Chapter Four
Joaquin
Standing by my cart, watching the basket fill, I felt the ground drop out from under me.
I couldn’t give up what I’d worked so hard to build.
Not without trying to save it. It just felt so awful that all my scrimping and saving and doing without the very basics of life only to have some guy from the city with unlimited money come zooming in to take over my spot.
I didn’t know who it was, really, but if it had been anyone local, word would have gotten around.
Oliver Creek was a small town with a lot of tourism.
Primarily eating tourism, and I had just found myself at a foodie site online.
Someone was going on and on about my homemade flavors and lack of oddball chemicals that many flavored popcorn companies had no trouble using to color their treats.
I spent my evenings working on new recipes.
In fact, just the previous night, I had managed to get beet coloring red enough for my planned Christmas corn.
The green was still in progress, but I thought I was close.
I didn’t market my products as organic or health food or anything like that, although I could have.
But I chose not to make any claims beyond the fact that my popcorn was delicious.
Not that I wasn’t very happy to share my ingredients or methods with anyone who asked. But most of my customers didn’t inquire. They were happy to consider what I had to offer a treat. Which it certainly was.
That theater, the rich person who could afford to rehab a building abandoned for so many years, they would probably just buy their corn from a supply house, along with the candy and soft drinks.
Maybe I should brag about my ingredients. Even my butter was…butter.
I worked on my caramel corn, which I couldn’t leave unattended without risk of burning—either the sauce or a passerby—but my mind was on the movie theater and what it might mean to my work.
While I saved up for new wheels, the theater owner was probably in there planning his marble staircases and new velvet seats.
The more I thought about it, the more upset I got.
Tossing the corn and peanuts with the caramel forced me into concentration because I didn’t want to burn myself, either.
But as soon as it was cooling on the trays, I turned off the popper and strode the few steps to the theater doors.
If anyone was in there, we were going to have a conversation.
Peering inside, I could see lights on toward the back of the lobby.
Someone was in there. Maybe not the new owner.
Possibly someone working on getting the place ready to reopen.
But then I caught that sedan out of the corner of my eye.
It was fancy. Just the type of vehicle some rich city guy would drive.
Not a model I’d ever seen around here. A lot of the business people in town were successful enough to buy it, probably, but they weren’t the type to show off their money.
Or waste it on an impractical car when they could invest in their shops or restaurants or their homes.
No…city guy was definitely in there, and I had things to say to him.
Drawing back my fist, I pounded on the door.
Then remembered it was glass, and hit a little softer. I wanted to get their attention, but it would solve nothing if I broke the door and had to somehow try to pay for it. At first, nobody came, but I fully believed they were there and wasn’t about to give up.
Finally, a man appeared in a doorway off the lobby. He was tall and lean and broad shouldered. As he came closer, I observed his hair styled in an undercut and a neat scruff on his jaw. His eyes were a golden brown that could have been extremely sensual except that they snapped with annoyance.
He crossed the lobby in a few hurried steps and peered through the grimy glass door. “Yes? Can I help you?”
“Can you open up so I can speak with you?” Even if he was annoyed to be interrupted at whatever he was doing, he could at least be courteous enough not to shout through the closed door.
Lips pressed together, he turned the key and opened the door. “All right.”
“I own the popcorn cart, and you can see I set up shop right outside here. If you are going to reopen the theaters, I thought maybe you’d be interested in a collab. I make elevated flavors and I think—”
“I’m sorry, but I have already arranged suppliers for all my refreshments, so I won’t be able to help you. For now, I won’t object to your presence, but I am sure you understand I can’t have a rival popcorn vendor right outside once we open.”
“I was here first,” I blurted out. “You can’t just tell me what to do.”
“No, but I can go to city hall and complain. I think you should know they are very excited about this project and will most likely understand my concerns.”
“Right.”
He closed the door and locked it again while I returned to my cart. The collab suggestion had just come to me out of nowhere, but he had shut it down even quicker. I couldn’t blame him for feeling that way, but he could have been a little nicer when telling me to get lost.
My tiger was twitching his tail and rumbling. He was probably even more insulted.