Chapter 3 #2
This diner was ripped right out of the postwar diner boom.
Her grandfather Frank Sr. had built the place and set the menu, and her father had carried on his legacy after he’d died.
The same way Frank Jr. had presumably wanted her to carry on the family business.
Growing up in the diner had planted the seeds for her love of vintage-style clothes and decor.
The speckled Formica counter and round red-and-chrome stools were exactly how she remembered them, right along with the rows of plush red pleather booths, though they were now sun-faded.
And the black-and-white tile was now bubbling and yellowed.
It was the exact sort of aesthetic she’d been chasing for her home decor for years.
The diner was empty, but the scent of maple syrup and bacon lingered in the air.
Her stomach growled. She’d subsisted on pretzels and caffeine to get here faster, and now she was starving.
“Hungry? I can make you pancakes if you’d like,” he said.
He worked here? The Ivy League aspirer? Maybe he had peaked in high school.
That was mean. But Victor working here would certainly explain why he knew Frank.
She couldn’t think of a connection between them other than her and Victor’s after-school hangouts, when they’d begged her dad for free milkshakes and fries.
“No, don’t trouble yourself,” she said. It felt wrong to ask him to cook for her if she was going to sell the business he worked at.
A tiny worm of guilt burrowed into the back of her mind.
She’d be a jerk to sell the business in general.
Victor couldn’t be the only employee she’d displace.
Unless she chose a buyer who’d keep the staff in the transition?
No. That wasn’t her problem. She had to be strong.
“It’s no trouble at all. I love cooking for others.” He gave her a lopsided smile. It tugged at the scars on his cheek, creating a mock dimple.
If it weren’t less than twenty-four hours since she’d broken up with her loser boyfriend, she might have been swooning.
But this was her problem. She never took time for herself between breakups.
She jumped from relationship to relationship, job to job.
She needed to settle the will, sell the house and diner, and start over.
That was her agenda. No hot diversions. No exceptions.
But since he was offering, she couldn’t say no to free pancakes.
She slid onto one of the stools and leaned over to peer through the service window as he worked the flat top.
She listened to the sizzle of batter on the flat top and the clink of the spatula on metal.
The dining room was empty. Tables cleaned.
There was a middle-aged waitress around her age with curly brown hair streaked with gray at the bussing station, texting on her phone with a frown.
After a few minutes, Victor emerged from the kitchen with a small stack of pancakes. He set them down in front of her and served them with a big glob of butter and a pitcher of syrup. The sugary, buttery scent was intoxicating.
“Dig in.” He leaned against the back counter, arms crossed over his broad chest. His sleeves were rolled up, and she could see the scars and corded muscles of his forearms. Arms were her personal Achilles’ heel.
The number of bad decisions she’d made because of hot forearms should be studied.
Her eyes lingered a moment too long, and he caught her staring and returned it with a flirtatious(?) smirk.
She wasn’t sure, she still couldn’t read his emotions.
She drizzled the pancakes with syrup and then cut into them with her fork. They were perfectly pillowy. She shoved a large bite into her mouth and moaned with pleasure unintentionally.
Heat flooded her face as she glanced up at Victor, mortified. But the expression that met hers was heated.
“I’m glad you like them,” he said, voice thick.
“Forgive me. I can be rather vocal when I’m eating.”
“I remember,” he said as he tilted his head towards her. “It’s charming.”
Her cheeks were burning as she tucked her hair behind her ear.
She hadn’t been imagining it. He was flirting with her.
They’d never had that sort of relationship before, but maybe he’d changed.
Goddess knew she had. Perhaps Victor was the player type now.
In high school, he’d been swarmed by girls desperate to date him.
She shouldn’t be thinking about this. Single. New start. Change the subject.
“You’ve been working for Frank for a while?”
“Almost twenty years.”
She sat up straighter in her chair. “Oh my goddess, forgive me. I had no clue.”
He waved away her apology. “Frank was a man of few words. I’m not surprised he never mentioned me.”
Another beat, and she was tempted to press him for more information, but instead ducked her head down and shoveled a few more bites of pancake into her mouth. The quicker she ate, the quicker they’d get down to brass tacks. And she’d be free of this temptation.
She cleared her plate as he puttered around behind the counter. As soon as she put the last bite into her mouth, he took her plate and disappeared back into the kitchen.
She fiddled with her napkin as she waited for him to return.
The waitress finally looked up from her phone and gave her a quick smile before taking orders from customers who’d come in since Lizzy had arrived.
She’d stalled long enough. Victor was great eye candy and possibly flirting with her, but as he was her employee, that was an unbalanced power dynamic. At least until the diner sold.
When he came back out, she stood up and said, “Let’s get down to business. Do you have something for me to sign or…?”
He paused and looked at her with an unreadable expression. “Yeah, about that, there’s something I didn’t tell you…”
“Yeah?” she asked tentatively.
“Frank left the diner to both of us.”
“Pardon?”
“We’re co-owners of the house and diner. Frank wanted us to have it together.”