Mia glanced around, taking it all in. “I would never have known this was here,” she said. “It’s a perfect location. Close enough to town but far enough away that the music won’t bother anyone.”
A busty blonde walked over with menus and glasses of water.
“Caleb! Haven’t seen you here in a while,” she said brightly, setting the glasses down.
He cocked his head. “Been busy.” He glanced at Mia. “Sunny, this is Mia Whitmore. Mia, Sunny Jacks, the owner.”
Sunny frowned, studying Mia’s face. “Whitmore? Whitmore … where have I heard that name before?”
Mia shrugged. She sure as hell didn’t know Sunny.
“Oh my!” Sunny’s face lit up. “You’re Hal Whitmore’s daughter. I didn’t know you were back. How is your dad? I haven’t seen him in … well, a long time. He was good friends with my husband, Jack.”
Her gaze dropped briefly to the table, then lifted again. Her grin widened. “And Plated Perfection? That’s yours, isn’t it? I’ve heard only good things. The farmers’ market, the fundraiser at the Foundry… people haven’t stopped talking about your food. I just never put the name together.”
“Thank you,” Mia said. “That means a lot.”
Sunny left the menus on the table. “Well, you’re in good hands tonight. I’ll send someone over in a minute.” She winked at Caleb. “Don’t be a stranger.”
As Sunny walked off, Caleb shook his head. “See? Famous.”
Mia rolled her eyes. “Hardly. But I didn’t get a wink,” she teased.
Caleb laughed. “Sunny is like that with everyone she knows. But as she likes to say, Jack was her one and only.”
“That’s so romantic.”
He nodded. Mia couldn’t help thinking about her dad. He never looked at another woman either after her mother died.
“Changing the subject,” Caleb started. “Tell me about Roy. What does he do around the farm? How did he get the job?”
Mia sighed. “Roy has been around since high school.” She explained about their dads and how her father took him under his wing. “He’s capable enough. Although not ambitious.”
“I overheard you the other day. Everything okay with him?”
She shrugged. “He’s been a little defensive since I came back. My father pays him to do certain things around the farm; I pay him to help me with some of the catering chores. Either is kind of a hit or miss.”
Caleb leaned back slightly in the booth. “You trust him?”
The question wasn’t intrusive, just careful.
“I do,” she said. “He’s good with my dad. That matters.”
“I hear you.” And she believed he meant it. He slid a menu over. “What are you drinking?”
Mia glanced toward the bar. “Something easy. I see they have craft beers from Cypress Swamp Brewery on tap.”
“That name’s new to me,” Caleb said. “Have you had any of their beer?”
Mia nodded. “I met Shane Holloway, the owner, at a tasting. I think he’s been open for about a year. The brewery is in a converted citrus packing shed tucked off a two-lane road just outside town, and I believe he offers tastings occasionally.”
“Humph. Sounds like a place the guys would like to try.” He looked at the menu. “They have several kinds listed here. What would you like to try?”
“I’m going with Backwater Blonde. It’s lighter, but you might like a heartier, full-body brew like the Cypress Swamp Smoke Porter. Dark, rich porter with a hint of smoked malt.” She raised her brows. “Or for a more manly brew, the Gator Tail Stout.”
Caleb grinned. “Sounds like you’ve tried them all.”
“Nah, I’ve only tried these. I like my beer on the light side.”
