Called King Cake, the fluffy dessert referenced biblical kings. Over a century ago, his great-great-great-grandmother baked the cake when they first settled into the community of St. Aster. The recipe had been passed down generation to generation, taught to Nick by Mom when he was a teenager. They were baked to perfection with cinnamon roll–style dough, and he crowned the cake with iced frosting. The more the better if it were up to Maxie. He even promised to use purple and orange frosting for her birthday.
Now if they could know with certainty if there’d be anyone attending. Maxie had refused to hand out invitations to her classmates. She claimed she didn’t like them much, but Nick knew the truth; she was afraid the other kids would laugh at her. After all, she was the weird tomboy girl. Kids her age didn’t usually take to her.
That was why he coveted her friendship with Remi. Maxie finally had a friend to giggle with, building sandcastles or play hide-and-seek. Remi’s attendance was a given. But the other kids? Nick sought confirmation with their parents, calling them up or catching them around town.
“They’re no fun, Papa!” Maxie stubbornly said, overhearing a phone call. She had finished finger painting. The problem was, the paints got on her clothes and in her hair much more than it got on the canvas. “Me and Remi can have our own party!”
“Kiddo, you need more kids there. It’ll be a fun time. Everybody will dress up.”
Maxie gave him the side-eye. “Even you?”
“Even me.”
“And Remi?”
“You bet.”
“What about her mama?”
Nick’s stomach fluttered. “Not sure. I can ask her.”
“She’s so pretty! Maybe she can be a princess like Remi—or a queen!”
“Queen sounds about right.” Nick was grinning like a fool. His imagination ran away with that idea. Before he could control it, a creative vision materialized in his mind’s eye. Rosalie as the sexiest queen he’d ever seen, in a lacy, corseted red little thing, jeweled crown perched atop her head. He had to chase the naughty imagery away, shaking his head.
It was shameful, completely inappropriate for him to entertain such fantasies. He had to fight his attraction for Rosalie. Find a way to squash the feelings he had developed. Stop thinking about her as anything more than his employee.
Turning off his feelings wasn’t easy, though. Rosalie made him nervous. She intrigued him and inspired him. He hadn’t felt this way about a woman since…
Nick couldn’t remember. What that meant, he didn’t know. Anytime he considered the deeper connotation, he diverted his thoughts elsewhere. In true Nicholas Fontaine fashion, he’d worry about it later, if ever.
“If Grandmama was here, would she still dress up?” Maxie asked the question that stirred him from his thoughts.
He was grateful for the disruption, as it was dangerous for him to think about Rosalie for too long.
“She would. Remember how much she loved Halloween?”
Maxie nodded, spooling tangled strands around her finger. “Now she can be an angel.”
The sweet theory inspired his next smile. He tousled her already messy hair and said, “Time to wash up. How’d you get so much paint on you, kiddo? You get in a fight with the paint jars again?”
In a rare show of responsibility, Nick pulled into Ady’s parking lot early. Way early. As in three hours early. The clock on his truck’s dash read 8:03 a.m. On most days, he wouldn’t show up ’til half past eleven, and that was with the intention to take a lunch. Those lazy days were behind him. Since Project Fixer-Upper began, he had dedicated himself to Ady’s survival.
No more running. No more excuses. No more catnaps at his desk.
Project Fixer-Upper was about increasing profit and improving their reputation. Under his supervision, Ady’s Creole Café had deteriorated into a run-down shell of its former self. What would Mom think if she walked in to find her beloved café empty?
His heart tightened into a painful clench. He had avoided wondering what Mom would think for that very reason. She had entrusted him with her life’s dream and he had spent months sullying it like it never mattered.
Nick strode across the cratered parking lot, jaw set and eyes focused. Thanks to Rosalie, Project Fixer-Upper gave him a newfound sense of purpose. His heart thumped with the rhythm of determination. His strides widened, feet planting firmly on his path to unlock the front door. He wasn’t going to fail Mom this time.
Coming up on the door, he wasn’t expecting anyone to be standing outside. His pace slowed considerably as he took in the unknown man waiting on someone to come by. Dressed in a forgettable business suit and tie, brown hair neatly parted down the left side, the man stretched thin lips into an unnatural smile.
“Morning, Mr. Fontaine! I was hoping you would show up.”
“It’s Nick. Restaurant doesn’t open ’til eleven.”
“I’m well aware.”
“Then what d’you want?” His tone hardened, and he made zero effort to return the man’s smiley greeting.
“I’m Perry Langley from Yum Corp. Nice meeting you.”
He left him hanging on a handshake. Instead, he produced his keys and unlocked the door. The man tailed him inside, uninvited but eager to continue being a bother. He abruptly stopped so that the man almost stepped right into him, and then he turned around with brows raised.
“I’m lost. Is there a reason you’re following me inside?”
“We’ve sent you letters for quite some time, but we haven’t heard back. I was hoping to sit down with you and discuss a profitable business offer.”
“I’m not interested.”
“It would be in your best interest to—”
“Not. Interested.” Nick moved past Langley and flicked on the lights. Maybe if he ignored him, he would go away. He tested the theory by unstacking chairs off the tables.
But the guy remained. He stood in the same spot and patiently surveyed the dining room. Nick could see the curiosity glinting in his eyes, making mental notes about the interior of Ady’s.
“Hey pal, we’re closed. And I’m not interested. Are you gonna get going?” he asked rudely, unable to hold back another second.
Langley carried his briefcase to the closest table and unsnapped its locks. He pulled out a thick sheaf of papers, flipping through them like one would a book. Apparently, he seemed to think this meant something to Nick.
However, Nick wasn’t amused. “Look, this is the last time—”
“Five minutes, and then I’ll be out of your hair, Mr. Fontaine. I really think you’ll be interested once you hear me out.”
Nick zeroed in on the papers. From what he could tell, each page was stamped by a giant red Yum Corp logo in the header. The more he looked at the pages upon pages, even from afar, the more it registered with him what they were.
A contract of some sort.
“For someone in the restaurant biz, Mr. Fontaine, I’m surprised you’ve never heard of us,” Perry said, smile smug. “Yum Corp is one of the biggest restaurant franchise holding corporations in the country. We own many of your favorite chains.”
“What’s that have to do with me?”