Riversong (18 page)

After she was done Ellen knitted her brows. “Where will you get a cook?”

Lee sat on the edge of the table. “I met a professionally trained chef the other day. Matter of fact, she prompted the entire concept for the restaurant. I hope my instinct about her is right.” Lee shuffled the papers on the table.

“Where are you going to get the customers?”

Lee laughed. “I forgot to tell you that part. I'm using my instincts here, which I hope to God are right, but I think it will be a combination of tourists, retirees with disposable income, professionals like teachers, our doctor, the dentists, and people celebrating special occasions.”

Ellen nodded her head, pursing her lips. “That sounds right. Anniversaries, stuff like that?”

“Exactly.”

“Yeah, and the bridge ladies.”

“What's a bridge lady?”

“There's these ladies around town here, most of ‘em widows, play bridge three or four times a week. They've got money and time. They're always talking about how they wish there was a decent place to eat here in town.”

Lee bit into a cinnamon roll. “This is good. It's kind of flaky like a croissant. We could sell these at the restaurant.”

Ellen flushed and waved her hand in the air. “I'm too old to make my baking a business. I like to bake for friends. But, I'm interested in this idea you have about local produce. I could help you find some local farmers and such.”

Lee clapped her hands. “Perfect. Y'know, there's a whole ‘eat locally’ trend across the country.”

Ellen chuckled and said “I know there are some local farms in the area that would love to grow for a restaurant like this.” She nodded her head. “I think this is a hell of an idea. I'm proud of you.”

“Really?”

“You bet. Now listen, I found a little something for the baby while I was out yesterday.” She pulled something from a plastic shopping bag next to the basket and handed it to Lee.

It was a yellow onesie with a duck on the front and matching socks that seemed no bigger than her thumb. “Ellen, this is so sweet.” She fingered the socks and then held them to her cheek. “Will the baby really be this small?”

“Only for what will seem about two days. They're grown before you know it.”

Lee had the urge to hug her suddenly but instead put the gift back in the bag. “This is nice. Thank you.” Feeling awkward, she backed towards the door. “I should get dressed.” She looked at the clock. “It's four in the afternoon!”

Ellen thumped the side of her head. “Shoot, I almost forgot the whole reason I came over here. I hired you a handyman.”

Lee stared at her. “What?”

“He's more of a carpenter I guess. Anyway, he's coming by this afternoon at five.” Lee opened her mouth to say no but Ellen put up her hand. “I won't take no for an answer. You're never gonna get this place finished at the rate you're working.”

“I can't pay for it.”

She waved her hand in the air. “Don't worry about that. You gotta learn to accept help. Otherwise you'll turn out like me, old and lonely.”

“But it's so expensive.”

“Pay me back when you sell the house.” Ellen walked toward the door. “I need to run. I'm picking up some plants at the nursery. It's supposed to rain this afternoon.”

The handyman came at five minutes after five. He had long gray hair in a pony tail, shorts, and Birkenstocks with socks. “Hey, how's it goin'?” His voice was mellow. “I'm early. I hope that's cool.”

Lee looked at her watch. “I have five after.”

“Really? Weird.” He elongated the words, swinging his pony tail and lifting his arms above his head. He stretched his torso into a half backbend and the stench of his underarms mixed with the smell of patchouli made Lee feel light headed. He popped upright and closed his eyes for a few seconds. “Wow. Stressful day. Yeah, man, I'm working for this lady in town. She's so uptight. I mean, really uptight.”

Lee gestured for him to come in and showed him around the house. They discussed a plan which included painting, refinishing the floors, repairing the stairwell, getting rid of the rest of the junk and rebuilding the porch. “I don't know what Ellen discussed with you regarding how much this might cost?”

“She's cool. I've known her for a long time and told her I'd do the whole thing for five grand plus material. All together I think we can get it done for ten grand.”

“Really? The floors too?”

“If you don't mind laminate instead of real wood.”

“I guess.” Lee wrinkled her brow. “I'm repairing this house in order to sell it, so it's important the job is professional.”

“This is a cool house, man, and I'll get her humming again.” He stroked the wood of the stairwell. “You have to respect the materials, you know, merge the past and the present into something beautiful.” He pulled the ponytail holder from his hair, shaking his long gray tresses. “You mind if I do some yoga on your grass here before I go, clear my head for the drive home?”

“I guess.”

And right there in her yard he took off his shirt and began the yoga practice of salutation to the sun.

Lee closed the door, resting her forehead on it for a moment, trying not to laugh out loud. At least she wasn't bored, she thought. She had the urge to call Tommy and tell him that for such a small town, there was an endless supply of interesting people. He'd agree. She knew that for sure.

M
ike marched through the front door of the restaurant, threw his hat on the table and gripped Lee's hand in a firm handshake. “Good to see you, young lady.” He plopped in a seat and thrust his hands behind his head. “Been looking forward to this all week.” Dust floated in the streaks of sunlight that streamed through the grimy restaurant windows. He sniffed the air and shook his head. “This place always smells of old grease. Makes me think of nothing but big bottomed women, and I don't mean the good kind. Sure hope your plan doesn't include a deep fryer.”

Lee squared her shoulders. “We keep the deep fryer and I'll tell you why.”

He crossed his legs and leaned back in his seat. “I'm all ears.”

Using the presentation software on her laptop, she ran through the concept of the restaurant. After the fourth slide she glanced nervously at his face, hoping to discern his reaction. His face was impassive but attentive. She swallowed her nervousness and continued. She explained the numbers on the spreadsheet next, how she came to them and why she believed they could make money. “As you know, margins on alcohol are fifty percent at least and when people drink they want bar food.” Mike pulled on his ear and he leaned forward a few inches. “This will bring in another type of diner, one that won't want to spend money on a full dinner but are willing to pay for appetizers and drinks.”

Next she pulled a sheet from the concept board and propped it against the table. It was complete with her sketches of the dining room and bar, fabric and paint samples, ideas for the furniture, pictures of glassware, silverware and the linens she would choose. She concluded with the budget, the hiring plan and projected profits for the first year.

With his ring finger, Mike moved the financial projections in little circles on the table. He stared at the board. Lee could see the machinations of his brain, calculating and surmising but was uncertain of his conclusion. He crossed his left foot over his knee and gripped the top of his boot with his right hand. “Your work is impressive. You've got class little lady, but it might be too fancy for the folks here.”

“I've done the research and the demographic supports the idea. Think about it, rich retirees, professionals, special occasion customers, and tourists for the dining room. A young local crowd for the bar.” Lee sat down across from him and pointed at one of the lines on the spreadsheet. “All we need is some good press, a product that delivers and people will flood in here. There's nothing else like this. Give them something they didn't even know they wanted. That's business.”

He tipped back in his chair. “I don't know about the artsy-fartsy stuff.”

“The revolving art attracts a certain clientele. It's all part of the package. I'm right about this.” She raised her eyebrows in a tease. “Just ‘cause you don't go for that kind of thing.”

“I'm more a golf and fishing guy myself.” He smiled and tipped back in his chair. “You can't charge big city prices. Is that factored in?”

“Of course.”

He picked up the spreadsheet again. “This is a hell of a lot of money you want from me.” He put down the paper, crossing his arms and scrutinizing her. “I hope you know what you're doing.”

“I know business. It's black and white, dollars and cents, do this, do that, this happens. It's the other stuff in life I have trouble with.”

He glanced at the door of the kitchen as if Zac were there. “Yeah. Me too.”

Lee took a deep breath. “I'll open the place for you and help you determine who you want to run it after I'm gone.”

His eyes were still on the kitchen door. “Guess it can't be Zac.”

“I would highly recommend you find someone else.”

He glanced out the front window for a moment and sighed. “This consultant thing, it lacks commitment.”

She waved her hand as if to ward off evil spirits. “I can't stay here. I'm fixing up the house and I'll be gone as quick as I can sell it.”

“You have a place to go?”

“Not exactly.”

“Tell you what, you commit to this for real. Stay in town for awhile, come work for me as the manager of this place and I'll fund the whole idea hook line and sinker.”

She drummed her fingers on the table, calculating numbers in her head – the house sale, plus a salary, plus a bonus if they were profitable after a year. It might be enough to pay off DeAngelo. She wrote a number on a scrap of paper and pushed it over to him. “If I were to commit, I need this salary and a lump sum bonus at the end of twelve months if we make the profits I projected in my spreadsheet.”

He slapped his hand on the table and grinned. “Shoot, you're a fast thinker.” He leaned back in his chair, his eyes gleaming. “But so am I. I agree to the salary but not the lump sum. I'll split the profits with you 50/50 but you have to come on as a partner.”

“Why would you do that?”

“Because if you own part of something, you'll work harder. That's just human nature.”

She fluffed the front of her blouse to cool her damp torso. “I'm pregnant.”

He raised his eyebrows and stared at her for a moment. “Well, I had no idea. Congratulations.”

“I didn't know until after my husband died.” She paused and took a breath. “My husband committed suicide over a bad business deal. You still want me as a partner?” She tried to sound light hearted but the words came out a croak.

He shrugged, smiling at her. “Call it an old man's eccentricities, but I have a feeling about you. You're a scrapper and a fighter. I want a girl like that on my team.”

“I can't pay the doctor bills for this baby with what I'm making now. I want health insurance for me and everyone on the staff. Starbucks style.”

“Starbucks style?”

“Benefits for part-time workers. Anyone over 20 hours, we kick in for a portion.”

“Done,” he said.

“You've got yourself a deal.” She reached to shake his hand but he moved around the table and squeezed her in a bear hug. He pulled back and looked in her eyes. “You know, a baby's a blessing no matter when they arrive.” He let go of her, glancing at his watch. “I'll talk to my attorney and get something formal put together.”

Lee clasped her hands together, smiling. “What have I done?”

Mike re-tucked his dress shirt into his jeans. “Commitment. Highly underrated these days.”

“Can you ask Zac to clear his stuff out of the office?” she said. “It's a bit awkward for me to talk to him about it.”

“That's fair.” He reached into his pants pocket and pulled out a huge set of keys, slipping two from the ring. “Here's the keys. One for the back door and one for the office.” He collected his papers and put on his hat. “Only one thing. Now we're partners, you've got to find something legit for Zac to do.”

After Mike left she walked back to the manager's office, using her key to open the door. It was in its usual state of disarray. She looked through the piles of papers on the desk until she found the fairy diary with Zac's notes. She dropped it in her purse and crossed the street to Ray's Accounting and Taxes. Ray was in his usual place at the computer, smiling when he saw her. She sat in the visitor's chair and told him her plans for the restaurant. “Wanted to thank you for introducing me to him.”

“Oh, that was my pleasure,” he said.

“We'll continue to need your help with the books and taxes once we're open for business.”

He smiled, crossing his arms over his chest. “That'd be just super.”

“Maybe we'll have some profit to report by the end of the year.”

“I believe you will, Lee. I surely do.”

She reached for her bag. “Actually, I came by to ask a favor. Could I use your copy machine?”

“Why sure.”

She pulled the fairy diary out of her purse. “Just a little tidying up to do before I take over Zac's office.”