Page 14 of Pretty Desperate (Pine Village #6)

That seems to make Dorothy happy, because she preens like a peacock at such flattery.

“Well, I have plenty of experiences and successes, much like you two will by the time you reach my age. But with each success there was a failure along the way too. You can’t have one without the other, and while it’s nice to listen to those around you, don’t forget, opinions are like assholes. Everyone has one.”

I’m barely able to keep my shock off my face, as Jilian seems to choke on air. I reach over and gently pat her back as she sputters and coughs. “Here,” I murmur, barely keeping my laughter at bay, as I hand Jillian her glass of water.

“Thank you,” she whispers, taking small sips as she regains her composure. I can tell she’s trying to hide her own smile.

Just then, Della delivers our salad and soups to the table. She also tops off our waters before asking, “Can I get you anything else?”

When everyone agrees we’re set for now, I say, “We’re good, Della. Thank you.”

She turns and walks away, stopping by another table to check on them. I want to glance around the room, to see who is dining this evening, but I don’t. I keep my focus on my own table, on the two women I’m sharing a meal with.

“This smells amazing,” Dorothy announces, leaning in and taking a whiff of her clam chowder. “Let’s eat.”

“I tell you, Kameron, every time I eat here, the food is simply marvelous,” Dorothy announces, leaning back in her seat as she places her used napkin on the table.

“I’m glad you enjoyed it.” And I am. Watching a customer appreciate the food we prepared is one of life’s greatest joys.

“And I have plenty of leftovers for tomorrow,” she adds with a wink.

Chuckling, I reply, “Sometimes food is even better the second time around.”

“Well, they’re not quite as good as fresh, unless we’re talking about pizza. Cold, leftover pizza. It’s almost better than hot, am I right?” Dorothy asks, giving her attention to Jillian.

“You’re very right,” the woman to my left confirms. “Especially when the diner does their thin crust pizza. It’s the best the next day.”

Dorothy smiles. “I couldn’t agree with you more. Now that we’ve enjoyed our meal, let’s get down to business. I’m sure Kameron needs to get back to work at some point.”

I worked the lunch hour, so even though I’m not expected back in the kitchen, I’ll use the rest of my evening to catch up on office work before helping close. “I have plenty of time,” I assure her.

“Well, still. I’m an old lady, and my bedtime is much sooner than yours,” she announces with a pleasant smile. “Tell me your plan.”

I pull out my phone and tap on the plans I had drawn up. “These measurements are taken from an old appraisal the county had on file,” I tell her as I slip my phone across the table.

Dorothy looks down at the drawing, which includes both my current building and the one I hope to purchase from her. I can tell she’s studying the rendering, but I can’t tell what she’s thinking.

Leaning over the table, I point to the space between the buildings. “I want to open up the wall here. I picture a large arched entryway, keeping the exposed brick look. I appreciate the old, warm feel it provides, giving ode to the building itself and the history it possesses.”

She nods, not even looking down at the rendering. “What else?”

“The back of your building would be opened up to create a bigger kitchen. Some of your existing storage space can still be used, but the biggest transformation would be the kitchen area. I’ve started to secure quotes from different vendors.

Kitchen equipment and the construction remodel costs will be the biggest expenses.

Plumbing and heating and electrical, not to mention the additional tables and chairs needed. ”

Dorothy smiles in agreement and turns to Jillian. “And where will your influence be, dear?”

Jillian seems surprised by the question. “My influence?”

“Yes. I understand this is Kameron’s business, but a man always includes the woman he loves in his decision-making process.”

Jillian glances my way, her eyes hinting at the uneasiness she feels.

I also notice her foot starts to tap on the floor as she leans toward Dorothy a bit and glances down at the phone screen.

“Well, I personally love the open brick look. The high ceilings with the exposed rafters bring a sort of old-style feel. Like you’re dining in one of the best restaurants in the twenties or thirties,” she says.

“But I don’t think it feels industrial. In fact, splashes of color will bring the atmosphere to life. ”

“What sort of life?” Dorothy asks, hanging on Jillian’s every word.

“Well, flowers, for one. Real flowers. And not the simple carnations you see at other restaurants. Beautiful, elegant roses, lilies, peonies, and hydrangeas. Splashes of reds, pinks, blues, and whites will complement the overall vibe Kameron is going for, without making it look overdone.”

“I love that,” Dorothy coos. “Hydrangeas are some of my favorite flowers.”

“Me too,” Jillian confesses. “I once saw a bouquet of pink peonies with purple and white hydrangeas, and it was the most stunning vase of flowers I’ve ever seen.”

“Oh, that sounds lovely,” Dorothy agrees, leaning in and continuing her conversation with Jillian.

All I can do is sit back and watch.

“Lighting. Low lighting is essential, but I think he can get away from these classic overhead lights. There are so many pendant lighting options out there that would bathe the tables in essential lighting. Maybe a gold fixture that’s open around the bulb.

It would match the ambiance with the open brick and wood floors. ”

“Yes, new lighting, and if you could keep the original hardwood floors, that would be divine!” she proclaims with a clap.

“My Louie redid those floors back when we purchased the building. They’re a bit dirty, but still in excellent shape.

I’m sure with a little elbow grease and some sanding, you could have them good as new in no time. ”

“Maybe stained a dark color, to match the open rafters,” Jillian agrees, sipping her water.

“Oh, I love that. It would be dark, but with the ample natural light from the windows and the gold fixtures you suggested, it would all tie in beautifully. Don’t you think, Kameron?”

The smile on my lips is easy, light, and natural. “I do.”

“Then, it’s settled,” Dorothy announces, causing my breath to catch. “Kameron, I’d love to sell my building to you and Jillian.”

My heart stops beating. It literally just stops in my chest, refusing to pump blood through my veins. “Excuse me?”

“This vision is both of yours, correct?”

Jillian and I both just sit here, staring at each other like a deer in the headlights.

I have no idea what to do or say, no idea how to stop this freight train from running off the tracks, because that’s how this moment feels.

Like all I can do is stand back and watch the destruction unfold around me.

“You two make a beautiful couple, and I think this place will be just as lovely with your combined expertise.”

“Oh, but, Mrs. Krokus, I don’t have any expertise here. This is Kameron’s restaurant. I have my own bakery, and that’s where my focus is.”

She reaches over and pats Jillian’s hand.

“Your expertise is being right by your man’s side.

He may not put your name down on the mortgage papers, but I have no doubt you will take your rightful position beside him through not only this expansion endeavor, but the beautiful journey through life as well. ” She pauses and smiles at me.

“I will sell to you,” she announces confidently, “because what you and Jillian represent is just what this building needs. Life, love, and family. Thank you for continuing the legacy my Louie started.”

My throat is tight. “Thank you, Mrs. Krokus.”

I almost call the whole thing off.

“You’re most welcome, Kameron. Now, what do you have on your menu for dessert?”