3. Booth
CHAPTER THREE
booth
I love a challenge.
Since I was a kid, I’d jump at the chance to try anything once, no matter how difficult.
In middle school, I tried out for the soccer team even though the offside rule hurt my brain.
It didn’t faze me getting benched almost every game; I was happy to be there.
Failing classes? Fine .
Put me in summer school and I would work my ass off.
Teaching my little sister, Florence , how to ride a bike, even though she has the balance of a one-legged donkey.
Piece of cake.
Going to a local college none of my friends are attending?
No problem. Making friends came easily to me.
Quitting wasn’t an option until I’d given it my all.
I’d somehow stumbled across an unsolvable puzzle.
Hot one minute, ice cold the next.
She had me eager for the burn and the frostbite.
Never have I fucked up so tremendously when speaking to a woman.
Let alone twice. She’s fiery, smart, and clearly out of my league.
Which entices me more .
I’m strolling up Robin Road as I recall our last run-in.
Before the door opened, the identity of the tenant above the bakery was a mystery.
Then a goddess was revealed, clad in black silk that covered nothing.
Long legs, the gentle slope of her breasts, and tight nipples poking through the thin camisole.
Face bare, eyes heavy with sleep; she looked delicious.
Her hair was a wild mess of curls, sticking up in all directions, making her appear younger.
Struck dumb. Again .
I barely managed to say two words.
It’s you.
It had been a whole month since we met, and I hadn’t seen her once.
When we parted ways at the fair, I presumed she was only there to sell her artwork.
Like our first interaction, her defensiveness was off the charts.
Too bad it didn’t do the trick in discouraging me.
Sutton Bay is a small town.
We’re bound to run into each other again and they say the third time’s a charm.
The snow has been coming down hard since Thanksgiving .
I trudge through the uncleared drifts piling up on the sidewalk until I reach the restaurant, surprised to see the light on inside.
Pulling out my keys, I unlock the door and scurry inside before a flurry of white powder tailgates me.
“Hey. You’re here early,” a voice calls from behind the bar.
As I unzip my coat and hang it up, I nod at Patrick .
“ And you’re here earlier. You good?”
He nods with a sigh.
“ Yeah , I was up early to deliver a letter to Quinn .”
“Ahhh. How’s she doing?”
For the past week, we’ve been helping Graham .
He’s still holding onto some old baggage from his previous toxic relationship, and after attending his ex’s wedding, it was clear he hadn’t unpacked it all.
He and Quinn are taking some time apart, which I think is good for them both, but he’s enlisted us to deliver her letters every day.
“Better. Much better. I think they’ll be seeing each other soon,” Patrick says confidently.
“Here’s hoping. Mom is still in panic mode and driving me up the wall.”
He snorts.
“ Yeah , and trying her hardest not to get involved.”
“That’ll be the day.” Separated by the driftwood bar our dad built, I stand in front of him.
“ Speaking of our meddling mother, I’m going to move back into my house tomorrow. With Florence back, she can keep an eye on her. I love her, but good god, I need my own space. Two Sadler women are enough to drive any man gray.”
Last month, my mom slipped on her driveway and broke her leg.
My siblings and I freaked out as flashbacks of our dad’s sudden passing were dragged to the surface.
I turned the tables on my mom—moved in with her and smothered her while she healed.
“What? Is sleeping in your childhood home making it difficult to bring women back? Is the poster of Pamela Anderson staring at them off-putting?”
“I took that down years ago.” After my college girlfriend complained .
Plus, I haven’t tried to take anyone home in weeks.
Not since?—
“You’re pulling a weird face. Are you in pain?” He laughs while polishing a pint glass.
“Yeah. Because of you. For almost twenty-eight years.” I drag my beanie off and throw it at his head.
“ I’ll be in the back if you need me. I’m not on shift, but I’ve got some admin to do.”
His face drops, and he gently places down the glass.
“ Okay , but I have to warn you…there’s going to be an email in your inbox you will not like. ”
My eyes fall shut as I take a steadying breath, knowing exactly what I’ll find.
For months it was radio silence from the owner, and only recently have they given their input.
Or ruled with an iron fist more like.
When it was announced we were officially being sold, I thought this was my chance; I’d finally get to showcase my talent and ideas.
Big fat fucking no.
Email after email, the new owner shot me down.
And that was before I even mentioned changing the menu.
Can we get a new oven?
It’s not within budget.
Can we hire a second line cook?
The sales don’t back this up.
Can we change our bread supplier?
The current one is cheaper.
I’m being micromanaged to my last nerve by some faceless idiot sitting behind a desk.
It’s becoming harder and harder to let it slide, and with the manic rush of the holidays on the horizon, I’m at the end of my tether.
I understand we have budgets, but I want to see the whites of their eyes when they tell me no.
Today’s email is hopefully their letter of resignation.
“Don’t start a fight with them.”
Throwing him a wink, I saunter to the back of the restaurant.
“ I’ll be nothing but cordial.”
A couple of minutes later, I’m reading over their email before typing away furiously on the keyboard.
I only feel an ounce of remorse toward the recipient of the email, Larry , who is the unfortunate escrow agent responsible for all transactions between the owner and us.
From: [email protected]
Subject: RE : New supplie r
Dear Mr .
Sadler ,
I trust this email finds you well.
After some deliberation, my client has provisionally declined your request to enter into a contract with Ms .
Jackson of Just Brew It .
Once a review of the supplier’s services and quality of goods has been completed, they may reconsider, should everything be found satisfactory.
My client also asks that any future proposed business contracts are to be approved before any verbal agreement is given.
Kind regards,
Larry Schumann - Lead Escrow Agent
JS.
Williams Solutions
From: [email protected]
Subject: RE : New supplier
Good morning, Larry ,
Please inform your client that Ms .
Jackson is a member of the family, and such things do not require approval.
They would know that, had your client familiarized themselves with Our Place’s ethos.
Have a good one.
Booth
I’ve never met Larry , but I suspect he curses me out whenever my emails land in his inbox.
Quinn’s a talented baker, reliable, and is hoping to expand her business.
Even if she wasn’t family, why would we say no?
Our current supplier has been tardy for the last few months, and the bread delivered isn’t what it used to be.
Too bad I’ve already canceled the contract with our old supplier and Quinn is set to deliver freshly baked goods to us in the new year .
My smug smile melts off my face when I realize this doesn’t change anything for me.
I’ll be doing what I always do; cooking from the same menu we’ve had since the ’90s.
It’s what tourists expect when they spend their vacations here.
Lobster rolls. Clam bakes.
Bean -hole beans.
I love my job.
I love my job. I love my job.
I need to remind myself why I love it and to take some control back.
I’m the head chef. Not Larry .
Not the owner. Me .
Excitement bubbles in my chest and my spine straightens as an idea takes root.
Nothing has worked so far, but if they saw a tiny change to the menu, maybe they’d finally show up.
I’m sick of being bossed around through a computer screen.
If they want to say no, they can come here and say it to my face.
I open up the menu saved on the desktop and, without second-guessing myself, delete three of our least popular items and replace them with dishes I’ve been itching to try out.
Bluefin Tuna Tartare , Grilled Swordfish , and a Smoked Tofu Burger .
A grin slowly stretches across my face like a scheming villain when Johanna appears in the doorway.
One glance at my expression and she flinches.
“That look is never good. Ew , stop waggling your eyebrows at me like that.” She laughs as she settles in the chair across from me.
I give her one last waggle then steeple my fingers under my chin.
“ Could you arrange a new menu tasting for next week?”
“A new menu tasting?” Her brows rise in surprise.
“ What have you done?”
Johanna has worked in the industry longer than me, so she knows what I mean.
Leaning back, I shrug.
“ Something I should have done a long time ago. I understood why we couldn’t make menu changes when the restaurant was struggling, but we’re not anymore. Jo ,” I groan, tone pleading.
“ I’m tired of cooking the same shit every day. It’s three items. One of which we trialed on the specials in the spring.”
She shakes her head but can’t hide her smile.
Jo’s known me my whole life thanks to our dads being in business together; she’s like a second sister.
I even dated her little sister, Harriet , until senior year of high school.
There isn’t much she doesn’t know about me; including it’s futile trying to convince me once my mind is set.
“You’re gonna get in trouble.” She sings like we’re in the playground.
“Yeah, well, whoever is behind these emails can come to Maine to give me a spanking.”
“Gross. Didn’t need that visual today.” She grimaces before eyeing me skeptically.
“ Wait …is that why you’re doing this? So they show up?”
My mouth hangs open.
I don’t want to lie, but I can’t exactly tell her I’m bored of my job.
Plus , it’s not a total lie.
“ Don’t tell Pat .”
“I’m not lying to him if he asks, Booth .”
I wave a hand in her direction.
“ Fine . Fine .”
She hesitates for a beat, studying me closely before she stands.
“ Leave it with me. If this comes back to bite us, you’re taking the blame. I’m not in the mood to piss off Mr . Moneybags when I’m buttering them up for a new dishwasher.”
“Oh great. The bar gets spoiled but I can’t get a double oven to make my team’s life easier.” I fold my arms with a harrumph.
“Maybe if you were nice to them, you’d get shiny new toys too. Email me over the new menu and I’ll print them.” She heads toward the door but spins before she reaches it.
“ I hope you know what you’re doing. ”
“Nope.” I kick my feet up on the desk and lean back.
“ But that’s why this is going to be so much fun.”