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Almost a Family

Page 17

by Donna Alward


  He kept staring at the sheet and her stomach tumbled. Desperate to convince him, she plowed on. “The sandwiches and wraps would be custom-made and served with a side of either one of three salads or a soup. Soup and a whole grain bun will also be a staple of the menu, as well as meal-sized salads. The nice thing about the sandwiches is that they are hot. Grilled chicken and mushroom. Lean steak and peppers. Roasted vegetables, for example. All may be made on a choice of whole-grain bread, wraps or pitas. No fried food of any sort. The dessert menu is also small. Fruit cup with dip. Fat-free chocolate cake with frozen yogurt. I’m still looking for dessert ideas.” She looked up again, surprised his eyes hadn’t glazed over.

  “And dinner hour? Or does your plan include being closed over dinner?”

  “The lunch selections will be available, but in addition we’ll have a handful of dinner entrees. Grilled chicken breast, brown rice or baked sweet potato and steamed vegetables, salmon, sole, grass-fed beef. Marinara sauce with whole-wheat or gluten-free pasta. Fajitas. Depending on response we could, and should, adjust the menu accordingly.” Katie took a breath as she finished.

  He put down the menu and she got the sinking feeling she was going about this all wrong. Business plan, business plan, she chanted in her mind.

  “Look, menus aside, the most important thing to realize is that there is a real hole in the market for this type of establishment. One of the biggest markets today is weight loss—food, programs, books, you name it. Come out with an eating establishment that carries great tasting food, healthy ingredients and the flexibility to fit it to a specific plan, and you’ve got a winner.”

  “And who would do the cooking?”

  She paused, expecting some surprise at the least and, most likely, strict resistance. “Me.”

  “You?”

  “Yes. I’ve worked in the food service industry for several years.” She made it sound more than it was and felt a little niggle of guilt over fudging the details.

  She should have known he’d persist. He quirked an eyebrow and she felt as if he saw right through that statement. “You’ve studied?”

  “N-no,” she stammered, “not exactly. I’ve, well, I’ve worked in several restaurants, either serving or in the kitchen.”

  He chuckled, leaning back in his chair. “Let me get this straight. You’ve got no money, no business experience, no chef’s diploma to hang on the wall. You’ve got an idea. That’s all. Does that sound like a strong investment to you?”

  “Absolutely not,” she admitted. “But what I do have is a strong desire to do this and I’m not afraid of hard work. I’m also not scared to learn.”

  “First of all, tell me why this is important to you.” He leaned forward, elbows on his knees, waiting for her answer.

  The question threw her. Not once in the meetings she’d held with bankers had they asked that particular question. They had only seen the bottom line—facts and figures. She’d faced the inquisition about work experience, and the answer had always been a resounding no. But Ric wanted to know the why?

  “What do you mean?”

  “I mean, why now, and why a restaurant? Why this particular kind of restaurant?”

  She thought about her answer for a moment before answering. “I’ve worked in food service for a long time, but one thing always stuck with me. No real thought was put into nutritional content. The ingredients were always full of fat or made with white flour, deep fried or cooked in oil. When Dad had his heart attack, Mom and I started looking at healthier foods.”

  She leaned forward a bit, resting her hands on the edge of his desk. “You know my dad, Ric. Larger than life and going great guns. Seeing him lying in a hospital bed, frail and grey…it broke my heart. He came home with strict orders for a better diet and more physical activity. I was still living at home and Mom and I did some experimenting. She lost twenty pounds and Dad’s color came back. The more I looked into it, I discovered there was a market for fast, healthy, economical food. That’s when I realized it was something I could do.”

  “Do you realize how many entrepreneurs start businesses only to have them fail in the first two years?”

  “The number fluctuates, but my research says around sixty percent. And for the food service industry, it’s even higher.”

  Richard crossed his legs. “And you still want to go through with it?”

  “I’ll never know unless I try.” Looking into his face, she would swear she saw a glimmer of admiration.

  “Do you know what causes businesses to fail? Bad management. Poor marketing, location. Inadequate financing.”

  Katie put down the portfolio and started to feel defensive. She wasn’t stupid, and she didn’t like when people made her feel that way. She knew she could do this. She’d believed him when he’d said he’d be rich one day, and she could make it too.

  “I know all that. But I believe in the idea and in myself. I’ve even found a space to lease. A little tea room off of Third Street. Tell me, Ric, how many people told you you’d fail when you started ELDC?”

  “Plenty.” For the first time, he smiled. “And I listened to every single one and learned from it.”

  He rose from his chair and wandered the office for a few moments. Katie forced herself to remain calm and seated. Finally, he spoke.

  “If I were to finance you, there’s still one sticking point for me. You’ll never keep customers with poor quality. I think you should reconsider doing the cooking yourself and hire a professional.”

  “It would be foolish to spend the money on a cook’s wages when I can do it myself. I’ll already have to hire someone part-time anyway, because I don’t plan to be there seven days a week and take care of the business end.” A thought dawned on her and she ran with it. “I’ll make you a deal. You pick a meal from this menu. I’ll cook it for you tomorrow night. If you have any doubts about my cooking after that, I’ll concede to hiring a chef.”

  “If you pass, I’ll name my terms.”

  Katie’s heart leaped. My God, he was actually considering backing her. All she had to do was cook him a fabulous, healthy meal. She forced herself to sit still while her body vibrated with hope.

  He sat back in the blue chair again, retrieved the menu. After a few moments perusing it, he chose. “Chicken fettuccine, with spinach salad and the chocolate cake.”

  “It’s a deal.” Hastily, she took a note pad out of the portfolio and scribbled down her address. “Here’s my address, show up at six. I guarantee you won’t regret it, and we can iron out the details over dinner.”

  Richard looked down at the address. “You’re very sure of yourself.”

  She stood, hoping her wobbly knees weren’t obvious. She was glad he thought she was confident, because she felt anything but.

  “Yes, I am.”

  “Then I’ll see you tomorrow evening.”

  He stood and held out his hand, and she was acutely aware of how much he’d grown since high school. Even though she wore heels, he topped her by a good four inches. For a moment, she panicked. She felt like a teenager again, off-balance and insecure.

  There was no way she could wipe her palm on her skirt now, and she hoped it wasn’t damp when she clasped his. His fingers closed around hers firmly and her body was electrified by the simple touch.

  “Goodbye, Katie.”

  “Um, yes. Goodbye, Richard.”

  She withdrew her hand, hurriedly retrieved her case and scuttled out the door, shutting it behind her.

  In the elevator, she leaned back against the wall and took a few calming breaths. For the first time in several weeks, she felt hope. Hope that she’d actually get this venture off the ground.

  Katie smiled widely at her reflection in the mirrored elevator wall. He hadn’t said no. Now she was going to cook him a meal that would knock his socks off.

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  Copyright © 2014 by Donna Alward

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