Betsy was holding open the large door and waving her way. “Come on. It’s freezing out here.”
Ellie scooted past her friend and into the large, no, vast, dining room. Whether it was the soaring ceiling height, the actual floor space, or maybe a combination of both, the area felt gigantic. “Holy moly.”
“Good afternoon ladies. Two?” A young woman stood at an oversized u-shaped wood podium, smiling brightly.
“Yes.” Betsy peeled off her coat and slung it over her forearm.
Ellie jumped as an elbow jabbed at her ribs.
“You can look around once we sit down.” Betsy bumped her with the widest part of her belly. “Baby says move.”
Ellie followed behind the hostess to a two-seater table near a high-top stainless steel counter. She hooked her coat and purse over the back of the chair facing the room and sat down.
Their server arrived in less than thirty seconds, a frosty pitcher of water filled with ice and thin slices of bright yellow lemon. “Hi ladies.” She flipped over the glasses already set on the table and began to fill them from the pitcher. “Have you both been here before?”
“No.” Ellie watched the staff, impressed with how quick and efficient their movement around the large room was.
“Well welcome.” The woman gave Ellie a smile. “We use all the locally sourced ingredients we can get our hands on including all our meats, breads, and weather permitting, produce.”
“Wow.” Ellie glanced down at the menu in her hand. It was filled with amazing sounding sandwiches, salads and soups. “What do you recommend?”
“Our special today is short rib lasagna with both a béchamel and red sauce, served with our house salad which is baby greens, cabbage, fennel and a light lemony vinaigrette.”
“That. I want that.” Ellie sat her menu down. She could give it a better look next time she came. And there would be a next time.
Betsy dropped her menu on top of Ellie’s. “Make that two.”
Ellie sat back in her seat. The smell of freshly ground coffee beans and the sound of milk being frothed filtered through the air from behind the tall bar. A large chalkboard on the wall behind the nook listed a handful of specialty coffees.
Betsy followed her gaze. “The mint dark chocolate mocha is to die for.” She rubbed her belly. “Even when it’s decaf.”
“How long has this place been open?” Ellie tried to remember exactly when her calls home became dominated by her parents’ slander of the Firrs and their customer swiping ‘diner’.
This was no flipping diner.
She could almost grasp why her parents had their pants in a wad because this place was so far above their little bakery you couldn’t even compare the two.
But that was just why their insults were unfounded.
This place was nothing like their business.
It wasn’t actually competition.
A beautiful floral trimmed plate tapped against the table as a generous slice of layered pasta with a beautiful well-dressed salad tucked beside it was set in front of Ellie. In under ten minutes.
She barely managed a thank you before shoving the first bite in her mouth. “Oh my gosh.” She looked up at Betsy. “Bets. Have you tasted this?”
“I’m trying but you seem to think this is talking time instead of eating time.” Her friend took a bite, smiling around the tines of her fork. Her eyes rolled back in her head. “I might get a couple of these to go so I don’t have to make dinner tonight.”
Ellie watched the room as she ate, keeping a tally of the people filtering in and out. The dining area held about a hundred people and the coming and going hadn’t slowed a bit. Even filled to the max, the waitresses and hostesses were smiling and friendly and food was flowing from the kitchen in a steady, consistent stream. “Whoever runs this place is excellent at what they do.”
“It’s the Firrs’ son. Their daughter is the chef but he runs it.” Betsy wrinkled her brow. “Do you remember him? He was ahead of us in school.” She silently counted her fingers, moving each digit as she went. “I bet he was five years older than us.”
“I don’t.” Admittedly, her knowledge of the family that owned this place was limited. She knew they had a Christmas tree farm. Her parents actually used to sell the Firrs’ trees in front of their shop. Before they decided the family had it out for their business. Other than that, all she knew was from her less and less frequent calls home.
“How was everything?” A pretty older woman stopped at their table. Her blondish hair was cut in a swingy page boy and a pair of cherry red glasses dangled on a chain around her neck.
“It was unbelievably wonderful.” Ellie smiled. “Maybe the best thing I’ve ever eaten.”
The woman smiled wide and warm, deep dimples slashing at the soft looking skin of her cheeks. “That is wonderful to hear.” She picked up Ellie’s empty plate. “Have you visited us before?”
“Unfortunately I have not.” Ellie chose her next words carefully. Just in case. “I just moved here from the city.” It was true. Omissive, but still true. “But I will absolutely be back again.” Glancing around the dining room she was still shocked at how smoothly the staff was handling the lunch rush. She looked back at the woman. “I am so impressed with how well this place is run.”
“I can’t take any credit for that.” The woman smiled over her head. “But my son can. Doug honey. Come here.”
Ellie turned in her seat and her heart skipped a beat. “Dimples.” Surprise made the word come out barely a whisper.
Walking across the dining room was her coffee mate. She swallowed hard. When they met three mornings ago, a heavy coat and hat kept quite a bit of him hidden from view. All the best parts apparently.
Well, except the dimples.
Dark wavy hair fell across his forehead almost to his equally dark eyes. His tall frame was lean but still broad with long legs and wide shoulders.
She swallowed again.
Doug barely hesitated as his eyes landed on her.
Ellie’s stomach fluttered. He remembered her.
The woman wrapped her arm around Doug as he reached her side. “This young lady is very impressed with how well run the restaurant is.” She winked at him. “I tried to take all the credit.”
Ellie took a deep breath. She needed to calm down. He may be wickedly handsome and insanely successful but poor Doug Firr had one huge thing, a deal breaker of a thing, against him.
He lived near her parents.
But that didn’t mean she couldn’t enjoy looking at him while she was here.
She held out her hand. “Mr. Coffee.”
Doug chuckled low in his throat and darned if it didn’t give her goosebumps. He took her hand in his, perfect smile and those darn dimples on full display. “Doug. Doug Firr.”
“Ellie.” Hopefully he didn’t ask for more because that was all he was getting. Who knew how much of what her parents said made it back to him.
Doug’s mother nodded her direction. “Ellie here is new to town and this is her first time visiting us.”
Doug’s hand was still firmly tucked around hers, his rich brown eyes never wavering from her face. “Hopefully she’ll come back again soon.”
“I get hungry every day.”
Doug laughed, his eyes barely crinkling at the corners and her stomach fluttered again.
“Doug!” A woman who looked like a younger version of Doug’s mother stood in the door to the kitchen. “Can you give me a hand?”
Doug let her hand slip from his. “It was nice to officially meet you Ellie.”
Ellie watched as mother and son walked to the kitchen, his arm slung comfortably across her shoulders, hers wrapped tightly around his waist. They were so different together than she was with her mother.
Maybe it was because they were mother and son instead of mother and daughter.
Or maybe her mom was just crazy.
They disappeared through the door and Ellie looked back at Betsy. Her friend’s eyes were op
en so wide her lashes touched her brows. “No.” She started shaking her head. “Eating here is one thing but your parents would die if you and Doug Firr—”
Ellie held up her hand, cutting Betsy off. “Bets, I am not staying here. I am helping my parents and then I am getting back to my life.” She grabbed her coat and bag off the chair as she stood up. “Doug Firr isn’t even on my radar.”
Betsy raised her eyebrows. “Yeah, right.”
Ellie pulled her coat on. “Yeah. Right.”
Right.
Right?
CHAPTER FOUR
“WHAT ARE YOU thinking of running as the special for next week?” Doug scratched the word special across the next available line on his yellow legal pad and underlined it.
Aspen leaned her elbows on the table, fingers laced together. “I was thinking maybe a Pollock dish. Fish is always a big hit this time of the year. People want something light after all the holiday gorging.”
Doug leaned over his pad, writing notes. “Good idea.” He looked at his sister, pen still resting on paper. “What do you need for that?”
The week had been so busy it was Friday before he and his mother and sister had time to sit down and come up with a plan. The order for next week had to be in early this morning to have it delivered on Monday morning. That meant they were all at The Grove at six-thirty in the morning. Luckily, Aspen was kind enough to fix breakfast.
Aspen, chewed her bottom lip and twisted her hair into a bun, staring across the room. “I could maybe do a lemon dill sort of thing.”
“Why not just run the lasagna again?” Janie bit into her toast. “It was a big hit and we know what we need to order. Next week we can run the Pollock. That’ll give Aspen time to decide what she needs so we don’t miss something.”
“Good idea.” Doug started a separate column with lasagna at the top.
His mom sipped at her cranberry juice. “I mean people just loved it.” She glanced at Doug out of the corner of her eye. “Especially that pretty young woman.” Janie paused and looked at him thoughtfully. “What was her name?”
Doug tapped his pen against the table. His mother knew darn well what her name was. She remembered everyone’s name. She was baiting him.
And he took it. Because for some odd reason he hated to leave her hanging, nameless in the air.
“Ellie.”
Janie smiled immediately, sitting up straighter in her chair. “That’s right. Ellie. A pretty name for a pretty girl.” His mother turned to Aspen. “She was so complimentary. Very impressed by the food and the service.” She eyed her son for a second. “She seemed impressed by everything actually.”
“Moving on.” Doug drew a line under lasagna. He didn’t want to talk about Ellie. Especially with his mother and most especially because she was right. No one would deny the brunette with eyes the color of slate was pretty. Maybe even more than pretty. And, if he set humility aside, Ellie might have even seemed a little interested in him. It didn’t matter though.
Because Ellie was a city girl and he and city girls did not have a good track record.
“What do you need me to order for the lasagna?” He looked at Aspen, avoiding his mother’s eyes and the wide smile still plastered across her face.
Thankfully his mother didn’t say another word about Ellie the rest of the breakfast meeting, giving him time to try to push the intriguing newcomer out of his already overcrowded mind and focus on more relevant things. Like work.
Doug had two businesses to maintain and another to plan. He had more to accomplish before he even considered pursuing a woman. Especially one who might find him just as lacking as Marcy did.
“I think we’re done.” Doug stacked his breakfast dishes on top of his mom and Aspen’s. “I’ll get this order in and then go see how dad is this morning.”
“I bet he’s as handsome as ever.” His mother gave him a wink as she took the stack of plates from his hand.
Doug dropped a kiss on his mom’s cheek. “I’ll bring him over and let you decide.”
The sound of Janie laughing followed Doug as he left the dining room through the hall door. His parents made it tough. Being patient. Waiting until he was successful enough to prove to a woman just how capable of a man he was.
Seeing how much they loved and appreciated each other in spite of the adversity they’ve faced made Doug ache for the same thing in his own life. Someone who would stick by him through thick and thin. Appreciate how hard he was willing to work to be sure they were always taken care of.
Someone who wouldn’t look down at him and judge the kind of man he was based on decisions life forced upon him.
Doug pulled on his coat and jumped in the Gator. The house he grew up in, some variation of it anyway, stood on the other side on the farm, with the house and restaurant separated by rows and rows of evergreen trees in various states of growth. It was a good clip away, a more enjoyable drive on a warm afternoon, but after this morning’s meeting he didn’t mind the cold. The bite of the wind was a welcome distraction, taking the edge off the sting still lingering on his heart and his pride.
Even almost two years later Marcy’s words held him back.
But they also pushed him forward. Made him want to prove just how wrong she was. That one word didn’t define him.
Doug stepped inside the back door of the old, two-story farmhouse where he and his mother and father lived and went straight to the kitchen, setting his keys on the smooth quartz counter.
The house looked nothing like it did growing up. Three years ago after he’d paid off all the debt they incurred building the restaurant, Doug had the house redone. His parents deserved it no matter what, but more than anything, his father needed a place where he could live comfortably. Doug had the floor plan reworked and added a bedroom and a bathroom that could accommodate his father’s wheelchair on the first floor. A large kitchen and living room took up the rest of the main floor.
The second floor was his, with an enclosed landing at the top, giving them all privacy but still ensuring he could be there in a heartbeat if they needed him.
Doug followed the sound of voices excitedly recounting the most recent play. Well… recent was relative.
“Whatcha watching?”
“This was a hell of a game.” Bruce sat in his recliner, leaned back, arms crossed over his chest. “Was the year before you were born.” He gave Doug a grin. “Your mother was much less understanding about me watching the games back then.”
Doug sat down on the sofa and leaned back. He didn’t share his dad’s love of football. Maybe it was because playing the sport wasn’t an option he had or maybe it was because he genuinely didn’t like football. Either way, it didn’t matter. All that mattered was his dad was happy when he watched it.
“I wish you’d been able to play son.” His dad’s eyes never left the television. “I wish a lot of things.”
Doug looked at his dad, crippled by the effects of the arthritis slowly taking more and more of his already limited mobility.
“Me too dad.”
***
Ellie held her head in her hands, using the tips of her fingers to push into her temples.
All week long she’d been locked up in the back office while her parents brought her box after box of receipts, certain the reason for their steadily decreasing profit margin was hidden between the slips of paper.
It wasn’t. And Ellie knew that before they even started this fruitless search. The real issues were easy to see but knowing the shop’s problems was one thing. Figuring out a way to fix them was another.
But even if she had a plan to make the business over into a place people would want to visit again, Ellie had a bigger and potentially insurmountable problem. Make that two.
Cris and Dale Carroll.
Her parents didn’t think there was anything wrong with the actual business.
Nope. They knew for a fact it had to do with increasing prices and ‘those darn Firrs’ stealing their customers.
Ellie eyed the green trimmed plate. “What is it?”
Cris laughed, rolling her eyes. “It’s a scone silly. I would have thought you’d seen them in the big fancy city.”
New York had scones alright and the pale hockey puck staring back at her from a holly printed plastic plate was not something she would throw in that category. Ellie looked up. Her mother nodded, smile still bright, clearly eager to watch as she tried to choke the so-called scone down.
“I’m not really hungry.” Ellie was actually ready to eat her own arm and would rather do that than eat what her mother was enthusiastically offering.
“Just a bite honey.” Cris stepped closer and grabbed the scone off the plate, holding it an inch from Ellie’s nose. “I can’t wait for you to taste it.”
Ellie’s eyes practically crossed as she stared the thing down. Her saliva dried up in anticipation. She gave her still beaming mom a weak smile before opening her mouth planning to take a tiny nibble.
Cris took it upon herself to help, shoving the pastry in. Ellie clamped down before her mother could get the dry clump of dough in any further and pulled out of reach trying to unpeel her tongue from the sandy blob.
It took almost a minute before she’d worked the mass into a bite capable of being swallowed. She coughed as the gluey wad worked its way down her throat. “Did you make that yourself?
“No.” Her mom paused. “I mean I bake them in the oven if that counts.” Cris set the rest of the scone back on the plate. “But that’s beside the point. Guess how much it costs per scone.” She didn’t wait for Ellie to give an answer. “Twenty-five cents. Can you believe that?”
There was a lot going on around the shop that Ellie couldn’t believe. The cost of that scone included.
Carrolls and Firrs: A Christmas Novella Page 3
