by Fiona Grace
“Emilio, I think you’ve misunderstood,” she said. “Maybe something was lost in translation. But I never said I would buy your equipment. I was only talking about a vague dream, fantasy scenario.”
Emilio’s face fell. “But I thought… Didn’t you say… Oh no…”
Ali grimaced as she watched it dawn on him that it had all been a misunderstanding. She couldn’t even guess at how much the enormous, heavy, stone kilned, wood-fired pizza oven even cost, where Emilio expected her to get the funds to pay for it, and, more importantly, where he thought she was planning on putting it considering there was barely enough room in her stuffy bakery kitchen for her and Piper to work side by side, and it couldn’t even fit through the door!
“Where did you think I was going to fit them both?” Ali queried. “My bakery kitchen is half the size of the pizzeria’s.”
“I thought you wanted the oven in the garden for alfresco dining.” He shrugged. “I guess the coffee machine would go behind the counter…” He trailed off and glanced at his shoes.
Ali smacked her hand to her forehead. “That coffee machine is so big it would break the counter. And the bakery doesn’t even have a garden!”
Just then, the sound of a gentle female voice came from somewhere out of view. “Emilio? Stai bene?”
Emilio paled. “Sì, sì, sì,” he said to the disembodied voice.
“Who is that?” Ali asked, frowning.
But before he answered, a beautiful woman moved into Ali’s view from around the pizza oven that had been obscuring her. She was beautiful, with dark black hair and tanned skin. Her eyes were the color of warm chocolate, and had a cherubic twinkle. Her eyelashes were thick and long, perfectly complementing her dark, sculpted eyebrows and her narrow, straight nose.
Ali gasped. Was this Maria, Emilio’s fiancée? She was as stunning as Emilio was handsome. Standing side by side they looked like a pair of Versace models.
“This is Maria,” Emilio announced proudly, reaching his arm around her waist and pulling her into his side. But he still looked troubled from the conversation that had just been interrupted.
“Wow!” Ali exclaimed. She shook her head and shut her mouth. She felt like a messy hobbit in comparison to the tall, elegant, beautiful Maria, and self-consciously shoved her messy blond braid over her shoulder before offering her hand. “I mean, it’s nice to meet you. I’m Ali.”
“Oh!” Maria cried, bypassing her hand and going straight in for the cheek kisses. She even smelled beautiful. “Ali? You are Ali? Ciao, cara, ciao!”
Ali was so taken aback by the friendly greeting from the beautiful woman she found herself blushing.
“Maria doesn’t speak much English,” Emilio explained over his fiancée’s shoulder as she went back and forth kissing Ali’s cheeks. “But I’ve told her all about your heroics, when you swayed the local councilors to vote against the tax bill.”
Ali blushed. “I wouldn’t call it heroic…”
“Well, you saved us a bunch of money to put toward the wedding,” Emilio replied. “And well… I also thought you’d be paying me a bunch more for all the equipment but I guess that was a mistake…”
He glanced at her hopefully. But Ali couldn’t change her mind even if she wanted to. There simply was no space inside her bakery for Emilio’s expensive, top-of-the-range equipment, no matter how much she wanted it. She felt awful to let him down, and her tone dropped accordingly.
“Emilio, you know I can’t,” she said. “I’m so sorry.”
Suddenly, Maria stopped kissing her. She drew back, taking her hands instead and firing a quizzical look at Emilio. She must’ve sensed the tenseness in Ali’s body, and heard the change in her tone, and put two and two together.
Ali also came to a sudden revelation. “You already told Maria I was buying everything, didn’t you? That’s why she’s so happy to meet me.”
Emilio tugged the collar of his shirt and smiled at her sheepishly, the tips of his ears going red. “Yes. I was counting on that money to pay for the plane tickets home.”
Ali’s stomach dropped. “You mean without selling that equipment, you can’t afford to fly home?”
He lowered his voice and spoke urgently. “Worse. No one wants to take on the lease for a store filled with big pieces of expensive equipment they’re not going to use. If I can’t find anyone to buy the equipment, I won’t even be able to get a new leaseholder. We will miss our own wedding and the whole move to Italy will be cancelled.”
“Oh Emilio…” Ali said sympathetically.
She felt awful for him. He’d gotten himself in quite a predicament and she couldn’t help but feel like her tipsy throw-away comment was partially to blame for it.
Maria was looking back and forth between the two of them now, confusion registering in her chocolate-colored eyes. “Cosa dice, Ali?”
Emilia patted her hand. “Il nulla,” he soothed.
Ali didn’t need to speak Italian to understand what was going on. Poor Maria, who’d been under the impression that all of Emilio’s affairs in California were wrapped up neatly in a bow, was starting to realize now that was not the case. Ali felt terrible, not just for her, but for Emilio. He deserved his happy ending. She had to do something to help.
She looked at the big stone monstrosity stuck in her doorway, and had a brain wave. “I know someone who might want some new equipment!”
Emilio brightened instantly, his eyebrows raising hopefully. “You do? Who?”
“Seth!” Ali exclaimed.
Emilio frowned. “Seth from Best Hot Dogs? What would a hot dog maker want with a pizza oven?”
“I mean… more than a baker would!” Ali quipped. “It’s probably a long shot, but Seth’s kitchen is huge, so he certainly has space. Maybe I could convince him to start selling hot dog calzones? Hot dog pizzas? Whatever. I’ll get creative. So? Want me to go and ask him for you?”
“Please,” Emilio said, looking grateful for the lifeline she’d given him.
“I’ll ask him if he also wants a coffee machine,” Ali said.
“Thank you, Ali! I knew you were the hero I told Maria you were.”
Emilio turned and spoke in rapid Italian to the woman. A beautiful smile burst onto her features, breaking through the earlier cloud of worry.
Ali stepped away before she was bestowed with yet more undeserving kisses. She’d rather fix the problem first and take the plaudits later.
“Leave it with me,” she said, turning on her heel and marching away.
CHAPTER SIX
The smell of fried onions wafted into Ali’s nostrils as she drew up outside Best Hot Dogs. She was determined to solve Emilio’s problems as soon as possible, if only so she could get back to her own.
But at the door, she paused, her mind going to Carys. It was unlikely the young woman would be working inside—she was last seen wandering arm in arm with Nate downtown earlier in the day, after all—but on the off chance she had an evening shift, Ali wanted to be mentally prepared for another extremely awkward encounter. So she stood, momentarily letting the calming sound of the ocean waves breaking against the shoreline soothe her. Then, steeling herself, she pushed open the door of Best Hog Dogs and went inside.
She’d barely made it ten paces inside the dark green leather booth–lined restaurant when she halted. Seth Best, the store’s proprietor, was sitting in one of the booths, rubbing his furrowed brow while staring at the table top, which was covered in papers.
“Hey, buddy,” Ali said, sliding into the seat opposite.
Seth looked up at her, his dark eyes filled with stress. “Ali. Hey. How’s it going?”
“Me? A lot better than you by the looks of things.” She nodded to the paperwork. “What’s all this?”
Seth jammed his pen behind his ear. “This is what happens when Mad Frank rolls into town.”
Ali narrowed her eyes with confusion. “Huh?”
Seth huffed and fixed his dark brown eyes on her. “Mad Frank and his hot d
og chomping championships or whatever it’s called. These are the accounts from my old hot dog store in New York.” He picked up one sheet of paper which was full of healthy black numbers. “This is a summer without Mad Frank.” He picked up another sheet full of red numbers and negative symbols. “This is one with.”
Ali’s gaze went from the healthy bank statement to the wince-inducingly bad one. “That’s weird. You’d think a hot dog eating contest would appeal to, ya know, hot dog fans? Wouldn’t a big contest like that drive up sales?”
“Au contraire,” Seth replied with a derisive laugh. “It does quite the opposite. People enjoy these contests for the spectacle of it. No one, and I repeat no one, wants to eat a hot dog after watching five grown men shove them down their gullets two at a time.”
He put the papers back on the table with a heavy, weary sigh and rubbed the stubble on his chin with his hand. It made a sandpapery noise, informing Ali that he’d not shaved this morning. Seth usually took meticulous care of his appearance, and Ali could only deduce that Mad Frank’s competition rolling into town was really troubling him. She knew firsthand just how precarious the food industry business could be at times and felt bad that Seth had another storm to weather, so soon after all the stress over the boardwalk taxes.
“Are you expecting to take a loss because of the contest?” she asked, sympathetically.
“A big one,” Seth murmured, shaking his head.
Ali twisted her lips. Her plan to ask Seth to buy Emilio’s equipment went right out the window. He clearly had way too much on his mind right now. The last thing he needed was for her to put the burden of Emilio’s entire future on his shoulders. Shelling out on risky, big ticket purchases right now was simply not feasible.
“I’d better leave you to your accounting,” she said, and she was about to slide out of the booth and leave when the door opened, making the bell tinkle above. In came none other than Emilio.
Bad timing! Ali thought immediately.
She needed to head Emilio off! She tried to jump up from the booth, but her legs got in a tangle, and before she knew it, Emilio was sliding right in beside her, blocking her in the booth.
“Seth!” he said across the table. “Just the man I wanted to see!”
Ali kicked him under the table to try and shut him up, but it was too late.
Seth turned his stressed eyes up from his paperwork. “What’s up?”
Ali braced herself as Emilio launched right into it.
“Have you heard of Mad Frank’s hot dog eating contest?”
Seth’s face instantly soured. His friendly demeanor dropped and he glowered at the mention of his nemesis.
“Yes,” he said through his teeth. “Why?”
“I’m one of the chefs,” Emilio explained. “It’s my last gig before leaving Willow Bay.”
“You are?” Ali asked, surprised.
Emilio nodded. “We go way back. I was a chef for one of Mad Frank’s championships years ago. They like to hire local people to staff the event whenever they can, because it’s cheaper. You know, casual workers, temporary contracts, cash in hand kind of work. I thought it would be a good way to raise some funds before I close up shop for good. Back then they paid you per hot dog. I stayed up an entire twenty-four hours cooking them and I made …well, not exactly loads of money, but I got a free advertisement and my restaurant’s name on the sponsor’s banner. It wasn’t even televised back then but I still got tons of customers off the back of it.”
“Where is this going?” Seth said, looking far from enthused.
Emilio continued his explanation. “Well, it just occurred to me that I don’t need the advertising spot since I’m leaving. I wondered if you’d like your business on the banner instead? You’ll get a bunch of future customers.”
Seth looked suspicious. “What’s in it for you?”
Ali was wondering the same herself.
“I’m thinking that if we work together, we could make double the amount. Double the money.”
“Enough for plane tickets…” Ali said as the ball dropped. Emilio was trying to find a way to plug his funding gap for the plane tickets home. It wouldn’t solve his issue over the equipment or the lease, but at least he wouldn’t miss his own wedding.
“Plane tickets?” Seth asked, confused. “What are you talking about?”
Emilio looked at her quizzically. “You didn’t tell him?”
“It wasn’t the right time,” Ali said, nodding her head to the papers strewn across the table in an attempt to get Emilio to notice them.
“Tell me what?” Seth asked.
Ali sighed. This was getting messy. “Emilio needs someone to buy all his equipment so the shop is empty and he can more easily find a lease holder. He thought I was going to buy the stuff and had already cost it into budget. Now he can’t afford the flights back to Italy.”
Seth’s eyebrows slowly rose. He eyed the papers in front of him. “I can’t really afford to take a risk on equipment right now!”
“Hence why I didn’t mention it…” Ali mumbled.
“But maybe with all the contest money you will?” Emilio asked, hopefully.
Seth looked torn. Ali felt bad to have roped him into this. He was a good guy, always willing to help a friend in need. Like her, he was now in quite the quandary.
“I don’t know,” he said slowly, looking weary and slightly pained. “The contest starts tomorrow, doesn’t it? Wouldn’t we have to stay up all night cooking?”
“Yes,” Emilio said. “But we can make it fun.”
Seth didn’t seem to even hear him. “And won’t they have a problem with a sudden, last-minute change to the banner?”
“Maybe. But I can ask?”
“And how much do they even pay? Enough to cover the cost of the equipment?”
“About half that…” Emilio said, and he seemed to be deflating right before Ali’s eyes.
She couldn’t bear the look of dejection on Emilio’s face, and since she felt partly responsible for his current financial predicament, she felt like she had to step in and help somehow.
“Sounds worth it though,” she said. “I mean, there’s nothing wrong with asking?” She picked up his red-penned accounting sheet and waved it in front of his face. “Wouldn’t you like a chance to at least profit off the contest rather than have to just sit here all worried and helpless while you take a financial hit?”
Seth gave her a look. “I don’t see you volunteering.”
“Well, they don’t need a bun maker, do they?”
Emilio brightened instantly like she’d just made the best suggestion in the world. “Yes! What a great idea, Ali! I wish I’d thought of that! You’re such a skilled baker you’ll be able to make the buns at double the speed I can. That leaves me and Seth to do the hot dogs. Between the three of us we’ll make so much!”
Ali had only been joking. It hadn’t actually occurred to her that the hot dog eating contest would require a bun chef as well as a hot dog chef, and now she’d put her foot right in it.
“Ali,” Seth gushed, flashing her a devilish grin. “What a great friend you are to volunteer…”
Ali was not entirely convinced staying up all night to bake buns was the best idea, but she was willing to do it nonetheless for a friend in need.
“If you’re on board, Seth,” she said, “then I am too. I think it will be fun!”
“Fine, all right,” Seth said. “Just as long as I don’t have to actually meet Mad Frank, okay? There’s a lot of bad blood there.”
Emilio looked briefly confused by Seth’s last comment but he didn’t question it. Instead, he punched the air, looking thrilled that at the very least he would be able to buy the plane tickets to his own wedding. He stood up and shimmied out of the booth. “Thanks, guys! I’ll handle everything! You just get some rest, okay? This will be great. It will be fun. Thank you!”
And with that, he ran off to make the arrangements.
As soon as he was gone, Ali looked a
pologetically at Seth. She knew he didn’t want to do any of this, and she felt bad for accidentally cajoling him into it. She gave him a sheepish smile. “It might be fun…”
He did not look convinced. “Hmmm.”
Luckily, Ali was saved by the bell—or the bleep—as a text message lit up her screen. It was Piper.
Teddy’s here to see you.
“Oh!” Ali gasped, the mention of her brother reminding her of the Desert View debacle and her failed quest to find their dad. “I have to go, Seth.”
“I guess I’ll see you later this evening,” Seth replied. “For a cooking marathon.”
Though she wasn’t wholly convinced by the plan, Ali flashed Seth two confident thumbs up, then hurried away, gulping with the anticipation that in just a few minutes she’d have to explain to Teddy everything that had happened that morning at Desert View.
CHAPTER SEVEN
With the warmth of the fading sunshine on her back, Ali pushed open the door to the bakery and walked inside.
Teddy was standing at the counter chatting with Piper with his back to her, dressed in salmon-colored jeans and a loud green, patterned shirt, both of which clashed horribly with his strawberry blond hair. He whirled at the sound of the tinkling bell above the door and opened his arms widely.
“There she is,” he cried, advancing across the peppermint checkerboard tiles. “Sister of the extraordinary actor and Oscar nominee Theodore Sweet!”
Ali smirked. “Oscar nominee? Oh really?”
Teddy reached her and wrapped her in one of his famous comforting, squishy bear hugs. “One day, darling, one day,” he trilled theatrically in her ear.
Ali chuckled. Assuming he was being his usual OTT self, she was about to switch the conversation to her trip to Desert View, when Piper jumped in.
“One day soon,” she called knowingly across the bakery from behind the counter.
Curiosity piqued, Ali moved back from Teddy’s embrace and looked up expectantly into his eyes. She raised her eyebrows. Teddy had news. It was written all over his face.
