Couples

Chapter 134

Auchincloss chooses a small table in the now vacant dining area and motions Christine to join him. "You've been doing an outstanding job," he begins. "You've essentially run this place in my absence, and your skills are better than many more experienced chefs."

"Thank you," Christine responds. "Does that mean I'm getting a raise?"

"You deserve one, but I'd have to check with Mark about that."

Christine rolls her eyes. "Except for Holly and Itzhak, that man lives and dies by his spreadsheets."

"Yes, he does," Auchincloss agrees. "And I will be speaking to him. "But that's not what I was getting at, or not all of what I was getting at. You deserve to be called more than a sous chef. I'll still be the executive chef for Imagination Patch and Pot Pie Palace. But I want you to be head chef for Imagination Patch. And you should have a line cook. I doubt Mr. Castle would mind, but I'll have to talk to Mark about that too."

"What about Madison?"

"He's been spending most of his time with me at Pot Pie Palace. But I suspect that once he gets his life fully in order, he'll be looking for an executive chef position of his own. He has the history and the skills. He may even want to open a place specializing in Caribbean cuisine. But you fit in perfectly here and with me."

"I'm not sure how to take that, Ben," Christine confides. "I have ambitions too. Of course, I'd love to be head chef at Imagination Patch, but that doesn't mean I never want a restaurant of my own someday."

"And you should have one," Ben responds hurriedly. "I put that badly. What I meant is that you and I are a perfect team. And I'd like to spend time with you outside the kitchen."

Christine's eyebrows shoot skyward. "You mean like a date or something?"

"Something like that. But neither one of us has much spare time right now."

"Pretty much none," Christine agrees, "except for Imagination Patch closing on Christmas."

"But that would get better if we hire a line cook and I ask Madison to take over more responsibility at Pot Pie Palace. New York has some of the best restaurants and entertainment in the world." Ben reaches for her hand. "We could explore them together."

Christine nods slowly. "That could be fun."

Rick groans as he forces himself out of bed.

"You got up last night. What happened?" Kate inquires.

"I heard a text come in. It was from my father. He wants to meet. After I read it, I couldn't settle down, so I caught up on my writing. The good news is that Black Pawn will get the three chapters it wants as soon as I do my final edit. The bad news is that I ended up with about three hours of sleep."

Kate slips out from between the covers to join him. "Sorry, Babe. But at least you made progress – on two fronts. Tell you what. You grab a shower, and I'll start coffee and check on Lily."

Rick leans down for a kiss. "I knew there was a reason I love you – aside from the hundreds I experienced before my short-lived presence in dreamland. I won't be long."

"Take your time. That new soap you're using makes you and the shower smell really sexy."

Rick flutters his eyelashes. "If that sundry's scent results in more sessions like last evening, I'll buy a case."

"When are you meeting your father?" Kate asks as Rick greedily grabs for his mug of dark brew.

"This afternoon. He was very clear that I should show up alone. That shouldn't be a problem. I'd been planning on using the time to write, so Meryl is already scheduled to be with Lily."

"Just watch your ass, Babe," Kate urges.

"I generally prefer having you watch it. But alone is alone. I'll call you when I find out what dear old Dad has on his mind. Ooh, no. It's probably something hush-hush, and someone could intercept the call. So I'll drop by the 12th. Then if my visit times out well, we can stroll homeward hand-in-hand. Although in this weather, it will probably be glove in glove. I wish Santa would keep the vortexes at the North Pole."

"It is pretty cold," Kate agrees. "But that does keep street crime down. Right now, our unis are spending at least as much time trying to steer the homeless to places where they won't freeze to death as chasing down bad guys. If the Lenape get that property, I wonder if they'll consider building affordable housing."

"They'll have to win their suit, first," Rick points out. "Even without talking to my father, I'd guess they have some pretty strong forces against them. And they might want to go the route some of the other tribes have – build a casino. Then, they could fleece their historical fleecers. But fingers crossed that Lenore Pettigrew didn't die for nothing."

"With you there, Babe."

Jack pulls up the collar of his coat against the wind. He wishes he could have chosen somewhere indoors, like his cozy coffee corner with Azra. But both he and Azra are anonymous. Unfortunately, meetings with his son are more complicated. Even if Richard wasn't known in the general neighborhood, his face is familiar to Kimmel viewers, and stares from the backs of God knows how many books.

In the park, Jack can surveil a wide perimeter and maintain a 360-degree view of possible approaches. Without a scope, he can just make out a figure coming down a path in his direction. The height is right for Richard. Under heavy clothing, it's hard to tell about weight, but his walk isn't labored as it might be by excess poundage. If it is Richard, Kate's keeping him in shape.

With the wind in his face, Rick can barely see the man sitting on a bench where they'd met before. But the shock of white hair is almost unmistakable. Rick hopes that he lucked into those particular genes and will have a similar mane at his father's age.

Jack doesn't wave as Richard approaches but waits for his son to sit on the bench back-to-back with his. "Let's make this as short as possible."

"Nice to see you too, Jack," Rick responds. "But here's the short and not so sweet. Lenore Pettigrew guarded a document that possibly proves the Lenape tribe owns some very expensive Manhattan real estate. She was tortured and murdered, her apartment torn apart. Her brother Nestor claims the document is elsewhere but won't reveal where. My research shows interest in the property by Melissa Stone, Qatar, and the Russians. Melissa also owes money to a Russian-controlled bank. So, did Russians kill Lenore, and if so, which ones?"

Jack shakes his head with a rueful smile. "So that's all, huh? Yes, there is an uptick in Russian activity concerning overpriced Manhattan property. I don't know if they killed Lenore, but Qatar has requested an investigation because they believe the Russians are involved in a scam, probably cleaning up a money trail for an oligarch or two. I have a friend who was brought in because of Qatar's concerns, but I haven't heard a word about the Lenape tribe. Anything else?"

"Will you be talking to your friend again?" Rick presses.

"We cross paths now and then," Jack acknowledges.

"Can you ask whoever it is to check out the Lenape involvement and whether the Russians killed Lenore?"

"No promises," Jack warns, "but I can try. Now I have a question for you. How are my granddaughters?"

"Alexis is, as usual, beautiful and incredibly busy. She's looking forward to things slowing down at Christmas. Lily is also beautiful, busy every moment that she isn't sleeping, and growing so fast that we're supporting a new wing on Toddler Togs. Want to hear about potty training, Grandpa?"

Jack chuckles. "Another time, maybe. I'll do what I can about Kate's case, Richard. I'll be in touch."