South Main and Gentry

by A. D. Ellis

  “My grandmother lived here. I visited her every summer before she passed away. I’m living in her old house now, and I’m opening a new coffee and sandwich shop in the old antique store building.”

  Mitch nodded. He looked neither impressed nor scornful. “Good location. We could use a decent coffee shop. Here we serve a nice strong cup of joe, but nothing fancy.” He gestured toward the diner counter, “I know some of my neighbors will be excited about frou-frou lattes and cappuccino.”

  I entered pitch mode. “Oh, Gentry’s Java and Sandwich Shop has a lot more than just, as you say, frou-frou coffee drinks. Ethically sourced coffees and teas, organic and specialty baked goods, and sandwiches. We care about this over-burdened planet. We’ve got monthly flavors and specials. Breakfast, lunch, and dinner. We’ve got everything you need.”

  I didn’t miss the clench of Mitch’s jaw. He tried to hide it by clearing his throat, but I noticed.

  “Might want to keep it a little low-key for a while. Willow Springs likes to take things slowly sometimes. Locals don’t want to be overwhelmed with too much new, you know? Don’t throw it at them all at once.”

  “Nah, I’ve got a plan that works like a charm. I own two Gentry’s Java locations in Chicago. Both bring in six figures a month. I know how to run a coffee shop and eatery.”

  I watched Mitch’s teeth clench. Was he angry about me opening my shop? I glanced around the diner. It was pretty outdated, but I knew it was one of the only eating places in Willow Springs that continued to survive while others fizzled out. I’d eaten at South Main with Grandma when I was a kid.

  Mitch’s tone was dismissive. “Sounds great. Willow Springs will be happy to have you.” He glanced at his watch. “You’ll have to excuse me. I’ve got to help Dan in the kitchen.”

  “Our grand opening is coming soon. I hope you’ll be there.” I stuck out my hand to shake. “Business and society members have to stick together, right?”

  Mitch’s smile didn’t quite reach his eyes as he shook my hand. “Right, society and business buddies.”

  I watched Mitch’s fine ass disappear through the swinging doors and reminded myself that I wasn’t in Willow Springs for any type of relationship and definitely not one with a guy so much older than me. Plus, it was evident we had just become competitors, at least from Mitch’s point of view. Business rivalry and romance never mixed well.

  Pushing the diner door open, I squinted against the sunshine and began a stroll down the sidewalk to Gentry’s Java. Willow Springs was a quaint and charming little town that shone with a unique beauty. I guess it wasn’t the smallest of small towns, but it was tiny compared to Chicago.

  At the corner of Main Street and Willow Boulevard, I spotted the full-service gas station from my childhood. Bigger, cheaper stations on the outskirts of town offered lower-priced gas, fewer services, and more junk food. But Smitty’s Stop-N-Go was a fixture in town for as long as I could remember. My grandmother took me to the Stop-N-Go and let me pick a treat while the attendant filled her car with gas, topped off the fluids, wiped the windshield, and cleaned the side windows. It was almost impossible to find a place that provided Smitty’s type of service anymore.

  I pulled the glass door open and found myself transported to my childhood. The stocked coolers and snack shelves were just as I remembered them. The smell of coffee, donuts, and gasoline filled the air.

  “Howdy, how can I help you?”

  Glancing toward the voice, I mentally berated myself for expecting Smitty. The man was ancient when I was a child. It was impossible for him to still be operating the station.

  “Just, uh,” I stammered to cover up why I’d wandered in, “grabbing a drink and a snack.”

  “Need a fill-up?” The man glanced out the window.

  “Nah, walking today.” I reached into the cooler for an unsweet tea. Quickly picking a candy bar, I placed them both on the counter.

  With a friendly voice, he asked, “New to town?”

  “Yeah, Tanner Gentry, I’m opening the new Gentry’s Java and Sandwich Shop in the old antique store.” I reached out to shake his hand.

  “Saw the signs for your place. It looks like some great eats. I’m Travis Kent. If I’m off, I’ll stop by and help celebrate the opening.”

  “Sounds good.” I pocketed my change. “Just curious. Did you know the former owner here?”.

  “Old man Smitty? Sure did. Great guy. His son owns the station now, but he doesn’t live in Willow Springs. So, I pretty much run the place.”

  “I love that you’ve kept the old feel. I used to visit here every summer, and Grandma Gentry brought me to the Stop-N-Go every week.”

  “We’re pretty quiet here. It’s not super busy like those big quick stops out by the interstate. But I stay busy enough, and the customer base is loyal.” His voice lowered to nearly a whisper. “Gets lonely sometimes.”

  “Got family in town?”

  “Nah, I’m a lone wolf. No family.”

  I prodded for more information while trying not to go overboard like Jenny from the diner. “You do a lot of dating?” Travis’s lonely comment touched me. He seemed kind, and I felt terrible for his solo status.

  “Not many fish in my dating pool.”

  Bingo. Another society member. I stifled a snort.

  “Ah, yeah, I can see that.” I opened the tea, took a swig, and wiped my lips on my sleeve. “So far, I’ve met Jenny and Mitch. I’m surprised Jenny hasn’t married you two off yet.”

  Travis blushed, and his voice was agitated. “Well, not many people know about me being gay.” The piercing stare from his eyes meant that I shouldn’t share the news. “I’ve never talked about it with Mitch.”

  “Gotcha. Well, your secret is safe with me.” I paused in opening the candy bar. “Unless you don’t want it to be a secret?”

  “No, keeping it a secret is fine. For now.”

  “Well, you let me know if you ever change your mind. You can be a card-carrying member of our little society in a heartbeat. Just say the word.”

  Travis looked confused.

  I didn’t respond to the expression and waved as I left the shop.

  Reaching Gentry’s Java, I paused for a moment and absorbed the building’s charm. It had the bones of an old antique shop, solid design inside and out, and now it was mine. The finished sign proudly boasted Gentry’s Java and Sandwich Shop without distracting from the original decorative facade.

  I pulled open the doors and felt the familiar buzz that always accompanied an opening. I’d finished the interior set-up, and I had it ready for business. All of my coffees and teas greeted customers from a display just inside the door. I expected the cold ingredients for sandwiches the day before opening. We would receive deliveries of loaves of bread early in the morning on the big day. Menu boards advertised our full menu, and I looked forward to updating the specials daily. The registers sat ready to ring up sales.

  Gentry’s Java was extremely successful for me in Chicago, and I had no reason to think Willow Springs would be any different. Failure was never an option. The question was only how successful this store could be. My businessman’s heart pounded in anticipation.

  My late grandmother’s home always warmly embraced me when I stepped through the door. Even though Grandma Gentry had been gone for a year, the house still smelled like her. I loved every nook and cranny of the old home. The interior boasted original hardwood floors, intricate hand-carved crown molding, and the most gorgeous wooden stairway I’d ever seen. The floors needed refinishing, and a lot of the wallpaper had to go, but those things could wait a bit.

  I stood in the middle of the cozy living room and absorbed the appeal of my new-to-me home. The structure was solid, even if the interior needed a bit of upkeep. A few repairs here and there would require some effort, but it was mostly just cosmetic work. I adored the new appliances I’d ordered for the kitchen. I’d searched for a while to find exactly the look I wanted. The kitchen had all the tools a foodie like me wo
uld need, but the appliances were vintage in appearance. The fridge, stove, sink, and even the dishwasher and microwave looked like what Grandma would have cooked on, but they were current, top of the line equipment.

  I spent the next couple of hours taking care of the grand opening’s final paperwork. When I knew all was in order, I stood and stretched. A hot shower and bed were calling me.

  The massive floral pattern in Grandma’s bathroom would be one of the first things I’d change, but for the time being, the water was strong and warm, and that was all I needed.

  I’d adopted the largest bedroom as my own. It was the room Grandma always let me stay in during my visits. She preferred the smaller bedroom on the first floor. While the room needed a bit of a touch-up, I planned to keep the ambiance the way Grandma decorated it. From the old lamps to the deep, dark colors, and the vintage paintings, I wanted to keep a lot of it the same. Glad that the high-quality mattress I’d purchased had arrived on my first day in Willow Springs, I pulled back the freshly-laundered comforter. Crawling into the queen-size bed, I sighed deeply. I loved every part of opening a business, but it was exhausting.

  I switched off the bedside lamp and lay for several moments, feeling tired but unable to sleep. Reaching for my phone, I opened the dating app I used most often. Okay, the hookup app was likely a better term. I swiped through messages from several of my more recent hookups. A few were guys I considered pseudo friends, but I didn’t feel like striking up a conversation with any of them.

  If we were going to talk, I’d have to say something like, “So, I’ve moved from Chicago to start a new coffee shop in a small town. I’m quite possibly one of three gay men in the town. My place may have inadvertently become the local diner’s competition/enemy. The place happens to be owned by a hot-as-sin older gay man who I’m positive I’m not interested in.”

  Yeah, not a great conversation starter. Especially with men I’d likely never see again.

  I updated the screen. Curiosity got the best of me, and I quickly glanced at the “nearby” accounts. At least ten to fifteen men qualified as in the vicinity, but only three of those were likely in Willow Springs itself. All three sported the app’s default blank face instead of a photo. Travis didn’t appear to be out of the closet. Was he on this app? Mitch was out and open as a gay man in Willow Springs, but would a proud pillar of the community place himself on a dating/hookup app? Who were the people associated with these accounts?

  I swiped the app closed. There was no reason to waste time thinking about it. I wasn’t looking for a relationship. Hookups weren’t my top priority. Friendship was fine, but I had a coffee and sandwich shop to get off the ground first. I tossed my phone on the nightstand.

  I fell asleep thinking about the grand opening. I spent most of my hours the next few days raising interest and hype about my new, chic, specialty shop. It would be a soft opening. Willow Springs was excited to get a taste of the big city, and I was the perfect young and hungry business owner to bring it to them.

  3

  Mitch

  Tuesday was always the slowest day of the week at South Main. It’d been that way, consistently, for the better part of a decade. On Tuesdays, the small crowd that worked downtown was over the shock of the new week, and they were still at least three days away from payday. The lull in business always provided me with opportunities to run errands and stop in the other shops downtown to let my colleagues know I was still in business.

  Sam rolled into work at 6:00 a.m. A week later, he was still talking about his bout with an intestinal upset.

  Sam growled, “Of course it would happen that way. For once, I went out instead of home cooking or grabbing something here on my way home. The next thing you know, it’s Cramps City, and I’m spending half my day in the bathroom. Misery, I tell you. You can’t trust the food out there anymore. It’s scary.”

  The story of digestive misery was in the back of my mind when Barry called at 10:00 a.m. After I got off the phone, I prepared to leave the diner in Sam, Dan, and Carol’s capable hands. Barry wanted a lunch date. He said, “I broke down and brought a sandwich from home for lunch yesterday. I’m holding out until you can go with me.”

  “Holding out on what?”

  “Tanner’s place. I sent Sandy over there to check it out and report back. She returned with a smile a mile wide. They’ve got that soft opening thing going on. People are getting free items, and the owner quizzes them about what they think. I don’t know whether they gave Sandy anything to eat, but she said she’d never had a cup of coffee like Tanner’s anywhere else in the Springs. C’mon, Mitch, you’ve got to scope out the competition before he sneaks up from behind and buries you.”

  I had professional reasons to go and personal excuses to avoid the place. I’d bumped into Tanner, literally, at Luke’s grocery on the previous Friday morning. As I rounded the corner, Tanner was checking out the fresh fish fillets.

  I knew that Luke drove up to the Twin Cities before the sun came up at the end of every week. He brought back the best options he could find for regular customers like me. Pacific halibut was the day’s choice.

  We stuck with cod at the diner, but I frequently purchased something a little more elegant for my dinner. Luke called with his weekly report on the treasure he’d found. Like clockwork, I entered his shop ready to pick up a couple of fillets to pan sear at home after a long week.

  Tanner pointed at the halibut display in the shop’s case as I approached the counter. “It’s great for the environment today. So much better than the Atlantic variety.”

  While Luke passed a paper-wrapped package across the counter, I stared at the depression in the ice where the halibut was supposed to be.

  Tanner turned and nearly lost his neatly wrapped package when his hand collided with my bicep. “Hey, Mitch, I hope you’ll be at my place for my soft opening on Monday. We’re spending that week ironing out the kinks, and then the official grand reveal is in another week. Can I count on you to join us?”

  When I first glanced at the empty spot and knew that my dinner plans were over, I sensed a hint of anger rising in the back of my throat. Then I saw Tanner’s face again. He was handsome, and I had a weakness for a boyish appearance coupled with a firm jaw. The anger began to melt away.

  Tanner was a threat—to my business. But when I looked into his sweet, earnest eyes, my ability to hold onto the sharp, gruff edge in my voice crumbled. I was a mushy mess inside. I wanted to reach out and wrap him in my arms and nuzzle his neck with my chin scruff.

  Luke leaned across the counter. “Mitch, are you there? I think the man asked you a question.”

  Holy fuck. It’s evident that I’m distracted. “Uh, oh, yeah. I’ll see what I can do. Monday’s usually a tight day at the diner. The downtowners sort of celebrate the new week with a belly-filling breakfast on Mondays. It’s always all hands on deck to feed the crowd.”

  Tanner slapped me on the shoulder and dug his fingers into my muscle. “Thanks so much. I’ll look forward to seeing your handsome face. We’re going to keep everyone well-fed, you and me. Have a great weekend, Mitch.”

  Handsome face? Tanner didn’t give me time to respond before he was out the door. He didn’t even stop at the checkout. I presumed Luke set him up with a credit account as he did for the diner. I turned back to the counter as Luke busied himself, removing the Pacific halibut sign and closing up the gap in the ice.

  “That’s it? Did you give it all to him? You knew that I’d be stopping by.”

  Luke shrugged. “He needed it for the business. They’re having my halibut as a special dinner for his employees tonight. The owner cooks for the workers before the opening as a tradition when he launches a new location. I support local commerce.”

  “But—how many years, Luke?”

  “He said he might buy a similar amount every week and feature it for customers. That’s a big part of my ticket for the day. I’m sure you understand. It’s business. Hey, how about I pick up a nice big grouper f
ilet for you next week? Is it a deal?”

  I grumbled, “Sure thing, and give me a half-pound of that shrimp then. I need something from the sea tonight. It’s Friday.”

  On Monday, we were busy enough that I thought I could justify my avoidance of Tanner’s place. I was curious about it, but he made me uncomfortable. He was far too young for me, but that didn’t stop my roaming eyes. Sometimes my body responded to certain men even when my mind shouted, “No!”

  Unfortunately, when Barry called on Tuesday, he started to wear me down.

  “You told me that your new cook is the greatest thing since sliced bread. That means he can handle the place. Are you backing off on the claims now?”

  “No, I just need to keep an eye on—some of my regulars want to chat.”

  “Some of your regulars will be down the street at Tanner’s.”

  I knew that Barry wouldn’t give up, and I’d eventually run out of excuses.

  I tried to back out, but Barry interrupted the opening of a whiny monologue from me. “Are you worried about the competition? That’s not like you. If the food’s bad, you can always whip up a grilled cheese when you get back to the diner. I think it’s our civic duty to offer some support to newcomers. They’re kind of rare. Can I count you in?”

  Barry had a history of making decisions for me. He pulled me into agreement with him after the fact. More than half the time, I let him get away with it. “Okay, yeah, I’ve got a few errands to run, but how about meeting me at 11:30? We’ll miss the lunch rush if there is such a thing.”

  “That’s my man. See you then.”

  “Wishful thinking, Barry. I’m not your man. I’m my own man. You need to find your man.”

  I conceded that the atmosphere of Tanner’s place was appealing. When we walked through the door, the aroma of freshly ground coffee beans slapped us in the face. Hot on its heels was a warm, spicy smell that I couldn’t identify. I raised my chin to get a better sniff.