by Lisa Jordan
“Isabella...” He tipped up her chin and looked at her with knitted brows.
She tried to look away, but his gentle but firm touch kept her focused on him. Tears filled her eyes, and leaked down her cheeks.
Dad pulled her to his chest, wrapping her in a bear-size, comforting hug that always offered security.
Unable to hold back any longer, her shoulders shook as her sobs soaked the front of his black Joe’s All-Star Diner T-shirt. He kept her folded into his embrace and pressed a cheek against the top of her head. Then he pulled back and thumbed away her tears. “Tell me who I have to hurt.”
She smiled, then told him about the wedding disaster that led to her humiliating firing and her conversation with Jeanne about the true cause of the bridesmaid’s allergic reaction.
Dad handed her a clean towel, and she dried her cheeks, then covered her face a moment before taking a deep breath and looking at him. “So, you see—this was a blessing in disguise. If I hadn’t gotten fired, then I wouldn’t have come home and found you.”
“And I’m grateful. I’m just sorry this happened to you. But don’t let this Justin jerk tear you down. You’re a great chef, Bells, and you deserve to work in a kitchen that appreciates your talents.”
Isabella scoffed and resisted rolling her eyes. “Yeah, well, getting fired from a kitchen like the Briarwood tends to tarnish one’s résumé, especially over a contamination issue. The frustrating part is, I know that pastry kitchen was safe. I made sure of it, but because one of the bridesmaids had a life-threatening reaction, somebody’s head had to roll.”
“I’m sorry she ended up in the hospital—I remember the first time you reacted to eating shrimp when you were five—but once they learned it wasn’t your fault, Justin should’ve offered your job back.”
“He had to save face. But I don’t want to think about that right now. Let’s talk about how we’re going to turn the diner around.”
She moved to the swinging door separating the kitchen from the dining area and took in the faded, worn booths, flat beige walls and wood paneling. She turned back to her father. “Hey, Dad, what if we updated? I mean, the food is great and all, but the decor hasn’t changed since you bought the place when I was five. Maybe even add some new dishes to the menu. You’ll be closed next week for your annual fishing trip, so I could spruce things up a bit.”
He shook his head. “I can barely make payroll as it is. There’s no extra money for updates. And with this loan past d—”
As if realizing what he’d just spilled, Dad clamped his jaw shut and turned back to the prep station.
She frowned. “What loan?”
“Nothing. Forget it.”
“Let me help...as your business partner.”
Raising an eyebrow, Dad gave her a pointed look. “My diner, my problem.”
His constant use of “my” grated on her nerves. And stung just a little. When would he see her as more than his daughter—as someone who wanted to work alongside him?
“You’re a prideful, stubborn man who is going to lose this place because you’re not willing to accept help. What happened to this being our diner?”
“You’re destined for greater kitchens than this greasy spoon.” The resigned tone in his voice deflated her frustration.
Isabella drew in a breath and schooled her tone. She rested a hand on his arm. “Dad, I learned to cook by your side. You worked hard to put me through culinary school, so I’m blessed not to have student loans like many of my friends. I have money saved, so let me help.”
“No!” Dad slammed his hand on the flat surface of the prep sink, causing her to jump. “For the last time, this is my problem, and I will take care of it. Do you hear me?”
Tears filled her eyes again, but she blinked them back and steeled her spine. “No. We are a team. From the time Mom walked out, it’s been you and me against the world. I could always count on you to have my back. If I hadn’t come home last night, I could have lost you. So don’t you tell me this is your problem.” She wagged a finger between them. “This is our problem, and I’m going to help you save our diner whether you like it or not.”
“And how do you plan to do that?”
“Let me update the place. Use social media to do some advertising. Expand our reach.”
“It’s a lot of change.”
“If we don’t change, we’re not going to survive.”
Dad looked at her a moment, then scrubbed his hands over his face, appearing a decade or two older than his fifty-five years. “Maybe you’re right—maybe I should take it easy. I’m getting a headache. I’m going upstairs to stretch out for a bit.”
“Dad...”
Without looking at her, he shuffled past, shoulders burdened and head down. The stairs outside the kitchen door creaked as he took them one at a time. A moment later, his footsteps sounded overhead, then stopped as she imagined him stretching out in his worn recliner in front of his TV.
Leaning against the prep sink, Isabella buried her face in her hands. Dad couldn’t lose the diner. He just couldn’t. He’d age faster than his years of overworking and shouldering responsibilities by himself. She could use her savings to invest in the diner, update the interior and do whatever else she could to help turn business around. And put something toward his past-due balance...at least to bring the note current.
But would it be enough?
Problem was, she couldn’t do it on her own, and after being away from home for so long, she didn’t know whom she could call on to help.
She’d figure it out this weekend, put a plan in place, then be ready to reopen when her dad returned from his trip. Then she’d prove her value, and he wouldn’t have any choice but to bring her in as his partner.
* * *
Tucker didn’t feel like a hero.
Saving lives was just what he did.
At least for now.
But when the charity his late wife had started needed to raise money, he had to step up. No matter how he felt about the unwanted attention he received.
Now every year on the anniversary of his late wife’s death, the Holland Family Farm was transformed into a community event that welcomed visitors from the tristate area. And no one seemed to mind the scents wafting off the pastures.
A warm October breeze carrying the scents of the farm stirred dried, crunchy leaves across the empty fields. The hillside patched with scarlet, gold and orange tagged the blue sky.
Due to his future sister-in-law’s vision over the summer, one of their empty barns had been scoured from top to bottom, repaired and restored to be used for social events. According to Tori, barns were big venue items.
Vendors selling baked goods, craft items and T-shirts and community resource programs lined both sides of the barn.
A long line formed in front of Joe Bradley’s food tent. The scent of roasting chickens and smoked pork lingered in the air. Children’s laughter and squeals could be heard from the small animal-petting area Dad and Claudia had set up.
Someone clamped a hand on his shoulder, and Tucker turned to find his older brother, Jake, standing behind him, wearing a navy Holland Family Farms Fatigues to Farming T-shirt from last month’s fund-raiser for their new program to help veterans with disabilities find hope. Holding one of Joe Bradley’s pulled pork sandwiches, the sweet and tangy scent of the barbecued meat permeating the wax paper, Jake nodded. “Hey, man. How’s it going?”
Tucker lifted a shoulder. “They’re raising plenty of money.”
“When’s it your turn?”
“Soon. They just finished auctioning off the city police department’s baskets. The ambulance service is up next. I know this was Rayne’s baby, but man, I hate being on display.”
“But today’s not about you. Sometimes you just gotta suck it up even when you don’t like it.”
“Oh, I know.”
“Yeah, brother, you do. At least you have a good day to stand like a cow at auction.” Jake elbowed him in the ribs.
“Thanks, dude, that makes all of this so much better.”
“Just messin’ with you, bro. You never know—you may end up winning over the girl of your dreams with your basket.”
He shot his brother a look. “I had my happily-ever-after already, remember?”
“Dude, where did you get that lame idea? Tori and I reunited. Dad and Claudia found love again. You can, too.”
“No one can compare to Rayne.”
“She was one of a kind, but that doesn’t mean you’re sentenced to spend the rest of your life alone. Only God knows what your future holds.” Jake took a bite of his sandwich, then offered it to Tucker, who shook his head. “I have to get back inside the barn to our fund-raising booth, so Tori can bring Livie and Landon over when it’s your turn. I just wanted to check in and see how you’re doing.”
“I’m fine.”
Fine was subjective.
At least he had a plan B in place so he wouldn’t be humiliated once the auctioneer started the bidding. He’d slipped Tori, Jake’s fiancée, some money and asked her to bid on Landon’s and Livie’s behalf. That way, he could enjoy his kids’ company without having to make awkward small talk.
Even though his late wife had started the Dinner with a Hero basket auction as a joke, no one had been laughing when they counted the generous proceeds afterward. Then the event became an annual thing to raise money for needy families in the community.
And Tucker never expected to be a recipient of the program.
So, of course, he needed to be there dressed in a pressed uniform with a smile pasted in place.
Captain Franco, his operations supervisor, turned and nodded to him, his cue to head onstage. “Next up, we have Tucker Holland, paramedic with the Shelby Lake ambulance service, widower and single father to Olivia and Landon. He owns Holland Family Farms with his father and three brothers. He’s received numerous commendations for his quick thinking and lifesaving skills, and if that’s not enough to whet your appetite, he’s one of our very own hometown heroes, serving in the National Guard for the past twelve years. Who will start the bidding at twenty-five dollars?”
Numbered auction paddles flew in the air, causing the auctioneer to increase dollar amounts at a rapid rate.
Tucker couldn’t believe it.
“Do I hear one twenty-five? One hundred and twenty going once...going twice—”
“Two hundred dollars.” A familiar female voice sounded from the back.
Gasps punctuated the air as Tucker scanned the crowd for the winning bidder.
Bella Bradley leaned against the corner of the barn with her paddle still in the air.
“Sold to the lovely Isabella Bradley for two hundred dollars. Enjoy your dinner, you two.” Franco pounded a gavel against his portable podium.
Tucker reached for his picnic basket and made his way off the platform amid whistles and catcalls. The tips of his ears burned.
As he walked across the freshly cut field, he forced his steps to slow to a leisurely pace despite the desire to sprint across the grass. His stomach turned over as Bella lowered her paddle and raised her sunglasses to the top of her head to watch him with those honey-gold eyes.
Taking advantage of the unseasonably warm mid-October afternoon, Bella had dressed in a short-sleeved red Joe’s All-Star Diner T-shirt, fitted jeans and tan ankle boots. Sunshine haloed her hair, stripping the dark brown to a light caramel.
She gave him a three-fingered wave as he approached.
He swept into a low bow and rolled his hand toward her. “Ma’am, your dinner companion awaits.”
She laughed, a sound that zinged through him as she jerked on his elbow. “Come on. Let’s see what gourmet fare my hero is offering for two hundred bucks.”
Tucker straightened and lifted the basket. “I promise you will not be disappointed.”
Her gaze swept over the basket, then caught his eyes and lifted her chin. “Oh, I have no doubt.”
He raised an eyebrow and bit down on a grin as her cheeks darkened. “Two hundred bucks? Seriously?”
“It’s worth every penny, especially after what you did to save my dad’s life. This is my way of saying thank you. Where do you want to go?”
“You choose. After all, it’s your dinner.”
Shielding her eyes, she pointed to sturdy oak losing most of its leaves. “How about under that oak? We’ll have a little more privacy.”
They crossed the field, leaving behind the noise of the crowds, blaring music from a local band playing a mix of music, and the auctioneer’s rattle.
Tucker opened the picnic basket he’d borrowed from Claudia, pulled out a lightweight blue-and-green-plaid blanket, and spread it under the weighty branches.
Bella sat and braced herself on her arm as she peered into the open basket. She drew in a deep breath and exhaled, smiling. “Something smells great.”
“Pork from the farm. Dad smoked it and then I shredded it and added spices and lime juice for carnitas tacos. We have corn or flour tortillas, lettuce, tomatoes, onions, cheese, avocado, and homemade salsa. And for dessert, some of Claudia’s prize-winning apple crisp made with apples from our orchards. Not quite Mexican, but it’s still great.”
She rubbed her hands together. “My personal taco bar. Looks like I chose the right hero.”
Tucker shook his head as he laid out the food. “I’m just an ordinary guy doing what needs to be done.”
“Humble, too.”
Desperate to change the subject and to douse his flaming ears, Tucker handed her a plate and waved for her to dig in.
“Everything looks so good.” Bella spooned meat onto a hard corn shell and added toppings. She took her first bite, and sauce dripped through her fingers. “My former landlady was a widow from Mexico—Maria Flores Sanchez. She taught me how to make authentic Mexican cuisine, then Jeanne, my roommate, and I would attend church, then spend the afternoon hanging out with Maria’s family.”
“Speaking of family, how’s your dad doing?” Tucker glanced over to the activity near the basket auction. “He’s been pretty busy today.”
The playful light in Bella’s eyes dimmed as she set her half-eaten taco on her plate. “He’s overdoing it as usual.”
Tucker sipped from his water bottle. “What’s going on?”
“The diner’s in trouble—Dad accidentally let it slip about some loan being past due. He’s going on his annual fishing trip next week, and since the diner’s going to be closed, I’m going to repaint and update the dining room.”
“How’d Joe take that?”
“He said he didn’t have the money, and he had a fit when I offered to use my savings.”
“So, what are you going to do?”
“I’m going to do it and prove to him I’m worth being his partner by helping to turn the business around.”
“By yourself?”
“Yes. I don’t have any other options. Dad’s servers are taking vacation at the same time. I’ve been gone for so long that you’re the only one I know.”
“Man, Bella, I wish I could give you a hand, especially since I owe your dad—”
She cut him off with a wave of her hand. “Dude, I wasn’t asking, okay? And you don’t owe my dad anything.”
“He paid for my paramedic training and wouldn’t let me pay him back.”
“My dad likes you.”
“And I like him. Which is why I’d love to help. Right now, though, I have to find a new nanny.”
“What happened?”
Tucker explained about Mandy’s broken engagement and abrupt resignation. “Landon and Livie’s Aunt Willow is moving back to Shelby Lake in a few weeks, so I just need to find someone for the short term. Dad and
Claudia are my last resort. She’s finally convinced my dad to leave the farm and do some traveling, and I don’t want them to feel obligated to shelve their plans to care for my kids.”
“When do you work?”
“Sunday evenings at seven until Tuesdays around noon. That gives me the forty hours I need and allows me to spend as much time as possible with the kids.”
“Sounds exhausting.”
“When we’re not out on a call, I can grab a nap at the station, catch up on paperwork or do homework.” Tucker scraped a hand across his chin as an idea dawned on him. “How are you with children?”
Bella uncapped her water bottle and eyed him. “Why?”
“Well, you need help updating the diner in a week, and I need a temporary nanny for a couple of weeks. Maybe we can help each other out.”
She dropped her gaze to her plate as she swirled a broken piece of her taco shell through his homemade salsa. “Oh, Tucker, I don’t know. I mean, I love kids and you can trust me, but I have very little experience with them. I didn’t even babysit in high school. You don’t know what you’re asking.”
“I won’t pressure you, but I do know I can trust you.”
“What would you want me to do?”
“Basically, entertain them for a bit and help them get ready for bed. Then, in the morning, feed them and send them off to school.”
“Seems easy enough.”
Tucker smothered a laugh. No sense in discouraging her from the beginning. “Is that a yes?”
She released a sigh and nodded. “Sure, Tuck. I’ll help you out.”
He closed his eyes a moment as relief flooded through him. He fought back the urge to pull her into a hug. “Bella, you just made me the happiest man on the planet. I really appreciate it, and I’ll help you whip the diner into shape. How about coming tomorrow after church to meet them? If you don’t feel comfortable starting right away, then I’ll ask Dad to keep them.”
“I’ll bring lunch, and we can talk more about what you want me to do, then I’ll share my plans for the diner.”