I clamped my teeth together and picked up my knife, gripping the handle until my knuckles were white. Normally I’d tell Eloise to scram, but I was making nice at the moment. Very nice.
This niceness was the reason I’d agreed to let Memphis crash in the loft above my garage. My sister had asked for a favor, and at the moment, I was granting them all. Soon enough, we’d have a difficult conversation. One I’d been dreading and avoiding. One that would change our relationship.
Until then, I’d let her invade my kitchen and allow her newest employee to stay at my home.
“So that’s the hotel,” Eloise told Memphis.
“It’s beautiful,” Memphis said. “Truly.”
Eloise circled the room with a finger. “Knox renovated the kitchen and restaurant last winter. That’s when my parents annexed the building next door for events.”
“Ah.” Memphis nodded, still looking anywhere but at me.
The crunch of cilantro beneath my knife filled the silence.
My parents owned the actual hotel, The Eloise Inn, but the restaurant and kitchen were mine. The building itself we’d incorporated as a separate entity, the shares split equally between us.
Originally, this space had been a smaller industrial kitchen attached to a basic ballroom. They’d rented out the space for weddings and events, but when I’d moved home from San Francisco years ago, I’d filled the room with tables. It had worked as a restaurant for a while, but it had lacked style and flow. When I’d told Mom and Dad that I wanted to convert it to an actual restaurant, they’d jumped at the chance to expand the hotel’s footprint and grab the building next door.
According to our projections, the annex would pay for itself within the next five years. My renovations would pay for themselves in three assuming the traffic at the restaurant didn’t die off. Considering I had the only upscale restaurant in town, I’d happily cornered that market.
“Would you mind if I stepped out for a minute?” Memphis asked Eloise. “I’d like to just call and check in with Drake’s daycare. Make sure he’s doing all right.”
“Sure.” Eloise stood straight, escorting her to the door and finally leaving me in peace.
I put the cilantro aside and went to the walk-in to grab a handful of tomatoes. Then I shoved the sleeves of my white chef’s coat, not yet stained, up my forearms before I resumed chopping.
Could I run this hotel? Did I even want to? Change was on the horizon. There were decisions to make, and I dreaded them all.
Beyond the renovations, a lot had changed here in the past year. Mostly, my parents’ attitude. Besides our family’s ranch, The Eloise Inn had been their most time-consuming business venture. Their desire to keep a finger on the hotel’s pulse was dwindling. Fast.
Now that Dad had retired from running the ranch and handed control to my older brother Griffin, Mom and Dad seemed in a hurry to offload the rest of their business ventures to us kids.
That, and Dad had gotten spooked. As Uncle Briggs’s dementia progressed, Dad had all but convinced himself that he’d be next. While his mind was fresh, he wanted his estate settled.
Griffin had always loved the Eden ranch. The land was a part of his soul. Maybe that was why the rest of us hadn’t taken an interest in the cattle business. Because Griffin was the oldest and had claimed that passion first. Or maybe that passion was just a part of his blood. Our family had ranched for generations and he’d inherited a joy for it beyond anything the rest of us could comprehend.
Mom always said that Dad gave his love of the ranch to Griffin while she’d passed her love of cooking to my sister Lyla and me.
My dream had always been to run a restaurant. Lyla’s too, though she preferred something small, and owning Eden Coffee fit her perfectly.
Talia hadn’t taken an interest in any of the family businesses so she’d used her inheritance of brains to attend medical school.
Mateo was still young. At twenty-three, he hadn’t yet decided what he wanted to do. He worked on the ranch for Griffin. He pulled a few shifts every week for Eloise, covering when she was short staffed at the front desk—which was often.
Eloise loved The Eloise Inn and working as the hotel’s manager.
My sister was the pulse of this hotel. She loved it like I loved cooking. Like Griffin loved ranching. But my parents hadn’t approached her about taking over.
Instead, they’d come to me.
Their reasons were solid. I was thirty years old. Eloise was twenty-five. I had more experience with business management and more dollars in my bank account to fall back on. And though Eloise loved this hotel, she had a soft and gentle heart.
It was the reason Mom and Dad had just come out of a nasty lawsuit.
Her tender heart was also the reason she’d hired Memphis.
That, and desperation.
Our proximity to Glacier National Park brought people from across the world to Quincy. Tourists flocked to this area of Montana. Given that The Eloise was our town’s best hotel, during the summer months, we were booked solid.
Turnover in the housekeeping department was constant and we’d recently lost two employees to desk jobs. Their vacancies had been open for six weeks.
Eloise had taken to cleaning rooms. So had Mateo. So had Mom. With the holiday rush fast approaching, we couldn’t afford to be understaffed. When Memphis had applied and agreed to move to Quincy, Eloise had been ecstatic.
Not only was Memphis an able human body—a sexy, lithe body at that—but she was also so overqualified for a housekeeping job that, at first, Eloise had thought her application a joke. After their virtual interview, Eloise had said it was really a dream come true.
I’d been happy for my sister because solid hires were hard to find. That happiness had lasted a whole week until Eloise had shown up at my doorstep and begged me to let Memphis live in the loft.
I favored a solitary life. I preferred to go home to an empty house. I liked peace and quiet.
There’d be none of that with Memphis and her baby in the loft. That kid had cried for hours last night, so loud I’d heard it all the way from the garage.
There was a reason I’d built my house on Juniper Hill and not on a plot on the ranch. Distance. My family could visit and if they needed to spend the night because they drank too much, well . . . they could crash in the loft. No pavement. No traffic. No neighbors.
My sanctuary.
Until now.
“It’s temporary,” I told myself for the thousandth time.
The swinging door that led to the restaurant flew open and Eloise waltzed in once more, a wide smile on her face.
I glanced past her shoulder, looking for Memphis, but Eloise was alone. “What’s up?”
“What are you making?” She hovered over my shoulder.
“Pico de gallo.” I didn’t have a huge menu, but it was enough to give the locals and hotel guests some variety. Each weekend, the dinner menu featured a special entrée. But for the most part, breakfast and lunch were consistent.
“Yum. Will you make Memphis a plate of tacos?”
The knife in my hand froze. “What?”
“Or whatever else you have on hand. I noticed that she didn’t bring anything with her this morning.”
The clock on the wall showed it was ten thirty. My two waitresses were in the dining room, rolling silverware into cloth napkins and refilling salt and pepper shakers. Mondays weren’t typically busy, but they weren’t quiet either.