Chapter Twenty-Three
Maddox
I woke with Abby snoring soundly by my side. I didn’t remember her climbing into bed with me; I probably would have carried her back to hers had I been awake, but I welcomed her comfort anyways and checked her temperature with the back of my hand. She wasn’t too warm, and her skin had the healthy glow that had been missing for the majority of the week.
She stirred, eyes slowly opening as I crawled out of bed.
“How are you feeling. kiddo?” I asked and began getting ready for the day.
“Better,” she said.
“You’re not sick anymore?” I took her temperature properly this time, with a thermometer, and it came back normal.
“I’m hungry,” she said, and I chuckled. I figured she was going to be hungry after eating nothing but soup for a week.
“I’m going to hop in the shower, and then you need a bath,” I said. “And then I’ll make some muffins for you to take over to Nick’s.”
“Okay, Daddy,” she said and settled back into bed to wait for her turn in the bath.
“I’m going to have to stay late at work tonight to make up for the week,” I said. “Nick said you’re taking your painting in a new direction, though?”
“You can’t know that!” she cried, and I held up my hands and slowly backed away.
“I’m sorry, it’s a surprise. I should have known. So, you’re okay with me staying late?” I asked.
“Yes, Daddy,” she said, and settled into bed muttering how Nick betrayed her sense of trust. I smiled and shook my head as I started the shower.
Afterward, we walked hand in hand toward Nick’s. He greeted us and gladly accepted the tin of fresh baked muffins from the crook of my elbow.
“I’m perfectly capable of feeding her,” he said as he popped one in his mouth.
“Yeah, I don’t see you complaining though.”
“Someone’s feeling better, yeah?” Nick picked up Abby and kissed her cheek.
“I’m ready for my painting!” she said as she glanced in my direction. “That means you have to leave.” She pointed to the door in a dramatic gesture.
Nick and I laughed.
“I’m going to stay later and catch up, if that’s okay,” I said to Nick.
“No problem, she can stay the night if you want,” he said.
“I’ll see what time I get home. Thanks.” I kissed Abby’s forehead. “Goodbye, sweetie. I’ll see you soon.”
“Bye, Daddy.” She waved me off and I closed the door behind me. I always felt as if I should do more for Nick, after everything he’s done for us.
After a gruesome 30 minutes sitting in traffic, I finally arrived at my Alaskan Way location, still the newest of my restaurant chain. My employees greeted me with forced enthusiasm, but it was hard to blame them. They had every reason to be nervous around the owner and boss.
“Maddox!” Jackie met me in my office. “I didn’t know you were coming in today.”
“I’ve had too many days off,” I said. “Plus, it’s a Friday. Missing the middle of the week isn’t that big of a deal, but I need to be here on the weekend, at least.”
“Well, I’ve left you 10 voicemails about this already, but…” Jackie handed me a folder. I decided against telling her I had deleted every message without listening to it.
“What’s this?” I flipped it open, staring at a series of numbers that were slowly decreasing as my fingers skimmed through weeks, and then the past seven days.
“The two-year excitement for a new restaurant is starting to die,” Jackie said. “It’s not enough to keep our numbers up, and now they’re lower than they were before Alaskan Way opened.”
“That’s alarming,” I muttered as I examined the numbers thoroughly. They were decreasing at a much quicker rate than I had expected. “We need something new to push these numbers back up.”
“Did you have anything in mind?” she asked. I ran my hand down my face and shook my head.
“Nothing right now. Give me a minute; I’ll think of something.”
Jackie left my office and I sat down, brainstorming. A new dish would help the numbers, but it would have to be cheap and exciting.
“Mr. Moore?” I looked up at one of my assistants entered the room. Carla Fischer, one of my oldest employees, stood at the foot of my office.
“What is it, Carla?” I asked.
“Have you looked over the itinerary for next week’s trip?”
“No, I haven’t.” I paused. “Wait, what trip?”
“The Vegas trip, Mr. Maddox, where you have at least three meetings every single day for four days straight,” she said and searched through a stack of folders on my desk. She pulled out a thin red folder and placed it in front of me. I glanced through it, suddenly remembering a faint conversation I had with Jackie about Vegas and meetings. Shit.
“Of course, the meetings,” I said and shoved the file into my take-home bag. “I’ll look over it again. Thank you, Carla.”
The Vegas meeting couldn’t have come at a worse time, really, but maybe it was a blessing in disguise. Maybe I could use both this and a new dish to get my numbers up.