Bistro Bachelor: Working Man Series - Book 2 Read online

  Bistro Bachelor

  Working Man Series - Book 2

  Elizabeth Rose

  ROSESCRIBE MEDIA INC.

  Copyright © 2019 by Elizabeth Rose Krejcik

  This is a work of fiction. All characters, names, places and incidents are either a product of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. Any similarities to actual organizations or persons living or deceased are entirely coincidental. All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used, reproduced, or transmitted in any form whatsoever without the author’s written permission.

  RoseScribe Media Inc.

  Cover created by Elizabeth Rose Krejcik

  Edited by Scott Moreland

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  From the Author

  About Elizabeth

  Also by Elizabeth Rose

  Chapter 1

  The air hung heavy in the cemetery as Eden watched her father’s casket being lowered slowly into the ground. She wanted to cry and spill the pent-up emotions that trapped her soul within her Incan shell, but she’d been raised by her mother to be stronger than that. Her culture accepted death as well as life. Her people very rarely cried at all.

  Chicago’s spring air and scent of rain that clung to the city air only made her long for the mountains of Cuzco, Peru. The Andes were higher than heaven itself. It was a place where she felt close to God. This place, the home of her late father, Professor Jonathan Starke, was constructed of man-made stone, or concrete. It was nothing more than a mere oven of the devil.

  She toyed with the heart-shaped locket that hung from yarn around her neck. It was her last remembrance of her father, and a treasured icon of a man she loved yet barely knew. Thoughts of two days earlier drifted through her mind. It had been the day she first set foot in the United States per her dying father’s request.

  “Eden . . . sweetheart . . . daughter.”

  His words in her own Quechua language had engraved their spot upon her heart. They were only a few words thrown out carelessly into the universe as they rolled easily from his tongue, but they meant the world and more to her to hear the small endearment. He had called for her to be at his deathbed. He’d sent for her instead of her mother.

  “Papa . . . don’t die,” she spoke in her native tongue. She took his large hand in hers and rubbed it softly against her cheek. He was so unlike the hardened professor who had come from the States year after year to study the Incan ruins of Machu Picchu. He had always hoped to find some uncovered truth or hidden treasure of the ancient culture that was destroyed so many years ago.

  “I wanted to marry your mother . . . really,” he whispered through his ragged breathing. “I’m sorry I didn’t.” He struggled for breath. “I wish I could have been the father you needed.”

  Eden, in all her twenty-one years had never once asked her father to stay when he’d made his yearly trip to Machu Picchu, stopping at her native rural village just outside of Cuzco during his expedition. She had never asked him but, in her heart, she’d always wanted to beg him not to leave. He’d taken her with him on trips to Lima during his visits, and even to climb the peak of Huayna Picchu – the mountain so high it touched the heavens itself. Now, she was at his side again – only this time it would be the last.

  “Take this, Eden. It’s my gift to you.” His trembling hand opened, and he held out a heart-shaped locket. He pressed it into her hand carefully as if it were the most precious thing he owned.

  Eden only glanced at the locket, keeping her eyes focused on her father’s face instead. She wanted her last vision of him to last a lifetime. It was bad enough she only saw him once a year, but now she’d never see him again. She blinked away her tears, not allowing herself to feel the emotions that were building within her chest. They weren’t important. It didn’t matter. She was a farmer’s daughter of a mountain woman and nothing more. Her silent dreams of someday really knowing and understanding her father would die along with the man on the bed.

  He opened his eyes and motioned with his head for her to look inside the nightstand drawer. His apartment was small and the pieces of furniture were few and old. Why he lived this way instead of the way a man of his importance should, she’d never understand. And why he chose to die at home with only her and a nurse nearby was another thing she couldn’t comprehend.

  Eden reluctantly let go of him with one hand, and slid open the drawer. In it sat a Bible and a small burlap bag tied with a coarse rope.

  “Take them,” he whispered. “They are my remembrances of you.”

  She didn’t understand at all, and couldn’t think at the moment how to ask him what he meant. He was slipping back into the English language again. Although he’d taught her his language and she knew it well, she suddenly felt she couldn’t remember a word of it.

  “Papa,” she whispered, but was too choked up to say more.

  “Take the bag . . . give it to Jack . . . to help pay my debt.”

  Again, she didn’t know what he meant. He had told her of his friend, Jack Talon, in the States. He’d said she should go to him when he passed on to the afterlife and that this man would help her get home.

  “I love you, Eden,” were his last words before he closed his eyes never to open them again. Eden didn’t return the words of love although she wanted to. Instead, she let his hand slip from her grip as she allowed the nurse to pull her away.

  The room was suddenly filled with people. The old lady from the next apartment was there and put her arm around Eden’s shoulder.

  “Come . . . my home,” was all Eden heard her say. She turned back to her father lying on the bed and took one last glimpse of his face before the people in white covered it up with a sheet. Gripping the locket tightly in her hand for strength, she gingerly plucked the Bible and burlap bag from the drawer before letting the old lady escort her away from the father she never really knew.

  * * *

  Jack Talon stopped his Mercedes convertible just up the road from where they were lowering Professor Jonathan Starke into the ground. This was one funeral he wasn’t going to miss. He pushed open the door and stretched out his long legs before making his way quickly toward the small group of people weeping for the dead man. Jack held no remorse for the way he felt. The man had turned into a disgrace ever since the University let him go last year. Professor Starke then disappeared from society. Lucky for Jack, his private investigator found out about the man’s death.

  For nearly a year, Jack had waited for this day. Professor Jonathan Starke was nothing more than a fake. He’d told Jack he would make him rich and famous when he brought back the Incan secrets and hidden treasures to the Field Museum. Jack had lent him money because he believed in the man. He had wanted to help if he could, but now he wished he hadn’t. There was no fortune, no fame, and now that there was no professor, Jack’s money was gone as well. It was his father’s money he’d used, thinking he could make The Golden Talon restaurant more than it already was. Jack’s father promised the restaurant to Jack if he could
run it smoothly and show him he could handle his business dealings wisely.

  Unfortunately, the restaurant had been struggling for the last six months now. But that was all about to change. Jack had finally tracked down the man who disappeared with his money and, one way or another, he was going to get it back. He had told Elliot Kempler, his friend and P.I., to meet him here at the cemetery. The professor must have been investing the money in some huge dealings and collecting the profits, just not wanting to share them with him. Jack swore he’d get every penny back, plus interest for having to wait.

  “Elliot.” Jack extended a hand to his private investigator.

  “Jack.” Elliot pumped the man’s hand quickly, keeping his voice low. “Almost thought you weren’t going to show.”

  “Hah! And miss this? Not on your life.” Jack didn’t bother to scan the grounds or even give the casket a second glance as it disappeared into the earth. He didn’t care anymore. He had once felt compassion and friendship for the professor but now he despised the man for what he’d done to him. “So, tell me. How much was he worth?” Jack asked Elliot. “How much am I going to get now that we’ve finally found him?”

  Elliot hesitated before he answered. “Nothing, Jack.”

  “What did you say?” Jack spoke louder than he should have at a funeral. A ragged-looking, overweight woman turned to glare at him. He smiled politely and nodded. Then lowering his voice, he turned back to Elliot. “What do you mean, nothing? That man owes me a lot of money.”

  “It was an investment, Jack.”

  “Like hell it was. Investments give you something in return. I got nothing.”

  Jack blew air from his mouth thinking of how disappointed his father would be once he returned from Europe. And he’d be back soon. Jack still had hopes to get his father’s restaurant in shape, if he could recover his money. If not, he would fail horribly.

  “Didn’t you find any information about him hiding ancient trinkets or something on the side?” Jack asked.

  He knew by the somber look on Elliot’s face that the news wasn’t going to be good.

  “Let’s go talk about this over lunch,” suggested Elliot.

  “I’m not hungry! Now tell me what’s up before I blow my cool.”

  “You’re not going to like it, Jack.”

  “I don’t like one stinking thing about this whole damned deal, Elliot. Now hurry up and give it to me straight. I’ve got to get back to the restaurant to put in an order by noon.”

  “You’d better hold off on that order,” said Elliot. “You may not be able to pay for it.”

  “What is that supposed to mean?” Jack’s voice was getting louder again. As the priest conducted the prayer service, the bystanders threw Jack angered looks though their lips spoke the words of God.

  “It means Professor Starke was flat broke. It seems he’d been gambling it away on the riverboat. He drank a lot of it away also.”

  Jack felt his blood boiling and his heart nearly stopped. This wasn’t at all what he wanted to hear. He’d been counting on that money to save his restaurant from going under. Now, he didn’t have a hope in hell to get out of the mess he was in. His hands clenched into fists.

  “This can’t be happening, Elliot. It’s going to ruin me.”

  This day was going from bad to worse. First, the refrigeration units in the restaurant were on the fritz again, and then he found out his taxes were being raised. To top things off, his father called from Greece this morning and told him he’d be back in a few months to see how Jack was running the business. Jack needed that money, and he needed it now.

  He’d made a mistake that couldn’t be undone. A weak moment made him lend the money to the professor but, at the time, he had liked and believed in the man. Jonathan was a regular at his restaurant. He and Jack shared a lot of meals and conversations and Jack found himself getting caught up in the man’s life after a while. With his own father absent, Jack felt close to the professor in a father/son sort of way.

  Jonathan Starke had been a man with a dream, and that was something Jack had abandoned years ago. He respected the man for that, and wanted to be a part of his dream. Jack thought by helping him, he could make amends for the mistakes of his past. He had also hoped he could better himself, better his father’s restaurant, and do something his father would be proud of for the first time in his life. In his heart, Jack had always wanted the type of relationship with his father that he’d had with the professor.

  Jack ran a hand through his dark hair, wondering what the king of the eatery world would say when he returned and found out his reputation had been ruined by his only son. He would be furious when he found out his son had turned him from prince to pauper in his absence. Jack was always willing to do anything to please his father, but now he realized that you can’t set up your hopes for the future by buying into someone else’s dream.

  “Come on, Elliot,” Jack said in one futile attempt. “He had to have something stashed away. Some kind of money or a piece of Incan treasure. Find it for me. I want it. It’s the only thing that can save me now.”

  “Well, you’re right Jack. It seems he did have one Incan treasure hidden away that we didn’t know about. And just as you wished, it’s going to be yours.”

  “I knew it!” Jack’s spirits lifted immediately at hearing this piece of information. The professor must have found something of value before he kicked the bucket, and left it to Jack to make up for losing his money. His life wasn’t turning so sour after all.

  “This is great,” said Jack. “Now I can sell the artifact and use the money to save the restaurant. I should be able to get the place in shape before my father returns, don’t you think?”

  Elliot made a face and shook his head slowly. “No, Jack. You can’t sell this treasure.”

  “Sure I can. Everything has its price. Where is this precious piece anyway? I can’t wait to get my hands on it.”

  The prayer service ended, and the few mourners who had showed up walked slowly back to their cars.

  “It’s right there.” Elliot pointed toward the gravesite.

  “Right where?” Jack’s eyes followed Elliot’s finger.

  “She’s standing right next to the old lady and the priest.”

  “She?”

  Jack froze. He slowly removed his sunglasses and surveyed a young, golden-skinned woman. She stood next to the priest and old lady who seemed to be comforting her. He couldn’t have heard Elliot right. There was no way this was true.

  “Her name is Eden Ramirez. She’s Professor Starke’s Incan daughter,” Elliot relayed the information as Jack looked on in shock.

  The woman’s back was toward him, and he couldn’t help but think she looked ridiculous in the long, heavy, orange skirt that reached down to her ankles and sandaled feet. She wore a short, bright red jacket that hurt his eyes and looked as if it were made of wool. It was a warm spring day, and the woman had to be uncomfortable dressed in all those layers of clothes. On her head she had a white, tall hat with a black band encircling it. It had to be one of the most hideous things he’d ever seen. Her long, ebony-black braids were thick and tied together in back with a vibrant green ribbon. She had some sort of brightly colored, striped cloth flung across her shoulders like a backpack. It was mostly hot pink, making Jack cringe just to look at it. The material bulged as if she carried her belongings inside. This woman stuck out like a sore thumb, and Jack couldn’t believe he hadn’t even noticed her until Elliot pointed her out.

  “What do you mean she’s going to be mine?” Jack spoke in a low monotone, pushing the words from his lips, forcing them to go.

  “It seems the professor spent his last penny on a plane ticket to fly her from the Andes to be at his side when he died. It was a one-way ticket, so she’s stuck here, Jack. Eden doesn’t have any money and has nowhere to stay.”

  Jack stood still, not sure how to answer. He refused to believe he’d been thrown into this situation. “Not my problem.” Jack slapped his m
irrored sunglasses back on his face and spun around, nearly running for the car.

  “It seems it is your problem, Jack.” Elliot followed close on his heels. “The old lady who was the professor’s neighbor said he told her to go to you and that you’d help her. I guess you’re supposed to help her get home.”

  “Like hell I will. I’m not dishing out any more money, especially not for a plane ticket to Peru. Why did the professor think I’d help his daughter after what he did to me?” Jack jumped in the car, turned the key, and revved the engine. “Just tell the little girl that I’m sorry, but I can’t help her.”

  “Can’t or won’t?” asked Elliot.

  “What does it matter?”

  “Maybe you’d like to tell her yourself. Here she comes now.”

  Jack looked up to see the priest waving him down from across the lawn. He and the old woman guided the girl toward him. If he stepped on the gas now, he could make it to the front gates before they got to the car. He toyed with the idea and looked back to Elliot who had a smirk on his face.

  “Damn it, Elliot, wipe that grin off your face. My restaurant is going broke, my father’s coming home in a few short months, and now I find out I’m getting a girl instead of my money. And all you can do is stand there and smile.”

  “If you hurry, Jack, you might be able to get out of here before she makes it to the car,” Elliot tempted him.

  “Not a bad idea.” Jack jammed the gear into drive just as he heard the priest call out to him, his foot feeling like a brick on the brake.