by A. D. Ellis
Helpful as always, Barry said, “Curry. I peeked at the daily menu online. It’s a chicken curry served over genuine basmati rice.”
“He posts a new menu online every day?”
“So far, at least. It’s a pretty smart idea if you ask me. Everybody in town who works at an office desk can view the menu while they discuss shared takeout with their coworkers.”
Tanner was busy ringing up a sale when we approached the front counter. We stood quietly to the side while Barry leaned in close to the pastry display. “Perfect macarons, Mitch. Willow Springs is finally embracing the 21st century. Elegance has arrived.”
As the customer ahead of us walked away, Tanner spotted us. I saw what I thought was a sparkle in his eye followed by that boy-next-door grin. I shook out my right leg to chase away the sudden weakness I felt in an aging knee.
“Gentlemen! You can order now—we’ve got the limited soft open menu—or have a seat at one of the tables, and I’ll be by in a sec to find out what you’d like. I strongly suggest the latter. You deserve special attention from the owner.”
I was confident that Tanner wasn’t thinking about the kind of attention I wished he could give me. If he did it, special would be one word for it. There was no doubt about that.
Barry said, “I’ll grab one of the menus, and we’ll take a seat. It’ll probably take Mitch a few minutes to decide whether he wants the ham sandwich or the ham sandwich.”
Tanner laughed softly, and I regretfully pulled my gaze away from him to follow Barry.
We found a small round table by the front door. Two of my regular customers entered as we sat. One of them pointed at me and spoke just loud enough for us to hear. “If Mitch is a customer, it must be good.”
Great! Barry roped me into acting as a walking advertisement for my competition.
A few minutes later, Tanner appeared at our table with two wine glasses in hand. “Our best white, and it’s on the house. I hope you both like wine with lunch.”
I wasn’t used to anyone treating me like local royalty. I was skeptical when anyone bent over backward to offer a special discount or something free. Rejecting Barry’s characterization of me as a stick in the mud, I ordered the pastrami sandwich on rye. He ordered a turkey club sandwich, one of the daily specials. After Tanner left the table, I leaned toward Barry. “He wants something. The wine is almost over the top.”
“Do you want an honest opinion from me?”
“I don’t know, but I think I’ll hear it anyway.”
“He wants to impress you, and at the same time, he wants to throw down the gauntlet for competition. Those young chefs are that way. The offer of wine is the foodie equivalent of locker room trash talk.”
I sipped from the glass. It was tasty, and the choice of white early in the day was an expert match for a light lunch but not my order. Pastrami didn’t fit that description. It was rich and beefy. I grinned at the thought that my menu choice counteracted Tanner’s over-confident move.
After a second sip, I turned my attention back to Barry. “I still don’t understand why you think there’s a competition. If so, I’ve got a head start, and I’ll lap poor Tanner. Look at this place. Curry and pastrami? Most people in Willow Springs would rather have a burger or a grilled cheese for lunch.”
“You sound awfully confident of that.”
“Of course, I am. I’ve served the Springs for decades. I know my homet
“Then maybe you should put your money where your mouth is,” said Barry.
“What do you mean?”
“A genuine competition. It should be a friendly one. I think it would provide a morale boost for Willow Springs, and it would offer great publicity for both you and Tanner.”
I didn’t dispute Barry’s idea that a competition might be a plus for business—it just didn’t seem to fit. “But what we do is apples and oranges. It’s not even the same thing.”
“C’mon, Mitch. I’ve had dinner at your house more times than I can count. You can go gourmet any time you want. Most of Tanner’s food is familiar to you. You’ve even served truffles to me before. Your fish guy in the cities somehow got hold of them. Maybe we should come up with a middle ground. How about a chili cook-off—or steaks.”
Tanner reappeared at our table with plates in hand. He set our sandwiches in front of us with a proud smile. It made me think of the first time I baked cookies for my family. I proudly carried a plate of three chocolate chip cookies to my dad as he sat in his recliner in the living room. I was eight years old.
Tanner’s next comment bordered on bragging. “I also included a small amount of this awesome new cheese from one of my favorite suppliers in Chicago. It’s like the caviar of cheeses.”
I did my best to be polite to Tanner while ignoring Barry’s triumphant smirk. “Thank you. I know we’ll enjoy it.”
“Hey, Tanner, wait!” Barry stopped our host from leaving our table. ”We’ve got something to discuss with you.”
My carefully aimed elbow was too late. Barry already sent the ball rolling downhill.
“What is it? Do you want more details on something you saw here in the shop? Our special coffee of the day is heavenly. You might want to sample that after your lunch. You can try all the flavors if you’d like.”
I pointedly stuck my nose in the air and sniffed. “It smells like I’m on a plantation in Colombia.”
They both ignored me when Barry spoke with the royal “we” about his idea. “We thought, in the spirit of friendly competition, perhaps you and Mitch should engage in a cook-off. We understand if you feel that you might be a little new in town for it, but it would be an outstanding chance to introduce your place to even more local folk. We could get the paper to cover it and turn it into a festive Saturday afternoon downtown.”
I looked up at Tanner and desperately tried to will him into a “no” response. Unfortunately, I failed miserably. Tanner said, “That sounds like a tremendous idea. It would be our own little throwdown. I might go down in flames, but I’m ready to take on the Master. You could teach the young apprentice a thing or two.”
Tanner tucked the tray he’d used for carrying the sandwiches under his left arm and gripped my shoulder with his right hand. I tensed. Then he squeezed, digging his fingertips gently into the muscle. His grip was starting to feel familiar. I thought about more than two things I could teach him that had nothing to do with cooking.
The strength in Tanner’s fingers kicked everything else out of my mind. They were the hands of a chef that handled everything from hauling meat carcasses around to using tweezers to decorate a fine dessert. I wondered what else those hands could do. I was so distracted that I nearly missed what Barry said.
“And we might even get one of the TV stations down here from Chicago to cover it as a human interest story.”
I said, “No. If we’re going to do this, it’s in private.” In case Tanner had something unexpected up his sleeve, I wasn’t ready for public humiliation. He wouldn’t deserve getting trounced by me either. “It won’t be a public event. I don’t want to embarrass a brand new business in town, but maybe we can learn something from each other.”
Tanner frowned.
Barry said, “I’ll work on him, but start thinking about chili and beef unless we come up with something else.”
“Will do, and—speaking of beef—that pastrami is out of this world. Enjoy!”
“What’s the deal with this ‘we,’ Barry?” Tanner was out of earshot, and I mumbled, “I think you mean you.”
“We’re both welcoming him to town. Pipe down and eat your sandwich. He’s a fine young guy. I feel it in my bones, and you have to admit the good looks quotient in the Springs just went up a few notches.”
Tanner was right about the pastrami. It was a fantastic sandwich. I closed my eyes and savored the beef’s tender texture perfectly balanced by the whole-grain mustard.
“Damn.” I wiped my mouth with a napkin and took another bite.
4
&
nbsp; Tanner
A chili cook-off, huh? Or maybe steak? I scattered freshly chopped cilantro over a plate while I considered the idea of a competition.
Chili wasn’t precisely a big-city specialty, but I’d never been someone to turn down a challenge. I was infamous in my family for my first-grade battles with other boys who were bigger but not smarter than me. Steak? I’d kill it for sure.
Mitch didn’t want to embarrass me? Maybe that comment was only spoken to cover his fear of the same.
Clearly, Mr. Aiken didn’t know that Tanner Gentry never lost—even against the most intimidating opponents. Plus, my experiences in culinary school’s competitive atmosphere guaranteed that I wouldn’t leave the contest with my head hung low.
Late in the afternoon, I took a break from the eatery to stroll down the sidewalk. As much as I loved the excitement of opening Gentry’s Java, I also knew the importance of self-care. I got myself into a run-down rut back when I was doubling up in business and culinary school. My world turned ugly before I finally took the advice of good friends and escaped the pressure cooker for a few days.
A break, either scheduled or impromptu, didn’t mean a person was weak—only that they needed a breather. I didn’t miss the busy, aloof chaos of Chicago, but it was still harder than I expected to adjust to the lack of anonymity and personal space in Willow Springs. Everybody knew my name and also thought they knew my business.
As I walked, I worked to reorient my thoughts. The locals were great, and their intentions were the best. It was a mantra to repeat over and over in my head. All I needed was a moment to myself.
“They can be a little much, huh?”
I jerked my head toward the voice and grasped my chest when I saw Travis. “Damn man, you almost gave me a heart attack.”
Travis chuckled. He’d materialized out of thin air to respond to my thoughts. At least it felt like that.
“But, yes, I love having customers. It’s just that their constant stream of questions that’s a little overwhelming at times.” The sunshine and fresh air were just what I needed. I didn’t mind the conversation with Travis either. Something about him relaxed me.
“You’re new, a novelty. It will wear off soon.” Travis adjusted his Smitty’s Stop-N-Go hat.
“I’m sure you’re right, but I can’t wait for them to move on to grilling someone else about city life, their parents’ occupations, and their preferred stores for clothes shopping.” I knew I sounded like a dick. People were curious. Squinting my eyes due to the sun over Travis’s shoulder, I added, “Online shopping’s the way to go, by the way.”
Travis rubbed his stubbly chin. “Well, I’ll be sure to avoid those questions. But, damn, I sure would be happy to know where you get those fancy duds.”
I rolled my eyes and slapped him on the back. Something about Travis encouraged me to trust and confide in him. “City life is a lot busier than this, but it’s never so personal. So, uh, intimate. My parents are hugely successful in their business careers and expect nothing less from me. I grew up in a two-parent home, but my parents were more like colleagues or business partners than romantically involved spouses. And I get my clothes from a handful of specialty shops online. The unique ‘Tanner touch’ comes from an occasional outstanding find at a thrift store. My style is eclectic, to say the least.” The over-confident asshole hipster in me spewed more words before I could stop him.
Eyes wide, Travis scratched his cheek. “Um, wow. Okay. That was a lot of information. Is that speech written down somewhere? You didn’t have to share all of it.”
“I know, and let me retract the attitude. Still, telling a friend about myself is easier than answering questions peppered at me like balls in a batting cage.”
“Well, I appreciate learning about you, friend.” A toothy grin spread across Travis’s face. He shifted his hat again. It was his turn to share a load of information. “I’m gay, but I’ve never dated. Not many around here know that about me. So, a small town like this doesn’t know everybody’s secrets. I have no family here. My parents weren’t supportive of me, and I was an only child. I’m content with my job, but I’m lonely. I enjoy taking hikes and hunting morel mushrooms. If I’m not at the station, I’m probably doing something outside or drinking a beer and reading sci-fi fantasy novels.”
As he finished, Travis ran a hand over his mouth. He gestured at his worn work jeans and button-up plaid shirt. “And I don’t have the same sense of style as you.”
“Wow. Why do I get the feeling you haven’t spoken that many words to anyone in a very long time?” My lips curled into another smile, and I winked.
“You’d be right. But it felt good. I’m glad you’re in Willow Springs. I think you’re the friend I’ve been looking for.”
“Um, so that we’re on the same page.” I wasn’t sure what Travis wanted out of me, but it sounded like some responsibility was attached. I threw up one clear boundary. “I’m not looking for anything romantic.”
Travis chuckled. “Nah, I know. I don’t see you and me like that. I hope you’re okay with friendship, though.” I admired the man’s audacity when he added, “Despite our age difference and the fact that we likely have absolutely nothing in common.”
“Since when did that stop two quality men of like mind? I could for sure use a friend here in town. And friends never have to be clones to get along.”
Travis cocked his head. “So, you may not be looking for anything romantic, but I’ve got a hunch.”
“A hunch?”
“Romance might be looking for you. And it will likely find you when you least expect it. Life turns out that way. If you were looking, it’d likely pass you by.”
I involuntarily squeezed both hands into fists and then opened them again. “Nope—not going to happen. I’m here to run a business. Romance can scram. Plus, who would be the object of this romance? It’s not like Willow Springs is crawling with eligible bachelors.”
We’d walked in a loop that returned me to the entrance to my shop. I gestured for Travis to join me inside Gentry’s Java, and we turned toward the door.
Our timing was uncanny. At the moment we arrived, Barry and Mitch opened the door. After nearly colliding, Barry spoke up.
“Tanner, thank you for a great lunch. We enjoyed it.” Barry reached out to shake my hand. While I gripped his fleshy fingers, I leaned to the left to catch a better glimpse of Mitch.
“Great to hear, gentlemen. Um, you guys know Travis Kent, yeah?” I gestured between the men.
Mitch spoke and reached out to shake Travis’s hand. “Oh, of course.”
Barry and Travis exchanged greetings before Barry turned back to me. “Don’t forget the challenge. We’ll be in touch.”
Mitch coughed. He ignored the challenge idea. The next words almost whistled as they escaped through clenched teeth. “Thanks for lunch. The pastrami was impressive.”
Was Mitch pissed to have to admit that?
As the men strolled down the sidewalk, Travis and I watched them leave.
Travis whistled. “Mmhm, just as I thought.”
“Thought what?”
“Romance is looking for you. It’s in his eyes. No mistaking that.”
“With one of them? Highly doubtful.” Travis was seeing things. Maybe he’d inhaled too many fumes at the Stop ’n Go.
“Mitch. Can’t you see the sparks that flash between the two of you? Those embers could turn into a flame.” Travis winked and walked through the door.
Inside, while I waited for my eyes to adjust after the bright sunlight, I elbowed Travis. “Sit, and I’ll take your order. And the only spark between Mitch and me is competition. Period. It’s friendly, but he doesn’t know how scrappy I can be.”
Travis’s eyes sparkled. “Mmhm, you keep telling yourself that. Let me know how it works out for you.”
I brought Travis a menu and a glass of ice water. I knew that it would be best to let his comments lie, but I had to deliver the last word. Travis needed a correction si
nce he was on the wrong track. “For someone who doesn’t do much dating, you seem pretty sure of your matchmaking skills.”
Travis sipped the water. “No matchmaking needed. You two will come together and build something with absolutely no interference from me. I may not have an active love life, but a man would have to be blind to miss the heat of attraction that flashes between the two of you. Mark my word.”
“Well, new friend, I’m glad to have you around.” I rubbed my hands on my black jeans. Something made them sweat. “But I’ll feel bad when you’re proven wrong.”
Travis didn’t say anything else. A crooked smile played across his face, and he ordered the special.
One of my sources of pride as a skilled businessman was my ability to staff my operation with outstanding personnel. I’d done it again at the Willow Springs Gentry’s Java location. I remained a hands-on owner and spent time in the shop every day, but I trusted my crew. They were more than capable of keeping the business running at a smooth, comfortable pace when I wasn’t around.
In the rare case of emergency, I was always only a quick phone call away.
At our opening, I decided to close Gentry’s Java on Tuesdays while operating the remaining six days of the week. Setting our daily opening and closing times would take some experimentation. As I learned Willow Springs’ rhythms and needs for coffee and food, I’d get it right.
On our day off, I took advantage of an invitation from Travis. He’d promised to show me some great hiking spots and help re-familiarize me with the town.
“Look at you all decked out for high-fashion hiking,” Travis called as he climbed from his truck parked at the curb in front of my house.
I watched as Travis’s eyes scanned my body from head to foot. With a gentle laugh, I beckoned for him to join me on Grandma Gentry’s old porch swing. The vintage house kept its authentic wrap-around porch for more than a hundred years. My family recently restored the woodwork with designs that matched the original.