Not What It Seems (Escape to Alaska Trilogy) (5 page)

Cassidy had explored the downtown and other parts of the city by car, and she’d strolled throughout the tourist spots, familiarizing herself further. She smiled as she stopped at a red light; she already loved Anchorage.

The light turned green, Cassidy threw the car into first gear, and the vehicle roared away. “You’re a peppy old girl, for your age, Fiona,” observed Cassidy aloud. As she slowed for traffic Cassidy recalled how much she’d accomplished in the past few days.

The reference letter from her former bank manager sped up the processing of her confidential checking and saving accounts. And the new banker assured her no one would be informed of their existence, no matter who inquired. She’d deposited the cashier’s checks she’d utilized to transfer the majority of her funds. Only her trust account, a gift from her deceased grandparents, remained in the Chicago bank for now. As well, she’d opened a mail box at the public post office for written correspondence with Jeannie. After lunch, she intended to purchase a laptop at Best Buy and acquire a disposable phone that couldn’t be traced.

Cassidy skillfully pulled into a vacant spot in an enormous public parking lot, purchased a ticket and then headed toward the restaurant a half block away. Through Patricia’s skillful management Endless Nights earned the reputation of being ‘the’ spot to dine in Anchorage.

Patricia loved working as manager and executive chef. Over wine last night, she’d explained the arrangement; the owner endowed her with free-rein over menus and every aspect of the restaurant’s operation. Patricia admitted she occasionally forgot the restaurant wasn’t her own.

Cassidy entered the foyer, whipped off her sunglasses and glanced at her watch. Two o’clock. She was a half hour late. The hostess smiled and grabbed a menu off the stack on a nearby podium.

“I’m meeting Patricia Graham. Is she available?”

“The lunch rush fizzled out a half hour ago, and Patricia’s been waiting for you. Follow me.” The hostess tossed the menu back onto the podium, turned on her heel, and strode through the restaurant. Cassidy followed.

The tropical decor suited the name Endless Nights. Silk palm trees towered above most of the tables, and a waterfall gently tumbled into a Japanese koi pond, situated in the middle of the main room. Exceptionally realistic-looking exotic birds peeked out from among coconuts hanging in the tree branches lit with thousands of twinkling miniature white lights. Identical lights extended across the top of the open cooking area. Tucked under the counter below, the row of barstools provided patrons with a bird’s-eye view of their entree’s preparation while sipping a pre-dinner cocktail.

“Cassidy!” Patricia waved from a booth hidden in the back alcove. “Finally, you’re here. I’m starving.”

“Sorry I’m late. I got sidetracked shopping.” Cassidy slid into the booth opposite her housemate. “The 5th Avenue Mall should post a warning—entering these premises could be hazardous to your bank account.”

“Don’t I know it,” agreed Patricia, grinning.

“I spent all morning shopping for white shirts, plaid blouses, and black skirts, as per Sherry’s instructions. And I own two new pairs of cowboy boots, the only acceptable footwear for working in a western bar.” Tomorrow, Cassidy would venture back into the working world. She’d talked to Sherry on the phone a couple of times since the night they’d met. Yesterday, they’d decided Cassidy should show up tomorrow morning at Gold Diggers and innocently ask to speak to the person in charge of hiring.

A young fellow dressed in a white chef’s jacket approached the table. “Miss Graham, the delivery you were expecting just arrived. Could you come out to the kitchen and sign for it, please? The driver insists that you personally approve the paperwork.”

“Sure, James, no problem.” Patricia met Cassidy’s eyes as she slid out of the booth. “I’ve already ordered for us. Lunch will be served in a few minutes. I’ll be right back.”

While she waited for Patricia to return, Cassidy offered herself an impromptu pep talk. “Waitressing is like riding a bike. It’ll all come back to you in no time,” she whispered aloud. Her fingers played with her pristine linen napkin. “You were less nervous the day before you wrote the bar exam,” she scolded herself.

Patricia popped back into the booth, raised her wine glass and smiled. “Welcome to Endless Nights.”

Cassidy clinked glasses with Patricia and sipped her wine. “I love the décor, the ambiance. I bet it’s cozy, sitting here at night with all those twinkling lights. How’s the food though? I’ve heard the chef is exceptional, but you never know.”

Patricia tossed her napkin at Cassidy’s head.

Forty-five minutes later, fortified by a hearty lunch, Cassidy set out to spend the remainder of the day shopping and mentally preparing for tomorrow’s job interview.

****

Cassidy leapt out of bed at nine o’clock the next morning and hurried out to the kitchen. As she finished wolfing down a piece of toast, Patricia wandered in.

“Coffee’s ready.” Cassidy had shared a glass of wine with her housemate late last night, and she was surprised to see Patricia conscious at such an early hour. Her housemate never left for work before one o’clock.

“The aroma woke me up, I think.” Patricia yawned and stretched. “Do people actually start their day this early on purpose?”

“When I worked at the law firm, by now, I would already have been at work for two hours.” Cassidy checked the clock on the wall. “I’d better step it up. Only have a half hour to get ready or I’ll be late.” She refilled her coffee mug and carried it to her bedroom.

After a quick shower, she donned a lacy black bra and panties. While drinking her coffee, she fussed with her hair and applied minimal makeup. She slipped into a black silk blouse and designer jeans, and then poked her feet into her lucky fuchsia-colored heels.

She considered the shoes in the floor length mirror attached to the walk-in closet’s far wall. She’d won a lot of cases while delivering closing arguments in those shoes. But she’d been a brunette at the time. Should a redhead wear fuchsia anything? What the heck. She decided to just go with it. She’d noticed how cool the mornings could be here even in late May, and she donned a fitted charcoal jacket to complete the outfit.

Patricia leaned against the doorjamb, arms crossed, sipping a cup of coffee.

“How do I look?” Cassidy’s hands shook slightly while she attempted to slip the backing onto a fourteen caret gold love-knot earring.

“You look stunning, and I’m borrowing those heels one of these nights. I don’t know why you’re so nervous. You’ll nail the interview. Sherry Lawrence would be nuts if she didn’t hire you.”

“You know Sherry?” Cassidy met Patricia’s eyes. She vaguely recalled Sherry mentioning at the airport that they were acquainted.

“Sherry attends planning meetings with her boss at the restaurant every month. He introduced us.”

Cassidy dashed into the ensuite, retouched her lipstick and then fluffed her hair yet again. She was still doing a double take every time she glanced in a mirror, not accustomed to the short hairdo yet.

Patricia followed. “Quit stressing. You’ll get the job.”

“A good first impression sets the tone for any interview. Sherry guaranteed me the position, but I should convey professionalism anyway.”

“I’ll say it again…you look great.”

“Thanks.” Cassidy grinned. “Can you believe I’m actually looking forward to working in the service industry again?”

“That’s right. You worked with Sheila at one of the student lounges at Harvard.”

“We commiserated with so many fun-loving people. Sympathized when our teams lost and celebrated their wins. And don’t get me started on the practical jokers. We both loved it!”

“Sheila related some hair-raising tales and hilarious stories.”

“I’ll enjoy working in such a carefree atmosphere again. No legal briefs to work on into the wee hours. No court appearances. No struggling to juggle schedules to fit everything in. Just show up on time, do your job, and go home after your shift. What luxury!” Cassidy grabbed her beige leather purse off the bed and strode out to the foyer.

“Good luck,” shouted Patricia.

“Thanks,” Cassidy called over her shoulder on her way out the door. “Let’s hope there’s something to celebrate over our nightly glass of wine.”

The drive to Gold Diggers was uneventful. Having spent several hours cruising around the main corridors becoming familiar with the city, Cassidy could confidently navigate Anchorage if given an address and the area of the city where it was located. She arrived at ten o’clock on the dot, as Sherry had suggested.

The parking lot appeared deserted. Cassidy locked the old Ford—although who would steal her rust-bucket Fiona—and then crossed the short distance to the main entrance. She closed her eyes, took a deep breath.

“Here goes nothing.”

Discovering the door unlocked, she entered the bar and paused for a moment until her eyes adjusted to the dark interior.

A monstrous Kodiak bear loomed just inside the doorway, obviously in charge of silently overseeing the bar’s patrons and staff. Cassidy reached out and patted the bear’s outstretched paw. “I bet you could relate some interesting stories if you could talk.”

Gold Diggers’ rustic cabin-in-the-woods western theme impressed Cassidy. A polished slab oak bar stretched along one entire wall, fronting a wall of glass shelving which displayed every brand of liquor imaginable. An overhead rack filled with sparkling glasses hung above the bar, within the bartenders’ easy reach.

“If your drink fails to meet your standards in this establishment, you’re simply impossible to please,” muttered Cassidy.

A small stage and deejay’s booth stood against the opposite wall midpoint in the room. The wooden wide-plank floor gleamed even in the dim lighting, and Cassidy imagined a roomful of rowdy patrons kicking up their heels on a busy night. Oversized upholstered chairs surrounded sturdy square wooden tables carefully spaced around the room for easy access by the wait staff.

“We don’t open for another hour,” growled a deep male voice.

Cassidy almost jumped out of her skin.

She whipped around and faced a handsome male specimen standing hands on hips under an overhead sign that read ‘Men’s Room’. Cassidy’s eyes roamed over all six feet of him, from his collar-length wavy chocolate brown hair and trim mustache to his alligator cowboy boots. He wore a faded denim jacket over a western shirt and black jeans that fit in all the right places. She almost asked where he’d parked his horse.

“Hello. I’m Cassidy Du Pont,” she croaked, using her mother’s maiden name again. She hoped she sounded professional, since her heart almost stopped a second ago when he’d startled her.

“Clayton Morrison.”

“Pleased to meet you.” Cassidy crossed the short distance between them and stuck out her hand. The handshake lasted mere seconds, but the instant their flesh touched an electrical charge raced up her arm.

“Can I help you with something?”

“Are you the person in charge of hiring serving staff?” Cassidy knew he wasn’t, but for her ruse to work she must ask the right questions. “I’m inquiring about a waitress job.”

“Sherry Lawrence is in charge of hiring waitresses, but there are no openings right now.” Mr. Morrison strode across the floor and disappeared behind the bar.

Cassidy deduced the ruggedly handsome fellow worked as a bartender. She flexed her hand; her entire arm still tingled like she’d touched a live circuit wire. If the two of them were assigned the same shift, she mused, she could blame any mixed-up orders on this good-looking distraction.

At that moment, the front door swung open and Sherry charged into the bar. She looked directly at Cassidy and smiled. “Hi, there. May I help you?”

“I inquired about a serving position, but this gentleman informed me there are no openings at the moment.” Cassidy looked back over her shoulder and swallowed hard.

The bartender had removed his denim jacket. His shirt sleeves were rolled to just below his elbows revealing a dusting of arm hair. She watched, fascinated, as he settled a black suede cowboy hat on his head. She recalled only the bad guys wore black hats in the movies. Getting into trouble with this bad guy would be tons of fun, she mused, especially if it involved a king-sized bed.

“Well, if this gentleman had inquired, I would have informed him that Rachael submitted her notice. Her last shift is tonight. As it turns out, your timing is perfect. Come on back and let’s discuss your experience.” Sherry hustled Cassidy toward the back office and then closed the door behind them.

Cassidy regretted being roused from her daydream involving the enormous bed and the handsome bartender, but the job interview awaited her.

“I’m delighted to see you again. I started looking forward to working here, and then the fellow out front shattered my hopes,” blurted Cassidy, all pretense of professionalism gone.

“I’m happy to see you, too.” Sherry smiled. “And there’s definitely a job opening. Clayton Morrison, officially manager and head bartender, believes he’s in charge here. In truth, Terry and I run the place.”

“Who’s Terry?” Cassidy settled into the chair opposite Sherry at the desk.

“Head bouncer. Pretends he’s someone you’d regret encountering in a dark alley, but he’s just a pussycat.” Sherry stuffed her purse into the desk’s bottom drawer and then rifled through the pile of pink phone message slips on her desk. “Don’t tell the patrons that! Terry would lose his edge with the rowdies.”

“Terry’s a tough guy. Got it.” Cassidy smiled.

“So, when can you start?”

“Did I miss the interview part?” Cassidy frowned. “Must have dozed off and slept through it. Please accept my apologies.”

“Interview, sminterview. I need you tonight. It’s Rachael’s last shift, and she could ease you back into the swing of things. Show you the ropes, so it won’t appear I’m playing favorites with the new girl.” Sherry propped an elbow on the desk and met Cassidy’s eyes, expectantly.

“Sure, I can start tonight. What time?”

“We’ll do up the paperwork right now. Payroll is outsourced so no one here will learn your true identity. Come in around quarter to five to familiarize yourself with the place and meet the other staff when they arrive. Your shift will start at six. Go home, get some rest. We supply the cowboy hats. Wear a short black skirt, white or plaid blouse, cowboy boots, and a smile. You’ll do fine.” Sherry pulled a file out of the cabinet behind her.