“When Frank was alive, I spent hours in his bakery. That was the whole goal, the whole plan, I thought. I would go to culinary school, work in the industry for a few years, and then come back and take over the baking at Donahue’s, while Nico managed the business end. We even talked about expanding—we opened a second test location, and it was successful. Nico never had any interest in baking, but he liked to dream about franchises and products with the Donahue’s Bakery logo.”
“And then what happened?” Jack asks.
“Frank died.” Theo’s voice is strong, but full of turmoil. “They didn’t even tell me. I found out when someone called to give me condolences after they didn’t see me at the funeral. I was in Salt Lake City, working for a place called Glazed. A bakery in the front and a restaurant in the back, kind of high-end place, the store-within-a-store model. Anyway, I came to work at Glazed one day, about a week after Frank died, and the head Pastry Chef met me at the door with the owner. They said they had to fire me or be sued because I was using trade secrets and violated a non-compete clause.”
“What did you do?” Jack asks.
“Immediately? I went home to my apartment. I was going to call an attorney I hired after I found out Frank died, but when I got there . . .” Theo trails off. “This is the part where Deny comes in.”
“Go ahead, sugar,” I tell him.
“Deny was there. At my apartment. I swear to you I didn’t know I owed anyone anything. No one ever said my tuition needed to be paid back to the family, and I had been out of school for a while. I don’t remember any non-compete clause or conversation.” Theo’s voice falters, as waiting for someone to tell him he’s wrong. “I called Frank almost weekly and told him about the things I was baking, how I was using what he taught me in new ways. Those were always happy, encouraging conversations. If anything, he was my biggest supporter. We talked about when I would go back home to the bakery. He never once. . .”
Theo sucks in a breath, and Baylor’s hand rests gently on Theo’s shoulder. I slide my feet under the table to hook them with his.
“As far as you remember, did you ever sign anything? I assume you worked at Donahue’s Bakery itself? Was there a contract?” Jack asks.
Theo’s smile is tight. “No. I worked with Frank since I was so small I had to stand on a chair to reach the counters. Summers. After school. I never signed anything.”
Nodding, Jack gets up to refill his cup from the coffee service at the end of the conference room table. “Back to Deny, then.”
“He tore my place up before I could get there. You know, clothes, anything I could have used. Made sure it would to get me evicted on the spot. He took cash I had on hand. He and these two guys always with him roughed me up a bit.”
“A bit?” Baylor asks skeptically.
Theo’s face flushes. “Enough to scare me.”
“Something tells me there’s more, Theo,” Baylor says.
“He cleaned out my account at the bank. I don’t know how. The one credit card I had was canceled. I talked to people I knew, but no one in town would even take my calls, much less hire me. The word on the street was I had stolen recipes. Seemed like everyone had heard about the non-compete. I was blacklisted before I even found a place to sleep the first night. I had enough cash for a bus ticket, so I picked the farthest I could get, which was Mirror Lake.”
Jack lightly taps the tips of his fingers against the table. “And Nico, he sent Deny after you?”
“Deny said he worked for Nico, and I owed back what the family had paid for: culinary school. Even what I earned on the job because I had used techniques and recipes belonging to the Donahues and for violating the non-compete. Deny made it clear—any money I made, I owed to him, or Nico, for the foreseeable future.”
Jack sits back and stares past Baylor—his thinking face.
“You might be wondering why I didn’t try and get help, but I went from having everything and a life I understood to having nowhere to go and no money to my name in twenty-four hours. I didn’t know what to do other than try to survive.”
Before anyone can respond, Lucien himself knocks on the conference room door, and Jack waves him in. Jack and Theo get Lucien up to speed pretty quickly.
“I need to thank you for this information, Theo. I want you, and the family, to know Deny does not work for me.” Lucien sits, mouth turned down. “He operates mainly in the Midwest. His family and I have worked together before. Deny came to me with a business proposition, and I was feeling him out. Since then I have found that Deny likes to play enforcer for some loan sharks, something his family didn’t know about.”
Theo looks at Lucien. “Don’t trust him, Mr. Moretti. He mentioned to me . . .that day, when you all had drinks at Black Diamond. He caught me in the hallway and said I didn’t owe him anything anymore. I would pay him in information about you and the Manns. He said he was just supposed to keep me busy for a few years.”
“He said exactly that?” Jack interrupts, scribbling notes on one of the legal pads he keeps in the conference room. The page is full of arrows and script cursive.
“Yes. He said I had to stick close to you all. I wasn’t sure what he wanted me to tell him.”
“And if you had to guess?” Jack presses.
“I think he wanted things he could use to his advantage in someway. He mentioned there was an opportunity here—I think he meant Bear Valley. I’m sorry. My plan was to wait and see what he asked for, to have an idea what he wanted before I said anything. It didn’t seem like he meant an opportunity for a legitimate business.”
“No reason to apologize, Theo. No one expects clairvoyance.” Baylor’s soft voice of support gets a quick smile from Theo.
“I told Jordy to tell you, Mr. Moretti.”
Lucien flushes and for the first time almost looks uncomfortable. “Ah. And I didn’t—wasn’t able—to take his call,” he murmurs. “I wouldn’t have worked with Deny, but I appreciate the heads-up. Thanks to your tip, I asked around. Come to find out not everyone is a fan of how I run things. Deny thought I was an opportunity. And not just an opportunity for his bakery franchise proposal.”
