There was a family business.
Little Rock to Salt Lake by way of Chicago.
The best pastry chef program in the country is in Chicago.
That’s too many coincidences. When Theo showed up at Black Diamond, he was on the run. Whatever followed him to Salt Lake, it had to start in Little Rock.
Rerouting my ticket back to Bear Valley by way of Little Rock takes one phone call.
“You looking for something, Mister?”
My gaze turns to the man at the doorway of a nice restaurant. Upscale, but not pretentious. It’s Sunday afternoon, late, and downtown Little Rock is quiet.
I gesture to the building across the street, with the black-and-white awnings and “Donahue’s Bakery” written in the windows with a gold-and-black swirling font. It is closed.
“Was that Frank Donahue’s Bakery? The original?” I’m not bothering to be subtle. I came here to get information.
“Sure is. You looking for a drink or a meal? Not everything is open down here on Sunday evening. Things close up pretty fast.” I nod and follow him inside, where a menu appears out of thin air. “What you want to know about Frank’s place?”
“Is it closed?”
After taking my order and placing a nice bottle of wine on the table and pouring me a glass, the guy rocks back on his heels. The place is upscale for sure, but almost empty this evening.
“Nah, Donahue’s isn’t closed. Ever since Frank passed, his grandson Nico’s had some idea about selling it, but for now it’s still open.” He shakes his head. “Not the same, though. But we sure do miss Frank downtown.”
“Do you miss Theo?”
The smile I get is sharp, with a nod, like I just gave some secret password to enter a party.
“Theo Donahue.” The guy smiles. “Now that’s been a while.”
“How about you tell me everything you know.”
“Who’s asking?”
Chapter 16: Theo
“Theo, thanks for staying after your shift to meet with us.” Jack offers a hand to shake and a quick embrace in greeting.
Theusis Matt’s brothers—Quinn, Baylor, and Jack. I try not to be intimidated, but it’s hard.
An architect who is my boss. A famous songwriter who is also sometimes my boss because he manages so much of Bear Valley, including my side-jobs this past summer. And a lawyer, the oldest brother and CEO of the Mann empire’s philanthropy arm. More than once, I have heard Jack referred to as the family CEO/
Nothing to sweat about here.
We walk toward a set of condos near the main ski lift, just down from the storage unit and Matt’s.
“We want to discuss a job offer with you,” Jack says easily. “It’s not a requirement of your current employment or anything like that.” He pauses at the main entrance and ushers us in.
“Seriously, Theo. I’ve asked a lot of you in the past year, and I know,” Quinn adds, “but you can always tell us to shove it.”
I haven’t been in this condo building very much, but the architecture is very 1970s, and the vibe has taken a turn past vintage to outdated. A burned wood sign names the building “Silver Spring.”
“This is one of the oldest condos in the valley,” Baylor says. “It has always sold well because it is close to the slopes. But it needs a facelift.”
Quinn pushes the elevator button. “I worked up the renovations, and it has been a process. We hit . . .a problem.”
“A problem you may know,” Jack adds, ushering me in the elevator along with everyone else, “named Sydney Johnson.”
