| |
Several tiny fires later, including one actual tiny fire in an upstairs bathroom’s trashcan (a result of a guest actually attempting to deposit his cigarette there), Nicole again collapsed in Uncle Joe’s old chair, dropped her head against the headrest, and dreamed about returning to her bed for a six-hour marathon of Sex and the City and a bowl of popcorn. It was six-thirty and already, the skies had begun to darken, threatening autumn rain. Always in Bar Harbor, the weather could flip like a switch.
Luke didn’t even bother to knock before he barged in. Nicole balked at him, annoyed. All the color drained from his face. “I don’t know how to tell you this.”
Nicole popped up from her chair. “What is it?” Her mind went a million directions. Maybe one of the line cooks had chopped off his finger. Maybe Geoffrey had chopped it off himself.
“Okay. Don’t freak, but. This hasn’t happened in years. Evan Snow has come for dinner. And when Geoffrey came out to greet him, Evan Snow insisted on an alteration of the menu, and you can imagine what happened from there.”
Nicole’s heart pounded as she raced through the hallway, Luke hot on her heels. Evan Snow was one of the Snow brothers, the one she’d recently learned about, who had sent over Adam Keating’s diaries and journals after Heather’s collapse in front of his restaurant near the docks. This still didn’t put Evan Snow in Nicole’s good graces. Snow Enterprise was clearly rinsing the Keating Inn of funds; perhaps they did something similar for all the companies on their land across Bar Harbor and Mount Desert Island. They weren’t to be trusted, not even after this one moment of compassion.
The scene in the Eatery dining area was reminiscent of the Coliseum in Ancient Rome. Evan Snow and Geoffrey the Chef were in a sort of verbal dispute, with Geoffrey insisting his menu was perfect and Evan demanding that he switch a few things around. Three people in their early twenties and late teens sat at Evan Snow’s table, their eyes to the white tablecloth. If they were Evan Snow’s children, they were probably accustomed to his rages. Nicole was again reminded of her ex-husband, how sometimes when he kicked up a mood, you just had to hide.
“It shouldn’t be such a difficult thing, Geoff,” Evan stated under his breath. “We have very particular ideas of how this dinner should go.”
“And you should know that if you come into my restaurant, you enter my realm,” Geoffrey returned as he crossed his arms over his chest.
“Hello, gentlemen,” Nicole greeted with a smile as she stepped much closer to them than was probably safe. “Can I help you with anything?”
“You can ask this man to eliminate his ego from my Eatery,” Geoffrey blurted out.
“And you can tell this man that without Snow Enterprises, there wouldn’t be an Eatery at all,” Evan Snow retorted.
Nicole took stock of the man, now: six-foot three-ish, with dark, chaotic curls and bright blue eyes. He glowered at Geoffrey without glancing Nicole’s way. Geoffrey turned his grimace toward Nicole as, in the back kitchen, another thing crashed to the ground.
“What in God’s name...” Geoffrey stormed back into the kitchen, pushed open the door, then gasped.
Nicole and Luke raced after him to discover a kitchen on the brink of collapse. Two pans had fallen from the stovetop, and poor Wally, the line cook, had sauce smeared across his otherwise bright white apron. Geoffrey nearly growled. He whipped his head back toward Nicole as he said, “You! Get out of my kitchen. I need to focus. It’s the apocalypse.”
Nicole took a slight step back. Everything within her wanted to tell Evan Snow to get the heck out of there and respect the Eatery as it was.
“You know, Evan Snow really does have a lot of power around here,” Luke said suddenly under his breath, just loud enough for Nicole to hear.
Nicole met Luke’s grey eyes as fear stabbed her heart. “You can’t be saying...”
Luke shrugged. “I’m sure it’ll be fine. If Geoff gets in line.”
Nicole flared her nostrils. “I don’t know what to say. Without Joe here, Geoffrey feels he doesn’t have anyone above him. He’s the authority.”
“You!” Geoffrey pointed a very sharp knife in her direction and glared at her. “I’ll do what that idiot wants, but only if you get out of my kitchen— right now!”
Nicole’s heart rate dropped. She lifted her hands and headed out of the kitchen, grateful that these two idiotic, volatile men had met some sort of truce.
The dining room had begun to fill. The Eatery’s hostess scrambled back and forth from the front of the house to the relevant table. She whispered to herself as she studied the seating chart before each person sat. The conversation was vibrant and alive, coming from every corner of the beautiful restaurant.
Only one table remained stoic and strained. Evan Snow sat with his arms crossed tightly over his broad chest. His three children— two girls and a boy sat and stared at their still-empty glasses. Frustrated, Nicole stepped toward one of the small waiter stations, grabbed a bottle of sparkling water, and headed over to Evan Snow’s table. She forced a smile and lifted the bottle.
“Can I get you four started with a bit of sparkling water to drink?”
Evan Snow simply nodded. In the silence that followed, Nicole poured water into each of their glasses, feeling like some kind of fool. When she’d finished, she placed the rest of the bottle in the center of the table.
“Can I give you my wine order?” Evan Snow asked then.
“I think that would be best to give your waiter,” Nicole told him. “He should be here shortly.” She wanted to wave at the waiter stand with a violent hand, where the waiter seemed lost in conversation with one of the hostesses, but she held back and kept up that demure smile.
“I see. So you’re not our waitress,” Evan said.
“No. I’m not. I’m the manager of the Keating Inn,” Nicole corrected. She wanted to grimace. First of all, how dare he assume she was their waitress? Second of all, why did she feel she needed to butter up this man just because the rest of Bar Harbor seemed in awe of him?
“The manager.” Evan’s eyes glittered. He bowed his head slightly, then said, “I was very sorry to hear about Joseph Keating’s passing. He was a pillar of the community and very well-respected amongst the Snow family.”
The twenty-something gentleman seated at the table scoffed. Nicole tilted her head his way. Was this proof that Evan Snow lied through his teeth? Probably. Still, he was a businessman, and businessmen always knew exactly what to say in any given situation. It was as though they were constantly flirting with the world.
Probably, Evan Snow’s children could see all the way through him.
“Nicole Harvey,” she said then as she slipped out a hand for him to shake. His grip was incredibly firm and formidable. She shivered as his blue eyes seemed to pierce through hers.
“It’s lovely to meet you,” Evan Snow greeted. “It’s a funny thing. I just got off the phone with my lawyer regarding a call from the Keating lawyer. Good old Bob.”
Nicole maintained her smile. Was he playing her like a chess pawn? Was this entire dinner a threat?
“Yes. I had a few questions I wanted him to clear up for me,” Nicole said. She swiped her palms down her thighs; they had begun to sweat.
“Well, I don’t see why that’s any good for anyone,” Evan returned smoothly. “We’ve operated together well all these years, the Keating family and the Snow family, that is.”
Nicole glanced toward the bored-looking teenager across the table. She toyed with her linen napkin, ruffling the edge. Her hair had been expertly curled, and her eyes were rounded with eyeliner; Nicole could imagine the Seventeen magazine pages with “how-to” instructions for hair, makeup, and fashion, probably still spread out on this Snow girl’s bed. When she lifted her eyes toward her father, they reflected nothing but disdain.
Nicole was reminded of the way Abby looked at her.
She returned her gaze to Evan Snow, who waited for her response. She cleared her throat, then said, “You know, I’m pretty new to Bar Harbor. I didn’t officially move here full-time until about seven months ago.”
“I’m quite aware,” Evan Snow told her, his voice laced with irritation.
“But what you might not imagine is this. I haven’t been under the wide umbrella of Snow Enterprises and therefore am not frightened into submission when a member of the Snow family expresses ill will toward me.”
Evan Snow’s eyes glittered with malice, along with something else. Was he impressed? Intrigued?
“I hope the four of you enjoy your dinner,” Nicole said as she stepped back, pressing her palms together. “Your waiter will be with you shortly.”
As she sauntered away, she could practically feel Evan Snow’s blue eyes like daggers through her back. Maybe she’d just made a very powerful enemy. But if the Snow family took what they wanted, whenever they wanted it, then how was the rest of Bar Harbor supposed to live? Nicole knew bullies; she had been married to one for years. She hadn’t come all the way to Bar Harbor, changed her life, lost contact with her children, and nearly lost her sister, Heather, to put up with a hissy fit from some overly rich, overly handsome guy with moody children. She’d had enough of his kind.