Authors: Kathryn Springer
But Abby did say it. Out loud.
“Kate does.”
Chapter Four
“W
hat?”
“What!”
The words collided in midair. Alex’s came out like a pistol shot while Kate’s was just as loud but sounded more like a…oh, let’s be honest…a
squeak
.
“Alex knows how to run a hotel and you know how to run a kitchen.” Abby’s gaze bounced between Kate and Alex, as if daring them to disagree. “It makes perfect sense.”
Kate swallowed a groan. How could she say no to her best friend? But following that line of reasoning, how could her best friend expect her to work alongside a man who assumed her main culinary achievement was corned beef hash?
It wasn’t that Kate didn’t want to come to Quinn and Abby’s rescue. She did. But that didn’t mean she wanted to share a lifeboat with Alex Porter!
Kate reached for an excuse. Any excuse.
“I’m not sure Grady can manage without me,” she stammered, silently apologizing to her cook, who had fed platoons of hungry soldiers for years. “And I don’t have Alex’s minions to call on for help.”
“Did you,” Alex said softly, “just use the word minions?”
“It’s the only one that fit,” Kate admitted.
Quinn clapped his hand over his mouth to stifle a sudden coughing fit.
“You’re right, Kate.” Abby mustered a brave smile. “Half the town depends on you, not just Grady. It isn’t fair to ask you to split your time between here and the café. The inn offers a full breakfast every morning in addition to afternoon tea once a week. You wouldn’t have a minute to yourself.”
Kate should have been relieved that Abby had let her off the hook so easily, but all she felt was guilt.
“Don’t worry, Abby.” Alex muscled his way back into the conversation. “I’ll reassign a real…” He caught himself. “A chef from one of the hotels.
“I’m sure given the right incentive, I can convince one of my—” He paused and stared down at Kate with a glint in his eyes, as if he knew she was silently filling in the blank with the word “minions.” “—
employees
to take your place for two weeks.”
Some of the worry lifted from Abby’s eyes but not all of it.
And Kate knew why. Alex’s “right incentive” translated into the right amount of numbers added to someone’s weekly paycheck.
Kate chewed on her lower lip. She and Abby had more in common than their faith and a love for the community they called home. They understood what it meant to be the sole owner of a business. For Abby to leave her kitchen in the hands of a stranger was the equivalent of leaving a beloved child in the care of a babysitter rather than a trusted friend or family member.
In this situation, Abby had both—if Kate could put aside her misgivings about working closely with Alex.
Kate drew in a breath and released it with a silent prayer.
We can do it for two weeks, can’t we, Lord?
“I’ll talk to Grady,” she said. “The café closes at two every day. That should give me plenty of time to drive over to the inn and get a head start on breakfast for the next day. Thursday is my day off, so that’s when I’ll host the afternoon tea.”
“Really?” A smile bloomed on Abby’s face. “Are you sure? I know it’s asking a lot.”
“Missy is leaving for college at the end of the month and she’s been asking for more hours. She might be willing to open right away in the morning and as long as I keep up with the baking, Grady can handle the kitchen.”
The more Kate thought about it, the more she realized it
could
work.
Until the harbinger of doom spoke up.
“I still think you should let me hire a chef, Abby. Like you said, Kate has a lot of responsibilities—”
“None of which are more important than you and Quinn,” Kate interjected.
Alex cut her a look cool enough to flash-freeze a package of pork chops. “Do you realize you have a tendency to finish other people’s sentences?”
“Oh, yes.” For once Kate didn’t feel the need to apologize. “It’s a habit.”
“It’s also—”
“One of the things we love about Kate,” Quinn said smoothly before Alex could insult his new business partner.
The jade eyes narrowed on his future brother-in-law. “You just did it, too.”
“Only to avoid bloodshed,” Quinn murmured.
Kate found it interesting that no one had to ask what he meant.
“So, this is great.” Abby stepped from the shelter of Quinn’s arms to pull her brother into a hug. With her free hand, she motioned to Kate.
No, Abby! Not a group hug…
Kate gulped as Abby reeled her in, briefly linking the three of them together. For a moment, Kate’s shoulder brushed against Alex’s and the hint of lime in his cologne caused her traitorous nose to twitch in appreciation.
“You guys are amazing,” Abby murmured. “I won’t worry about a thing. Not with Alex managing the office and Kate in the kitchen.”
“And a line of yellow police tape strung up between the two,” Quinn murmured.
Kate made a face at him over Abby’s shoulder before she wriggled free.
“That means I’ll be running the day-to-day operations,” Alex said. “Handling reservations. Overseeing the staff. The hiring and the firing.”
“You won’t have to fire anyone.” Abby frowned at her brother.
“Of course not,” Alex said in that crushed velvet voice. “I just wanted to make sure I understood.”
He took a step away from Abby and smiled. At her.
Suddenly, Kate understood, too.
She might be in charge of the kitchen, but Alex was in charge of the inn in which that particular kitchen resided. Meaning that he was in charge of
her
.
Like it or not, she had just become one of Alex Porter’s minions.
“Are you listening to me, Alex?”
Alex jerked to attention, upsetting Mulligan, who had camped out at his feet in the gathering room. “I always listen to you.”
They both knew it wasn’t true but Abby gave him a patient look.
“I know you think that taking care of the inn for two weeks is going to be easy, but it will definitely have its share of challenges.”
Challenges. That about summed it up, Alex thought.
“I’m sure we’ll get along fine.” As long as Kate Nichols stuck to making tea, blueberry muffins and dainty finger sandwiches.
Quinn and Kate had left the inn over an hour ago, but Alex could
still
smell her perfume. Of course the woman wouldn’t choose something tame, like vanilla. No, she wore a stirring, heady scent that reminded him of the tangle of plumeria that grew outside the door of his condo in Hawaii.
He realized Abby was staring at him.
“What are you talking about?”
“What are
you
talking about?” he shot back.
“I’m talking about the challenges of running a small bed-and-breakfast…” Understanding dawned in Abby’s eyes. “You were talking about Kate, weren’t you?”
Alex avoided the question. “I don’t understand why you won’t let me bring in a professional.”
Abby shot him an exasperated look. “Kate
is
a professional. She’s one of the most respected business owners in Mirror Lake—” As if anticipating his reaction to that, she raised her hand like a crossing guard. “If you don’t trust her, at least trust me. I wouldn’t have asked Kate for help if I didn’t believe she was capable.”
“Capable isn’t always enough,” Alex said. “You know the Porter family motto.”
“Don’t tell me you still…” Abby paused. “Never mind. Of course I remember it. You had the words engraved on a plaque for my high school graduation gift. ‘Don’t settle for anything but the best.’”
“So you see? It’s not personal.”
“It never is,” Abby said softly. “Maybe that’s the problem.”
Not as far as Alex was concerned. He had rules in place for that sort of thing. Most of the people he came into contact with strove to keep their professional and personal lives separate. He’d come to the conclusion long ago that life ran much more smoothly if he kept his entire life professional. No blurred boundaries. Minimal conflict. It worked for him.
He thought it had been working for Abby, too, until she’d broken rank and moved to Mirror Lake.
“It’s getting late.” Alex eased his foot out from under Mulligan’s bristly chin and rose to his feet. “Hopefully you’ll see things my way in the morning.”
“Is this a good time to mention that placing a tape recorder under a person’s pillow and playing subliminal messages only works in the movies?”
“That’s what you think.”
Abby grinned. “Good night, bossy older brother.”
“Good night, annoying little sister.”
Just as he reached the door, one of the decorative sofa pillows smacked him in the back of the head. Alex caught the tasseled grenade before it hit the floor and lobbed it back.
“Does O’Halloran know about your temper?”
“Quinn calls it spunk.” A hint of mischief stole into his sister’s eyes. “I just wanted to tell you that I tweaked the Porter family motto a bit.”
“That’s it. I’m calling my attorney.”
Abby ignored him. “Now I live by the motto ‘Don’t settle for anything but
God’s
best.’ And, in this case, that’s exactly what I’m doing. Kate understands that what makes people repeat customers isn’t only the food on the table, it’s the feeling they get
at
the table.”
Feelings?
Alex was pretty sure that ‘feelings’ didn’t account for the success of the four hotels in the Porter chain. His guests returned because they wanted a professional staff waiting in the wings, poised to meet their every need—not a buddy.
An image of Kate, claiming an empty chair at the tableful of men who were discussing the dangerous potholes on Oak Street, came to mind. He would have fired her on the spot for that kind of familiarity.
“You don’t know what I’m talking about, do you?”
“I know you’ve been spending too much time in the ‘Kum ba yah’ circle since you moved here.”
Abby chuckled. “You’re welcome to take my place at the campfire while Quinn and I are on our honeymoon. Kate can teach you the words.”
The sarcastic comeback Alex was about to make was suddenly hijacked by a redheaded sprite.
This is Abby’s more—and that means it’s perfect.
He pushed the memory aside.
Learn something from Kate?
What did she know about ‘more’? She lived in a backwoods town with a population of less than a thousand. The dining room of her café was smaller than the master bathroom in one of his suites.
Abby clucked her tongue. “I know that look, Alex.”
“What look?”
“Don’t sell Kate short. She’s taught me a lot about friendship…and faith…since I’ve known her.”
Then she definitely had nothing to teach him. Alex had closed the door on both those things a long time ago.
“Doug…you…
chicken!
”
The burly truck driver, who’d been filling out the inventory receipt, glowered at Kate. “Didn’t Mrs. Carlson tell you not to call me names?”
“That was in second grade,” Kate huffed. “And I didn’t… I’m not calling you names! I’m talking about the chicken that was supposed to be on the truck today.”
The chicken that was to serve as the main entrée for Abby and Quinn’s wedding reception.
“It’s there.” Doug’s platter-size palm thumped her gently on the head as if she were a golden retriever puppy. “I saw it.”
Kate felt a headache sink its talons into the back of her skull. The café was the first stop on Doug’s predawn run and she was glad she’d checked the order before he’d left. Most of the time, he unloaded the boxes straight into the walk-in freezer while she signed the paperwork.
But the past forty-eight hours, Kate had gotten a little paranoid.
One of the freezers had died two nights ago, forcing her to dispose of half the inventory. Her best waitress had had a family emergency and Kate wasn’t able to find a replacement on short notice. So instead of devoting precious hours on the prep work for the reception dinner, she’d had to wait tables instead.
To top it off, the ’57 Thunderbird she’d inherited from her grandfather had thrown another temper tantrum and refused to leave the garage. To get from Point A to Point B, Kate had to make do with the canary-yellow Schwinn she’d received on her twelfth birthday.
And let’s not forget that you and Alex Porter are about to become temporary business partners.
Kate suppressed a shudder. There was no denying it. The man managed to get under her skin—like a splinter. If she didn’t know better, she might think he was responsible for all the obstacles that had been thrown into her path.
“I saw a box marked chicken,” Doug said in a soothing voice. The voice a person used when talking to small children. And golden retriever puppies.
“What you saw was a box of frozen chicken
patties
.” Kate’s back teeth snapped together on the last word.