“Really?”
“Yes. The Lucy cookie sells like hotcakes.”
My stomach decides that it’s waited long enough and lets out a loud grumble. ire smiles and takes my bag, setting it down gently. “This studio isn’t big, and it’s not much, but it’s yours for as long as you need it.”
I pull her into another hug. “Thank you.”
She smells of vani and pistachio. “You’ll get back on your feet soon enough, don’t you worry. We Rhodes don’t give up easily. Now, let’s go to Ricky’s before your stomach decides to eat itself.”
The drive to Ricky’s takes exactly three and a half minutes, despite Uncle Phil saying that it is all the way across town. The realization makes me smile. There are no hidden areas in remont, no ces you can get lost in. Things are predictable… safe.
Phil throws an arm around my shoulders as we walk in. “Does it look the same?”
“Yes. It hasn’t changed at all.”
The same neon sign is up, the same homey booths and oversized menus. Only Ricky’s can manage to have a menu of nearly forty main dishes, all made up of different variations of the same ingredients. I know what I want-I want chicken fried steak, I want mashed potatoes, and I want a side of cornbread. It’s home in a meal and just what I need.
But as I scan the menu, I spot something odd. “The Morris special? I’ve never heard of that before. Is that a local dish?”
“Oh, yes. That’s for young Oliver Morris.”
“Not so young anymore,” Phil points out. “The boy has to be at least thirty-five.”
I smile into my ice tea. “So not technically a boy then?”
“He’s certainly not a boy, and he’s not thirty-five either, Phil. Not a day over thirty-three, I’d reckon. I used to bake his birthday cakes when he was a child, so I would know.”Text ? by N0ve/lDrama.Org.
Phil shoots me an amused nce and I look away to hide my smile. “I’m sure you’re right, Auntie. Who is he?”
“He’s the old mayor’s son. yed varsity basketball at the nearby college. Was quite the star. Surely you remember him from when you were here during the summers?”
I open my mouth to reply, but Phil beats me to it. “He was one hell of a yer. Could probably have gone pro, but he wanted to stay close to home.”
“I’ve never had the pleasure. But then, I was only here for a few weeks every summer, and it was a long time ago.”
ire snaps her fingers. “That’s it! Oliver would have been in the Army when you were here. He enlisted right out of college.”
“The Marines,” Phil corrects.
“Oh yes, that’s right. Well, he’s back now.”
“He’s turned the old Morris Ranch into a bed and breakfast. Has a standing order with the bakery. A stand-up fellow, Oliver.”
I shake my head. “I’m sure he’s a great guy, but why does he have a special on the menu at Ricky’s?”
“To honor him, of course! Ricky put that on the menu the second Oliver shipped out for his first posting.”
I look down at the description of the Morris special. It’s… interesting, to say the least. “And, um, is it a best-seller?”
“Sure, sure. It’s been a while since I’ve had it.” Phil reads it over. “I think I’ll go for it tonight, actually. Why not?”
I grin. “I can’t wait to see this.”
We spend nearly ten minutes talking to the waiter-who ire used to babysit ten years ago-and I have to wave hello to both chefs in the kitchen. It’s simultaneously oppressive, this everyone-knows-everyone environment, and incredibly reassuring. It’s aplete 180 from my life in Das.
Phil and ire make it nearly half-way through dinner before they broach the topic carefully. I know my mom has already filled them in on a few of the gorier details, but I know I’ll have to face the facts soon enough.
“Honey, you know we want you here. You’re wee to stay for as long as you need, and there’s always work for you in the bakery.”
“Thank you. It’s been a long time since I was behind a counter.”
“It’s like riding a bike,” ire says. “You never forget how.”
“How about you take tomorrow to settle in, and then you can do a morning shift the day after?”
“That sounds great. Honestly, I’m excited to get back.”
Phil clears his throat. “What happened, Luce? I thought Das was everything you needed.”
“It was, for a while. But then… things changed. My work changed and I couldn’t stay there anymore. I broke up with Kyle, and I wanted to get away.”
Both my aunt and uncle look pleased with thest bit of information, proving what I’d really known for months but been hiding from-he was aplete deadbeat. Word of advice; when your family doesn’t like the guy you’re dating, run, don’t walk.
“I wanted to get away and rethink things. On where I should go from here.” I shrug. “Get some fresh perspective.”
They must sense that there’s more to it, that I’m not saying everything, but they just give me the same, kind smile as always. The concern in Phil’s eyes twists my heart.
“Take all the time you need, sweetie.”
“Thank you. And while I’m in remont, I was thinking of maybe taking on some clients? In case there are any?”
ire nods. “I can think of a couple of people that might be interested, off the top of my head. I’m sure there’s work for you here too.”
“Maybe I can put up some posters tomorrow.”
“You do that. You’ll be back on your feet in no time, you’ll see.”
I smile at them both and feel more optimistic than I have in weeks. There’s a waiter who knows my name, a small studio above a bakery, and family who cares. And the best ice tea in America.
I’ll be alright.
Oliver
I’ve employed idiots. Idiots who can’t use a wrench, who can’t work as a team, and who can’t seem to concentrate. If it’s too early in the morning, they’re too tired. If it’s too close to lunch, they’re too hungry. Too soon after lunch? Well, then they’re too full.
Idiots.
“Boss, I think it’s stuck.” Tim runs a hand across his forehead. It’s a warm day in remont, and it’s not even June yet.