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MICKEY

Despite having woken up before five this morning and spending most of the day talking to people, I was exhilarated. I practically skipped down Maple Street from my car to Red’s. I couldn’t wait to tell everyone how my day had gone.

When I entered the familiar door I’d pulled open thousands of times throughout my life, I saw Dad and Amos standing behind the ticket machine at the grill. It wasn’t busy due to the usual mid-afternoon lull.

“It still prints the paper orders?” Dad’s eyes were wide in surprise as he watched a little black machine print out tickets and Amos hung them on the ticket holder that had been there for decades.

“Exactly. When it comes to your workflow while you’re working your magic at the grill, nothing has changed. Except now there’s a record of your orders digitally so we can easily see what’s most popular and when things sell more or less, which helps with inventory and even accounting.”

Dad whistled. “Those retro covers you got for those little order-taking tablets don’t make them stick out like a sore thumb.”

Amos’s smile was smug, and Dad laughed.

“You’re such a little shit.” Dad spoke the words like he’d said, “You’re fucking brilliant.”

Some days I thought Dad loved my boyfriend more than me. They were two peas in an extremely outgoing pod. I loved it.

I slid onto an empty stool and watched my boyfriend bring Dad into the twenty-first century in a way that didn’t force Dad out of his comfort zone. Amos taking my spot as Red’s successor was the perfect solution, and everyone was thrilled about it. Even the Flynns.

There had been some moments of doubt when I’d wondered if this would put too much pressure on our new relationship, or what would happen to Red’s if things ended terribly between us.

But we’d had a lot of conversations with each other and Dad and all agreed that even if Amos and I didn’t work out—which seemed less and less likely with each day we spent together—he was still the best person to take over Red’s.

Amos knew what the diners meant to Maplewood and had a passion for it that I didn’t possess. He would keep the spirit of Red’s alive into the future. I completely trusted that. And with him at the helm, I still got to be a part of it in a way that best suited me.

Now that I was down to working part-time at Red’s, my relationship with the place and my dad had improved dramatically. I was able to focus on the parts I loved about the business without getting burned out.

“So you keep telling me,” Amos teased.

Ingrid sighed and leaned against the counter next to me. “I never thought I’d see this place upgrade to digital orders. Amos could convince a Husky it needs a winter coat.”

I laughed, which caused Amos and Dad to turn toward me.

Amos rushed around the counter to me. “How did it go? Did you sell out? Did people love your cheese?”

I stilled his questions with a quick kiss. “It went amazing. I sold out halfway through the day but stayed to talk about my cheese. People said they loved it. Thanks for your help this morning. Love you.”

“Love you too.”

I loved how his smile went all swoony whenever we exchanged those words.

My first Mystic Rind booth at the farmers’ market had been a huge success. The biggest lesson of the day was that I needed to increase production.

Amos had offered to stay with me at the market as my emotional support extrovert, but I’d declined. We’d compromised with Amos helping me set up before leaving for his shift at Red’s.

“Thank you for using your extrovert powers for good and helping me with the marketing.”

He winked. “Anytime.”

“I’m so proud of you, kiddo.” Dad’s voice cracked. “You’ve worked so hard for this.”

I walked around the counter and pulled my dad into a hug. “Thanks, Pops. The new mac and cheese on the menu has really helped. A lot of people mentioned today they wanted to try making it at home.”

A couple entered the restaurant, so Aunt Ingrid moved to greet them after giving my shoulder a squeeze. “Proud of you.”

“Thanks.” I couldn’t believe how much my life had changed for the better in the past six months. No more secrets, no more drowning under a sense of duty that I’d suffered with silently.

“Now that you’re here, we wanted to run an idea by you,” Dad said with a mischievous smile.

When Amos’s smile mirrored his, I knew trouble was coming.

“What have you two concocted?”

Dad and Amos grinned at each other.

Amos leaned toward me. “Dad and Sage won’t tell me what they have planned for the Team Red’s versus Team Sparky’s softball game next weekend, but I know they’re doing something.

We want to offer everyone who shows up to the game wearing red a coupon for a free milkshake with any entrée purchase in July. What do you think?”

I couldn’t help but laugh. Ever since the truth behind the rivalry had come out on Christmas Eve, it had become fun. Dad and Ian got to publicly tease and try to one-up each other in playful ways. Everyone was so much happier, including me.

“I think it’s a great idea. If I wear red, do I still have to buy an entrée, or do I get the milkshake for free? I am a Brewer after all.”

Dad laughed and turned to the new ticket printer when it spat out a fresh ticket. “Two burgers, coming right up!”

I hooked my finger through the belt loop of Amos’s standard-issue black uniform pants.

“I can’t believe you talked him into the new system,” I said quietly.

Amos had spent countless hours researching options over the past two months while getting to know how Dad liked to operate.

He’d assessed the situation perfectly and made the ideal recommendation.

Amos leaned into me. “He’s a smart man who knows a good thing. Just like his son.” He kissed me. “When Bethany comes in for her shift, I’ll be ready to go. We can swing by Sage’s and grab the rest of my stuff. Maybe order pizza? Sound good?”

“Pizza and unpacking sounds like the perfect end to the day.” And the perfect start to the next chapter of my life, where I got to wake up next to Amos every morning.

I couldn’t help but wonder what Red and Sparky would think of all this.

Grandpa confirmed that the falling out had happened over a disagreement on the contract clause about who would inherit their joint diner.

Both wanted it for their own kids, and they couldn’t imagine their children running it together.

Yet here was Amos Flynn, prepping to take over Red Brewer’s legacy.

Only in Maplewood.