Page 20

FOURTEEN

MICKEY

Red’s had a lively atmosphere with the dinner rush in full swing. I’d just sat a couple at our only empty booth and hustled around to keep drinks topped up and orders flowing. The busyness helped me keep my mind off Amos, which was getting harder and harder with each passing day.

We now texted daily and saw each other regularly while taking over more work for the Christmas Eve Community Dinner.

If I could talk myself out of it, I would because I knew Amos wouldn’t be in town for long.

But I couldn’t ignore the giddy sensation in my gut in the hours leading up to when I’d get to see him or the smiles triggered each time his name popped up on my phone.

It made my job harder though. Gossip about Sparky’s had always been present at Red’s, and I tended to tune it out.

Now, I kept thinking people could read my thoughts or feelings for Amos on my face—as ridiculous as it sounded.

I’d never had to keep a secret like this before, and it was stressing me out.

With Amos eventually returning to Boston, the turmoil would leave with him, so I supposed that was a silver lining. Keep telling yourself that.

I returned to the counter to ring up a bill and smiled wide when I saw Jason and Bellamy sitting at the counter. A pleasant surprise.

“Hey, guys. Good to see you. In the mood for something specific?”

Bellamy smiled sheepishly. “We went grocery shopping, but we can’t be bothered to cook tonight. So, Red’s it is.”

I laughed. “I’ve done that more times than I can count. What can I get you?”

“I’ve already got burgers going for them,” Dad said over his shoulder as he worked the grill.

He usually worked early mornings through late afternoons and went home before other cooks took over for the dinner shift, but he was filling in for a sick cook tonight.

I’d expected him to be exhausted, but he was thriving on getting a whole new batch of people to talk with.

I would never understand how extroverts operated.

I lowered my voice. “Is that actually what you guys want?”

Dad considered himself a menu whisperer who always knew the most satisfying meal for someone. It was part of the kitsch of this place. To give him credit, he was often right.

Jason shot me an understanding smile. “Works for me. Your dad always delivers something delicious.”

“Me too. I could eat every meal here,” Bellamy said.

I laughed. “Kiss ass.”

He leaned in when Dad began chatting with another customer at the counter. “I’m just angling to get my own milkshake on the menu.”

My friend Ethan’s milkshake, The 27, was a special concoction of maple and peanut butter he’d always ordered as a teenager.

I laughed. Bellamy cracked me up. “You need to figure out a weird special thing to always order to have any chance.”

Bellamy nodded sagely. “Good call. I’ll figure something out.” Jason smiled indulgently at his boyfriend.

I began pouring drinks for the table I’d just sat.

“Did you guys hear about Good Morning, USA ?” Dad asked.

As expected, he’d been telling everyone about it.

Jason glanced at me before returning his attention to Dad. “I overheard someone talking about the show at the farm, but I missed what it was about. What’s going on?”

Dad squirted his special aioli over a grilled bun. “Our local miracle worker, Bo, convinced Good Morning, USA to come to town for the Christmas festival.” Dad practically bounced in his Crocs.

“No shit?” Jason looked between us. “This will be great exposure for the farm. I’ve got to tell the fam.”

I left them chatting about it while I delivered drinks.

After collecting refill requests from another table and taking an order, I returned to the counter where Jason and Bellamy had plates with burgers and steaming piles of fries in front of them.

They’d both gotten a larger-than-usual helping.

Dad always had a soft spot for my friends.

“Do you know what part of the festival the show is going to feature?” Jason asked.

“Good question. Doesn’t the festival go for a few weeks?” Bellamy lived in Burlington, but he spent a fair amount of time in town with Jason. This would be his first Holiday Hoopla.

“Yeah. Bo sent them the full schedule, and I’m sure he included a lot of commentary on what would be good to cover while they’re here. I haven’t heard what they’ve decided though,” I said while pouring sodas.

The festival kicked off next week with the Maplewood Tree Lighting Ceremony, and if they planned to come for that, surely we would hear about it soon. But what did I know? Maybe a daily show operated on shorter notice.

When I left to deliver food to a table of four, they were speculating on what events would be the best choice to highlight Maplewood. I returned a few minutes later with a fresh order and added the handwritten slip of paper to the far side of the hanging ticket holder near the grill.

“Do you think they’ll let local businesses try and show off their goods?” The question came from Marta, a middle-aged widow who came in for dinner a couple of times a week.

“Some product placement? Don’t see why not.” Dad scooped a serving of mac and cheese from the batch he’d made earlier.

Hope shone in Marta’s eyes. “I started a little business selling hand-painted signs with encouraging phrases on them. Maybe this will help me sell more.” Her eyes turned downcast. “Mom’s memory care facility is really expensive and painting is how I unwind.”

My heart ached for her. I knew the national spotlight would cause a ruckus around town and for our planning committee, but if it helped people like Marta and Aunt Ingrid, it was worth every ounce of stress. Bo would find a way to plug as many businesses as possible.

“Though some anonymous angel took care of one of her medical bills, which has made an enormous difference.”

“Glad to hear that, Marta.” Dad smiled and turned back to his grill.

There was a network of anonymous donors and do-gooders who had been doing nice things for people around town for as long as I could remember. I hoped to someday figure out who was behind it so I could help out.

By the time I returned to the counter, the conversation had shifted to brainstorming how to get Red’s some airtime when the show came to town.

The other locals sitting at the counter chimed in with ideas of getting customers to line Maple Street wearing Team Red’s shirts with R s painted on their cheeks.

They talked about reaching out to the rosters of the recreational sports teams we sponsored throughout the year to get people involved.

“You just know Sparky’s is already mobilizing. The Kiwanis Club meets there, and they’ve got a huge roster of volunteers. We need to make sure Red’s is represented so Sparky’s doesn’t get all the spotlight,” said an elder townie who’d been coming to the diner since I was a kid.

Dad turned to me with pride filling his eyes. We shared a moment, and I smiled before turning to make a couple of Mabel’s Mint Chocolate Milkshakes.

“Thank you all. Truly. It means the world to me that you care so much about Red’s and want to show your team spirit.

” Dad paused and cleared his throat. He gave his head a shake.

“It continues to amaze me how the people in this town support my family’s legacy.

I hope it continues when my boy takes over.

” Dad cupped the back of my neck and smiled warmly at me.

Dad’s words and the several sets of eyes on me triggered a shiver that raced down my spine. My stomach turned in nauseous swirls when all my brain could think about was how devastated Dad would be if he knew I didn’t want the diner, and how I needed to figure out how to keep my secret.

When did my life become so full of secrets? Secrets all connected to a feud that had lingered for generations, all because two best friends had a falling out last century.

Before Amos came back to town, I’d never been too bothered by the rivalry because it never seemed to directly impact me. I hadn’t known what I was missing all those years that I could’ve been friends with Amos in school, but now I did.

Would Sage and I become enemies like our parents? Or, when Dad retired and Sage took over for Ian and Beth Flynn, would we chart a new path?

I managed a smile for my dad, but all I could think about was Amos and how I felt like I had to hide my feelings for him like a dirty secret.