Chasing Down a Dream

by Beverly Jenkins

  Lily stuck her head in the door. “Gwen Frazier just faxed over the files for the Herman kids. It’s still printing. I’ll bring it in when it’s done.”

  “Thanks, Lil. I have a question?”

  Lily walked into the office.

  “How do you think having another restaurant in town will go over?”

  She shrugged. “Not sure, but we do need one. I’m tired of having to wait a day and a half to get a seat at the Dog. Might also be nice to have a fancy place with nice tablecloths and candles. Not that the Dog isn’t nice, but you know what I mean.”

  She did. The Dog was a diner, not a restaurant.

  Lily asked, “I take it you haven’t brought this up with Mal?”

  “No, not yet.”

  “Thinking he might fight you on it?”

  “My heart says no, but my head? Not so sure.”

  “It is his baby, and running that place was one of the things that helped him kick the alcohol. He might give you grief over competition.”

  Bernadine sighed. She hadn’t thought about the Dog being tied to his sobriety. “You know, when we did all the dreaming about making Henry Adams bigger and better we didn’t think about the growing pains.”

  “No, we didn’t, but, She Who Turns the World always comes up with a solution.”

  Bernadine found that amusing. “Thanks for the support.”

  “IJS.”

  “Oh lord. Don’t start that again. Go check on the fax.” They’d kidded each other before about the Internet acronym for I’m Just Saying.

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  A few minutes later, Bernadine had the printed copy of the file in hand. The report bore out the facts that no one wanted the Herman children after their parents’ deaths. Not the father’s dad or any of the mom’s three married siblings, even though the State of Ohio caseworker contacted them repeatedly. That saddened her. Per the file, the dad owned a successful construction firm and the mom had an eponymous pediatric practice. She looked through the file for information on the Herman estate and found nothing. Thinking that odd, she picked up the phone and called Ms. Frazier.

  It was lunch hour at the Dog and a frazzled Rocky was helping her scrambling staff by taking orders and delivering them to the tables. There were twenty people waiting in line to be seated when she’d gone to the floor a few minutes ago, but she had to not think about them because she was also keeping an eye on the baskets holding the fries in the two deep fryers, washing veggies, and grabbing new order tickets from the line. She and Siz and the tattooed new assistant cook, Randy, were also cooking and calling for side dishes from the two newly hired prep cooks who were doing their best to keep up.

  “Let’s move it people!” she yelled over the chaos while the staff hurried in to add more tickets to the line, and pick up completed orders so they could rush back out again. “Folks are hungry. Let’s not keep them waiting!” The air was filled with the sounds of burgers and steaks sizzling on the grill and the kitchen was hot from the heat of the flat tops and the steam wafting from the big cook pots filled with veggies and pasta. Behind her, Rocky heard glass break and prayed it was the sound of empty dishes and not from a just-filled order. She turned. The kitchen gods were kind. The server, a new girl named Chrissy, stared at the mess on the floor with wide eyes.

  “It happens, Chris,” Siz reassured her as he added a done burger to a plate. “No big deal, but grab the broom.”

  “Will I have to pay for the glass?”

  “No, but grab a broom and sweep it up before someone trips coming in. It’s over there.”

  Chrissy hurried to where the broom and dust pan were kept and began sweeping.

  Siz glanced over at Randy and the Texan drawled, “Just another slow lunch hour here in Dog and Cow heaven.”

  Rock grinned, snatched another ticket from the line, and called, “I need a number seven!”

  From eleven o’clock until one thirty it was full-out nonstop, and not even the addition of the two new prep cooks made a difference. The staff was behind on orders, bussing tables, and seating people. Although none of the regular customers complained, Rock could tell by the disgruntled faces when she finally arrived with some of the orders that the long waits were not going over well. Her offered apologies were met by taciturn nods, and even a few glares that she knew were deserved.

  When the rush finally ended, she slumped tiredly onto a stool, drew in a deep breath and used a towel to mop the perspiration from her brow. “I’m getting too old for this,” she told Siz, who was seated on another stool and sipping a large cola. Beside him sat Randy Emerson, whose two full sleeves sported beautiful tattooed images of fruits, veggies, and cuts of meat.

  “You and me both.”

  “And you want to leave me and Randy here while you go gallivanting off to Miami? I don’t think so.”

  “You’ll do fine.”

  Randy said, “The new kid Alex did really good for his first day.”

  “He did but even with him and the other newbie Pam, we still couldn’t keep up.”

  “We need to start serving bad food,” Siz offered.

  Rock tossed back, “Don’t even go there because this is all your fault.”

  “Me!”

  “Yes, you. Folks wouldn’t be coming from miles around if you weren’t such a wizard.” And he was. There were never crowds of this proportion when Rocky had been the Dog’s only cook. Her food was good, but there were no words to describe how well he could burn, as the old folks called it.

  Randy said, “I’m going to go take a walk and stretch my legs.”

  “Make sure you don’t run away and join the circus,” Rocky told him. “I need you.”

  “Depends on what kind of food they have.” He laughed and exited out of the back.

  “I like him, Rock. A little quiet, but knows his way around a kitchen.”

  “I like him, too. I’ve never seen full sleeves of food, though.”

  “Neither have I. Kind of dope, though.”

  “Dope?”

  “What you old people call cool.”

  “Ah. How are you and Stephen?”

  “He’s still acting like somebody in middle school, so I dumped him. Tired of his drama.”

  “I’m sorry, Siz.”

  “So am I, but like my dad said, I obviously didn’t mean that much to him.”

  “Do you think you’ll reconcile?”

  He shook his head. “Even if a five-star restaurant opened across the street and I stayed here, I still wouldn’t be with him. I can’t be with someone who’s too scared to be who they are.”

  She thought about her own issues. “Some people aren’t as strong as others, baby.”

  “I know and I tried to be patient, Rock, I really did, but no. Sometimes you have to step up, and I don’t see him doing that for a long time.”

  “Maybe this will be the push he needs.”

  “Maybe, but I’m moving on. Life’s too short.”

  “Says the old, decrepit Kitchen Wizard.”

  He grinned and went back to sipping his drink.

  Once the kitchen was cleaned, Siz left to take a short break too and Rocky sought out Mal in his office. He looked up from the computer screen. “Spreadsheets say we’re doing box office business, baby girl.”

  “If something doesn’t change, you may need some of those bucks to bury me and my staff. The crowds are working us to death and I hate the way we’re always behind.”

  He shrugged. “Hire more people.”

  “There’s only so much room in the kitchen, Mal, no real room for more bodies. Maybe Bernadine will bring in another eating place and take some of the heat off us.”

  “Bite your tongue. Profit is at an all-time high.”

  “High profits—dead staff. Take your pick.”

  “We’ll be fine,” he said. “Grab a seat and take a breath. Dinner starts in three hours.”

  Rocky sighed her frustration and left King Mal Midas to his spreadsheets of gold. She planned to
speak with Bernadine as soon as possible.

  Although Wyatt was old enough to be home alone, Gemma made arrangements for Crystal to come and stay with the kids while she went to class. The county had opened a community college extension in Henry Adams’s big beautiful school, so she’d signed up to take some business classes with the hope of obtaining a business degree. Her first class would be Intro to Accounting.

  When she entered the school the beauty of it blew her away as always. From the huge fish tank built into the wall to the skylights and kiva, it was state of the art. She was told that a good portion of the building hadn’t been opened yet because there weren’t enough students enrolled, but Bernadine was betting on future growth and she was rarely wrong.

  There were other classes being held that evening, and Gemma found hers down the hall from the art labs. She was twenty minutes early, and when she entered, less than a third of the seats were filled. Seeing how young the occupants were made her wonder what she’d been thinking when she decided to go back to school. All were wearing earbuds and glued to their phones. They were not only younger but also probably smarter. Unease roiling her insides, she took a seat near the back and hoped for invisibility.

  “Are you the prof?” asked a young blue-haired kid seated next to her. His sleeveless shirt showed arms tatted up with full sleeves and there were small hoops in the lobes of both ears.

  She gave him a quick shake of her head. “No.”

  “You’re a student?” His voice and eyes were filled with wonder and surprise.

  “Yes.” There were snickers from two girls seated nearby, but Gemma ignored them.

  “That’s dope,” he said. “My mom just got her degree in nursing.”

  His kindness made her smile. “Thanks. I’m scared to death,” she admitted.

  He waved her off. “You got this. My name’s Josh.”

  “I’m Gemma.”

  “Nice to meet you, Ms. Gemma. If you need someone to get the haters out of your mentions, just let me know.”

  Gemma had no idea what that meant, but guessed it was an offer of support, so she said, “Okay.” She made a mental note to ask Eli or Crystal for a translation the next time she saw one of them.

  The room filled up slowly and although she hoped not to be the oldest person in the class, she was. No one looked over twenty, let alone over forty, but she drew in a deep breath, swallowed her fears, and repeated inwardly what Josh said earlier, You got this. She’d always dreamed of going back to school but dreams don’t come true if you don’t show up so she was determined to get through this with the best grade possible. And who knew, maybe her life experience would mean something when it was all said and done.

  Most of the seats were taken by the time the man she assumed to be the professor hurried in. He looked harried and carried a laptop case bulging with disorderly papers. He set his things down on the desk at the front of the room, pushed his black framed glasses up his nose, and said, “I’m Dr. LeForge, and this is Intro to Accounting, so if that’s not why you’re here, you might need to be somewhere else.” He gave the class a shy smile, and Gemma and some other students in the room responded with smiles of their own, but she noticed more than a few remained plugged in to their phones. She wondered if they knew they needed to be listening to him and not to whatever was coming through their earbuds.

  Gemma thought him not bad-looking, in a rumpled, disorganized sort of way. He appeared to be about her age and had light brown hair that brushed the collar of a faded blue oxford button-down shirt that was sorely in need of ironing. The blue corduroy suit coat worn over it was shiny with age and the elbows reinforced with the stereotypical patches professors were prone to sport, at least in the movies.

  “Now,” he said, breaking into her assessment, “for those of you in a deep, symbiotic relationship with your phones, if you don’t have the respect to remove your buds, you probably aren’t worth my time to teach. Whether you pass this class or not, I still get paid.”

  “Ouch!” somebody called out.

  “He ain’t playing with y’all,” another amused voice added.

  Gemma liked him. Some of those called out sheepishly pulled their buds free. The remaining few disconnected, but showed bored, disinterested faces.

  He passed out the syllabus and the class began with him talking about the book that was required and the workbook that complemented it. Apparently, the book could be rented online but the workbook had to be purchased. Gemma had no idea you could rent textbooks and wondered how much it would cost. He then mentioned something about a code the students needed to access accompanying online materials and she was as lost as a country girl on her first trip to the big city.

  “Any questions?” he asked.

  Gemma was too embarrassed to raise her hand, so sat silently and hoped to catch Josh after class and have him explain what it all meant. The conversation shifted to the subject matter they’d be covering and how much weight the quizzes, tests, and homework carried toward their grades.

  “Even though this is an intro course, it isn’t a walk in the park,” he told them. “You’ll work hard in this class and if you do, you’ll reap the benefits. My office hours are on the syllabus. If you need help come see me. Pride won’t help you pass the midterm or the final.”

  Gemma swore he was speaking directly to her. Color rose in her cheeks. Once again doubts rose about her ability to handle this, but she beat them down.

  “Now that we have the housekeeping out of the way, I like to know who my students are. When I call your name, raise your hand and if you’d like, share your dreams.”

  A few students rolled their eyes but many of their classmates did offer up their goals. A young woman named Brie wanted to be able to handle the books in her father’s feed store, while another named Stacy wanted to be an accountant and move to New York City. When her story drew some snickering, LeForge said forcefully, “Never laugh at someone’s dream. Ever.”

  You could hear a pin drop. Josh, whose last name was Miller, wanted to open a tattoo shop and needed the class to help him be successful financially.

  LeForge called Gemma’s name next. She haltingly raised her hand in response and said, “I just want to make a good life for me and my grandson, and I’m hoping this class will help me get a better-paying job.”

  “A worthy goal, Ms. Dahl.”

  “Thanks,” she whispered. A quick glance over at Josh showed his smile and the thumbs-up he sent her way.

  Class was only an hour long and when time came for dismissal, everyone grabbed their belonging and began moving to the door. Josh gave her a wave and was gone before she could ask him what she needed to know. Professor LeForge was still at the front of the room stuffing papers back into his portfolio. Grabbing her courage, she approached. “Professor?”

  “Yes?”

  “Can you explain these online codes you mentioned? I’m kind of new at all this.”

  He gave her a warm smile. “Sure can. There’s another class coming in behind this one, so we need to leave. If you have a few minutes we can talk in the hallway.”

  They took a seat on one of the benches outside the classroom and he gave her the information she needed. Filled with relief, she thanked him. “I haven’t been in a class since high school, so I’m sort of swimming upstream.”

  “Understandable but you’re to be commended for coming back.”

  “It’s a bit scary.”

  “That’s understandable too, but as I said earlier, you have my office hours and e-mail. Shoot me a message if you need anything.”

  “I will. Thanks again.”

  “No problem. Anything else?”

  She shook her head but noted he didn’t wear a wedding ring.

  He stood. “I’ll see you Thursday.”

  “Bye.” And as he walked away, Van Halen’s “Hot for Teacher” began playing in her head. Laughing to herself, she stood and headed for the parking lot.

  “So, how’d your day go?” Mal asked Bernadine
over dinner. They were seated at her dining room table and his question was one of the many things she loved about him. He was always interested in her day.

  “I looked over the files of Lucas and Jasmine Herman and found the oddest thing. Their dad owned a construction company and the mom had her own pediatric practice, so I assume they had money, but there’s nothing in the records concerning the estate.”

  “That is odd. No will?”

  “Nothing in the record about that, either. I called Ms. Frazier, who helped with the paperwork for our kids. She said she’d reach out to the folks in Ohio and see if we can get some answers. I was a social worker for a long time and I’ve never known kids with money to go into foster care if they have relatives. Most people will take them in for the money alone.”

  “So how are the kids doing?”

  “Okay, considering. Ms. Frazier is going to try and push Gemma’s foster parent paperwork through as quickly as possible. They need some stability after all they’ve been through.”

  He seemed to agree. “What else did you do today?”

  “Went with Trent to check out the Sutton Hotel. It looks fabulous.”

  “So I hear. I haven’t been inside yet.”

  “I’m still trying to decide what other kinds of businesses I should let lease the space.” And she told him about the choices she was considering.

  “I like the bank branch idea. Having to drive to Franklin to make the daily deposits is a pain. Not that it’s far but it’s the idea. Also be nice to have more than that one ATM at the Dog.”

  “Yes, it would.” She wondered if now might be the time to bring up the possibility of a new eatery. “I’m also interested in any ideas you might have about the situation with the Dog.”