Читать книгу The Hero's Sweetheart - Cheryl Wyatt - Страница 13

Chapter Three

“You have three months on the nose, Jack,” the loan officer said through the diner office phone the next morning. Jack rubbed tired eyes with his fist, first one then the other. Then he covered another yawn.

He had burned the midnight oil in order to finish going over the books. He’d finished at 5:00 a.m., expecting to find answers regarding the enormous deficit, but ending up with more questions. He’d been going over the books a second time when the loan officer called.

“I don’t need much to live on,” Jack said. “I’ll have most of my checks sent directly to the bank to be applied to the diner deficit until I track down these missing funds.” It would cut into his savings but saving the diner would be worth it.

“Another thing to consider is that perhaps your dad’s faculties were failing and he got confused keeping records.”

“Yet his inventory records and every other record stayed impeccable? Not likely. Things don’t add up.”

But the more likely scenario wasn’t any more appealing to Jack than the possibility that his dad had made accounting errors.

Had someone been stealing from the till? Taking funds from somewhere? Too much money was missing and unaccounted for—this wasn’t a simple record-keeping mistake.

He ended the call with a bad feeling.

From this point onward, Jack would trust no one. Not even Patrice. Frankie, that creep boyfriend of hers was a bad influence. Jack knew his type—spoiled, entitled and cunning as a conman. Bad morals corrupted good character. Without exception. No telling if he’d had access to the register. Jack didn’t like him hanging around the diner.

Darin’s face appeared in the office doorway. “Jack, sorry to interrupt you, man, but I’m getting slammed out here.” Sweat dotted Darin’s forehead. He mopped it with a paper towel.

Then Jack realized his entire apron was soaked. And sudsy. Which could only mean one thing.

“Perry isn’t here yet?”

Darin averted his eyes. Then returned to face Jack with honesty. “No. He hasn’t called, either.”

Jack rose to help wash dishes. He studied the clock. Perry was thirty minutes late so far. He shook his head, irritated at the lack of work ethic. He sighed, knowing he was in a precarious spot.

Perry was late.

But Olivia had been late, too. Only by about ten minutes, but still.

She’d rushed in much the same way she’d entered the meeting yesterday—tardy, flustered and fatigued. If he disciplined Perry, he’d have to discipline her, too.

He grabbed the dish towel from Darin. “I’ll handle the dishes. You go man the grill.”

Darin nodded and Jack headed to the sinks. He passed Olivia on the way. She stood at the condiment prep table filling containers.

Filling containers all the way up. Sugar. Syrup. Salt. Pepper. Ketchup. Mustard.

Then she placed every single one of them, filled to overflowing despite his request not to, on her rolling cart and took them toward the dining area.

He stared in disbelief as she started plunking down mustard and ketchup containers on every table.

Just as he’d asked her not to do.

He counted to ten before he blew his stack.

Not only did he likely have a thief on the loose—which meant he was going to have to be diligent in watching everyone like a hawk every minute until evidence presented itself—he had to contend with gross disrespect of his authority.

Naem rounded the corner whistling. He was in a perpetually good mood—it was hard to stay in a bad mood around him. Jack’s lightened mood dampened when Olivia passed by looking irritated.

Actually, it didn’t seem as though she saw them. Her back to them, she darted into the supply closet across the hall from the office. Seconds later, she groaned. “Mister Tough-Guy-With-All-His-Rules. Couldn’t leave well enough alone. Ugh!”

Who and what was the addled woman talking about?

Naem stopped in front of him. And grinned. “You look about to blow a gasket, boss. What’s she done now?”

Jack shook his head. Then he heard another groan coming from the supply closet.

“You heard her call you Mister Tough-Guy-With-All-The-Rules or what?”

Jack almost laughed at that. “She actually said that about me?”

Naem flipped a stack of cloth napkins over his arm. “Hey, if the combat boot fits...”

Olivia jerked her apron string tight as she exited the closet and started shoving more salt and pepper shakers on the wheeled cart to distribute to tables.

He realized on closer inspection that she actually looked more frazzled and drained than irritated.

Empathy filtered in until he noticed something else. Every shaker was full.

He fought another surge of anger as he realized she’d defied him again by filling every single one of those containers to the hilt, as well. He watched as she doubled the efforts of her rebellion by tromping over and setting mustard on every table.

Mister Tough-Guy-With-Rules?

If that was the case and he was stuck in his way with rules, Miss Olivia Abbott seemed bulldog determined to break or at least bend them all.

* * *

Olivia remembered halfway through her table-to-table setup that she wasn’t supposed to be putting the containers on tables unless customers asked for them. She groaned for the gazillionth time today and started taking them back off. One hour of sleep was not nearly enough. She felt disoriented and memory challenged.

By now, Jack had marched to the kitchen in that clenched-jaw way of his, stopping only to help Darin by heating up the extra grills since they’d been busier than anyone had anticipated at breakfast. Jack headed to the back leveling a firm look her way. If the pans banging around the sink now were any indication, Jack had seen her mistake with the tables. Uh-oh.

Only she doubted he’d believe it was a mistake.

“I forgot,” she said to Patrice who raised The Mom Look eyebrows at her.

“Did you also forget he said he didn’t want the syrup filled up all the way?”

Ack! She’d forgotten that, too. Her brain was foggy from fatigue. Admittedly, Jack’s ideas made her bristle. “That’s dumb. That means more work for the next person on shift. He’s trying to save money. I get that. But filling the dispensers only half full will not make customers use half as much. It will just make us have to work twice as much to keep things refilled.”

“You may be right, and he’ll eventually figure it out...” Patrice bit her lip but Olivia knew the rest without Patrice having to spell it out.

“Fine. Whether I agree with him or not, it’s what he requested and I need to honor his wishes.” Olivia shrugged, feeling bombarded from all directions. He wouldn’t understand that she’d barely slept a wink because she’d been too stubborn to be straight with him yesterday when he’d probed her with questions on the sidewalk after the employee meeting.

Just knowing she’d had to get up earlier had set off her insomnia like a bull running through her bedroom. Her thoughts had been a dizzying array of chaos and she could not shut them down. She’d started counting sheep and ended with visions of them turning on her with loaded shotguns.

The longer she’d lain there trying to fall asleep, the sooner morning came, and with every hour closer to the time her alarm was set for, her anxiety grew into a frenzy over having one less hour to sleep. She’d finally given up, gotten up and studied, hoping that would help. It hadn’t.

Olivia slipped outside and went for a walk, hoping the cool air would help her feel more alert. On the way back in, she passed Jack’s truck—a Ford, of course. It reminded her that Sully had often spoken of frequent Ford-versus-Chevy sparring between he and Jack. Olivia sided with Sully on that one. Chevy rocked! She fought the urge to write a note on his truck. She’d promised Sully to razz Jack about his love of Fords. But somehow Jack didn’t seem the joking type now that she’d met him in person.

Adding to her stress was the pressing reminder that, at some point, after sneaking downstairs overnight to study in her favorite corner booth, she realized she’d studied the wrong chapter and therefore put herself in danger of not passing her test later today.

Maybe she needed to just be honest with Jack about her limitations.

Would it make a difference? She went to the supply room to run it by Patrice.

She, of all people, knew how much Olivia hated to be treated differently or given special attention. Yet did she have too much pride to admit that she may need extra help?

Also, telling Jack would mean running the risk of him hiring someone else, which neither of them could afford.

The hair on Olivia’s neck stood at attention—she sensed Jack’s overpowering presence before she saw him.

“Miss Abbott. I need to see you in my office.”

Jack stalked back to the office and Olivia stood amid the patriotic diner decor feeling as if she were in the middle of one of the wars the wall images depicted. She fought fear and hyperventilation. She liked it soooo much better when he called her Olivia. Addressing her so formally meant she was in trouble.

Patrice started to head back toward the office looking intent to be a verbal buffer but Olivia stopped her. “It’s sweet of you to want to defend me but I need to face the music myself.”

Patrice paused. “You sure?”

Olivia nodded. She didn’t want to put her friend in the line of fire. “Jack looks too angry to bend even if you try to talk him out of whatever he plans to say.”

Patrice nibbled her lip. “Or do.”

“Oh, Patrice, what if he fires me? I should have remembered what he said in the meeting.”

“Go, before he gets madder.”

Olivia made the trek feeling as if she was marching to a chopping block. First, he cut her off from seeing Sully. And now...he may boot her out of her only source of income. Not that she didn’t deserve the latter.

She stepped inside Sully’s office. Jack was sitting at the desk with his head bowed over a spreadsheet of some sort. He didn’t even bother looking up before saying, “Please close the door and sit down.”

She obeyed instantly—as she should have all along this morning—as she tried to figure out how to explain what had happened. He’d never believe her, after she’d questioned his money-saving judgment yesterday, that her actions today hadn’t been defiant or deliberate.

Maybe she’d assumed wrongly that he was like Sully, often forgiving to a fault. Something about Jack’s silence told her that he was not the same way. She gulped. Hard. Felt a fidget coming on but was too terrified to move.

Jack stopped writing on the sheet and stood so calmly, she shivered.

“I’m sorry,” she blurted. “Please let me keep my job.”

If she lost her job, she couldn’t pay for school and she’d fail at life.

He blinked in surprise, then quickly covered it by scowling as he waved her comment off. Still, the little telling gesture made her think there may be some Sully in Jack after all. “I’m not going to fire you, Olivia. But I am going to ask for your cooperation in doing what I say so things can run smoothly for all of us.”

“I know. When you ask me to do something, you expect me to do it.”

“That lecture is not why I called you in here and if you were getting proper sleep, mistakes like overfilling the syrup and sugar wouldn’t be happening.”

She stood. “How do you know I’m not getting proper sleep?”

He gestured toward her apron. “It’s on seam-side out.” Next he pointed to her name tag. “And, last I heard, you aren’t Oliver.”

She looked down and clenched her eyes shut. Groaned. Felt like giggling.

In her defense, Olivia and Oliver were very close in spelling. Except Oliver was the maintenance guy.

She didn’t refute Jack’s statement about the lack of sleep. She did, however, rapidly right her apron.

“The full containers are not my biggest concern. New habits take time.”

She stiffened. “Then what?”

Had he discovered her disability? She felt equal parts relief and trepidation. Truly, his response depended on his mercy.

Or lack thereof. She honestly didn’t know him well enough to guess to which side he’d lean.

He shuffled papers before meeting her gaze again. “It seems you have very strong opinions as to how this diner should run.”

Yes. She did. But only because of Sully and his leeway and how much he’d grown to depend on her with his health taking a nosedive and his refusal to see a doctor. She opted for humor and blinked innocently. “What on earth would make you think that?”

A quick flash of dimples bracketing his smile told her she’d caught him off guard. But he quickly righted his rigid posture and drill-sergeant demeanor. “If you were a shift manager, what would you suggest I do about Perry’s on-the-job drug use?”

“Uhhh... I don’t know what you—”

“Don’t lie to me. I won’t keep people I can’t trust.”

Her shoulders sank. “Jack, I really didn’t know.”

Jack tossed a pencil on the desk. It rolled off and bounced on the floor.

Clearly, he didn’t believe her.

Wait, wait, wait. Why would he mention her in conjunction with management?

Olivia felt bronchial spasms that usually preceded a stress-driven asthma attack. Sully didn’t believe in putting one employee above another. Surely Jack wasn’t scouting out which of them to stick at the bottom and top of a chain of command, was he? That could breed resentment and compromise the bond they all shared.

No matter. A more pressing issue blared between them.

She swallowed. “What drug use are you talking about?”

“He pops pills.”

“He has a lot of allergies.”

Jack smirked. “Yeah, to staying sober and straight. I noticed his pupils were dilated. I asked to see the bottle. He refused. That threw up a red flag. I’m a medic—I’ve had pharmacology classes. I suspect the pills he’s taking are someone else’s prescription.”

She sat. “Narcotics?”

“Yes. I can’t have employees impaired on the job. It’s dangerous for the employee, for their coworkers, for customers and it’s an insurance liability. Not to mention a lawsuit waiting to happen. If he shows up today, I’m doing a drug test. If he refuses, I’m letting him go. In fact, to be fair, everyone gets a drug test today. It’s the law and Dad has never performed one to my knowledge.”

She blinked. Was he questioning each of them about Perry? She’d seen him call Naem, Darin and Patrice in earlier, individually. While she was glad Jack wasn’t singling her out, it bothered her that he didn’t believe the best about her and the others. Either he had trust issues, too, or something had happened to make him suspect something amiss.

Olivia thought back to what he’d said about not wanting his employees impaired. Yet, isn’t that what she was, this sleep deprived?

She was no safer to have around than Perry, in a sense.

Jack studied her all the more intently, which made her wonder if his impairment concerns were why she’d been called in last. Maybe he’d questioned them about her, too.

She had to get more sleep. Period. But how?

The clacking of plates and platters and an increasing din wafted through the wood door. Things were starting to sound chaotic out in the dining area, which meant the floodgates had opened.

“Can I go? I really need to help Patrice and Naem. Obviously you were right about patrons eating breakfast early.”

In fact, many things had been running more smoothly. If she told him, would he think she was just sucking up? Was she?

“One more question. Who all has access to the registers here?”

“Pretty much all of us. We all help each other in a pinch.”

He apparently didn’t like that answer because his jaw clenched rhythmically. “Employees only?”

“Yes.” Why would he ask that? Had someone taken money? They’d been really lax about counting registers at shift change, and Sully operated almost solely on an honor system. She just assumed everyone was as honest as she was.

The thought that someone would steal from Sully upped her ire in a big way.

Patrice could be heard calling out for Darin to bring her more menus, which meant she and Naem were probably dealing with a full dining room. Olivia darted glances toward the door, wanting to go help her crew out of breakfast-rush chaos. Plus, Darin was undoubtedly slammed, too, and could use Jack’s help on the grills and other food prep.

Jack rose. “Go on back to work, Liv.”

She jerked. “Why did you call me that?”

Jack angled his head. “Dad told me to.”

“How? He’s not speaking.” She stood. Sat. Stood. “Is he?”

“He started writing with his strong hand on a special tablet last night. Have you not been to see him?”

She scowled. “I assumed you didn’t want me to.”

“I never said that. I just needed time alone with him that first evening.”

“So you don’t have a problem with me visiting him?”

“Not as of now.” He studied her in a way that made Olivia wonder if he suspected her of unethical behavior, as well. “I’ll say it one more time. I can’t keep people I can’t trust. Do I make myself clear?”

Olivia nodded but a terrible fist clenched her gut. Bottom line, Jack did not trust her. Why? What did he think she’d done, or what did he think her capable of?

She couldn’t stand the thought of being let go. That would stress Sully out. And keep her from paying for school and make her ineligible for the EPTC internship scholarship. And maybe force her to live with one of her parents, a very unhealthy atmosphere. She just couldn’t. He had to believe her.

Olivia wasn’t sure why his opinion mattered so much, just that it did. What he thought of her was important to her, even if she didn’t want it to be.

“You can trust me, Jack.”

He leaned back in his chair and folded his arms across his well-developed chest. “We’ll see.”

* * *

After nonstop customers from the start of her shift to the end, Olivia’s feet were aching. She’d expected to get to use her breaks for studying the right chapter but ended up not even having time to eat. She went to class and bombed her test despite cramming the hour before.

Her schedule was too packed. Something had to give. She came home feeling defeated and praying for sleep. Still, it eluded her and she hadn’t been able to comprehend a single thing in her book. Her dyslexia was functioning at an all-time high. She needed help. Period.

The next morning, she at least made it to the diner on time. Just in time to hear Jack say his trademark, “Get your boots back to work,” to Darin and Naem, who were swatting each other with wet dish towels.

When she walked to the back and glimpsed Jack yanking Perry’s time card out of his slot, she realized that Perry had not shown up yesterday. She eyed the clock. Patrice, just now arriving, peered at the clock as well. “Perry’s late again,” Olivia whispered.

“That’s his problem. I’ve got issues of my own.”

“Fighting with Frankie again?”

Patrice lifted her sleeves. Fingerlike red marks covered her upper arms.

“He did that?” Again!

Patrice nodded, tears filling her eyes. “He shook me so hard I bit my tongue.”

“I’m so sorry. I keep telling you, you need to get away from him. Why won’t you listen?”

“I know. But I can’t.” Patrice shrugged with the shoulders of someone already defeated.

Olivia wanted to talk sense into her, to ensure her safety, but Patrice looked too distressed right now to listen. That talk would have to wait. For now, out of sensitivity, Olivia sent Patrice the kindest smile she could and tried to think of worthwhile words to say.

Naem interrupted them. “Trouble’s brewing. Jack is at the computer cutting Perry’s check.”

“Since today’s not payday, that’s not a good sign,” Olivia said.

“No. Maybe if we have a talk with Perry and he promises to do better, Jack will relent.”

She nibbled her lip, recalling the conversation about impairment and possible drugs. “Naem, I’m not sure that’s the best decision.”

Naem looked at her funny. “Hey, we all stick together. All us little people.” Naem eyed her, then Jack. “What were you doing in his office, anyhow?”

Olivia realized the potential for distrust and division. “He had questions about the diner.” Olivia answered carefully. “Probably the same questions he asked you, Darin and Patrice.”

Naem nodded. “He said he needs to speak to me again today. Darin’s in there now. Maybe we should all compare notes.”

“Maybe.”

As she and Naem donned aprons, washed hands and tucked pens behind their ears, Darin emerged from Jack’s office. Wordlessly he headed straight for the grills.

Perry was nowhere to be found. She eyed the clock. He was twenty minutes late.

Jack helped Darin prepare bacon, then took over washing dishes. After customers started piling in upon the diner opening, a surprise to Olivia because she hadn’t thought they would continue to, day after day, Perry rolled in looking hungover and unkempt.

He only got four steps in before Jack pointed to the door.

Perry stopped, lowering his spit bottle. Gross. How could anyone chew tobacco in a restaurant? Not to mention it was a major health-code violation and one even Sully wouldn’t tolerate.

“What?” Perry blinked at Jack, who looked more livid by the second.

Perry on the other hand, looked as stoned as he probably was.

“No.” Jack barreled around the corner to stand in Perry’s way. “There’s the door. Walk back through it. You’re done here.” He handed Perry his final check.

“You’re firing me ’cause I’m only an hour late? What up, dude?”

“Out. Now. Or I’ll call the police.”

As mad as Jack looked, Olivia mentally advised Perry to do what Jack said. The anger in Jack’s eyes told her that calling the police on Perry was the most humane of two choices. Getting tossed out on his ear by Jack was probably the less appealing of the two.

As Jack walked Perry out, he said, “You need to get professional help.”

Perry sneered and muttered something to Jack that probably would have earned him a fist in the face from a less-controlled man.

“Oh my. I cannot believe he actually fired him,” Patrice whispered later to Olivia as they tucked order pads into the next shift’s aprons. Everyone had been walking on eggshells since the incident.

You mess up once, I warn you. You mess up twice, you’re done. That’s what he’d said when they’d all gaped at him after he escorted Perry out. Zero tolerance. Since then Jack had not said another word. To anyone.

“I know. To Jack’s credit, Perry pushed him over the line. He was warned,” Olivia said.

“Yeah. Multiple times. Still.”

Nothing else needed to be said. Olivia knew one thing. She wasn’t about to cross Jack. He was nothing like his dad. Sully might yell a lot, but he was all bark and no bite. Maybe even passive to a fault when it came to setting boundaries with employees. Jack, on the other hand? He was all bite. Little to no mercy seemed his mantra.

Other than that Fords were the only car built tough and worth having. Olivia smiled fondly remembering Sully telling her of their Chevy-versus-Ford sparring. Though Sully had made her promise to give Jack a hard time about Ford once she met him in person, so far, she hadn’t had the nerve.

“Of course he could have been using Perry as an example.” Patrice shrugged.

“To show his power you mean?” Olivia hoped not. But it bothered her that Jack didn’t even try to find out Perry’s background. Or, if he had, she wasn’t aware of it.

“I don’t know. Maybe. That doesn’t seem like the Jack I remember, but maybe the military and war changed him.” Patrice didn’t have to finish the rest.

Changed him. And not for the better.

Just as Olivia thought. Change was, at this point in her life, her absolute worst enemy, and right now Jack Sullenberger was captaining that particular moving ship.