by Lena Gregory
He waved over his shoulder but kept walking.
Gia stared after him, as he shuffled across the remainder of the parking lot, his gait steady but stilted, and disappeared into a bunch of trees bordering the lakefront park. “What’s up with him?”
“Don’t worry about Harley. He’s harmless. Everyone around here…” She gestured toward the row of shops behind them. “Well, they sort of take care of him.”
“He’s homeless?”
Savannah shook her head. “I don’t really know, but he won’t even go inside a building, so I assume so.”
“Where does he live?”
“Wherever he can find somewhere to hang out.”
“What about when it rains?” Weird how she’d walked past dozens of homeless people every day back home, without ever really seeing them as individuals, but this one man touched her in a way they hadn’t. She wished she could go back and take notice, see each of them as a unique person with their own story, their own tragedy.
“The park has picnic areas and other sheltered spaces without walls. Technically, he’s not allowed to be there, but no one chases him away. Now, come on.”
“Huh? Come on where?” She shook off her concern. She’d leave something for him to eat when she closed tomorrow. Hopefully, he’d take it. “Where are we going?”
“To see your new house, silly. I’m so happy you got here in daylight.”
A small thrill coursed through her. Her very own house.
“And I assume you’ll want to come back to the café afterward.…”
Gia nodded as she held the door for Savannah to reenter the shop, then hurried through after her. “I want to make sure everything is perfect for tomorrow. I’ll probably do a lot of the prep tonight.”
“So we should swing by the shelter on the way to the house.”
“Shelter?” The glass-domed cake dishes lining the counter distracted her from whatever Savannah was going on about. They’d be perfect to display quiche and breakfast pies, a variety of muffins, and scones. A row of stools allowed for counter seating, which would give her room for an extra ten or twelve customers. She started counting the stools.
“Yeah. Can you believe they just shut down a pet store last week? The animal shelter is overloaded with puppies.”
Her concentration faltered, and she lost count. “Puppies?”
“Yeah.” Savannah grinned.
“You’re getting a puppy?”
“No, you are.”
“Why in the world would I do that?” The thought of a pet was appealing. She’d never had one before, not even as a kid, and the company would be nice, but she’d probably choose something less…intense. Like a fish, or maybe a parakeet.
“For protection.”
Hmm… She hadn’t thought of that. Her ex had left some very angry former clients in his wake, some of whom had pounded on her apartment door and others who had gone into the deli where she worked looking for her on more than one occasion. But surely they wouldn’t find her over a thousand miles away. And, hopefully, whoever had sent the death threats wouldn’t follow through on his promise to hunt her down. Okay…a dog might not be a totally bad idea. “I doubt any of Bradley’s…” The name left a sour taste in her mouth. “Victims would follow me to Florida.”
“Well, you never know. And you’ll be living out at the edge of the forest alone, so you’ll get a dog, because it’ll make me feel better.” She grabbed her bright orange canvas bag from the counter, fished out her car keys, and opened the front door. “Besides, a dog will warn you if there’re any bears around.”
Wait. What! “Bears?”
“Coming?” she tossed over her shoulder with an innocent smile as she walked out.
“Hey,” Gia called, running after her. “You’re kidding about the bears, right?”
Chapter 2
Gia took a deep breath to steady her nerves and flipped the sign on the front door to Open. She smoothed her fingers over the handcrafted, wooden sign and reminded herself she could do this. Inspired by diners in New York City that served breakfast 24/7, she’d chosen to open a breakfast café. After all, she’d worked the breakfast shift in a busy New York deli for years, and she was an excellent cook—breakfast, anyway—lunch and dinner not so much. But she was also a hard worker. And she was going to make this happen.
She turned back to the two employees she’d hired last time she was there. Willow, a young woman with a nose ring and an eager smile, and Maybelle, a middle-aged woman who looked like she was still half asleep. “You guys ready?”
Willow grinned. “Yes, ma’am.”
Maybelle nodded and yawned, stretching her arms over her head, then turned and headed for the kitchen.
Gia tried to ignore a small tug of apprehension. Maybelle had assured her she’d been working breakfast for years. She was probably just tired. It was only five o’clock on a Sunday morning; she couldn’t really blame the woman.
There was nothing she could do now, anyway. Maybelle would work in the kitchen, Willow would take the orders and ring up the customers, and Gia would bounce back and forth where needed. All the prep work was already done, since Gia had spent most of the night doing it, only grabbing a few hours of sleep on the beat-up couch in the upstairs apartment. As soon as she got on her feet, she’d hire more employees, but for now, she’d have to make do.
The front door opened, and Gia whirled toward the sound. Ugh… I have to stop being so jumpy.
A huge smile lit Savannah’s face as she strode through the door. “I can’t believe this is it.”
“Me neither,” Gia said.
“How are you doing?”
Gia laughed. “I’m a nervous wreck.”
“Come on, now. You worked the breakfast shift in that deli since you were a teenager. This is pretty much the same thing.”
Banging out orders as quickly as possible was one thing. Creating an atmosphere where people could relax and enjoy a meal was something else entirely, but she wasn’t about to get into that argument, again.
The door opened again, and an old man walked in, yanked the fisherman’s cap from his head, and nodded toward Gia. “Morning, ma’am.”
“Good morning.” Gia plastered on her best smile. She loved greeting customers, and it would come more naturally with time, but at that moment, she was still battling her nerves. She approached the man and held out a hand. “I’m Gia Morelli. It’s nice to meet you.”
“Earl Dennison, ma’am.” He shifted his cap and took her hand. “Pleasure to meet you.”
“Would you like to sit at the counter or a table?”
“Counter’s fine.”
The spring in his step belied his coarse, leathery skin and thick gray hair, making it near impossible for Gia to guess his age. She placed a menu in front of him. “Can I get you some coffee?”
“Sure thing.” He slid the menu aside.
Willow started toward him, but Gia waved her off, and she returned to wiping down the already spotless counter by the register.
Gia would take care of her first customer. Her first customer! She couldn’t even believe this was really happening. She resisted the urge to pinch herself and make sure it was real.
Savannah busied herself taking the quiche and breakfast pies from the oven and arranging them in the glass cake dishes. The savory aroma of peppers, onions, and eggs filled the room.
Gia placed a mug of coffee in front of Earl. “Milk or sugar?”
“Nothing, thanks.”
“Can I get you anything else?” She gestured toward the menu, then grabbed an order pad and pen.
“Yup. Don’t need a menu, though. I eat the same breakfast every day.” When he smiled, his eyes twinkled with mischief, and Gia took an instant liking to him.
She’d have to remember to keep his order slip so she’d get it right if he came back
. She wrote Earl across the top of the page. “What’ll it be?”
“Bacon, sausage, three scrambled eggs, grits…”
Uh oh.
“Two biscuits and a side of gravy.”
Okay, the gravy she was prepared for, thanks to Savannah who soaked biscuits in gravy for breakfast all the time, but grits? “Uh…”
He laughed and patted his flat stomach. “That’s why I eat my breakfast out. My Heddie always pitched a hissy fit when I ate all that at home, said I’m gonna clog my arteries, or some such nonsense. My arteries have been just fine for close to eighty years now, and I’ve been eatin’ the same thing for near on seventy-five of those years.”
“Well, you certainly don’t look like you eat that amount of food for breakfast every morning.” She smiled. That was certainly true. Though slightly stooped, he was rail-thin. “The thing is, I don’t have grits this morning. I’ll have them tomorrow, though.”
“No grits?”
She had only a vague idea of what they even were.
“Hmm…” He frowned.
“I do have some amazing home fries,” she rushed on.
He stared at her and scratched his chin beneath the gray goatee. “How do you not have grits?”
Savannah walked past with a quiche just then and stopped short. She offered an apologetic smile, turned, and headed back toward the kitchen.
Somehow, Gia had a feeling Earl wouldn’t be the only one looking for grits that day. “Would you be willing to give the home fries a try? On the house, of course.”
“Huh… Okay, why not? I’ll give them a try. But you’ll have grits tomorrow?”
“You bet I will.”
She hurried toward the back to give Maybelle the order and find out why no one had told her she should have grits. When she pushed through the swinging door, she stopped short.
Savannah stood by the sink, her long, blond hair tied back in a bun, apron covering the dress she’d worn for work, washing the couple of dishes Gia had left earlier.
Maybelle sat on a stool in the middle of the kitchen.
“What’s going on?”
Maybelle shifted as if to get more comfortable. “Nothing. Just waiting for some orders, so I can start cooking.”
Savannah rolled her eyes and turned back to the dishes.
Okaaay… She had no clue what was going on, but whatever it was would have to wait until later. “Well, here’s your first order.”
Maybelle took her time getting up, then took the slip from Gia and pinned it up over the grill. Although she moved as slow as a snail, she seemed to know what she was doing as she started everything on the grill. Of course, the bacon and sausage had already been cooked—because Gia had done it herself earlier that morning—and now sat in warming trays on one side of the grill, so all she had to do was heat them up while the eggs cooked.
Gia walked over to Savannah. The kitchen was too small to have a conversation you didn’t want overheard, so she simply kept her back to Maybelle and drew her eyebrows together.
Savannah’s gaze darted past Gia’s shoulder, and she gave one discreet shake of her head.
Gia gave up. She’d have to find out what had gone on later. “So, what’s the deal with grits?”
Savannah’s cheeks reddened. “Sorry. I didn’t realize you wouldn’t know about them.”
“We lived together for five years, and I never once saw you eat grits.”
“That’s because I don’t like them.”
Hmmm… Well, what could she say to that?
“Yeah, I was wondering where the grits were?” Maybelle piped in. “Everyone eats grits for breakfast.”
Gia turned on her. “Well, why didn’t you ask?”
“Not my job to plan the menu.”
A dull throbbing started at Gia’s temples. “Okay. Is that order ready?”
“Not yet.”
The home fries—thinly sliced potatoes with diced onions and crumbled bacon—and the light, fluffy biscuits Gia had baked from scratch the evening before, were also kept in covered warming trays, so all Maybelle really had to do was scramble and cook a few eggs, then plop everything on a plate.
Even still, it took Maybelle at least five minutes longer than it should have to get the order together. If things kept up the way they were going, it was going to be a long day.
She grabbed the plate from Maybelle, shoved through the swinging door—probably a little harder than necessary—and returned to the dining room. She slid the plate in front of Earl, then crossed her fingers behind her back. Hopefully, he’d like the home fries as much as grits. “Enjoy.”
Ignoring the urge to stand over him until he took his first bite, she turned her attention to the other customers who’d entered while she was in back. Willow had already seated two tables, given another elderly gentleman a seat at the counter, and was smiling and chatting while she took an order. Her easy-going style seemed to make the customers feel relaxed and at home. Exactly the atmosphere Gia had been hoping for.
At least, one of her new employees was working out.
Savannah was generally very laid back. Her casual attitude had made it difficult for her in New York. The rigorous pace, fierce competition, and cut-throat attitudes were more than she’d wanted to deal with, and she’d given up her dreams of becoming a Broadway star to return home to Florida. If she was already rolling her eyes about Maybelle, chances were, Maybelle was on her way out.
Gia grabbed two menus from the counter and approached a young couple who’d just entered. “Welcome to the All-Day Breakfast Café. Just the two of you today?”
“Yes, thank you.” The woman’s perky smile gave Gia a boost of confidence. Maybe the day would get better, after all.
“Follow me.” She tried to sneak a peek at Earl from the corner of her eye while she seated them. She couldn’t see his face, but he was lifting his arm at regular intervals, so she figured he was eating. That was a good sign. She hoped.
After assuring the couple Willow would be right over, Gia returned to the counter and grabbed an order pad to take the elderly gentleman’s order. Only one seat separated him and Earl, but even face to face, she couldn’t tell from Earl’s expression if he was happy. Although, the generous pile of home fries definitely looked smaller than it had been.
She shifted her attention to the other man, who sat a good head taller than Earl. “Good morning, sir. Can I take your order?”
“I’ll just have coffee for now, if that’s all right. I’m waiting for my son to join me.”
“Of course.” She poured a mugful and slid it in front of him. “I’m sorry, I didn’t get your name. I’m Gia.”
“Hello there, Gia. I’m Judd.”
“It’s nice to meet you, Judd.”
His cell phone rang, and he excused himself to answer it.
She glanced at Earl. The suspense was killing her. “So, how are the home fries?”
“Well…” He pursed his lips and tilted his head. “They ain’t grits.”
“Excuse me?” Judd interrupted before she could answer.
“Yes, sir?”
“My son is almost here, running a little late with his new baby and all, but he told me to go ahead and order, so if it’s okay…”
“Yes, of course.” She lifted the pad and pen from the counter. “How old is his baby?”
The man sat up taller on the stool. “Two weeks today. My first grandson.”
“Congratulations.” His pride warmed her heart. “So what can I get for you this morning?”
“My son will have the western omelet with home fries.”
Gia jotted down the order, grateful he hadn’t asked for grits. “And for you?”
“I’ll have two eggs, over-easy, with bacon and grits.”
Ugh… She caught herself just before she cringed.
Earl smirked, then lowered his head and kept eating. His shoulders shaking gave away his laughter.
“I’m sorry, Judd. I don’t have grits today. I’ll have them tomorrow, though. Would you like to try some home fries instead?”
“Oh. Uh… I don’t know…”
“They’re delicious,” Earl offered around a mouthful of food. “Best I’ve ever tasted.”
“Yeah?” Judd returned his attention to Gia. “Well, if they’re good enough for Earl, then what the heck. I’ll give them a try.”
Earl winked at Gia and went back to eating.
A smile tugged at her. “Great. You won’t be sorry.” She scanned the dining room as she headed toward the kitchen. One man had a plate in front of him. His companion gestured for him to go ahead and start eating.
Gia frowned at Willow.
She shook her head and continued her conversation with a middle-aged woman she seemed to know.
Gia quickened her stride. She shoved through the kitchen door.
Maybelle stood in front of the grill. Seven order slips hung from the post above the grill. Gia added the one in her hand. “What’s going on?”
Maybelle flipped two eggs, then stood waiting for them to cook. She slid them onto a plate, added bacon and home fries, then dropped two pieces of bread into the toaster. While they toasted, she propped a hand on her hip and turned to Gia. “Just working on this order.”
“One order?”
“Yeah, one order. What do you expect?”
“I thought you said you’ve been working breakfast for years?” She scanned the order slips, then yanked the pancake batter from the refrigerator.
“Sure have. Between my husband and five teenage sons, I feel like I’m running a restaurant every morning.”
“But have you ever actually worked in a restaurant?”
“Not exactly, but what’s the difference? Breakfast is breakfast, no matter where you cook it.”
Gia dropped ladles of pancake batter onto the hot grill, then set the bowl aside, drizzled some bacon grease onto the grill, and cracked a dozen eggs onto the sizzling oil. “If you fill the orders one at a time, it’ll take all day. Why don’t you get that order out to Willow, and I’ll help you get the rest done.”
