Chapter Five

Score. An open parking spot in front of the grill. Shay pulled in, happy it only took one try. Maybe today would be a good one. Her résumé was now polished—a plus. Not having a reference from her last job—a minus. Practicing four-square breathing, she sat for a few minutes getting her nerves under control. In, two, three, four. Hold, two, three, four…

Once more she checked her makeup and hair in the visor mirror. Brown hair pulled up into a high ponytail, glinting red highlights where the sun hit it. Hair good, the style clean, elegant, and professional with her black pantsuit. With a pinky, she swiped at the smudge of makeup under her eyes. The pale gold-and-green eye shadow made her hazel eyes pop, but the freckles across her nose still stuck out. Thank you, Irish ancestors.

“All right, no more dawdling.” She snapped the visor shut. A few more cleansing breaths through pursed lips and she was ready. “Here we go.”

A wall of heat and humidity hit her as she stepped out and around the car onto the sidewalk. She gazed at the building, starting at the top. A black awning with white lettering proclaimed Rock House Grill. Music notes on one side drifted up in a chord structure. Classy.

A person could get a feel for things by the decor and care given. The three-story brick building probably had second-floor offices and maybe apartments on the third. The overall impression was tidy and sharp. The beveled glass had musical notes etched into them as well. Everything was in the details.

Grabbing one of the antique brass handles, she pulled open the ebony-wood door to enter a moderate-sized uncluttered lobby furnished with a modern, matte-black podium for the reservation book, and phone. Frames holding musical paraphernalia were in interesting patterns throughout the room. The style was classy and would keep the waiting patrons occupied visually.

Acoustic guitar music drifted into her ears, and she paused to listen to the song about getting back home and getting a plan. She was on board with the idea. The music gave her courage and calmed her. Clenching her fists, she hesitated before taking the final steps through the second door, which led into the main dining room. Scenarios began running through her head.

Though still early in the day, there would be a lot going on—setting tables, checking reservations, and prepping in the kitchen and bar area. If she worked there as the Front of House, she would also make sure the bathrooms, coat check, and other areas were clean and stocked. She’d be evaluating the staff and planning assignments. Stop. If you get a job, it won’t be doing front-end. Kayla is the hostess. Shay would have to get past her first.

Plastering on her game face, she pushed open the door into the main room and came to a halt.

Chaos reigned. People shouted at each other, a glass broke, then there was more shouting.

Maybe it wasn’t a good day to apply for a job.

The woman from the picture, Kayla, stood, hands on hips, tapping a foot while arguing with a smartly dressed blonde-haired woman at the corner of the bar. “What does this mean for me, Olivia?

The tall blonde answered. “You will continue as hostess for now. I’ll spend my time between managing here and overseeing the ongoing construction at Jazz House.”

“I won’t work for you. You hate me.” Kayla’s face grew red as she spit the words. “Besides, I have a better offer. Another show contacted me. Send me my check.” She reached past the other woman, grabbed her designer bag off the bar, and stalked toward the door.

She shouldered her way past Shay. “Move it, honey. I’m out of here.”

On the other hand, this might be a perfect opportunity. As an EMT, Shay was trained to think on her feet. Adjusting to changing scenarios and making things work was ingrained in her personality. If she could bring order to chaos, what better way to interview?

Shay morphed from unemployed job seeker to restaurant savior and made a beeline for the blonde.

****

Olivia’s head pounded. This wasn’t her specialty. Yes, she’d earned a degree in hospitality, but behind-the-scenes of business was where her real talent lay, not in interacting with people.

Sweat trickled between her shoulder blades. She needed to turn up the air conditioning.

“Olivia, I need to talk to you.” Steve, the newest bartender, leaned over the bar.

Massaging her temple, Olivia took a deep breath. Not a moment to regroup from one problem before another started. He’d been harping on his salary. She didn’t want to fire the kid. “What is it, Steve?”

“I’m really good at my job—” He winked. “—And other things.”

Did he think flirting a good strategy? Nobody wanted to work their way up anymore. Instant gratification ran rampant. So many weren’t above manipulation.

“Steve, please. Go back to work.” Olivia couldn’t make any decisions in this craziness. She needed to buy some time. Steve was a good novice bartender with potential, and she wanted to give him a chance. Maybe when things settled, they could discuss how jobs worked. “We’ll talk another time.”

Steve scowled and nodded curtly but did as she asked and returned to polishing the glasses.

“God, I need a miracle.” She rubbed at the muscles knotted tight in her neck and shoulders.

“Well, maybe I’m an answer to your prayer.”

Spinning around, Olivia stared into a set of hazel eyes, twinkling with good humor and backed by steel. “Who are you?”

“Hi, I’m Shay McDowell.” The young woman came toward Olivia with her hand outstretched.

Medium height, chestnut-colored hair pulled into a high ponytail, and tasteful makeup, she wore a sharp suit and practical, stacked heels. Shay McDowell looked the epitome of professional.

“Olivia House.” She wiped her damp palm and grasped the proffered hand, giving it a brisk, businesslike shake. “How can I help you, Ms. McDowell?”

“It’s Shay, and I stopped by to drop off my résumé.” The woman shrugged one shoulder and lifted her hand at the disaster. “But if you’re willing, I could give you an on-the-spot interview and get this under control.”

Quickly scanning the résumé, Olivia then eyed the shorter woman. “The previous hostess left with no notice.”

“Yeah, I met her in the doorway, but I’m more than a hostess. My specialty is Front of House.” Shay stepped back and glanced around the room. “Take a few moments. I’ll understand if you decline the offer. It’s not the normal way of applying for a job.”

Olivia took a moment to study Shay over the top of the résumé. The woman stood straight with shoulders back and chin lifted, wearing an admirable confidence. Her résumé definitely indicated experience. “Well, it can’t get much worse than this. Have at it.”

At the rate the staff was going, it didn’t matter, they wouldn’t be ready for the first customers anyway. Margaret and Eli were dealing with their own issues in the kitchen and wouldn’t be any help out front. Stepping back, Olivia took a seat to watch the show. How had things deteriorated this far?

Aden usually ran a tight ship. His split focuses recently had set in motion a downward cascade. Everything he’d planned to accomplish was falling apart. His absence the past couple of days was the final straw.

“Swwwttttt!”

A sharp whistle filled the air, and Olivia jumped. She gaped as Shay took two fingers out of her mouth.

The interviewee then proceeded to squirt hand sanitizer from a small bottle she pulled out of her purse and rubbed it into her skin while the staff hushed. Blessed silence filled the room as everyone turned to stare at the composed figure with hands now on her hips.

“May I have your attention, please?” Her pleasant voice carried well without shouting. “I’m Shay McDowell, and for today, I am your Front of House. We have two hours to pull this together, and I’m counting on each and every one of you to either step up or step out. From what I’ve heard, your boss, Aden House, deserves more respect than this.”

Gazes drifted toward each other. Soft murmuring and the shuffling of feet revealed embarrassment from many of the staff. No one left.

“Okay, I guess you’re all in.” Shay walked to the center of the room and started firing off orders.

She certainly knew how to work a crowd. Within minutes, the entire staff was eating out of her hand and working as a team.

“I know her.”

Olivia swiveled her head to peer into Margaret’s intense, amber-colored eyes. “Everyone needs to stop sneaking up on me.”

“I know that woman. She’s Shay McDowell.” Margaret’s gaze followed Shay’s movements around the restaurant. “How did you get her?”

“What do you know?” Olivia went back to watching the restaurant come to order. “We were fine with Kayla as hostess.”

“Shay’s good.” Margaret took a barstool next to her, smelling of butter and sugar. “You know Front of House is more encompassing than hostess. A hostess takes names, makes reservations, and seats customers. Front of House can and will do those things, but they also act as liaisons for the entire restaurant. A good one has their hand in everything except the preparation of the food.”

Olivia nodded. “Which may be exactly what we need right now.”

Shay stalked around the room, wrangling the waiters, bussers, and bartenders. Every table was set to her specifications, and more than once, she brought spotted glasses or silverware to the staff’s attention.

“It doesn’t stop there either.” Margaret pointed to the kitchen, from where scents of bread baking drifted into the dining room. “An experienced Front is a blessing to the chefs. They communicate how well dishes are being received by the patrons and head off any problems between the back and front. Most important, in my opinion, are customer interactions. Front of House is the face of the restaurant.”

Like a general, Shay marched around the room. Positive energy and authority soon had the previously disgruntled staff smiling and working like the people Olivia was used to seeing.

“Keep talking. Tell me what you know.” She trusted Margaret, respected her and her opinions. “You say Shay is one of these Front of House people. If she’s so good, why is she applying for a job?”

“She’s been with Eduardo’s for a couple of years. He has good people. In my opinion, Shay put him on the map. Your food can be good, but if the service is bad, the restaurant is doomed.”

Margaret’s voice, smooth with a hint of the south, soothed Olivia’s frazzled nerves.

“Word is, about a week ago, her ex-husband’s nasty girlfriend showed up causing waves. She accused Shay of pushing her, and the others in her party backed her up.”

Olivia’s head snapped around. “She assaulted someone? A customer?”

Margaret placed her hand on Olivia’s arm. “Relax. I know people—reliable people. They say the girlfriend, Brenda, has been tormenting Shay for a long time. Shay ignored her for the most part. This time though, Brenda came to Eduardo’s and created a stir, demanding to be seated without reservations.”

“Even so, violent behavior is not the answer.” Olivia turned her attention back and monitored Shay with a warier eye. “Yes, she’s doing a great job, but there’s enough trouble at Rock House without adding an unstable employee to the mix.”

“No worries, Olivia.” Margaret patted her arm. “Brenda tripped her, and when Shay fell, she brushed against the witch. Eduardo came out, and the entire party accused Shay of shoving Brenda. They said they wouldn’t pursue legal action if Shay was fired.”

“So, to keep the peace, he let her go. So much for loyalty.”

“Eduardo’s not a bad man. Like everyone, he fights to stay afloat, and his place can’t take any bad publicity.”

“Neither can we, Margaret.” Momentary hope fled, and like an old helium balloon, Olivia began to sag. “Without Aden here, the business is already on shaky ground.”

“I won’t tell you how to run the business; it’s not my specialty. But she’s a good woman.” A slim brown finger pointed toward Shay. “She is also a volunteer with the local ambulance service.”

Olivia couldn’t deny Shay had a way with people.

One of the new waiters stood listening intently as the newcomer instructed him on proper etiquette. He focused and nodded with understanding.

Shay smiled, patted him on the arm, and shifted to her next project, examining glasses for marks.

There was an angel in my car.

Olivia’s head tilted as she thought back to Aden’s remark after surgery. “No, it would be too much of a coincidence.”

“What?” Margaret stared at her.

“Do you believe in angels?”