Page 1 of Stirring Up Love
CHAPTER 1
SIMONE
June
A sledgehammer would do the trick, or even a baseball bat. As much as she loved her restaurant, the dining room needed a serious design overhaul. Outdated and mismatched didn’t fit her vision for the future.
But the rickety beadboard checkout counter would have to stay for now. Even the few run-down options she’d scoped out at the antique mart down the street were priced out of reach. With a renovation out of the budget, the only tool at her disposal was a flimsy paint swatch.
“Nautical blue? Nah.” Her best friend, Chantal, used her fingertip to reveal the next set of colors. “Back in Chicago, with Lake Michigan nearby, maybe. But out here?” Her tone indicated just what she thought of the rural Illinois town. She tapped another hue on the swatch. “What you want here iscornflower blue.”
Grinning, Simone shook her head. She’d missed joking around with Chantal. And nothing could dim her pride in the town’s agriculture. Their corn fed the nation. Lake Michigan was picturesque but cold and forbidding half the time.
After seven years of self-exile among the hard lines of skyscrapers and concrete, being back among the rolling hills and groves of trees of Hawksburg was like tucking a handmade quilt around her feet on a chilly night.
Comfort. Serenity. Home.
She flipped through the swatches, then held up another to the countertop. “How about matte black? Classic but modern.” If she couldn’t demo the checkout stand, at least she could disguise the water stains and warped wood.
Chantal cocked her head to the side, her short afro—magenta this week, a change from last month’s electric blue—was a splash of color in Honey and Hickory’s dingy dining room. “I do like the black. But what about the tables?”
In unison, they turned their gaze toward the Formica-topped tables paired with red chairs, the glittered vinyl peeling off in some places to expose yellow foam underneath. Pops had purchased the seating years ago in an attempt to create a retro vibe.
Seated with her muck-covered boots up on one of the chairs in question was Meg Anderson, Simone’s sister’s best friend. She flicked her eyes up from the test she was grading. “Don’t look at me—I’m the neutral party.”
“We’re not looking at you; it’s the atrocity you’re sitting on,” Simone said.
Apart from the old diner chairs, Honey and Hickory’s decor was an unironic blend of newish and not-quite vintage. A haphazard mix of local sports-team portraits, watercolors Gran had added over the years, and sepia photos from the restaurant’s earlier life adorned the drab walls, lit by basic brass wall sconces. Not terrible, but nothing special either.
At least not on the surface. But this place was the heart of the town. The gathering space that fed farmers and lawyers, that hosted 4-H club meetings and Little League celebrations.
She’d grown up in this restaurant and cherished it with every fiber of her being.
But at twenty-five, after four years working at a downtown marketing firm, she now had enough experience to know a fresh, updated aesthetic would go a long way toward expanding the customer base and making Honey and Hickory the centerpiece of the new retail and entertainment hub she had in mind for the town’s future.
At least the bones were good, with a high tin ceiling and wall of windows overlooking Main Street. If only she had the cash flow to implement her design ideas. But redecorating was just the beginning of her plans for an enterprise she hoped would expand beyond just a restaurant.
“Sure you can’t swing for new tables?” Chantal tilted her head, finger pressed to her chin. “Because if you got some cheap ones, I could help you paint them out—”
Shaking her head, Simone set the black paint swatch on themaybepile. “You didn’t come all the way out here just to do my dirty work.”
This was the first time Chantal had made the trek from Chicago since Simone had moved home last year, and they were supposed to be spending the weekend catching up. She’d wanted to get her friend’s input, not con her into helping out.
“Sim, it’s not a big deal. I know you must be overwhelmed with trying to overhaul this place.”
“Overwhelmed” didn’t touch Simone’s baseline stress level over the past year. Owning Honey and Hickory was a dream come true but also had a steep learning curve. To go from working in the corporate world to running a small-town barbecue restaurant took a lot of pivoting.
And while the restaurant she’d inherited from her grandfather after his retirement had a loyal clientele and made a comfortable profit, between her student loans and operating costs, the large-scale renovation she dreamed of was out of reach. As was her dream to move beyond barbecue and make this town a destination. Put the spotlight on everything Hawksburg had to offer.
But today was all about achievable goals. Simone stepped through the swinging doors into the empty kitchen. The cook on shift, Brent,was tending to the smoker, cooking meat low and slow before they opened for lunch.
After passing by a long cooktop and walk-in fridge, she swung open the supply closet and pulled out the rusted dolly. She backed out, right into Chantal, who must’ve followed her in.
“What’s that for?”
“To move the checkout stand.” She steered the dolly around her friend, back out into the dining room. “Shifting it over by the soda machine will free up room for more tables eventually and make things look more spacious in the meantime.”
She tried to shove the dolly under the counter, but there was no room between it and the floor.
