Page 63 of 1001 Dark Nights: Bundle Forty-Seven

“Take care of him, Jameson.”

Then she disappeared.

He stared at the closed door, wondering why the place suddenly seemed so empty.

Until a low whine interrupted his thoughts. He regarded the messy beast with an assessing gaze, and those big brown eyes stared back with a naked pleading and hope that punched him right in the chest.

Damnit. He wasn’t up for this. His two lousy months had already been met with too many challenges when he’d only wanted to help out Mac and keep his head down. He had no desire to be involved with any of the locals or dog rescues but now he was stuck.

“I’ll get your bed from the attic. No sleeping on the bed or the furniture. Understood?”

Bear whimpered.

Jameson sighed. “Come on. I’ll show you where the food and water will be. But don’t get too comfy. I’ll be putting your picture up around town so you can find a real home. Deal?”

He headed toward the kitchen, stumbling when the dog bumped into his legs and almost made him face-plant. His dress pants were already full of hair, and a line of drool seemed to follow Bear wherever he went.

It may be harder than he thought to get this beast a home.

He reminded himself it wasn’t his problem.

And wondered why the thought made him feel…regret.

* * * *

Two days later, Jameson was ready to lose his mind.

Things had begun so hopefully. It was the last weekend to pack in the customers before the Fur Gala, and he’d decided to push hard to dazzle the town. His contacts in New York City had come through and shipped him brand new table settings that screamed elegance and restraint. He’d gathered up the staff,galvanized them into an action plan, and completely renovated the place with all new décor.

Bright-white tablecloths replaced the dingy black. Chipped white china was switched out to square plates with silver edging and lavender napkins. The flatware was all upgraded to a heavier weight in platinum finish. The endless cheap holiday accessories were packed up and put away, from the white lights and fake Christmas trees, to the mistletoe and poinsettia centerpieces. In its place were now delicate glass bowls filled with pebbles, water, and one perfect red rose.

The old, red area rugs were gone. The new ones were more subtle, a tasteful pale gray splashed with a touch of lavender. The new colors were pleasing to the eye, and transformed the dining area into an upgraded experience.

He knew the staff disliked the changes, but Jameson believed it was for the best. They’d all been working too long in the same type of environment and that courted laziness. He was positive the new décor matched the menu and cocktail offerings. Everyone would eventually get on board and be happy.

Jameson was ready to overserve and overdeliver. Mac would be pleased.

Until Carl Perkins started off the day on a sour note.

Jameson looked up from his quick meeting with the hostess to see an overweight man lumbering through the front door dressed in a Santa suit. He was about to politely get rid of him before they officially opened, but Layla lit up and greeted him like an old friend. “Carl! I was hoping we’d see you this weekend! How are you doing?”

Carl patted his belly and squinted through metal framed glasses that seemed to be more cosmetics than to see. His beard was a bit dingy and crooked. “Hi, Layla. Well, I’ve been a bit sick with my IBS, but finally feeling better. I didn’t want to miss our weekend tradition but the new guy has been giving me therunaround. Left a few messages but he never got back to me. Was going to call Mac but figured I’d just show up.”

Jameson tried not to groan. He’d ignored the garbled messages, which consisted of asking for a few hundred dollars in order to purchase gifts for random kids this weekend and the rental of a Santa suit. Of course, he’d deleted the messages and assumed it was a prank, or spam. This was for real?

He cleared his throat and stepped forward. “I’m the new manager, Jameson Franklin. I apologize, your messages weren’t clear. What exactly were you asking to do?”

Carl gave him a once-over, then shook his head. “I play Santa the weekend before Christmas. Been doing it for Mac a couple years now. Polite thing to do is give a man a call back, right?”

He tried not to wince at being schooled on manners. “I’m very sorry, but I’ve been a bit overwhelmed with things around here. Trying to keep things running smoothly for Mac.”

The man seemed to soften. A loud noise rumbled from his belly and Carl patted it. Jameson tried not to worry at his expression, which was pained. “Sorry, I had some milk in my coffee this morning. Not a good idea. Listen, it’s not a problem. You can give me about three hundred and I’ll head to the store and get the gifts. Be back here by 11am. Sound good?”

Jameson shifted his feet. “Layla, can you check with the chef that he has everything he needs? There were a few supplies that came in late.”

“Sure.”

He waited until she’d disappeared before turning to the man. “Thank you for the kind offer but we won’t be doing Santa this year.”

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