It felt like I was doing twenty jobs at once: baker, busser, cashier, man attempting to stay alive. Such was the nature of a soft opening, I guessed.
I passed through the dining room to drop off drinks at table two and caught sight of Kira at table four. Something in her posture told me everything I needed to know—too still, jaw a little too tight, eyes not meeting the customer’s.
My stomach dropped.
I edged closer just in time to hear the guy snap, “How freaking hard is it to make a BLT?”
My stomach clenched. I’d heard that tone a hundred times growing up in this diner, but it felt different now.
Kira’s voice stayed calm, but I caught the flicker of tension behind her eyes. “I’ll check on it and get it to you as soon as I can,” she said smoothly.
She turned and nearly collided with me. Up close, I could see the tightness around her mouth, the way her jaw flexed.
“Hey,” I said, stepping into her path. “That guy giving you trouble?”
She tilted her head toward the booth. “He’s just hungry and frustrated. Maybe you should talk to him.”
I blinked. “Me?”
She gave me a knowing look. “You practically grew up in the diner. You must have seen this play out a million times.”
I hesitated, heat creeping up my neck. “Yeah, well…my dad had this whole ‘people whisperer’ thing. I’m not exactly?—”
“Landon.” She crossed her arms.
I huffed a laugh, despite myself. “Enough said. Give me a second.”
My palms grew damp as I approached the booth.
“Hey there,” I said, resting my hands on the edge of the table. “I heard we’ve kept you waiting.”
The guy looked up, his brows already furrowed. “Yeah. Nearly half an hour. For a sandwich.”
“That’s on us,” I said. “We’re still working out the kinks—it’s our last day of the soft opening. Doesn’t make the wait okay, but I appreciate you sticking with us.”
“You the manager?”
“Something like that.”
He crossed his arms but didn’t push back. “Maybe have your staff give customers a heads-up when you’re backed up.”
“Fair point. I’ll make sure we do. Your BLT’s next up—I’ll run it out myself. And for the trouble, let me bring you a slice of bourbon pecan pie. On the house.”
His mouth twitched, just barely. “If it’s as good as the sign outside claims, I might forgive you.”
I smiled. “It’s better.”
He gave a grunt that was probably meant to be a laugh and turned back to his phone. I took that as a win.
When I circled back, Kira was at the drink station, wiping down the counter. Her eyes met mine with a spark of curiosity.
“He should chill out,” I said with a shrug. “But I think we’re good. Pie heals most wounds.”
She smirked. “Told you.”
“Yeah, yeah. You’re wise and clever and dangerously good at reading people.” I leaned in a little closer. “I may or may not have stashed a couple slices of pie for us later.”
Her grin widened. “Genius.” She leaned in just a little, brushing her shoulder against mine. “You’re doing great in here, Landon.”
