Tuesday morning at the Pig, wrapped in Danno’s bear-sized arms, Jasmyn shut her eyes. She felt the soft flannel against her cheek, smelled the familiar barbecue scent, and wished more fiercely than ever that he was her dad and not that fly-by-night stranger who just happened to meet Jerri Albright on his way through the state.
“Welcome home, Jazzie.” Danno moved her to arm’s length, his eyes soft and his forehead creased. “That girl was honest-to-goodness for real?”
There was no need for him to explain which girl. “She was honest-to-goodness for real.”
“Well, I’ll be switched. You got family in California.”
“Sort of.”
He gave her shoulders a quick squeeze and let go. “I bet the guy never knew you existed. Have a seat.”
She smiled to herself. Quinn had filled him in on the details of her meeting with Manda Smith. He was sweet to try to make the situation okay.
He yelled toward the kitchen, “Hey, Biscuit!” He winked at Jasmyn and said in a low tone, “I found a new way to annoy Quinn.”
As if on cue, there was a loud smack against the swinging door, and Quinn burst through it, frowning. “Seriously, Danno? You’re going to keep that up?”
Jasmyn laughed. “He will as long as you keep reacting like a wet hen.”
Danno led them through the dining room, vacant at this time of day. “Step into my office, ladies.”
They sat near the French doors that led to the screened-in porch at a large round table, where Danno typically conducted business. If vendors came during business hours, he’d offer them a stool in the kitchen beside the stainless steel counter. His official office was a messy, closet-sized nook, where the only clear spot was the computer. Jasmyn did not know for sure if there was a desk underneath it.
Danno eyed them one at a time. “Ready?”
Jasmyn nodded and saw Quinn do the same.
The evening before, he had called to ask if they could meet before she returned to work on Wednesday. He wanted to discuss the possibility of her buying the restaurant, if she was still interested. She was, but she hadn’t imagined he would bring it up on her second day back in town. But then, she had absolutely no clue how to take over an established business. She had told him her idea about partnering with Quinn. He invited her to join them.
“Let me start by saying that you two are the best.” Danno’s expression seemed more sad than businesslike. “In my thirty years here, you two have been the absolute best. Separately and as a team. I know if anyone can keep the Pig flying, it’ll be you ladies.”
Jasmyn exchanged a glance with Quinn. Her brows inched upward too. The praise was overboard for Danno.
“You know I’m not full of hot air, so just accept what I said as true.” He pulled a sheaf of papers from a file folder and laid them out. “I want to show you exactly what you’d be signing up for.”
Jasmyn listened as he explained some of the financials. The numbers were not unfamiliar. He had brought her into the loop years ago, needing her to fill in for him now and then to order supplies or help with the payroll. She knew he made a decent living, but it was hard work.
“It’s more a labor of love than anything. I think you both get that. You gotta love people and make them feel special. You gotta make top-notch food and make the place comfortable. We’re getting a little dated, but that’s an easy fix. Fresh paint, new lights. Just takes time and creativity. You’ll want to put your own stamp on it. Maybe even change the name.”
They protested that idea.
He smiled. “Remember, it was the Factory when I bought it. I called it the Rib House for years before adding the Flying Pig because the wife thought it needed some pizzazz.” His expression turned somber again, and he muttered something to himself. “I need to quit beating around the bush.” He took a deep breath. “The thing is, Ellie has breast cancer.”
Jasmyn imagined his wife, several years younger than Danno, a vivacious redhead who was involved in theater, mostly in Rockville where they lived. When it came to the Valley Oaks community and barbecue ribs, she was usually absent. She and Danno seemed mismatched. Somehow, though, they had made their marriage work. They never had children. The restaurant and Ellie were his life.
As Jasmyn and Quinn began to sympathize and ask questions, he held up his hands. “They got it early, but this is it. She means more to me than the Pig. It’s time to retire. She’s already moved down to Florida where her sister lives. She’ll have surgery and treatment there. So, ladies, I am leaving.”
Jasmyn stared at him.
He nodded. “In two weeks.”
“Two weeks?”
“Yeah. I’m sorry. That messes with the timetable.”
Timetable? What timetable?
Suddenly Jasmyn realized that her eager-beaver return was all about some fuzzy future. It was not about two weeks from now.
She looked over at Quinn, who mouthed, Red flag.