That made him an intolerable assholethe majority of the time.
Which meant his opinion was superimportant to me.
“Looks good, Vera. You’re a legitbusiness now.”
“Hear that, Molly? I’m like legit.”
She turned toward us, balancing onthe ladder rungs and smiled. “You’re impressed. Aren’t you, Vann? Go ahead andtell me how amazing I am.”
He waved her off but nodded inagreement. “I like it. I’d eat here.”
“I hope so,” I groaned. “I need atleast one paying customer.”
Vann let out a low chuckle. “Oh, Ididn’t say I’dpayto eat here. Ijust mean because it’s so close to the shop and mooching by parking in half of mylot. Plus, it’s run by family. For those reasons, I would stop by once in a whilefor a meal on the house.”
I gave him a look. “I can’t affordmeals on the house. I can’t even afford meals that people are paying for yet.”
His face crumpled, disappointed.“Not even lunch?”
Giving his shoulder a shove, I shookmy head. “All I have today is paint. But I’m happy to whip you up a bowl of red.”
“Barn Red to be exact,” Molly addedhelpfully.
“You’re such a smart-ass thesedays,” Vann said to my back. “You used to be so nice. Hey, Molly, remember whenVera used to be nice?”
Molly paused in her work again andlooked down at me with pretend pity. I ignored the real emotion lurking in hersarcasm.
I could handle sarcasm.
I did not want to face the realstuff.
“It’s because she thinks she’sbetter than us,” Molly agreed. “She’s all world-traveled and cultured now. Wecan’t compare to Europe, Vann, no matter how awesome we are.”
“I love you guys,” I told themhonestly. “Europe, despite how good the food was and how fantastic the fashionwas and even how easy the public transportation was, cannot compare to you.” Ipaused with one foot on the step leading to the guts of my new business. “HaveI told you about the architecture, though? They have buildings that are olderthan our entire country.”
“You’ve mentioned it,” Vanngrumbled. “Once or twice.”
“Or three thousand times,” Mollyadded.
Smiling to myself I disappeared upthe stairs of the truck and paused to check out the inside of my new venture.
I’d gone to one of the best culinaryschools in America. I’d spent the last year of my life bumming around Europe tastingthe best food and putting together the best flavor profiles. I had experience,education and a whole bunch of shattered dreams.
Europe had been safe and I’d beenanonymous. Nobody had known anything about me or where I’d gone to school orwho I’d dated before. I hadn’t had to worry about being blacklisted because ofmalicious rumors or turned down for a job because of the enemies I’d made.
But now that I was back home, Icould feel my past stalking me like a hungry alligator getting ready to spring.Working somewhere prestigious was no longer an option. Pursuing my dreams wasno longer possible. So I had to come up with a contingency plan—another way todo what I loved and piece together my broken life.
Why not open a food truck?
Inside Foodie, everything gleamed instainless steel. From the ceiling to the floor, the cabinets and refrigerators,the stove, fryer, and dishwasher—every single piece of my new kitchen shined.Looking at the countertops, I could see my blurred reflection in the flawlesslysmooth surface. The lines of my freckled cheeks and narrow nose were unfocusedand soft, hiding my makeup free face and tired, gray eyes. My messy hair mostlyhidden underneath a black bandana, chestnut curls spilling down my back likeMedusa’s snakes. Only wilder. And much frizzier. My formerly white t-shirt splatteredwith red paint and sweat from working hard. I was not my most attractive.
I looked more like me than I had inyears.
Now to feel like me, too.
Tearing my eyes from an image thatstill made me uncomfortable, I marched over to the coolers that lined onecorner of the small, narrow space and checked the thermostat. Despite myunconventional design, they were keeping the temperature evenly. Thank God.
I hadn’t brought food to store onthe truck yet. To be honest, I still hadn’t finalized my opening night menu. Iwas months out of practice and terrified to make final decisions, petrified Iwould get it wrong or make the wrong thing or mess up. All my best recipes ping-pongedthrough my head along with the possibilities and potential failures. How topick one out of all of them? How to know which one people were most likely totake a chance on? I was too overwhelmed to decide.
