Ill show you around your new place, I said.
The cabbage rolls here are always topnotch, Ian Clarke pushed the empty plate aside. Your father found a brilliant head chef for us. The salads, though, arent always a hit. Todays Caesar is rather mediocre, and the croutons are soggy. Who made them?
Mrs. Winifred Parker handles the salads, I replied.
Winifreds long overdue retirement. Let her bake pies for the grandchildren. Im already looking for her replacement.
How come? Emily asked, surprised. I never asked you to do that, and Im happy with Winifred. Her meatballs bring customers from the other side of town.
Well get the recipe soon enough, and well find younger waiters
Im not hiring anyone! she snapped.
You wont have to. The restaurant will soon be run by someone else.
But the place was left to me in the will.
The inheritance is your flat you can live there, no one will evict you. The bank account is yours as well. Three Oranges wasnt just your fathers project; serious investors are involved. Theyll take the establishment over.
You too? You were a close friend of my father
Ian shrugged.
Its business, nothing personal. In fact, well not only take over the restaurant, well buy it from you at a fair price.
Soon it turned out that the price they called fair was only fair from the buyers side a token amount that could hardly be called a payment.
Emilys father had been a powerful figure in the local hospitality scene. He started with a few corner pubs, then built a popular restaurant in the city centre on the site of the old Dumpling House. After university he brought his daughter into the business, giving her the task of buying market produce for the salads, but never allowed her into the kitchen, saying only professionals belonged there.
Although he had long since left his wife for another woman, he kept Emily close, while the new partner a successful surgeon showed little interest in the restaurant. Thats why the will left only the Three Oranges to his daughter.
He drafted the will when he realised his illness was terminal; some diseases even the best surgeons cannot cure.
After his death the restaurant kept running under its manager, but Emily threw herself into every aspect, dreaming of new dishes and a modern redesign. The staff treated her warmly; theyd known each other for years and felt like one big family.
Then new owners appeared. Emily expected someone to show obvious greed for Three Oranges, but it wasnt the blatant robbery she imagined. The real blow came from Ian Clarke, who had taken her and her father to amusement rides in the park when they were children. It turned out he owned those rides, and several parks, too.
Her fathers network of influential officials and businessmen had seemed like kindly uncles in her youth almost magical, because they never held back on lavish gifts whenever she mentioned a toy she wanted.
Now those kind benefactors were snatching the restaurant away, brazenly.
Her husband, Tom Baker, who worked on the railway and stayed far from the new stepmothers world, gave his own assessment:
Ive long told you this pub is a shady business. Sell it for any sum and youll be done. Open a stall at the station youll make a profit. Every day I see a line of people waiting for hot pies on Station Square.
The whole square is already divided up, and Three Oranges is a memory of my father.
We still have the countryside cottage thats a memory too. And the flat, if you sort it out. Dont get involved there. Its full of sharks, he warned, suddenly switching tone.
The sharks never showed themselves; only Ian kept popping up, constantly talking about selling the restaurant, eating his beloved cabbage rolls and paying for them with exaggerated politeness. One day he said:
Youre being foolish, girl. Im speaking fatherly, but others could come
Are you threatening me?
Me? By God! Im only looking out for you, not myself.
You have no interest in selling? I wont believe you.
Theres a little interest. The people who like Three Oranges are far more powerful and influential. Frankly, they could just take the restaurant from you without any repercussions.
And so it began. First, a group of grimlooking thugs inspected almost every room, overturned the tomato crates and claimed Emilys father owed them an astronomical sum.
Later, evening crowds were interrupted by fights and drunken brawls something that hadnt happened in years. Customers dwindled, preferring quieter venues for their meals and banquets. One morning the staff arrived to find the dining room in chaos: tables overturned, kitchen floors littered with the contents of every fridge. The thieves oddly left the alcoholic stock untouched.
Emily managed to get the incident logged with the local police, thanks to her old school friend, Brian Pryce. She told him everything, starting with Ian.
Brian shook his head.
Its unlikely hes the mastermind. He was probably chosen as a gobetween because you know him. We suspect someone with deep city connections is behind this. You cant pull this off with bare hands; you need solid evidence.
Who?
Theres a man who owns factories, newspapers and a fleet of steamers. He used to work for the city council and now exploits his old contacts for property grabs. Hes also linked to the breakin you described. Nothing obvious no lock tampering, no alarm triggered. Someone must have disabled the system and handed over a key. Looks like theres an insider, a traitor among the staff.
Theres no traitor. Everyones been here a long time.
Then someone was bribed or intimidated
The trouble soon reached home. Tom gave his ultimatum:
Either you sell the pub, or Im out. Ive already been threatened with a knife at the front door twice. They say if I dont convince you, theyll take it themselves. I dont want that. I just want to live.
So youre running away Remember you promised to be my rock?
A solid wife, not a fool who throws forks at the enemy.
A few weeks later Tom left, taking everything even his favourite mug, the one Emily had given him.
Brian commented philosophically:
A husband who just occupies a flat is a waste. I split with my partner a year ago, barely earn enough, never home. Has your restaurant recovered from the raid?
Its been a while.
Then Ill invite you over for dinner. Ill pay for everything and keep your security in check, so no one comes in with a bat.
Emily suddenly thought perhaps he wouldnt bolt at the first sign of danger, recalling how little shed noticed him in class.
Six months later, a former city official resurfaced. He not only claimed Three Oranges but also a large shopping centre and an underground car park, which hed already seized with the help of an entire organised crime group another story entirely.
The insider turned out to be the bartender, Vince, whom Brian identified quickly. Vince was deep in debt to the cocktailbook publisher, and they forced him to disable the alarm and make a key copy.
One day Ian dropped by for cabbage rolls, asked how things were going, then, with downcast eyes, admitted that his own amusementpark empire had weak spots not everything was legal. Hed been blackmailed into joining the scheme.
Emily chose not to hold a grudge and invited him back.
As he left, Ian asked:
Are you now under police protection? I saw a uniformed officer step into your office.
Yes, Emily smiled, its my future husband, Brian. Our weddings next week, right here in the restaurant .
