Page 47 of Reckless Chance
My eyes are drawn upward. The ceiling is at least three stories high. Letting my eyes scan the rest of the space, I continue to be wowed. The décor is stunning. Floor-to-ceiling gray slate tiles with vertical, charcoal striations create accent walls, and contemporary, crystal light globes dangle from the ceiling at various heights throughout the room.
Modern designs can feel cold, but not here. Deep-purple drapes hang between the full-height windows overlooking the Aegean Sea. Dark carpeting with cream accents covers the floor, and soft violet spotlights focus on each table. Together with the overall dim lighting, these features give this marvelous space a warm and welcoming vibe that draws me further into the room.
Looking around, I don’t see Cassie. Workers are busily installing various finishing touches, so I ask one of the men where the chef is. He points to a frosted glass partition on the far-right side of the room.
Stepping around the partition, I find double swinging doors. Aha! Of course, the chef is in the kitchen. I can’t help giggling. It’s funny to think of Cassie as thechef. We’ve always been either law students or lawyers, stressing over clients and deadlines. Now she’s delving into her creative side and conjuring up delicious and artful food for the rich and famous.
Pushing one of the doors open, I call out, “Cassie, are you in here?”
“Lowri, come in. I’ll be there in a minute,” she shouts from somewhere to my left.
Following instructions, I enter the giant kitchen and walk toward a long stainless steel table covered with chopped carrots, celery, and onions.
As I turn my head, Cassie is hurrying toward me. “Are you okay? I got your text and rushed to your room. The guards wouldn’t let me in. What happened?”
“I’m fine now. My purse was stolen yesterday, and today my room was ransacked. It’s been a traumatic morning. Luckily, I was with Sean last night, and I wasn’t in my room when the thief broke in this morning.”
“Yeah, we’re going to talk about you and Sean in a minute. First, what was stolen? Anything valuable?”
“They took my laptop and work papers. It’s strange, they left behind two hundred dollars in extra cash that I’d hidden in a dresser drawer under my lingerie.”
“They probably didn’t have time to search the drawers.”
“That’s what’s strange. The dresser drawers were pulled open. The cash was in plain sight after they rummaged through the top drawer.”
“That is odd.”
“I’ve been helping Sean with the investigation into the accident that killed Mr. Brentwood during the pyrobatics show. The fact that my work papers were taken makes Sean and me suspect someone didn’t want a record of what I learned from interviewing the various performers. We’re also questioning whether my purse was specifically targeted last night because someone wanted my cell phone with the recorded interviews.
“That sounds like the plot of a suspense movie. Events like that don’t usually happen in real life. The two thefts probably aren’t even related.”
“I know, but we haven’t come up with another explanation for why they took my work papers.”
“If they were on top of your laptop, they probably grabbed the papers with your computer and will toss them into the trash. Do you have backups?”
“Yes. My laptop is backed up to the cloud, and Sean had a replacement phone in my hands early this morning. I can recover everything.”
I ignore Cassie’s raised eyebrows. She’s wondering why Sean purchased a new phone for me. I’ll skip the explanation. My thoughts are elsewhere anyway.
If there was a sinister, orchestrated plan behind the thefts, the thief wouldn’t know I had backups. They would assume the thefts eliminated the proof of what the witnesses said to me. Not knowing that, will the thief intimidate the witnesses into not speaking up again? Will they come after me for what I remember? I shudder at the thought, but that’s masked by the rumbling of my stomach.
“I heard that. We better feed you quickly. You must be starving.”
“I am.”
“Then you’re in the best possible place. You won’t be hungry after what we’ve planned for the tasting.”
“I can’t believe this is happening. You look so professional in your fancy, black chef’s coat. It even has your name on it. But why does it say Cassandra instead of Cassie?”
“Because Evan had the coats made for me, and he always uses my full name. I’m lucky he didn’t put Princess-to-be Cassandra on it as he threatened. He wants to tell the world about our upcoming wedding.” She laughs.
“That’s hilarious. I can’t believe how much your life has changed this year. It started with us both working our asses off as lawyers in San Diego. Then you finally took a chance and entered the guest chef competition thanks to a little prodding by me.”
“I know what you mean. Now I’m chef here for a month, and a real prince swept me off my feet and proposed. It’s too much to process.”
“You’re living your fairytale.”
“I know. Evan pinches me daily to remind me this is all real,” she says looking upward, arms sweeping around the kitchen.
