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For me and the bean.
THREE
Unsurprisingly,Jim Taylor didn’t get any better during his interview. I tried to give him the benefit of the doubt but he was a damn hot mess. If he couldn’t put himself together for an interview, I couldn’t believe he’d be any better at the job itself.
Especially considering parties were a main component of the job. I wouldn’t trust that he’d stay freaking sober while at work.
I took a deep breath before I climbed the stairs to the porch. I took one last look over my shoulder at the barge. I’d commissioned a muralist to make the flat, featureless boat more interesting.
It was three levels, with the uppermost deck open to the elements. I had a feeling it would make for great summertime parties on the water. I even had a wakeboarding boat being painted to match. Crescent Lake was perfect for boards, skis, and even some oversized inner tubes.
Now I just needed to find the perfect person to help me make it a reality. That meant getting these interviews taken care of.
Carol Martin was sitting primly on the barstool beside Emmaline Hauser. Where Martin was dressed exactly right in a summer suit in a subdued cornflower blue that had been steamed to an inch of its starched life, Hauser was in a free-flowing dress in a screaming pink that was the definition of summer on the water.
Martin was the safe bet.
My accountant as well as my silent business partner would earmark Carol Martin as the one to hire. Still, even from across the room, the air sparkled around Emmaline Hauser.
“She’s beautiful.”
I blinked out of my stare and glanced down at Rami. “Not exactly the important part of an interview.”
“I don’t know, boss. Pretty does sell. Think I do all this,” she waved over her face, “for myself?”
I grinned down at her. “Yes.”
“Okay. You’re right.” She narrowed her eyes at me. “You’re far too intuitive to be single, Mason.”
I was single because I knew too much was more like it.
“Carol is very qualified.”
“Is she the one who needs an enema?”
I swallowed a laugh. “She’s just serious. And her qualifications are two pages long.”
Rami shrugged. “I’d never waited tables in my life before you hired me and now I’m HBIC most of the time.”
I’d heard the term from her before. And while she was the head in charge of the waitstaff, she wasn’t a bitch. Far from it, but she didn’t take any bullshit, for which I was very grateful. When Rami was on the schedule, I was rarely called on to deal with the minutiae. Exactly how I liked it. I could concentrate on making the rounds and dealing with all the other fires of running a restaurant.
“Have you interacted with either of them?”
Rami folded her arms. “It’s been a bit busy, but I can tell you Carol hasn’t moved a muscle. Pretty much front and center the whole time. She doesn’t even look around. While the hot blond has had her head on a swivel since she sat down.”
“Could just be a busybody.”
“This town is full of them, but she’s different from Mrs. Gunderson.”
I winced. I much preferred Patty Duncan, who was in most days of the week—so much so that she had her own table. But the trials of Crescent Cove were on the light side. People cared, and for the most part they looked out for one another, but there was usually a healthy dollop of gossip in between.
However, Mrs. Gunderson was…a lot.
“She was watching how the dining room worked, that kind of thing. In between many bathroom breaks.”
I raked my fingers through my hair. “I did leave them alone a lot. Pretty sure she had many glasses of water.”
Rami slapped my shoulder. “I like her though. The other chick is pretty cool, but if you go with my gut feeling, I’d go with the other.”
