I had no time for trouble.
Especially when it came to my new tenant.
My knife worked through a batch of cilantro, my hand moving faster as I focused on the task at hand and ignored this intrusion.
“If the fridge in the break room is ever full, you can keep your lunch in here,” Eloise said, gesturing to the walk-in.
Wait. What? The knife dropped from my palm, nearly hitting a finger. No one kept their lunch in here. Not even my waitstaff. Granted, they rarely had to bring meals because I’d typically cook them a meal. Still . . . that walk-in was off-limits.
Eloise knew it was off-limits. Except my wonderfully annoying sister seemed intent on forcing Memphis into every aspect of my life. Wasn’t my home enough? Now my kitchen?
“Okay.” Memphis nodded, scanning the room, looking everywhere but at where I stood at the stainless-steel prep table in the center of the space.
She inspected the gas range along one wall, then the industrial dishwasher at her back. On the walls were shelves filled with clean ceramic plates and coffee mugs. She studied the tiled floor, the rows of spices and racks crammed with hanging pots and pans.
“Here’s the ice machine.” Eloise walked to the cooler, lifting the lid. “Help yourself.”
“All right.” Memphis’s voice was no more than a murmur as she tucked a lock of hair behind an ear. She’d promised yesterday to be quiet. I guess she intended to keep that vow at the hotel too.
I glanced at Eloise, then jerked my chin to the door. The tour was over. This was a kitchen. Just a commercial kitchen with bright lights and shiny appliances. And I was busy. This was my time alone to breathe and think.
But did Eloise take the hint and leave?
Of course not. She took up space against my table and leaned. Why the fuck was she leaning?
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.