else in town. Maybe that's what she was thinking. She saw an opportunity and went for it.”

“Maybe.” He dove back into his soup. “We weren't going to compete with cooking like this, especially an established family business. Mindy knew that.”

“She must have had her reasons.”

“Or she was losing her edge.”

“What are you going to do now?”

Mathew placed his spoon on his napkin. “I'm not sure. Find a cook. You have any ideas? Any of your staff need a job?”

I glanced at Sterling. Part of me wanted to offer his name, but I couldn't let him go. “Not really.”

The doorbell jingled and Jose Ortega came in with a wooden box of wine. Before he even had a chance to place it on the counter Richard Lord was on his feet and stomping toward him. “I want a word with you!” Richard yelled. Customers stopped eating and turned to see what the commotion was about.

Richard had a way of bullying everyone in town.

Jose positioned the wine box in front of him, creating a barrier between himself and Richard.

“You betrayed me. Who are you working with?” Richard threw a beefy arm in the air and pointed back in the kitchen to Carlos. “Are you working with him?”

Carlos caught my eye and motioned for me to stay out of it. He wiped his hands on a dish towel and walked to the front counter.

Jose didn't respond.

Richard puffed out his chest. His cheeks flamed with anger. “Should I take that as a yes?”

Jose started to answer, but Richard cut him off. “I gave you my business when no one else in town would and this is the thanks I get?”

I wanted to tell Richard that that wasn't true. Mom gave Jose his start in Ashland and Richard, as always, was the one who copied her.

“I have not betrayed anyone,” Jose said.

Carlos walked over to Richard and put his arm around Richard's shoulder. “What is the problem?”

Richard threw his arm off of him. “I know what's happening here.”

Carlos kept his cool. If he was intimidated by Richard he didn't let it show. “My friend Jose here, he supplies to everyone in town,
sí
? This is how it works everywhere. There is nothing for you to be upset about. How about we go outside and talk this over so we don't disturb the customers?”

This only made Richard angrier. I thought he might lunge at Carlos or Jose. His face puffed up and turned the color of an overly ripe tomato. At that moment Mom came up to the front with a plate of pastry. Her clogs clicked on the floor. She tugged Richard's shirtsleeve. “Richard, come sit. I have something I'm dying for you to try.”

Amazingly, Richard acquiesced, but not without a final warning to Jose. He shook a fat finger in Jose's face. “I'm going to find out who you're partnering with. I made you a great deal and you wouldn't take it. Now you're selling out? You haven't heard the last of me.”

Jose frowned, but didn't say more.

What was Richard talking about? Jose selling out?

Mom led Richard back to the booth and sat across from him as he scarfed down the pastries.

Carlos handed the wine to Sterling and took Jose outside. Customers returned to their lunches. Chatter erupted in the dining room. Too bad Lance hadn't been here for this. He would have appreciated Richard's theatrics.

Mathew cleared his throat and gathered his paperwork together. “I have to go,” he said, glancing at Richard and then outside to where Carlos and Jose were talking. “Thanks for the soup. It was great.” He tucked his papers under his arms and power-walked outside.

I watched through the window as he stopped and whispered something to Jose before he crossed the street to ShakesBurgers. Richard had finished his pastries and was on his feet again. He huffed past me as I picked up Mathew's soup bowl and coffee cup. “You better find a new wine vendor. Your guy out there is selling out.” He let the door slam behind him.

I watched to see if he and Jose would go head-to-head, but Richard stormed past Carlos and Jose.

Mom caught up with me as I took the dirty dishes to the sink. “What was that all about?”

“No idea. Richard is acting paranoid.”

She grinned. “What else is new?”

“Good point.” I set the dishes in the sink. “How did you do it?”

“Do what?” The overhead lights reflected the natural chestnut highlights in her hair. She didn't look anywhere near sixty. I hoped that I had inherited her genetics when it came to aging.

“Get Richard to calm down? I thought he was going to blow a gasket. Or worse—punch Jose.”

Mom nodded. “Me too.”

“How did you get him to calm down?”

She winked. “Never underestimate the power of pastry.”

I laughed. “That's a good one.”