Chapter 8
CHAPTER 8
C oop stood behind the counter of his beloved diner, refilling a pot of coffee as the hum of distant customer chatter filled the space. The lunch rush had just begun, and Wanda was bustling back and forth between the tables, trying to balance plates of fried chicken and collard greens with her usual efficiency. His eyes scanned the room, taking in the familiar faces of locals who had been eating there for years, some of them for decades.
He focused on wiping down the counter when a snippet of conversation from a nearby table suddenly caught his attention.
“What’s a wellness night? And it’s over at the vegan place?” a woman said, her voice full of curiosity.
“Yeah,” the other customer replied. “I saw a flyer at Perky’s this morning. It says Whitney is hosting it with all kinds of stuff like yoga, nutrition tips, and healthy snacks. Can you believe that? That Coop’s daughter is teaming up with Tate Morgan? That has to sting.”
Coop froze, his hand gripping the rag tightly. His jaw clenched as he turned his ear toward the conversation, trying not to make it obvious that he was eavesdropping.
“Honestly,” the woman said, trying to whisper, “it sounds kind of interesting. I’m probably gonna stop by and see what it’s all about. I need to lose a little weight, and it’s nice to see someone in town doing something new and fresh.”
Coop slammed the coffee pot down onto the warmer, causing a loud clatter. The two women stopped talking and looked over at him for a moment before returning to their conversation. His mind was racing.
Wellness night at Tate’s cafe, and Whitney was the one hosting it? She hadn’t said a word about it to him, not even after they had their blow-up. His own daughter, his flesh and blood, was not only working with the man who was taking his customers away but was doing it secretly. The betrayal felt like a punch in the gut.
Wanda walked over to the counter, carrying a tray of empty plates. Her brow furrowed when she saw the storm brewing on Coop’s face.
“What in the world has you all riled up?” she asked, setting the tray on the counter.
“Did you know about this wellness night thing that Whitney’s doing with that guy across the street?”
Wanda looked surprised. “Wellness night? No, I can’t say that I did. What’s the problem?”
Coop pointed toward the table where the customers were still talking. “Apparently, according to these people who talk a little too loudly, my daughter is teaming up with that Tate Morgan, putting on some kind of event at his cafe. Yoga and salads and who knows what else. She didn’t even tell me anything about it.”
Wanda’s expression softened. “Coop, don’t go jumping to conclusions. She probably just didn’t want to upset you, especially not with everything that’s been going on between you two. It’s not like you take this kind of news very well.”
“You think she was worried about upsetting me?” Coop’s voice rose, drawing more glances from nearby tables. He lowered it again. “She knows exactly how I feel about that place over there and that man, and now she’s gonna work with him behind my back?”
Wanda sighed, leaning against the counter. “Coop, you and Whitney haven’t been on the best of terms lately. You two barely even talk anymore. It’s very sad—I’ve known her since she was born. Maybe she just didn’t feel like she could talk to you about it. Now, don’t get mad when I say this, but you’ve kind of gotten a little overwrought about that new place.”
“That’s because she’s siding with him,” Coop said bitterly. “Ever since he showed up in this town, it’s been nothing but trouble. Now he’s got my daughter on his side, helping him to run me out of business. What did I ever do to make her hate me so much?”
“Oh, you stop it,” Wanda said sharply. “Tate is not running you out of business, Coop. You acting like this—especially in front of customers—and ruining your relationship with your daughter is what’s going to run you out of business. He’s trying to make a living, same as you, and Whitney isn’t siding with anyone. She wants to chase her own dreams, even if you don’t support them. Maybe you ought to stop and think about just how hard that must be for her, knowing that her father, who she loves dearly, doesn’t even support her.”
Coop opened his mouth to argue, but Wanda held up her hand to stop him. “And don’t you roll your eyes at me,” she said firmly. “You’re so caught up in your own pride that you don’t even see the bigger picture. Whitney adores you. She always has. You’re her only family, but she’s not a little girl anymore. That’s a grown woman with dreams of her own, and instead of tearing her down, maybe you ought to be building her up.”
He scowled, looking down at the counter. “You don’t understand, Wanda. This diner, this is all I’ve got. It’s all I’ve ever known, and now she’s walking away from it—and me.”
“She’s not walking away from you. She’s walking toward something that makes her happy. That doesn’t mean she loves you any less. Although, if you don’t stop acting like a horse’s butt, you’re going to run her away to where she never comes back.”
He sighed heavily, rubbing his hand over his face. Deep down—very deep down—he knew Wanda was right, but that didn’t make it any less painful. He’d always thought that Whitney would stay close, that she’d want to carry on the legacy he’d built. The idea of her choosing a totally different path, especially one that felt like it aligned her with Tate, felt like a personal betrayal.
“So then, what am I supposed to do, Wanda? Just let it all happen?”
“You’re supposed to support her, Coop, even if it’s hard, even if it hurts—because that’s what being a parent is about.”
He nodded slowly, but the frustration still lingered. Wanda patted his arm and then picked up her tray to take it to the back.
“Now, why don’t you just take a minute and think about what you’re gonna say to Whitney, because if you go storming up to her with that temper of yours, you’re only gonna make things worse.”
He watched her walk away and push open the swinging doors to the kitchen, her words echoing in his mind. He didn’t know how in the world he would fix things with his daughter, but one thing was for sure: he couldn’t ignore this situation any longer.
* * *
W hitney looked at herself in the bathroom mirror at the clinic, adjusting her hair a bit before shaking her head. This was not a date. It was just a dinner—a casual dinner with Tate. It was nothing more. She’d spent the afternoon with him at the cafe, hammering out all the details for wellness night, but he had suggested that maybe they go grab a bite to eat. Her stomach fluttered at the thought, but she was going to push those feelings aside. He didn’t feel that way about her. He was just being nice. This wasn’t a date, she reminded herself yet again.
When she arrived at the Buzzed Bear, a cozy little tavern on the edge of town, Tate was already waiting near the entrance. He looked relaxed in his navy button-down shirt and jeans, and he had an easy smile on his face when he saw her.
“Hey,” he said, holding the door open. “Glad you made it.”
“Of course,” she said, walking past him, feeling the faintest tingle of awareness as his arm hovered near hers. She could smell his cologne. He had put it on since they’d met in the afternoon. Did that mean anything?
“I was starving after all that planning,” she said, laughing.
The Buzzed Bear was bustling as it usually was, laughter and the low hum of conversation filling the space. There were strings of twinkle lights hanging across the ceiling between the wooden beams. There was such a rustic charm about this place, and she loved going there when she had a chance. After all, they had the best chicken fingers in town—although she would never tell that to her father. They had pool tables and a big bar with a stuffed bear behind all the bottles of various alcohol.
They found a small booth near the back, away from the crowd.
“So, do you come here often?” Whitney asked as she looked at the menu.
“I’ve been a few times since moving here. They have a wonderful Cobb salad, and there’s a good vibe here. Their black bean burger is actually pretty amazing, too.”
“Let me guess, you don’t eat any fries?”
“Hey, I’m not that strict,” he said with a laugh. “I have some fries now and then. Life’s all about balance. But, you know, I make fries without any oil in my air fryer, and they’re just as good if you season them well.”
“Interesting,” she said, smiling and looking down at her menu.
They placed their order, Tate sticking with his black bean burger and Whitney opting for a chicken club sandwich, and then fell into an easy conversation.
“So,” Tate said, resting his elbows on the table, “we’ve been talking about wellness night and the plans for that nonstop, but let’s take a break. I want to know more about you. What was it like growing up here in Jubilee?”
She smiled, leaning back as the memories of her childhood flooded forward in her mind. “It was great, actually, really great. My dad—he’s always been a larger-than-life character, you know. Everyone in town knows him, and he’s always been very proud of the diner. He used to bring me there when I was little and teach me how to fold napkins and refill salt shakers.”
“Sounds like you two have always been close,” Tate said.
“Well, we were,” Whitney said softly. “I guess we still are, even if things have been a little strained lately. He’s a good man, though. He worked so hard to build the diner from the ground up, and he took care of me after my mom passed away. He’s got the best sense of humor, always cracking jokes, even when things are tough.”
He nodded. “It’s clear how much you care about him. I can tell he’s important to you.”
“He is, but I’m worried about him. His blood pressure has been up for years, and he won’t take it seriously—he refuses to take medication. I’m scared that one day, it’s going to catch up with him.”
Tate reached across the table, his hand brushing hers for a moment before he pulled back. “That’s tough, Whitney. I can see why you’d be worried. But, you know, maybe with all the stuff you’re working on, like the wellness night, he’ll come around. He’ll see you’re not just doing this for yourself but for people just like him.”
She smiled. “Thank you. I hope so, but I think that’s probably a pipe dream.”
Their food arrived, and they ate for a while in comfortable silence before Tate spoke again.
“I think I told you this, but,” he said, putting his burger back down on the plate, “this whole healthy living thing started with my grandma. She had diabetes, and it really affected her quality of life. Watching her struggle was what got me interested in nutrition and wellness. I wanted to do something to help people avoid what she went through because diabetes is very much treatable with diet and exercise.”
“That’s amazing. I think she’d be proud of what you’re doing.”
“Thanks. Sometimes I wonder if it’s enough, but hearing you say that helps.”
For a moment, they just stared at each other, the noise of the tavern fading into the background.
“So,” she said, breaking the silence, “do you always get this deep on a not-date?”
He leaned forward. “Oh, this is a not-date, huh? Is that what it is?”
She shrugged. “Well, it’s not a date. I mean, we’re just two people grabbing dinner after work, right?”
“Right,” he said, a teasing smile on his lips. “But if it were a date, would you be okay with that?”
Her breath hitched in her throat, and she struggled to find the right response. Before she could say anything, the waitress approached the table with the check and asked if they wanted dessert. They both said no, and Tate took care of the bill, waving off her protests before they stepped out into the evening air.
“Thanks for dinner,” Whitney said as they walked toward her car.
“Anytime. I meant what I said earlier. You’re doing something really special, Whitney. Don’t let anyone make you think otherwise.”
“You’re not so bad yourself, Tate Morgan,” she said as they stopped at her car.
He smiled, and for a moment, she thought he might step closer. The air between them felt charged, and her heart started to pound. Instead, he stepped back and put his hands in his pockets.
“Well, good night, Whitney.”
“Good night,” she said softly before she climbed into her car and then watched him walk toward his. It wasn’t a date. It couldn’t have been a date. Well, maybe—just maybe—it could have been.
* * *
W hitney wiped down a booth at the diner between the breakfast and lunch rush. She hadn’t been working much at the diner lately, but when Wanda called to say she had a server out sick and really needed the help—and promised that Coop was not around—Whitney agreed to go.
A couple of regulars were sipping their coffee, and their conversation drifted just loud enough for her to catch snippets.
“So, did you see the review online?” a gray-haired man named Frank said with a chuckle. “Coop’s really got one over on that vegan guy.”
Whitney’s hand froze mid-swipe, her heart sinking. She forced herself to continue cleaning so that she could hear more, but she had to strain her ear to do so.
“Oh yeah,” his friend replied. “I heard old Coop’s been talking to folks, asking them to post some stuff about that vegetable café—you know, show some loyalty to this place.”
Whitney felt her stomach twist into a knot. This couldn’t be true, could it? Her father had been vocal about his dislike for Tate’s café, but asking people to leave bad reviews? Well, that just wasn’t like him. She thought it wasn’t, at least.
She finished wiping the table and walked back behind the counter, her mind racing. Wanda was at the coffee station refilling pots. Whitney hesitated for a moment before stepping closer.
“Hey, Wanda,” she said quietly. “Can I ask you something?”
“Sure, honey, what’s up?” Wanda said, turning around and putting her hands on her hips.
“Have you heard anything about my dad asking people to leave bad reviews about Tate’s café?”
Wanda paused, her lips pressing together in a thin line.
“Now Whitney, I don’t want to get in the middle of anything, but I did hear him mention something about that the other day. He was venting about how people are going over there, and I guess he figured if some people saw negative stuff online, it might just slow things down a bit.”
Whitney’s shoulders sagged. “I can’t believe this. My dad has always been so proud of owning a legit business. Honesty was a huge thing that he taught me. Why would he do something like this?”
Wanda gave her a sympathetic look. “Honey, your daddy is scared. He’s never had any real competition before, and I think he’s feeling desperate. Sure doesn’t make it right, though. I lit into him the other day about this very thing.”
Whitney didn’t want to believe it, but she couldn’t ignore what she’d heard. She looked at the clock. Her shift at the clinic started in an hour. She was working in the evening, but she couldn’t focus on work with this weighing on her. She wasn’t going to confront her father right away, but she decided she needed to tell Tate. He deserved to know.
“Listen, Wanda, I know you need help, but I’ve got to go.”
Wanda nodded knowingly. “I understand. And for what it’s worth, I think he’s a nice guy, that Tate. He brought some vegan muffins by here one day, and they were delicious. I was very surprised.”
Whitney smiled and nodded. “He’s a wonderful guy, and he’s been a great help to me. I just wish my dad could see that.”
She took off her apron, picked up her purse, and ran out the front door, heading straight across the street. She found Tate standing behind the counter, as usual, chatting with a customer.
“Hey, Whitney, what brings you by?”
“Can we talk?” she asked, her voice low. “I mean, privately.”
His brow furrowed, but he nodded, leading her to a small table in the corner. He pulled out a chair for her before sitting across from her.
“What’s up?” he asked, obviously concerned.
She fidgeted with the strap of her purse, hesitating. “I don’t even know how to say this because it’s honestly very embarrassing, but I overheard something today, and I think you need to know about it.”
He leaned forward. “Okay.”
She took a deep breath. “So, I heard some customers over at the diner talking about how my dad has asked people to leave bad reviews for your café online. Wanda kind of confirmed it.”
Tate’s expression didn’t change immediately, but then she saw a flicker of disappointment in his eyes. He leaned back in his chair and let out a long breath.
“I figured something was going on when I saw a couple of those reviews. They seemed off, like they weren’t from real people who had been here. I guess I just didn’t think your dad would go that far.”
“I’m so sorry, Tate,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper. “This isn’t the dad I’ve always known. I didn’t know he was doing this, and I certainly don’t agree with it. I just thought you should know.”
Tate nodded. “It’s not your fault, Whitney. I know you’re in a tough spot, stuck between him and me, and I appreciate you coming here to tell me.”
“I don’t know what to do,” she admitted. “Part of me wants to go confront him right now, but I don’t think he’s going to listen. He’s so stubborn, and I’m afraid it’s just going to make this whole thing worse. But I can’t let him continue to have people leave these reviews.”
He reached across the table and rested his hand on top of hers. “You don’t have to do anything right now. This is something I’ll handle. Your dad’s scared, I get that. I just hope he realizes we’re not enemies. We’re just two people trying to make a living.”
Whitney felt so guilty. “He’s not a bad person, Tate. I know you probably don’t believe that right now, but he’s just been under so much stress lately, and I think he’s worried about losing everything he’s worked for.”
“I know, and I’m not here to take anything away from him, including you. I just wish he’d see that.”
That comment made her stomach feel fluttery, but she had to ignore it right now. There was a heavy weight sitting on top of both of them.
Finally, Tate smiled slightly. “Thank you for telling me. That decision couldn’t have been easy for you.”
“It wasn’t,” Whitney admitted. “But you deserve to know. And if there’s anything I can do to help, please let me know.”
“You’ve already helped,” he said, his hand lingering a moment longer before pulling it away.
Whitney left the café and walked toward her car with a mix of relief and anxiety. She knew she had done the right thing by telling him, but this rift between her and her father felt wider than the Grand Canyon right now, and she didn’t know how they would ever build a bridge back to each other.