Gift of Gold

would-be writers and artists who go to Mexico to create their art and wind up swimming in cheap tequila instead.”
    “I know the type,” Verity said stiffly. “I also know this cantina. I was in Puerto Vallerta a few months ago and stumbled across it.”
    Quarrel gave her an unfathomable look as he efficiently stacked dishes. “What were you looking for in a place like the El Toro?”
    “I was looking for my father.” Verity frowned and tapped the resumé with a fingertip. “You didn’t make these places up in a spurt of creative writing, after all, did you? You really have worked in all these sleazy dives.”
    Quarrel ignored the question and asked one of his own. “Did you find your father?”
    Verity shook her head. “No. But that’s no big deal. He’ll show up sooner or later. He always does.” She came away from the wall and started toward the office. “Excuse me for a few minutes.”
    Jonas dropped a pan back into the sink. “Hey, wait a minute. What are you going to do?”
    “Make a few phone calls,” she explained sweetly. She smiled at him.
    Jonas stared at her for a long moment. He seemed momentarily disconcerted by her smile. Then he pulled himself together and asked slowly, “You’re going to call some of those bars?”
    “I always check references. What’s the matter, Mr. Quarrel? Did you think I’d hesitate to call places like Tahiti and Manila and Mexico?”
    He wiped his hands on a towel, studying her intently. “Well, yeah. Most people are a little intimidated by that kind of long-distance dialing.”
    “I’ve got news for you. You’re not the only one who’s had the advantages of extensive world travel. I spent a year and a half in Tahiti, three months in Manila, a year in Mexico, and another year in Hawaii. My memory is a little vague because it’s been a few years, but I think I’ve even been in a few more of these dives than just El Toro Rojo. The Harbor Lights Tavern has a familiar ring. I hate to admit it, but so does the Get Leid.”
    Quarrel looked genuinely startled. “You’re kidding. You know some of those places?”
    “My father gave me a very well-rounded education.” Verity walked into her office, vaguely pleased at having finally been able to turn the tables on Jonas Quarrel.
    “It’ll cost a fortune to call those taverns,” Jonas pointed out.
    “I’ll take it out of your first week’s pay.” Verity smiled slowly as she sat down at her desk and reached for the phone. This was going to prove interesting.
    An hour later she had her answers and Jonas had the dishes done. They faced each other in the small kitchen.
    “All right,” Verity said calmly. “You’ve got the job. Everyone spoke very highly of you. They said you could be relied upon to open a bar on time, you aren’t into drugs, you don’t have the bad habit of helping yourself to the contents of the cash register, and you don’t drink on the job. High praise, indeed, considering the sources. Oh, and Big Al at the Sea Siren said to give you his best and swears he’ll send along the money he owes you now that he has a current address.”
    Something in Jones’s eyes seemed to relax. It was replaced with a curious expression that was part anticipation and part satisfaction. “Thanks, Verity,” he said. “I appreciate it.”
    “Since you’ve finished the dishes, you can start chopping onions for the vegetable tart I’m going to make. I’ll do the pastry.”
    “I’ll get right on it, boss lady.” Jonas reached for a long-bladed knife, hefting it with an easy familiarity. “There’s just one more small problem.”
    Verity paused warily in the act of taking a ball of chilled pastry out of the refrigerator. “What’s that?”
    “I’ll need a place to stay.” Jonas smiled at her. “Any ideas? Since I’m going to be working for minimum wage, I won’t be able to afford anyplace fancy. I checked out of the Lake Motel this morning. I was running low on cash.”
    Verity sighed in resignation. “You can have the cabin my father uses when he deigns to visit. It’s in back of the restaurant.”
    “What about your father?”
    “Don’t worry. I haven’t heard from him since I got the message inviting me to meet him down in Puerto Vallerta. He’d already left town by the time I got there and I haven’t heard from him since. I don’t think he’ll be disturbing us anytime soon. If he does, you can flip a coin for the bed. Both of you have probably slept on more than one