Steps thundered through the back hall. Carter abruptly ended the kiss when Russert Montgomery appeared in the doorway.
The man’s black suit and glossy oxford shoes made an amusing contrast to the backdrop of mayhem, Carter thought.
Russert didn’t look so amused. “For the love of—what happened?”
Ellie stepped out of Carter’s arms, wobbled, then grabbed the charred countertop for support. “Fire. Terrible. Everything was...Carter and I, we...”
Recognizing symptoms of shock setting in, Carter placed his hand at her waist. “Kitchen fire,” he explained. “The entire hotel almost went up in flames.”
Russert speared them with a glare. “And this seemed like a good time to suck face?” He shook his head at Ellie. “The way you deal with your problems is appalling.”
Carter’s hackles went up. “Where were you, while we were risking our lives?”
The man’s shoulders rolled forward like a bulldog ready to strike. “Preparing my talking points to deliver at tonight’s dinner.” His gaze darted around the scene, settling on the sopping buffet table, where weeks of preparation lay in ruins. “Seems I wasted my time.”
Right then, the hotel’s chef waddled in. His white hat drooped cockeyed on his bald head. A burn mark on his forearm glowed an angry red. Soot streaked his pudgy face.
With a stunning display of histrionics, the man spouted off in French-accented English. “My masterpiece—destroyed! Hours, I slaved—for nothing. Nothing! The devil is in this hotel. I swear it.”
“I’m sorry, Pierre.” Ellie’s expression underscored her sincerity. “But there’s still time, we can pull something together.”
“Time?” The man waved his arms at the heavens, jowls jiggling. “ All the time I work for this place. For pittance,” he spat. He tore his hat off, dragged his apron over his head, and threw the garments on the ground. “I tell you for months—months!—that I need a new stove. The gas line is weak, or leaking, something is wrong. Did you listen to Pierre? No, no. Nobody listens to me. I’m finished with this cursed place.”
Ellie’s eyes widened with panic. “Pierre, wait—”
“Through. Through! I am on the first boat to shore.” He stormed out.
“This is not happening.” Ellie cupped her forehead, looking on the verge of a breakdown.
“I suggest you find a way to deal with this mess,” Russert informed her. “I don’t care if you have to paddle a canoe to the mainland and pick up food from a restaurant. Just make something happen. Our guests tonight have the power to determine your future. You could face serious fines—and jail time—for tax evasion, Ellie.”
“How am I supposed to pay for a five course meal?”
Russert shrugged. And walked away.
Leaving Ellie to deal with the fallout.
Carter felt the overwhelming urge to hit something. Hard. Russert’s face came to mind. “Bastard.”
Expression vacant, Ellie sank to the wet floor. She reached blindly for a sponge and started to clean.
“Baby, forget about dinner. I’ll take care of it.”
She nodded, but he doubted she’d actually heard him—or if she had, she didn’t believe him.
“I’ll find Matilda to clean this up.”
Ellie shook her head. “She takes afternoons off. Unpaid.”
“So there’s no one else in the godforsaken hotel to do anything?”
“Just me.” She said it as if she’d resigned herself to that fact long ago.
Indignant anger infused him. “You shouldn’t have to pay for your father’s mistakes.”
“What else am I supposed to do?” she murmured. “In three days, it’ll be over.”
“Ellie, I’m not letting you go to prison for something that’s not your fault.”
“You haven’t bought the hotel.” An icy thread laced her words. “You have no say in what goes on here. Or what happens to me personally.”
Like hell I don’t .
Carter left to make arrangements on his own. Before he reached the middle of the hallway, he had his cell phone out and hit number five on his speed dial.
“Hey, it’s Carter,” he said to the man on the other end. “I need you to do something for me.”
Chapter 7
Six hours after the kitchen caught fire, Ellie sank onto a stool at the hotel bar. Behind the counter, James wiped down a pair of glasses until they squeaked.
“Evening,” he greeted naturally.
Like a wise grandfather-figure, James never wasted words. Although Ellie felt sheepish and defeated, he acted as if nothing were out of the ordinary. She adored him for his silent understanding. No words needed.