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“Well, she’s got the weirdest cravings and just whips up whatever she’s in the mood for. Or I should say, whatever the baby wants. Of course, she can’t just make a small portion, she makes enough for an army and if I leave it in the house, I’ll eat it. Therefore, I share.” He waves at the scone.
I sip my coffee and shake my head. “Between you and Roman, you’re both turning into domesticated cats.”
He looks confused and I turn my attention to the computer screen to see I have fifty emails awaiting my attention. One in particular catches my attention and I hate to admit I’m dying to click on it.
“Was that supposed to be a compliment?” Nate asks.
I look at my brother. “Huh?”
He gets up, shakes his head, and says, “You need a woman.”
“No, I most certainly do not,” I reply as he gets up and walks out, shutting the door behind him with a quiet click.
To: Lincoln Silverstone, CEO
From: [email protected]
Subject: Monthly Alcohol Report for Silver Park Brewery
Mr. Silverstone:
Please see the attached monthly alcohol usage report. Let me know if you have any questions or concerns. ~Quinn
I click on the attachment and frown when I look at the numbers. The whiskey and bourbon use in general seems to be much higher than it should be. For reference, I pull up the prior months’ reports and compare them. Yes, the usage is going up, but the profits aren’t. I wonder what could be causing this, refusing to jump to an immediate iniquitous conclusion. The computer softly tolls with another notification.
To: Lincoln Silverstone, CEO
From: [email protected]
Subject: Monthly Food Discrepancy Report for Silver Park Brewery
Mr. Silverstone:
Please see the attached monthly food discrepancy report. Let me know if you have any questions or concerns. ~Quinn
Clicking on the attachment, I see we’ve comped the normal number of meals at that particular brewery, and all is within normal range. I hate that the staff have to do it, not to mention the profit and food cost, but we have to keep up a positive reputation for customer service, so we have to take it in the pocketbook to do that sometimes. The brewery managers know not to comp anything too ridiculous. I’ve seen quite a few doozies, though.
I sit back and stare at Quinn’s name on the email, wondering if I need to go down there and find out what’s going on with the alcohol inventory. I’d be lying to myself if I said that was the only reason I’d like to visit the Silver Park location. Quinn Walker and I have history, mostly business, but I can’t deny I enjoy seeing her every time we visit. I would never get involved with an employee, but she’s an undeniable flirt—even my brother and cousin have commented. She apparently asks about me when they visit the pub for social reasons. The woman is always pleasant to be around and I have to admit she has a charm about her that seems to put everyone around her at ease.
“Knock, knock.”
I look up to see my cousin Roman standing there in a dark-blue suit and white shirt. No tie, of course. The man acts like he’s as allergic to them as he is to peanuts. I wave him in.
“Got a sec?” he asks.
“Of course,” I reply, gesturing to the chair.
He sits and pulls out his phone. Without any sort of preamble, he begins to read from the screen in a high-pitched voice that makes my lips twitch. “I will never visit this place again. The staff are rude and double-charged me for my vegetables and my steak tips! And I had to ask for extra mashed potatoes when I ordered them right from the start. Then when I left my to-go box there by accident, I wasn’t even gone five minutes and they threw it in the trash! What kind of business are they running here? Do better, Silver Park!” He looks up at me. “A one-star Yelp review from aKathy Loves To Eatyesterday.”
I shake my head. “People are so entitled these days. Have you called and asked Quinn what happened?”
“No, thought I’d bring it to your attention first. Nate says we should go down there and talk to her.”
I point at the computer screen. “I was thinking the same thing. The alcohol inventory seems a bit low too. In fact, it’s been declining over the months.”
“That’s not good. Yeah, we better go. Let’s head down there after the one o’clock meeting today,” he says.
“Hang on, let me check something.” I hit the button on my desk phone.
