Holly stood in the showroom of the appliance store, looking at her dream range. Well, at least it was the dream for her kitchen at home. She’d already invested in a top-of-the-line commercial stove for the restaurant. This one was so she could spoil herself in her free time.
“As if any of that exists,” she said softly.
“May I help you, miss?”
She glanced toward the eager-looking clerk. He was young, with cheeks that looked like he didn’t need a razor. She swallowed a grin and said, “Yes. I’m interested in this range.” She touched the price tag. “Does this include delivery and installation?”
The clerk, his smile doubled, rattled off more information than she’d asked for. Had he ever used a stovetop, let alone done any baking or broiling? Doubtful, but she didn’t care. She’d already done her research. This was the one she wanted. With this, she could bake beautiful cakes and pastries. With this, she could see her dreams come true.
That thought stole some of her joy about the purchase. Because when would she have the time or the money for such a thing? In truth, she probably shouldn’t buy it. The smart thing would be to tuck the money away to cover the next crisis. And there was sure to be another crisis.
She clenched her jaw against the rising dread and guilt and worries. No, she would buy this stove, and after it was delivered, she would make something wonderful in it. Just for herself. Just for the pure fun of baking.
Within another thirty minutes, she’d paid for her purchase and arranged for the stove’s delivery. She left the store with a smile on her face, refusing to feel guilty. Yes, there were needs at the restaurant, but this once she was going to do something for herself, for her own happiness. But as she drove away from the appliance store, her determination not to feel guilty began to falter. The closer she got to the restaurant, the heavier the weight felt upon her shoulders.
Decades before, Sweet Caroline’s had been a popular eatery on State Street, a gathering place for friends and families, especially those who lived in nearby neighborhoods. It had been a place to enjoy comfort-style food along with good company. A spreading city and growing restaurant competition had taken their toll as the twentieth century waned, but it had been cancer that finally closed the doors of the restaurant. Holly’s great-aunt had battled the disease for six years before God took her home to heaven. After Caroline Duthie’s passing, her husband, Ray, had closed Sweet Caroline’s, boarding over the windows and doors, and left it to sit empty, gathering dust while harboring small creatures bent on destruction. He could have sold the building at any time, but he never had.
Holly remembered the day she’d learned the former restaurant had been left to her in Uncle Ray’s will. Her first thought: How crazy is that? She knew nothing about running a restaurant. But her fiancé had thought it a great opportunity. Nathan had convinced her not to sell the building. He’d persuaded her instead to borrow money—enough to update and reopen the restaurant. He’d written a business plan with all kinds of charts and graphs to prove that, within two years, Sweet Caroline’s could compete with other restaurants in the area.
“It succeeded for years. No reason it can’t do that again.”
Nathan had convinced Holly and then convinced the bank. And then he’d abandoned her—along with a boatload of debt.
Sweet Caroline’s came into view, and Holly flipped on her blinker before turning into the parking lot. Only a few cars dotted the spaces at this time in the afternoon. But in another couple of hours, they would be busy.
Busy. Her heart sank. Busy was a generous term. They were doing better than when they’d first reopened. But not enough better. Not nearly enough.
When she entered the restaurant kitchen from the rear, she was greeted with a “Hey, boss.”
“Hey, Zach.” She forced a smile she didn’t quite feel, the thrill over the new range completely faded by this time.
Zachary Holmes—tall, handsome, and happily married with two precious daughters—was her chief cook, and a harder worker she’d never known. If it weren’t for him, Holly didn’t know how she would have managed. The restaurant probably would have closed in its first month.
“Get your shopping done?” he asked.
“I sure did.” She moved toward the entrance to her small office. “A shiny new range will be delivered to my house tomorrow.”
“Good for you.”
Good for me. Ignoring another wave of guilt, she opened a desk drawer and dropped her purse into it. “Maybe I’ll come up with an idea for a new dessert for the restaurant.”
“I’ll bet you think them up in your sleep.”
She used to. But not for a long while.
“Well, when you whip up that future award-winning concoction, you’d better share it with your tenant. After all, his rent check paid for the stove.”
“True.” She removed an apron from the hook in her office, slipped the loop over her head, and tied it around her waist.
Zachary frowned at her as she stepped out of her office. “You aren’t planning to work the tables again tonight.”
“We’re still short a server.” She shrugged. “But I hope that will be fixed by tomorrow. I have an interview in the morning, and I’m really hopeful about this one.”
Finding good wait staff had been harder than expected. Holly had interviewed plenty of qualified servers, but the salary she could offer wasn’t enough for most of them. She tried to make up for it in other ways. Still . . .
She gave her head a shake, chasing away negative thoughts. Positive. She was determined to be positive. About her life. About the restaurant. About it all. She would smile and face the world with a good attitude. She would think on good things. She would run the good race.
Zachary gave her a wave as she headed toward the swinging doors. She paused on the other side and glanced around. The restaurant was L-shaped, but from this vantage point, she could see all of the tables and booths in addition to the counter area. Lindsay was pouring coffee for a customer at the counter while Bobbi took orders from three people in one of the booths.
The entrance door swung open, drawing her gaze. She pasted on the smile she’d promised herself and moved forward. Surprise caused the smile to falter for a moment when she recognized the new arrival—her tenant. Her surprise was mirrored in Jed’s expression when he recognized her too.
“Holly.”
“Hi, Jed. Welcome to Sweet Caroline’s.” She stopped before him. “One for dinner?”
“Yes. It’s just me.”
She grabbed a menu from the nearby slot. “Is a booth all right?”
“Sure.”
“If you’ll follow me, please.” She knew she must sound less than welcoming, but for some reason, having her renter walk through those doors unsettled her. Was she embarrassed to be found waiting tables? No, that wasn’t it.
She turned and moved toward one of the booths in her area.
“I didn’t know you worked here,” he said.
“Only until I can hire another server.” She stopped and set the menu on the table.
He gave her a questioning look as he slid onto the bench.
“I own the restaurant.”
“Ah.” He grinned. “Then you can probably recommend what I should order.”
“Everything here is good.”
“Says the unbiased proprietor.”
“Completely unbiased and completely true. But I highly recommend the ribeye.” She opened the menu before him and pointed. “Or if you like lighter fare, the lemon-pepper rainbow trout is amazing.” She touched a second spot on the menu.
“‘Amazing,’” Jed said softly. Then louder, “Sounds good.”
“Everything here is good,” she repeated. “I’ll give you a minute. Be right back with your water.”
* * *
It had been a discouraging day for Jed. He’d left three messages for Chris, all but begging him to return or take his calls. Hoping to meet with him face-to-face, he hadn’t told his brother that he was in Boise. What if Chris took off and didn’t tell anyone where he was going next? That would be a complete disaster for Jed and for Laffriot. As if things weren’t bad enough as they were.
In an attempt to burn off some of his anger and frustration, he’d decided not to cook for himself in the little apartment. He’d seen Sweet Caroline’s two days earlier when he’d gone to the grocery store. So he’d decided to walk there for dinner. He’d never expected to find his landlady present, let alone find her waiting tables.
Funny how his mood improved upon seeing her.
In addition, there was something warm and friendly about the restaurant. It almost felt as if he’d walked into Ben’s farmhouse kitchen—except, of course, this was larger. There were three servers, including Holly. More than enough for the number of customers at the moment, but he imagined they must be kept hopping when all of the restaurant was full.
Holly returned to the booth with a glass of ice water and a straw. “Did you decide what you want?”
“I think I’ll go with the rainbow trout.”
“Good choice. And what about your sides? You get two.”
He glanced at the menu again. “I’ll take the mac and cheese and the green beans.”
A tiny smile tugged at the corners of her mouth as she wrote on the menu pad.
“What?”
“Nothing, really. Those were my uncle’s favorite sides with the trout.” She waved around the room with her pencil. “This was his restaurant. His and my aunt Caroline’s.”
“Sweet Caroline?”
“One and the same.” She nodded. “Anything besides water to drink?”
“No, thanks. The water’s fine.”
She slipped the order pad into the pocket of her apron. “I’ll have your dinner right out to you.”
After she walked away, Jed turned his gaze toward the window. It wasn’t much of a view. Mostly he saw the heavy traffic of rush hour on State Street, a main thoroughfare leading out of downtown Boise. A few ancient trees separated the restaurant parking lot from a neighboring business.
Without anything interesting to distract his thoughts, they returned to his brother. He and Chris had been close when they were younger. Four years separated them in age, and for a long time, Chris had looked up to his big brother, idolized him in lots of ways. But when Chris became a teenager, the fights had started. Not only between the two of them. Chris had picked fights with nearly everyone. Their parents. School friends. Teachers. Anybody who seemed to look at him the wrong way or who disagreed with something he said or did. He’d let his schoolwork slide. He’d lied to his parents, and he’d lied to his teachers. He’d quit school during his senior year, the instant he’d turned eighteen. Quit school and shut himself away with video games, forgetting to eat, forgetting to shower. No doubt Chris would still be living in the house they’d grown up in if their dad hadn’t finally had enough.
Several years later, Jed had brought Chris to work for him at Laffriot. He’d thought the work would help his brother. It had made sense in lots of ways. Chris knew computers and programming upward, forward, backward, and upside down, and he could come up with ideas for games in the blink of an eye. For a while, it had looked like he would settle into Laffriot and become an integral part of the company. But he’d chafed under his older brother’s leadership. A heavy-handed leadership, if Jed was completely honest.
Clenching his jaw, he forced thoughts of Chris into the back of his mind before slipping the mobile phone from his pocket and checking for messages. No calls, but he did have a few texts. He answered each of them before opening his mail app. Nothing there that required his attention. Why would there be with Laffriot on hold? He drew a breath as he dropped the phone back into his pocket.
“Here you go.”
He glanced up as Holly stopped nearby.
She smiled as she set the large plate in front of him. “Anything else you need?”
He spared a quick glance at the food before shaking his head. “I think I’m set. Looks great.” He wasn’t lying. The fish did look amazing, as promised.
“Well, then. Enjoy.”
“I’m sure I will.”
More customers entered the restaurant. Holly gave Jed a nod, then strode toward the new arrivals while he turned his attention to his dinner.