“I’ll be okay. Whatever happens,” I assure her. “If I have to go back to the grocery store, at least my garden will be snatched again.”
“Don’t count your chickens just yet,” she says, a mysterious look on her face.
“Why would I count my chickens?” I ask her, confused. “You’re the one with chickens. Do we need to count them, is that a thing? Did the foxes come back?”
She laughs, leaning forward and clutching her stomach. “It’s a saying,” she heaves out between cackles. “My God who was your English teacher?”
“Ms. Snow, same as yours!”
“She really failed with you, Lex. I’m saying it’s not over yet. I’ve got a meeting this afternoon with a possible investor. Let me see if there’s anything I can do. Worst case basis, maybe I can at least sell the place off and make sure you aren’t saddled with any debt out of this whole mess.”
“Right.” That pit in my stomach is back again, at having to turn over the restaurant I’ve poured my heart and soul into. The one Wilder has put all of himself into. The one my dad ran for decades before that.
But it’s fine.
There are more important things than careers and how I get a paycheck.
Having my family back would be better than keeping the restaurant.
We stand, dusting off our pants.
“But first,” Rory says, glancing down at her lithe form. “I need to go home and change. And possibly burn this outfit.”
Okay, maybe some things never change.
TWENTY-SEVEN
WILDER
Lexi hasn’t spread the word about the fate of the restaurant, but a pall of gloom follows her whenever she’s come in over the past couple of weeks.
The staff have to know something’s going on.
I’ve tried to play it cool, keep them hyped up about the daily specials, how well they’re all doing, this groove we’re getting into as a team after more than two months of being open, but they’re not dumb.
They’ve known Lexi for decades, most of ’em. You can smell in the air that something’s amiss at Heights Bites.
Rather than her normal, lively frantic energy that brightens the place up and keeps the staff on their toes, it’s like a blanket of sadness has been trailing her instead.
Straight up to her office most days, only peeking her head down if the dining room gets too busy for whichever front of house staff are in to handle on their own.
So basically never, now that Billie is here. Not that we aren’t slammed most mealtimes, but Amelia’s mom was the perfect addition here. Between her, Wanda, Tracy, and Violet, well, it’s pretty smooth sailing.
I’m not sure if seeing how hustling and bustling the dining room gets over the lunch rush, or the constant flow of customers throughout the dinner period makes this harder on her, knowing it’s coming to an end, but she’s taking more days off than she ever did before. She’s out again today even.
Only time I get to see her here is when my shift ends and I drag her back to my place and give her a reason to forget about the rest of it.
But as far as conversation, there hasn’t been much of one since that night we went to her sister’s for the bonfire.
We’ve got more of a physical understanding between us these days, but I really could use someone to talk my offer out with. Someone who knows where I come from, what’s important to me. Who seesmethrough everything else and can help guide me to the right choice here.
I want that person to be Lexi. I just don’t think she has the space for my dilemma right now. It’s too close to home for her, the fact that she can’t offer me the job I came here for because of her mistake.
I might have to take Rory up on her offer to meet with me this afternoon. I could use her brains on all of this.
Leaning back against the brick wall in the alley on my break, I pull the letter out of my back pocket for the zillionth time since I got it two weeks ago.
My eyes scan over the contents even though I dream of what it says, word for word.
