Flour on her hands, hair barely contained in a frizzed-out bun, glasses slipping down her nose. She stood in the middle of the chaos like a general in the middle of a war she wasn’t winning. Her phone buzzed on the counter nonstop, her clipboard was streaked with sauce, and the stove was hissing like it might start a mutiny.
“Oh good,” she muttered when she saw me, not even pausing. “Unless you brought a trained kitchen staff in your back pocket, I don’t have a minute to spare.”
“Nice to see you too.” I stepped around a half-unpacked produce box. “You look like you’re thriving.”
“I’m unraveling,” she snapped. “The exact opposite of thriving. Tanya just bailed with the flu for the next two weeks. Marcus is still in Florida because his cousin’s wedding apparently turned into a hostage situation. I’m down two people and I’ve got customers coming in days, expecting food and charm and a diner that lives up to its history.”
She spun toward the stove and yelped at something in the big silver pot that was starting to boil over.
I jumped forward and pulled the pot off the burner before it made a full mess. “I got it.”
“Thanks,” she mumbled, pushing her glasses up. Her hands were shaking slightly. She didn’t look at me. “I should’ve delayed the opening to next year. What was I thinking?”
I studied her. My mom was a lot of things—scrappy, relentless, sharp as a damn tack. But I’d only seen her truly rattled like this twice before. Once was the week my dad died. The second was when she got a call about a car accident my brother was in. And now, the damn diner. The dream she’d built from scraps and lawyers and sheer will.
“You were thinking this was our shot,” I said gently. “And you’re right. It still is.”
She shook her head. “Not with half the staff gone. The produce order was short. I don’t even have the POS system fully programmed. I’m not ready.”
“Well, good thing you’re not doing it alone.”
Her eyes flicked up. “You mean for the soft opening or later? Because I thought this was a temporary thing. You were just helping me launch.”
I hesitated. She wasn’t wrong. That had been the plan. Help her get the place off the ground, then figure out what was next for me both job-wise and life-wise. But plans change. People change.
“I meant both. I’m here for it all. I want to work in thekitchen full time. I’ve spent all my free time experimenting with new recipes, and I know the menu better than anyone.”
Mom’s hand fluttered to her chest like she was physically trying to hold her heart in place. “You’re serious?”
I nodded. “Yeah. I’m serious.”
She crossed the floor and pulled me into a hug so tight it knocked the air out of me. “Your dad would be so proud,” she whispered against my shoulder. “And so am I.”
“Thanks, Mom.”
She pulled back, brushing at her cheeks with the heel of her hand and laughing a little. “There’s still so much to do.”
“It’ll work out,” I assured her. “I can get the produce we need. We’ll recruit some temporary help to serve and bus tables. Maybe we can get Liam to come for a few days to run charm so you don’t accidentally throttle someone.”
That got the smallest smile from her. A crack in the storm cloud.
I leaned against the prep table, eyes sweeping the kitchen. We were missing boxes. Some of the labels weren’t even peeled off the new appliances yet. A whole shelf of plates still needed washing. “It’s just a soft opening. It doesn’t have to be perfect.”
She let out a shaky breath and leaned on the counter, like the weight of everything had finally caught up to her. “God, I miss your dad. He’d know what to do. He thrived in chaos.”
“I remember,” I said quietly. “No one will expect the diner to be perfect on day one, Mom.”
“I just want to make him proud.”
“You already have.” I pushed off the counter and found an apron hanging on the hook. “Look, I’ll help you finish today’s setup. I’ll even do dishes and not complain.”
Mom gave me a look. “You always complain about dishes.”
“Yeah, but I’ll do it silently this time. See? Growth.” I grinned and tied the apron around my waist. “This is going to work out.”
She didn’t say anything right away. Then she crossed the kitchen and pulled me into a one-armed hug. “Have I ever told you that you’re just like your dad?”
“Not exactly.”
