Page 2 of Digging Up Love
But what Honey and Hickory lacked in ambiance, it made up for in flavor. Meat and potatoes, hearty and addictive, drenched in their signature smoky-sweet sauce. Which meant no one had room for dessert after filling up on Grandpa’s award-winning ribs and brisket. People stopped in for finger-lickin’ barbecue, not a sugar fix.
Wayne added a handful of chopped bacon to the heavy-bottomed pot in front of him, blue eyes obscured behind foggy glasses, another pair perched on his thinning white comb-over, a sharp contrast to Alisha’s thick black curls, which defied gravity. “And I keep tellin’ both of you: dessert is not the focus of our brand.”
Alisha mouthed the phrase along with him, and Hank caught her eye and grinned. Well, soon enough Grandpa wouldn’t have to worry abouthisbrand. She bounced on her toes, full of nerves at the prospect of sharing her dreams aloud.Soon—just a couple of hours now.
“Now, what brought you back in, Ali girl?” He shook a generous handful of salt into the pan.
Rubbing at the spot on her chest that always burned with stress after voicing her opinions, she said, “Sorry to bother you, but my battery’s dead.”
A crinkling smile overtook his frown. “It’s no bother. Matter of fact, it’ll save me from sittin’ through another one of Hank’s tall tales.” He chuffed his friend on the shoulder, dislodging the glasses perched atop his head in the process. Alisha grabbed for them so they wouldn’t hit the floor, then slid the frames into her purse for when evening rolled around and his other pair went missing. She snagged his ancient bomber jacket off a hook and passed it to him before tromping back out into the cold.
“You know, you oughta get rid of that hunk a junk.” He popped the hood on his brown Suburban while she fetched the cables. “I don’t like the idea of you driving around in somethin’ so unreliable. ’Specially in the winter.” He sucked breath through his teeth, shooting her a scowl.
“You’re one to talk, Grandpa.” She lifted her brows at his rust bucket. “And I drive all of twenty miles a week, if that.” Other than occasional trips to Chicago to visit Simone and weekly excursions with Granny to stock up at Walmart, life in the one-stoplight town of Hawksburg didn’t require much time behind the wheel. “My car should be fine for another year or two.”
Though she hadn’t told him where her savings were going, Grandpa approved of her thriftiness. Or had in the past. What had changed?
“But if you’re so worried, you could always give me a raise.” She winked at him, but instead of the chuckle she expected, he rubbed the stubble on his chin, leaning back against the mismatched door of his Chevy.
“I wasn’t gonna tell you this yet, baby girl. But a raise might be comin’ your way.”
She cocked her head. “Grandpa, I was kidding. You pay me plenty. Plus room and board.” She forced a laugh at their old joke.
Wayne waved her off. “I know we pay you well. Fair,” he amended with a sniff. “But I was thinkin’ more in the way of a new title and a raise to match. What you said in there about the treats ... I know I been a stick in the mud about it, but what if I gave you more freedom with the dessert case?” He spat into a patch of gritty slush in the gravel. “Loosen up the reins, so to speak.”
Her grandpa crossed his arms, the cracked leather of his coat squeaking with the motion. “Whaddya say to head pastry chef?”
She barked out a laugh, but Grandpa didn’t join in. “Wait, you’re serious?”
Head pastry chef?Head of whom? Besides herself and Hank, the crew consisted of a few part-time cooks and a revolving door of dishwashers. She spent most of her time at the stove stirring barbecue sauce, not crème anglaise.
What did she say to a promotion in name only?
How about “Thanks, but no thanks”? No way, no how would she put down roots in the boonies of western Illinois. Never mind she’d already spent over half her life here.
Alisha’s eyes flicked to the passenger seat of her car, where commercial real estate printouts and apartment listings lay on full display. She’d planned to tell her grandparents about her business plan tonight. Okay, so originally she’d circled a date back in December, but the frenzy of the holidays had taken over. And last month she’d gathered her courage to speak up, but then a cook quit and the timing felt off.
Point being, tonight was the night. No more hesitation. Pick a path, and leap.
After all, she’d set these plans in motion years ago. Now Grandpa tossed head pastry chef toward her like a half-gnawed bone in front ofa kennel gate. One bite and she’d find herself locked inside without a key. Her freedom in sight, obligations now yanked her back once more on a tight leash.
She’d focused most of her energy on looking out for Granny, but maybe Grandpa needed her more than he let on. She tugged aside the lapel of her jacket to run a finger under the collar of her black Honey and Hickory tee, searching his face for a sign.
But he just squinted at her. “Don’t look so opposed, Ali. It’s pretty much what you’ve been doing, just more of it. I know you can handle it.”
Of course she could handle it! Anyone with a brain in their head could run a restaurant they’d worked at since they were old enough to bus a table. A restaurant where the menu was a twentieth-century relic. Choice of meat on a toasted roll. Shells and cheese. Shoestring fries. Apple pie à la mode, and brownies, also à la mode, courtesy of a big plop of store-bought ice cream. Bottled chocolate syrup on request. The creativity and innovation she’d worked hard to cultivate after college in pastry school didn’t do her a lick of good here.
A shadow passed across her grandfather’s face, pinching his nostrils and tightening his lips. Alisha dropped her hand from her collar and shoved it in her pocket. She’d never once let her grandparents down and wasn’t about to start now. Of course she’d say yes.
Slowing her breathing into a calming rhythm, she forced herself to find the positives ...
More money in her pocket.
A chance for better fixtures and equipment in her bakery.
She’d play along for a season, sleuthing out what had brought on this change. If it turned out Grandpa needed her here, well, then good thing she hadn’t spoken up tonight. And if not, at least she could leave town knowing she’d upped the dessert game at Honey and Hickory.
“When do I start?”
