I laugh. I think everyone in this town will always call me that, thanks to my father. “Good, Ken. How are you?”
“Not too bad. I was just getting ready to hang my apron up for the afternoon and hand it off to the crew.”
“Hot date with Elaine?” I wiggle my brows at him.
He blushes at the mention of Odette’s mother. “Now, now. You didn’t come all this way to tease an old man. What can I get for you?”
“Four fritters, please. Whatever flavors you have left are fine.”
“Sure. Are you on your way to Stick Taps?”
“I am.”
“Then I know just what you’re looking for.”
Tongs in hand, he grabs one apple, one chocolate banana, one mixed berry, and one that I’m unfamiliar with.
“What was that last one you put in the box?” I ask as he tapes it shut.
“Froot Loops. It’s Ezra’s favorite.”
I grin, because of course it is.
I hand over a twenty and tell him to keep the change, which earns me a grin from the older gentleman.
It should be my cue to leave. To take my fritters and walk right out of here. Yet, I linger.
Ken notices.
“Something on your mind, kid?” he asks, crossing his arms over his chest.
“I, uh, I noticed you’re selling the place.”
He smiles sadly, nodding. “Yep. It’s time. This place always belonged to my late wife. This was never my passion. It was hers. Now that I have Elaine and things are going so well there ... I don’t know. It’s time to do something different, you know? I want to travel. I want to see the world. Is that hokey?”
I understand that more than he realizes. It’s what I felt when I was looking at culinary schools. I wanted to be far away and experience something new. Now, though, all I feel is a longing for home.
“Not at all, Ken. You deserve that. It’s just a bummer because Sunnie’s has been such a core part of this community for so long. The people will be sad to lose it.” I roll my tongue over my lips, swallowing down the lump that’s formed in my throat. “Have you had any offers yet?”
My heart pounds in my ears as I wait for his answer.
“A few, but most of them are for chain places, and that’s not my style. I think if I’m going to sell Sunnie’s, it should be to someone who has the same love of cooking as she did. Not someone looking to make a quick buck and bring something nonlocal here.”
So many ideas run through my head all at once.
Dark lighting, a modern refresh on the exterior, new tables and chairs, and a fresh coat of paint inside. It would be moody yet inviting. It would be a must-eat destination.
It would be mine. I could move back here, find an apartment in town or rent Mr. Looper’s place. I could be close to my father. I could do whatever I wanted.
My mind spins, and I’m feeling more alive than I have in days at the idea of finally having my own restaurant.
I want to scream out loud that I’ll buy it. That he should sell it to me because I would keep it local, and I would honor his wife’s memory.
But the words never come. Not just because I have zero financial backing, but because all those fears that I’ve been holding on to since walking out of Lore come crashing onto my shoulders. I feel dreadful all over again.
You can’t run a business, Summer. You could barely hold a kitchen together, let alone deal with all the other things that come with owning a restaurant. Hell, you’restillworking on a menu for the cidery. How could you possibly do that for a full-scale restaurant?
I can’t. I’m not ready. I might never be.
