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“We’re looking good, too,” Mark added from where he was dropping ingredients for his green chutney into the blender.

Their vertical-striped aprons went with the rest of Hot and Cold’s theme of pinks and pale blues. One of the many decisions they’d made over the past few months. Lots of trial and error and taste testing of sandwiches. Lots of design ideas for the truck.

Joan held her palm over the caramelized onions atop a thick slice of sourdough bread and three-cheese blend. She gave it an easy blast of fire to melt it into yummy gooey-ness.

The rear door opened, and Perry climbed inside. “Hey, Per,” Joan said.

“Péricles!” Mark called.

Sadie greeted him as well. Perry scooted behind her with a file folder tucked under his arm. He pointed to the licenses taped to the service window. “Good visibility on those. How’s it been going?”

“Pretty good,” Mark said. “People seem to like the food so far.”

“I’ve only gotten positive feedback,” Sadie said. “My friend Amit stopped by earlier and said it was one of the best BLTs he’s ever had. And he’s my former boss, so I can attest that he doesn’t give compliments lightly.”

“Good.” Perry flipped through his papers. He’d jumped into budgets and timelines like a champ and had kept them on task. He’d be a real asset for future investments and projects. Sadie and Joan were hopeful it was occupying him enough not to miss his former way of making a living. He really did enjoy all the office work nobody else wanted to do.

“Are your parents coming today?” he asked.

“Maybe,” Sadie said. “They hate driving into the city.”

Joan spatula-ed the November Rain off the flat-top. “They’re still not keen on supporting the woman who caused their daughter to quit her stable job and follow a wild whim.”

“They don’t know you well enough. Yet.” She smiled at Joan. “But they will.”

Because Joan wasn’t going anywhere.

“Let me meet them,” Mark said. “Parents love me.”

“Mark does way better with parents,” Joan said.

“Mark’s not the person I love.” Sadie blew him a kiss. “Though I do love you, Markie.”

“Back at ’cha, Sades,” he said with a wink.

She’d grown to love Joan’s twin like her own brother with his hilariously crude sense of humor. And grown used to his stopping by at all hours to hang out. It was clear Mark and Joan were so close because they were lonely. Their old friends—not that they’d really been friends—had disappeared. Greta had only recently started talking to Joan again.

“Nyah’s coming tomorrow,” Sadie said. “And a bunch of my friends are planning on it this weekend. So we’ll get some good customers to provide honest input.”

Joan passed the sandwich out the window, then did a double-take. Her hand flexed.

Sadie followed her line of sight. Zee stood beneath a nearby tree, hands in their wide-leg trouser pockets.

“Really?” Joan muttered. “Today?”

“What?” Mark left the prep counter to join them. He fisted both hands. “Our pal’s making sure we’re staying on the up-and-up.”

“We should go talk to them. They could be checking to make sure everything’s up to code or whatever.”

“Or that we’re not flash-frying difficult customers,” Mark said.

“Or maybe to congratulate you,” Sadie pointed out. Those two could be so dramatic.

“I’ll watch the window,” Perry said, even though he’d pinned himself against the sinks.

“Come on.” Sadie waved for him to join them. “I’m sure Zee wants to say hi.”

He stared at the nearby panini press.