Expecting a Fortune
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Nina Crespo
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16.1K
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HarlequinChapter One
The beautiful spring day mirrored Bea Fortune’s mood as she hurried down the sidewalk. She wanted to shout out in glee to the residents of the small sleepy town of Chatelaine, Tonight’s the night! Her long-held dream of opening a restaurant, the Cowgirl Café, was just hours away.
On some level, she still couldn’t believe it was happening. Over the past few years, she’d shadowed chefs and restaurant proprietors as well as completed a degree in restaurant management. But financially, the goal had remained out of reach until her life had changed overnight.
A few months ago, she’d been summoned to Texas with her sister, Esme, and their brother, Asa. Their deceased uncle, Elias Fortune, had left an inheritance in his will for them and his grandchildren. Elias’s widow, Freya Fortune, had explained how he’d wanted to make each of their wishes come true.
Bea didn’t consider herself a small-town girl, but something about Chatelaine had felt right, and she’d stayed to launch a restaurant there using the windfall she’d received. Now she could finally share her take on down-home family food inspired by her mom’s recipes. Fried green tomatoes on a bed of fresh basil with remoulade. Bourbon-glazed pork chops and sautéed kale. Gulf shrimp and green chili–cheddar grits, and baskets of buttery homemade biscuits served at every table. Those selections were just some of her favorites on the menu.
Growing up, the food her mother, Andrea, had prepared had been made with love. Even now in her thirties, Bea still remembered the warmth and goodness filling the kitchen as her mom had cooked—and playfully admonished Lars, Bea’s dad, when he’d come in and sneak a taste from a pot warming on the stove.
More than anything, she wanted her customers to leave with that same sense of contentment after enjoying a meal at her establishment. And for the café to be something her parents would have been proud of had they still been alive.
Anxious to get to the restaurant, Bea picked up the pace. An afternoon breeze ruffled her long auburn hair. As she smoothed strands from her forehead, she spotted Devin Street, the owner of the Chatelaine Daily News, walking toward her. Bea’s heart did a little flip-flop in her chest.
Dressed in dark boots, black jeans, and a light blue button-down shirt, he fit in with the rest of the casually dressed pedestrians. But his height—and the way he wore a cowboy hat—put him head and broad shoulders above the rest. The tan Stetson was pulled low over his deep sepia eyes, and his gaze reflected keen observation along with a confident, relaxed nature not every guy their age possessed. Add in the dark beard that was a hint more of a shadow on his angular, brown jawline, and he was worth-a-second-look sexy.
And she’d given in to the temptation to look more than a few times since her future brother-in-law, Ryder Hayes, had introduced them after she’d moved to town.
He gave a nod and a smile. “Hello, Bea.”
His voice, rich and smooth, flowed like the warm golden-brown honey served with biscuits at the café.
Slightly breathless, she pushed out the words “Hi, Devin.” Jeez. She sounded like she had a case of laryngitis.
“Ready for tonight?”
“Absolutely.” Her tone rose an octave higher than normal. “Everything is great.” And now she sounded like a cheerleader at a pep rally. Thankfully, Devin didn’t seem to notice.
As he strode past, a wonderful masculine scent with notes of cedar, citrus, and musk followed him. Unable to resist, she glanced over her shoulder. The pair of Levi’s he had on suited him well.
Before she looked away, Devin glanced back and met her gaze.
Oops...busted. On a reflex, she waved at him.
With a slightly questioning expression, he waved back.
No, that wasn’t awkward at all... As Bea faced forward, the heat creeping into her cheeks turned into a blazing fire, making her feel overly warm in the outfit she’d chosen for the restaurant’s opening. The lightweight peach sweater, white blouse, jeans, and flats gave her a professional look, but the ensemble also allowed her to move around quickly during dinner service.
Instead of drooling over Devin, she should have asked him if the freelance food critic was coming to dinner tonight.
The anonymous person wrote a column for the paper and rated establishments in Chatelaine and the surrounding area. Rumors swirled over where the columnist was from. Corpus Christi? Austin? Maybe Houston? But even if she had asked Devin if the person was showing up, he wouldn’t have told her. He and his staff were tight-lipped about the critic’s plans along with his or her identity.
Whoever it was had recently given a glowing review to the new menu at the Saddle & Spur Roadhouse, a local casual restaurant known for their desserts and the option of steak as a side dish. If all went as expected, there was a good chance they would see her restaurant in the same light.
Nervousness expanded in her chest, and she released it in a long exhale. Everyone was prepared for the midweek opening night, thanks in part to her younger sister, Esme, who was also acting kitchen manager, and Freya, who was filling in as the temporary waitstaff supervisor. The older woman had been a big help, stepping in to fill the void after the person Bea had hired for the job had suddenly bailed out.
They and the staff had worked hard yesterday preparing for the big night. And if the soft opening for the café the week prior with just friends and family was any indication, success was on their side. Everyone had raved over the food.
A few steps later, Bea reached the blue-doored entrance to the corner restaurant and went inside.
The space with light gray walls and white trim was modern, but the tan brick fireplace, Western-inspired metal wall art, and vases of brightly colored wildflowers on each table gave the place a type of intimacy that invited people to relax and savor their meals.
As she locked the door behind her, Bea’s gaze landed on the nonfunctioning alarm-system panel. It was the last major task that needed to be completed in the building. The security company was doing the installation tomorrow. An appointment with them had been set up by Esme for last week, but the company had claimed someone had called and canceled it.
A smudge that needed to be wiped away from one of the windows near the panel suddenly caught her eye. As did a basket of rolled silverware. Instead of sitting on a table, it should have been under the host stand. They were small details, but ignoring them today would just make it easier to let go of the high standards that would set the Cowgirl Café apart from other places. She would mention the issues to Freya.
As she ran through a mental list of other items she wanted to review before they opened, Bea flipped the light switch.
None of the overhead lights came on.
That was odd. Had a power surge happened again in the dining area? That situation had occurred the day after the rewiring of the building, shutting down part of the circuit panel, but the problem was supposedly fixed. Bringing the electrical system up to code in the older structure had been a major expense along with the plumbing.
On the way to the circuit panel in the kitchen, her phone rang. It was Esme.
“Hello.”
“Hey.” Her sister’s happy mood reflected in her voice. “I’m running a few minutes behind. Sorry. But Tanya and the staff are good to go on food prep. They just have to set up the stations.”
Esme’s wedding day was in just a few days, and Bea was amazed at how calmly her sister was juggling planning the big day and working at the café, along with motherhood.
Esme and Ryder each had baby boys the same age, Chase and Noah, and their children were the reason they’d met a few months ago.
On the day the boys had been born, the staff in Labor and Delivery at the county hospital had accidently mixed up their identification bracelets. No one had realized the switch had occurred until Esme had taken an ancestry test.
The news had been a shock to everyone, but as Esme and Ryder had tried to find the best way forward, another truth had been abundantly clear: they were meant for each other. And since they’d become engaged, they’d been inseparable.
Bea had tried to convince Esme to at least take time off before the wedding, but she’d refused, not wanting to miss the grand opening. Admittedly, it was a comfort to have Esme and Tanya watching over the kitchen. Tanya was not only a talented sous chef, but she was good with the staff and highly organized like Esme. The two women made a good team.
“I’m sure everything will be fine, but hmm, let me take a wild guess,” Bea playfully replied. “Does Ryder have anything to do with you being late?”
“Only because we were discussing the wedding and getting in some much-needed cuddle time with Chase and Noah.”
“Just cuddle time with Chase and Noah, and nothing else? Now why do I find that hard to believe?” Bea chuckled. She flipped the light switch in the kitchen, but again, none of the overhead lights illuminated. “Are you kidding me? What’s going on?”
“With me and Ryder? Honest—nothing else happened.” Esme laughed. “Not that we weren’t tempted.”
“No, not that. The electricity is out.”
“Maybe something tripped the main switch.”
“I’m checking it now.” Bea went to the utility closet in the hallway just off the kitchen. Inside of it, she examined the circuit panel on the side wall. “It looks like something did trip the main switch. But why didn’t the generator kick in to compensate?”
“Good question. I’ll add making an appointment for an inspection of the generator to my to-do list. You have enough to worry about. Just stay focused on having a successful grand opening.”
Esme was right. She was letting worry mix up her priorities. What would she do without her sister and Freya to keep her straight? Bea flipped the main switch on the panel.
“Is everything good?” Esme asked.
Bea stared into the darkened kitchen. “No.” She turned other switches off and on in the circuit box as well, but nothing happened. Dread started to sprout. “I’ve got to figure out what’s going on now. We can’t do anything without power!”
“Do you want me to call the electrician?”
“No, I’ll do it, but maybe I’ve missed something.” Bea walked out of the closet. “I’m going to take a look at the generator.”
“Okay,” Esme said. “I’ll step on it. I should be there soon.”
“No. I don’t want you speeding to get here. Just drive safely.”
Minutes later, Bea had triple-checked everything to do with the circuit panel, the generator, and searched online for outages in the area. Finally, she called the electrician and explained the problem.
“We’re still finishing a job just outside of town,” the woman said. “It’ll be at least a couple of hours before we can get there.”
Doing her best to stay in crisis-management mode versus heading straight into panic, Bea paced the dining room. “Is there any way you could get here sooner? Tonight’s the grand opening of my restaurant.”
“Well, I could send my apprentice. He might be able to spot the problem.”
“I’d appreciate that. Thank you.” At this point, Bea would take any help she could get.
As she hung up, urgent knocks sounded on the back door, which was also the staff entrance.
Bea used the flashlight on her phone to light her way past her office to the door at the end of the hall.
Before she got there, something crunched under her shoe.
A piece of shrimp? How had that gotten here? As Bea shone the light around, she spotted more of them smashed on the floor along with leaves of romaine and what looked to be some kind of sauce.
Yesterday, she’d gone out the front entrance, but surely someone who’d exited through the back must have noticed the mess. Why hadn’t anyone stopped to clean it up? Disappointment pushed out a sigh. But right now spilled food was the least of her worries.
Bea opened the door.
Freya stood outside. The tall, eighty-something woman with a stylish ash-blond bob had a pep in her step as she walked in.
The waitstaff’s signature uniform was a black, checkered button-down shirt, black jeans, tennis shoes, and a camel-colored bistro apron, but her fashion-forward great-aunt had upscaled the look. She had on a pair of black kitten-heeled slides, slim-legged black slacks, and she’d added an artfully knotted beige silk scarf around her neck.
“You must have a lot on your mind,” Freya said cheerfully. “You forgot to unlock the door.” As she peered at Bea’s face her expression shifted to concern. “You look upset, honey. Has something happened?”
“The electricity is out, and the generator isn’t working. I’ve called the electrician, but they won’t be here for a while.” Admitting the situation aloud made Bea a tad nauseous.
“Oh, that’s terrible!” Empathy filled Freya’s emerald-green eyes as she patted Bea’s arm. “And everything was going so well with the plan for tonight’s opening. What can I do to help?”
“Would you mind making a sign instructing the staff to use the main entrance? It’s too dark for them to come in this way. And then if you could monitor the front and let the staff in as they arrive. Ask them to take a seat in the back of the dining room. I’ll be out soon to give everyone an update.”
“Of course.”
Bea retrieved paper from the printer in her office along with a marker and a flashlight. She gave them to Freya, and the older woman hurried off.
As she sat down at her desk, looking for a second flashlight in the drawer, her heart rate amped up as her aunt’s words kept echoing in her mind.
Everything was going so well...
The alarm system not being installed. Now the power was out. Bea normally wasn’t superstitious, but what was that saying about bad luck happening in threes? She had broken one of her favorite coffee mugs that morning. Did that count? Stop. This wasn’t about bad luck. The electricity issue was just an opening-night hiccup that needed to be handled...quickly.
On the positive side, the food would remain at a safe temperature in the walk-ins and prep refrigerators, as long as they didn’t open them while the electricity was out. They just needed enough time to cook the food and be ready to serve customers once the café opened.
Later on, as the electrician’s apprentice worked on the problem, Bea addressed the staff: “We’ll have less time to get ready, but the good news is we’ve already had the soft opening and we know what we’re doing.”
Taking a pause, she glanced around the room and met Tanya’s gaze. The anxiety Bea felt was written on the young Black woman’s face. This was her sous chef’s first time helping to open a restaurant. She was probably nervous about that already, and this situation was making it worse. Maybe others in the group felt the same way. And honestly, could she really blame them?
Bea’s own anxiety started to rise.
She looked into Esme’s green eyes. Her dark-haired sister gave her a nod and an encouraging smile.
As the boss, she had to remain just as confident as Esme. Bea paused a few seconds longer, searching for the right words to assure Tanya and the rest of the staff. “I have faith in all of you. You’ve worked hard to make this day possible, and I’m grateful for all you’ve done. Once the issue is fixed, I know we’ll pull together and make tonight’s launch amazing!”
As if on cue, the lights came on.
Relief rushed through Bea as everyone cheered.
Esme gave her a hug. “See? Everything is all good. Don’t worry—we’ll be ready.”
But they were opening in less than three hours. Would they make it? “We should check on how many early reservations we have.”
Just as Bea and Esme started walking to the host stand, Tanya hurried toward them.
“We have a huge problem,” she whispered. “I can’t find any of the food we prepped for tonight.”
“What?” Bea and Esme both asked at the same time.
“It has to be there,” Esme said as they hastened to the kitchen. “Maybe one of the cooks moved things around?”
“I asked.” Tanya replied nervously. “But they said they didn’t.”
Inside the kitchen, the three of them along with the cooks searched the walk-ins, looked in storage rooms, and frantically rechecked every shelf. Even if they could thaw out what remained, there wasn’t enough of anything to serve a restaurant full of hungry customers.
Freya came into the kitchen. “I can hear you all the way in the dining room. What’s all the commotion about?”
“The food is gone.” As the truth became clear, Bea’s stomach sunk to basement level. “We have to cancel the grand opening.”
