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Chapter 2
As she hurried along the sidewalk toward the parking garage where she’d left her car, Julia dug into her memory. Who would want information about her badly enough to break into her house and install spyware on her computer? She couldn’t come up with a single name.
She owned a restaurant, but other than the blog she’d recently started to generate interest in Madeline’s, she had a very low profile in Seattle’s business community. She didn’t have time to schmooze with other business owners and didn’t belong to any of the clubs and organizations that formed the business network in Seattle. The only thing she’d joined was the e-loop for restaurant owners in the Seattle area. And that was a necessity.
She sighed and shook her head. Face it, you’re a loser with no life outside of Madeline’s.
She’d known opening a restaurant would mean hard work and very little free time. She’d known money would be tight for several years. But she’d dreamt of owning a restaurant since she was a teen, and Madeline’s had turned that dream into reality.
She reached an intersection just as the light turned red for her, and spotted a bus halfway down the block. She waited for a green light, watching the bus accelerate until it was going too fast. Probably trying to get through the intersection before the light turned red.
She stood at the curb in front of a few other people, bouncing on her toes as she waited for the light to change. The bus roared closer. Moments before it reached her, something shoved her into the street. Into the bus’s path.
Arms flailing, she stumbled into the street, directly in front of the bus. The brakes squealed as the driver tried to stop, his face frozen with fear. The bus skidded and she smelled burning rubber. The bus was inches away from flattening her when someone yanked her backward.
The wind from the bus swept over her face, carrying the smell of diesel exhaust and road dirt. It lifted her hair off her shoulders, and she swore the bus brushed against her blowing hair. Her foot was inches away from the huge wheel.
“Oh, my God!” Julia wheeled around and found an older business man scowling at her.
“You could have been killed, young woman,” he barked at her. “Watch where you’re going.”
“Thank you for pulling me back,” she said. “And I was watching. But someone…” Clearly irritated, the guy was gone, hurrying across the street as the light turned yellow.
Her stomach roiling, Julia stepped away from the street and leaned against the building on the corner. She had no doubt someone had pushed her into the bus’s path. On purpose? Or was the person who shoved her just not paying attention? Had he or she accidentally bumped into Julia?
No. Anyone who had accidentally pushed her into the bus’s path would have pulled her back.
She’d been shoved forward on purpose.
Shaken and frightened, Julia pressed her back against the dark granite of the building. It felt like hours before her heart stopped thundering in her chest. Before it was no longer difficult to draw a breath. Finally, pushing away from the building like an old woman, shaky and unbalanced, she stepped toward the intersection again.
Staying well back from the curb, Julia waited until the next green light. Turned and looked behind her. No one watching her. No one close to her.
Sucking in a still-shaky breath, she hurried across the street and into the parking garage. Unlocked her SUV, grateful for the protection of the sturdy car. She fell onto the seat and locked the door with a trembling hand.
Gripping the steering wheel, she closed her eyes and took deep, slow breaths. They didn’t help. Images of that bus barreling toward her, the driver’s terrified expression, scrolled through her mind in a never-ending, nightmarish loop.
Finally, when she could take a steady breath and her hands no longer shook on the steering wheel, she started her car and exited the parking structure. The drive to Madeline’s took fifteen minutes, and by the time she arrived, she’d managed to settle herself. She didn’t want any of her employees to see her shaken. Upset.
She refused to appear weak or rattled in front of them. She was the owner. The executive chef. The boss. She had to project strength and confidence at all times.
She’d learned in her years in the restaurant business that the owner and/or the executive chef set the tone for the staff. Steady, calm leadership with a minimum of drama made for a steady, calm staff.
Squaring her shoulders, she opened the back door and stepped into the kitchen. Inhaled the familiar smells of different sauces cooking, something sweet baking from her pastry chef, and the crisp, fresh scent of salads being prepared. The tension in her shoulders relaxed.
She was home. And for the next ten hours, she would focus solely on her restaurant.
* * *
At nine o’clock that evening, as business was winding down, her hostess Carole pushed into the kitchen, glanced around and zeroed in on Julia. “Ms. Stewart, your friend Zoe is here. She’s ordering now, and she asked if you had a few minutes to sit with her.”
Julia looked around the kitchen. No drama, no problems. Everyone was doing their job. “I do. Who’s her server?”
“Josh,” the hostess said. She nodded at the swinging door. “Here he is with your friend’s order.”
“Thanks, Carole,” Zoe said, turning to the server. “Hey, Josh,” she said. “Will you please bring me an order of the eggplant parm when you bring Zoe’s meal?”
“Will do, boss,” Josh said, turning to the ordering terminal to type in his order. “You want a glass of wine with that?”
