Total pages in book: 89
Estimated words: 83699 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 418(@200wpm)___ 335(@250wpm)___ 279(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 83699 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 418(@200wpm)___ 335(@250wpm)___ 279(@300wpm)
George Twisselman sputtered, “You can’t fire anyone. They work for me.”
She bared her teeth like a jungle predator and only wished he could see. “That’s what your man said. But what I hear, George, is that you’re unwilling to discipline your employees. You don’t even seem to understand that they need training. Therefore, our association isn’t working. And this contract is terminated.”
He sputtered again, maybe apologies, but Ava no longer cared to listen. She ended with a polite, “Have a good day.” After she’d hung up, she said aloud, “And you’re fired.”
It felt good. She’d kept her temper in check and was polite throughout. The way she was expected to be. But the job was done. She wasn’t putting up with that kind of crap.
Her elation lasted less than thirty seconds. What the hell would she do now?
* * *
Three hours later, Ava was still groaning, this time in extreme frustration. She’d managed to find a company that would step in for two weeks at the five facilities. But that was the time limit.
Looking over the long list of caterers Naomi had drawn up for her, she’d crossed off every single company after phone calls where she’d practically begged. But it was a no-go. The staff was ill, or the owners were going out of the country, or they were leaving to see their kids get married, or they didn’t do the kind of catering she needed. The reasons abounded. She’d worked with a lot of these outfits before, and she had to say that some of them just simply sucked.
Ava had found catering to be the most difficult part of running her care homes. That was why she’d been so thankful to find Consolidated Catering. She’d hoped it would be long term. They weren’t perfect—no one was—but after Twisselman had taken over, things had rapidly gone downhill. She’d given him a chance. He’d failed miserably.
Picking up the phone instead of yelling out the office door, she asked Naomi, “Is this everyone?”
Her assistant had called half the people on the list. “That’s it.” Naomi’s voice held the same defeat Ava felt. “We’re completely out of catering options after the next two weeks.”
But Ava refused to roll over. “There’s always another option. We just need to think outside the box.”
With those words, a face popped into her mind. Ransom Yates.
Why on earth would she even think about him? He was a master chef. He owned restaurants, and he catered galas and huge receptions, not ongoing dining room needs. He’d never stoop to working at this level anyway. There was no glamor in providing good, basic food for senior living homes.
Besides, she’d never work with him, not after what happened fifteen years ago. So what if he haunted her dreams and sometimes entered her thoughts in the daytime too?
There was absolutely no way she’d ever call him.
Ava glanced at the phone, its digital clock blazing at her. Time had gotten away from her, but it would be a short walk to the restaurant for the family mastermind, a name she’d coined for the gathering. In fact, she’d pushed for these meetings, wanting her own family to have the same camaraderie the Mavericks enjoyed.
With Dane finally admitting he had feelings for his personal assistant, Cammie—after twelve freaking years!—it was the right time. She adored her family, and they’d always been close, especially after their parents had died almost eighteen years ago in an avalanche while skiing in the Alps. Ava had been in her first year of university and Dane two years ahead of her. They’d both had to drop out to take care of the younger kids—Troy and Clay still in high school, Gabby in middle school. Ava and Dane had been each other’s rock.
The timing for tonight’s mastermind couldn’t have been better, because the only choice she had now was to ask the family for help. Her brothers and sister were some of the best resources she had, and she was about to send out a distress signal to them.
As Ava stepped out of her office building, a blast of cool air hit her. It was only the third week of September, not quite autumn yet, but the San Francisco fog had rolled in, eclipsing the heat from earlier in the day and turning everything as cold and damp as if it were winter. She was glad she’d put on her overcoat.
Hustling down the busy street, she clutched her coat tight around her neck as a sudden gust of wind blew through. They were meeting at a tapas restaurant only a couple of blocks away. Ava had always been the party planner, from birthdays to Thanksgiving, Christmas, and Easter. Even as the so-called big boss at work, she’d planned all the birthday parties, bridal showers, and baby showers. She liked seeing the results and the fun everyone had. Yet somehow she was still on the outside looking in. It was probably her own fault—fear of too much fraternization with her employees. But now, she might have a bridal shower to look forward to. Although neither Dane nor Cammie had mentioned wedding bells yet. They were so cute, she thought with a smile. Dane would probably bop her on the arm if she ever said that aloud.