Total pages in book: 172
Estimated words: 157460 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 787(@200wpm)___ 630(@250wpm)___ 525(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 157460 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 787(@200wpm)___ 630(@250wpm)___ 525(@300wpm)
The rest of the afternoon and evening passed in a long blur of work. Zyah enjoyed the various customers. She was getting to know the regulars and liked most of them. Like Sea Haven, Caspar was mainly a small town made up of retired people, but there were some younger families moving in. Real estate wasn’t cheap. The views of the ocean were breathtaking, and many couples had bought homes specifically with the idea to retire there after working in cities.
Not everyone had tons of money. Many people had homes they were trying to hang on to, with minimum-paying jobs. Some, Zyah could tell, were tired of fighting the usual drug and alcohol problems, while others were determined to beat the odds. There was a community center where people came together with all sorts of ideas, and she’d been invited to just about every kind of function there was. It surprised her that in such a small town, there were so many diverse activities for the very young as well as the very old.
She called her grandmother several times a day to check on her. Anat always sounded cheerful—sometimes tired, but always cheerful. When she asked about Player, he was always resting, with one of the Torpedo Ink members looking after him, and Steele had come by to see him twice a day religiously. She didn’t know why, but she always felt a little twinge of jealousy, as if Steele were taking her place. She should have been grateful, but instead she felt as if she needed to rush home and claim the man for herself.
Night fell and she closed the store and made her way to the restaurant, Keys following her. She was used to the escort now and no longer resented any of the Torpedo Ink members shadowing her. She felt safer with their presence. She found it astonishing how quickly she’d adapted to the club.
The restaurant was on the smaller side, an intimate experience, not meant to feed a huge crowd. Alena had wanted to provide something special for her clientele. She didn’t advertise. In fact, she’d been so nervous about her opening that she’d practically told the club not to let anyone else know the restaurant was opening its doors.
The building was rectangular, mostly made of glass, built up on the hillside so that it had the view on one side of the distant ocean and on the other of the climbing slope leading up to the highway. The slope was covered in wildflowers and lilac and lavender bushes, with stairs meandering through the overgrown shrubbery all the way up to the flat top.
Tables were scattered throughout the room, with space between giving the clients plenty of privacy for intimate conversations. The chairs were comfortable and inviting, the tables solid and carved by Player, Master, Maestro and Keys, all of whom owned a construction company together but, more importantly, had a deep affinity for woodworking and created beautiful, unique pieces of furniture.
The overhead chandeliers and wall sconces were simple but beautiful, tasteful handblown glass by Lissa, the wife of Casimir, one of the Torpedo Ink members. Lissa was famous for her artwork and sold it all over the world. Lana had sewn the tablecloths and napkins, white with gold threads running through them. Lana had also been the one to choose the chairs for the tables. Anya had helped with the inside design of the restaurant itself.
There was a second room, equally as beautifully appointed, held in reserve for members of Torpedo Ink and locals who were good customers and came in without a reservation. Alena tried to accommodate them if at all possible. The restaurant was small, but it was very upscale, and the prices reflected that. Zyah didn’t know what she had been expecting, but when she went over the menu, she was a little surprised at what was offered.
She didn’t recognize any of the three waitresses, although the youngest looked familiar to her, as if she’d seen her in passing. All three smiled at her and sent Keys a quick acknowledgment.
“I don’t know them.”
“Darby,” Keys said, indicating the youngest waitress. “Czar’s girl. Scarlet, Absinthe’s wife. She’s the one with all the red hair. And that’s Soleil, Ice’s wife. Everyone pitches in when it gets really busy. We’re looking for help, but Alena’s very picky.” There was laughter in his voice. “She only serves wine here, not hard drinks, so no bartender.” He kept walking, taking her back to the kitchen. “Alena really does need help. Eventually, she’ll have a full bar, but at the moment, she just doesn’t have the help she needs.”
Zyah could see that. Every table was filled. There was a line of hopefuls waiting. Word of mouth had spread fast. Alena had her two brothers, Ice and Storm, chopping vegetables for her, and it was clear they knew what they were doing. In one corner, a man she didn’t recognize was putting the finishing touches on two plates right before he rang a bell and Lana collected the dishes.