Her Las Vegas Wedding. Andrea Bolter

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       CHAPTER THREE

      “IT’S BAD,” Reg told Shane as they reached the edge of the pool after a lap. “Much worse than we thought.”

      “Kitchen or front-of-the-house kind of worse?” Shane knew the New York and Los Angeles restaurants weren’t making the profits they once were but, apparently, that wasn’t the extent of it.

      He shook some water from his hair.

      When Reg had called while he was in the kitchen with Audrey half an hour ago, Shane suggested they meet for a swim in the employee pool. The Girards made a practice of building a private pool or gym at all of their hotels exclusively for the employees to enjoy. Though this pool was small and not at all like the deluxe rooftop pool area for guests, it was a handy, gated-off oasis that Shane had taken to using often.

      “Both kinds of worse,” Reg continued his report. Shane could tell from the tone in his brother’s voice that this wasn’t just going to be “the price of tablecloths went up” bad.

      “What?”

      “Lee quit.” Their executive chef in New York. The man they had left in charge of running the kitchen while they kept their eye on LA and put their energies into getting this third restaurant off the ground.

      Shane’s jaw flexed in disbelief. “Why?”

      He’d always had a good relationship with Lee, whose friendly disposition never wavered no matter how difficult Shane could be.

      “He got a better offer. A full partnership in London. Doing Korean food.”

      Shane sighed. “That’s what he always wanted.”

      “Effective immediately,” Reg added.

      “Effective immediately?”

      “I don’t have a lot of the details,” Reg continued. “He apologized profusely. Said he’d call you.”

      “No executive chef in New York.” This was devastating. Shane couldn’t be in three places at once. He’d counted on Lee remaining a major part of the team. Still, he understood. Lee was a Korean American who longed to elevate the flavorful food he loved to a fine-dining clientele.

      Shane dunked his head under the water and then popped back up.

      “That’s not all.” With the setting sun casting a shadow over Reg’s face, Shane could see the disquiet in his brother’s eyes.

      “Okay, what?” Shane didn’t want to hear whatever it was Reg was going to say, but knew he needed to.

      “Rick reviewed the monthlies in New York and there are big discrepancies in the cash receipts.” Rick was their accountant in charge of balancing their books.

      “Meaning what?”

      “Meaning someone at the restaurant is stealing from us.”

      Not again. This had happened before. Unfortunately, when cash changed hands sometimes some of it disappeared. But it had never been a large enough amount to warrant the tightness currently in Reg’s voice.

      “How much money?”

      Reg gave Shane a figure that set his pulse racing.

      He pushed away from the side of the pool. This was everything he disliked about being in business. Dealing with staff and money and logistics was never his forte. All he’d ever wanted was just to cook and let his brother handle the rest of it. Yet now it was do or die. If Murphy Brothers Restaurants was going to have a future, he was going to have to extend himself past that comfort zone and start tackling these problems head-on.

      Yet he wasn’t sure he’d be able to. Knew that he, himself, was the biggest problem.

      Shane dove deep underwater and swam the length of pool without coming up for air. Took a quick gulp at the other end and then did the same on the way back. When he emerged, Reg hadn’t moved and was staring out at nothing in particular.

      “Race.” Shane challenged his brother to a lap across the pool. A slight grin crossed Reg’s thin lips. Growing up, neither Murphy brother was a star athlete. Reg was more likely to have a book in his hand than a ball. But Shane would walk over to the playground in their Brooklyn neighborhood and shoot some basketball with whatever kids were hanging around.

      “Go.” The two brothers sprinted through the water. Shane narrowly edged Reg to the end of the pool. He felt nothing at his victory. It was just a stall tactic before continuing the conversation.