South Main and Gentry

by A. D. Ellis

  As Mitch exited, I was left behind with a bruised heart, an urge to fight back, and a niggling fear that he was walking out of more than just my office. A silent whisper in my head suggested that perhaps leaving Willow Springs would be best for everyone.

  A week later, I was still pissed. I was angry at the unfair treatment from Mitch. Blaming me for his slow months was offensive. A deep resentment settled in when I realized he was picking his business over me. Finally, I bristled at the notion that the suggestions and advice I offered didn’t have their roots in sound business practice.

  I was pissed.

  I was also hurt. So damn hurt. I missed Mitch. I missed our time together—most of all, the casual moments. Yes, I missed the sex, but it was more than that. I missed Mitch, the person—and us—as a couple.

  And it all irritated the shit out of me.

  Tanner Gentry was a businessman—first and foremost. What would I have done if Gentry’s Java was in the red? I would have blasted all of my energy into turning it around. No question. Would I have left Mitch? That was a hard question to answer.

  Before arriving in Willow Springs, I never would have thought that I’d find myself in a relationship that meant so much it would make me consider saving it before my business. Somehow, the small town changed me. It all worked together—the people, the springs, the natural beauty, and the slower pace of life—it all ushered me into a new stage in my life.

  If I waited around for Mitch to get over his stubborn hissy fit, would that make me appear desperate and pathetic? Or would I look understanding and compassionate to give Mitch space to spread his belligerent wings for a short time? Eventually, he might pull his ornery head out of his delectable ass and come to his senses. My primary question was whether that would be too late.

  Of course, there was always a possibility that he would never do that? How long was I willing to wait? How long should I wait? My bruised heart said to wait as long as it took for Mitch to come around and offer to help ease my pain. My independent and successful side pranced through my head and sang to me about not needing a man. Let him go, Tanner—let him go.

  In other words, I was a fucking mess.

  My heart wanted to crawl into bed with ice cream and a movie so sad that I would drown in a puddle of tears. My head wanted to throw every single bit of energy into Gentry’s and make the next few months the best yet—from a business point of view. While my head and heart argued, a third, tiny voice whispered that leaving town was a possible solution to two problems; I’d get away from the heartache and give Mitch the distraction-free time he needed to focus on South Main.

  I ran a hand over my face and sighed. I was torn—and mad—and hurt—and antsy as hell.

  I pulled on running clothes and shoes. A jog before work was the best I could come up with to clear my head and soothe my heart.

  An hour later, my body began to relax, but my head was still a tangled mess. I found myself wandering into Smitty’s Stop-N-Go in hopes of finding Travis. The bell on the door jangled, and the familiar scent of childhood memories hit me. Every time I walked into Smitty’s, it transported me back to the summers I spent with my grandma.

  “Hey, man. What’s up?” Travis spoke as he walked toward me. He read the frustration on my face and frowned. “What’s wrong?”

  “It’s that obvious, huh?”

  “You look like shit. Haven’t seen you in a bit. Are you sick?” Travis grabbed a water bottle and handed it to me.

  “Not the way you’re thinking.” I launched into an explanation of my troubles. I hated airing the dirty laundry I shared with Mitch, but Travis was a friend, and I trusted him.

  Twenty minutes later, I finished telling the tale of Mitch blaming me and saying he couldn’t keep up with us because it distracted him from South Main.

  Travis opened his eyes wide and blinked slowly. “Whoa. That’s a shit ton to process.”

  I nodded silently and swigged the water.

  “But you’re not serious about leaving, right?” Travis reached up and raked his fingers through his hair.

  I shrugged. “I love it here, but maybe getting away from Mitch and the business shit would help both of us.”

  “That’s your brain talking. Does it feel like it would help to leave Mitch and Gentry’s?”

  I sighed. “No, not at all.”

  Travis slapped a hand on my shoulder. “What feels right?”

  I took another sip of water. “I have no questions about continuing to grow a successful business. That feels right. Not giving up on Mitch is a step forward. I’m willing to accept his apology when he comes around and realizes what an ass he was. Then, I can help him pull South Main back into the black.”

  A slow smile spread across my face. “Yeah, that’s the only way I see this ending. Mitch is old-fashioned and stubborn. Mix that with his passion, his deep-rooted loyalty to his family business, and his competitive streak, and you’ve got hair-trigger knee-jerk reactions that are sure to hurt someone. In this case, that someone was me. What I can’t drop is the need for Mitch to realize how wrong he was with his accusations.” I pursed my lips together for a moment. “And I think I’ll recognize that the time has come to throw in the towel if he doesn’t come to his senses.”

  Travis stroked his chin. “I can see why you’re hurt and angry, and I agree about Mitch. I won’t defend his words and actions. He was wrong in the way he treated you. Beyond that, there is something important for you to understand. I think Mitch is stuck between his livelihood, South Main being the only connection he has to his grandfather, his strong feelings for you, and his brain whispering that he’s too old for you. All that adds up to a messy situation, but I think he’ll come around.” Travis smirked. “And he does owe you a huge apology. Still, Mitch has a big ego, and don’t get stuck on that last point if everything else falls into place.”

  I smiled for what felt like the first time in days. “Thanks for the talk. I’m feeling a lot better about this. We didn’t fix anything, but I have a better handle on what I’m going to do as well as what I’m willing to accept.” I hugged Travis and headed home to shower before going to work.

  When my phone rang later in the day, I smiled again as I answered it. “Shane—what’s up? I wish you could have stayed longer while you were here. How’d the film do?” I’d almost forgotten Shane entered the Willow Springs film into its competition at the last minute.

  “First place in both categories and top prize overall. I couldn’t have asked for a better turnout.” Shane’s excitement was evident. “Best of all, the recognition means that several television producers have seen it. That gets my filmmaking prowess some positive promo and gives Willow Springs a great name. I hope many exciting opportunities emerge from this little film.”

  “Wow, that’s amazing. I’m so happy for you. I’d love to see the town’s businesses get some extra love and attention from those who see the film. You should come back down soon, and we can celebrate.” As we spoke, I noticed one of my workers, a very pregnant young mother of two, looking dead on her feet. “Listen, Shane. I need to give a break to one of the employees. Let me know when you can come down.”

  I sent Tara on a double break and spent the next thirty minutes making drinks and filling food orders with a smile on my face. Despite the messy situation in my head and heart, I was happy for my filmmaking friend and glad that Willow Springs would earn some well-deserved positive attention.

  19

  Mitch

  “So let me get this right,” said Dan. “We’ve got one more month to turn shit around here in the diner, and you want to pull back. You want to throw all the updates out the window and depend on those old guys who put a dollar on the counter and drink a whole pot of coffee while they take up one of our tables for three hours every morning. Have I got that right?”

  “Those are our bedrock customers. Don’t go bad mouthing—”

  Carol joined the chorus against me. “They don’t tip me like the new people. That guy t
hat brought his family in yesterday morning when school was out gave me a solid 30% tip, and his wife loved the avocado toast.” Carol imitated the woman and adopted a nasal drawl. She said, “I felt like I was in that old Green Acres show until this. Avocados bring back fond memories of L.A.”

  I’d called an emergency meeting with Dan, my best cook, and Carol, who’d been slinging hash at the tables with me for more than a decade. I wasn’t completely sure about the diner’s right direction, but after the blow-up with Tanner, I knew that I needed him out of my life. I had to concentrate on what was most important. That was South Main and my family’s legacy. We’d survived for decades on burgers, grilled cheese, and corned beef. I didn’t see why we couldn’t go back to the basics.

  Dan piped up again. He was agitated. He started talking with his hands. “You know this reminds me of my grandpa’s farm.”

  “Your grandfather was a farmer?”

  Dan nodded in my direction.

  I asked, “What the hell does this have to do with herding cows and poking pigs? I’m talking about the diner.” The sound of my agitation surprised even me.

  Carol raised her right hand. “Let him talk. I want to hear the story. Dan tells good tales.”

  Dan folded his arms across his chest. “Thank you. My grandpa on my mom’s side was a farmer. Arguably the most prosperous in the county at one point. He had a successful business.”

  “Had?” I raised an eyebrow.

  “Had. He probably could have kept it, too. Instead, he took what he thought was a principled stand. One of the neighbors signed a deal with a co-op and started raising truck vegetables organically.”

  Carol leaned forward. “And what did your grandpa do?”

  “He insisted the organic veggies were all a fad. He stuck with corn and soybeans. In town, when the old farmers met for breakfast once a week at the local fast food joint—”

  I growled and interrupted. “Fast food? What about buying local?”

  Dan didn’t let me bait him. He remained calm. “The town was too small. It had one fast food joint by the highway intersection and a gas station. Please don’t interrupt.”

  Carol chuckled softly behind her perfectly manicured hand.

  “So, after the first year, the innovative farmer lost money. The market wasn’t big enough yet to sell his goods. Grandpa gloated, and he stuck to his guns. I can still hear him. ‘Stick by what works! That’s my motto.’”

  I echoed Dan’s movements and folded my arms across my chest. I tried not to smirk.

  “I’ve got a feeling this isn’t the end of the story,” said Carol.

  “No, the next year was a rough one on Grandpa. Bad weather caused him to be late getting his crops in the ground, and some of the corn didn’t have time to mature. For the organic guy, it was a good year for broccoli.”

  I mumbled, “Broccoli? What self-respecting farmer grows broccoli?”

  Carol glared at me. “Where do you think the stuff in the grocery store comes from? Mars?”

  Dan ignored us and continued his tale. “Anyway, after Grandpa and his friends had another down year, some of his buddies joined the co-op. More of them followed the next year. They started growing cabbages and onions and beets. As demand grew, the prices rose.”

  I raised an eyebrow. “And your grandpa?”

  “Eventually, Grandpa couldn’t afford to upgrade his equipment.”

  “Damn. What happened then?”

  “He’d planned to retire to Florida with Grandma, but they ended up living with my Aunt Trudy until their last six months spent in an old-folks home. They died a week apart.”

  Carol frowned. “You could have left the last section out, but I think the point of this story is clear.”

  I looked at Dan first and then back to Carol. “So, you think I’m like the stubborn old farmer?”

  “I think you’re better than that,” said Dan, “But you might need a nudge in the right direction.”

  Carol chimed in. “I don’t want to lose my job. Do you know what this means to me?”

  As Carol spoke, I realized that I’d rarely talked to my employees about how the job figured into their lives. Sometimes we chatted about families and leisure time, but otherwise, the time we spent together focused on South Main and the food.

  They were both silent for long enough that I thought I needed to say something. “It’s income. I know it’s not great, but it’s something.”

  “It’s independence, and working for you brought me back to life.”

  My eyes opened wider, and Dan unfolded his arms. He leaned toward Carol to listen closely while she reached up and wiped at the corner of her right eye.

  “I don’t think I’ve ever told you this, Mitch. I lost my dad when I was a kid, and my mom passed away about two months before I walked through the front door and asked you for a job. I didn’t need the money, but I needed the work. I had to get myself out of the house.”

  “I knew your parents were gone, but I didn’t know how close it happened to the date you started here. Why did you ask me for work? You’re smart. You could work in almost any office in town.”

  Carol flashed a half-smile. “My sister suggested that I work in a restaurant. She thought I needed to see many different people and get exercise. I chose South Main. The last meal out that I had with my mom was here, and you were a sweetheart.”

  “Aww—shit.” Carol’s comment was enough to start the waterworks. I reached up and wiped at my eye. “I can’t handle stories like this.”

  “Then I won’t tell mine,” said Dan.

  I said, “What you’re both telling me is that it will be a hellish mess if South Main goes under. Believe me—I know what it would do to my life.”

  “It doesn’t have to be that way,” said Dan.

  “I know. That’s why I want to get back to basics.”

  “And lose all of the new customers?”

  I said, “They aren’t helping our bottom line.”

  Dan brought up the point I didn’t want to hear. He suggested that I swallow the remainder of my pride. “You’re good friends with Tanner Gentry—right? It looks like he’s doing well. Why don’t you ask him for some advice?”

  Carol grinned. “They’re more than just friends. That’s what I’ve heard.”

  “Well, I didn’t want to go there—”

  I held up my right hand. “Okay—stop with that. This is a business meeting. It’s not open season for gossip about my personal life.”

  “Then, as a business move, you’ll talk to Tanner? Carol and I can go along if you want, but I bet the conversation will be best one-on-one.”

  I swallowed hard against a lump in the back of my throat the size of a baseball. I didn’t want to ask Tanner for any advice. South Main traveled in one direction since Gentry hit town, which was downhill. Unfortunately, I did think Dan was right about Tanner’s success with his business. While we whispered sweet nothings in each other’s ears, Tanner also dropped hints that his place was doing better than he expected.

  I folded my hands together on the tabletop and gazed at both of my best employees. “Do you realize how hard it is to tuck your tail between your legs and ask your competition for advice? How do I trust him? Maybe he wants to run me out of business. My grandpa said never to trust your direct competitors further than you could throw them.”

  Dan leaned back in his chair. “Wow. Did you break up?”

  “Why do you ask that? And didn’t I just say I didn’t want to get into personal shit?”

  I was a little too loud. Dan held up both hands. “Hey, I’m sorry, Mitch. I’m not trying to start anything. I think it would be a crock of shit if you had to deal with breaking up with a new boyfriend at the same time as finding out the news about bad numbers. No wonder you’re agitated. It always comes in waves—doesn’t it?”

  Carol asked, “Is he right? I’m so sorry. Mr. Gentry seems like a nice guy. I’ve eaten at his place a couple of times. I’d never had a Fresno chile pepper until Tina dar
ed me to eat one on my sandwich.”

  The moment arrived to steer the conversation away from Tanner and me—at least for a moment. I asked, “Tina?”

  “Oh, she’s my new friend. Tina moved to town three months back with her husband, Beck. Both of their kids are grown, and they wanted somewhere quiet to live until retirement. He sells insurance.”

  Dan’s eyes brightened. “Is it that new insurance office they put in on the other end of Main? I was so glad somebody grabbed the storefront. It was turning into an eyesore.”

  “Yep, that’s the one. I met Tina at the church potluck on the second Saturday of the month. She brought tuna casserole, and I offered my lasagna.”

  “Aww, how sweet,” said Dan.

  I stepped into the middle of the Carol and Tina show. “It looks like the meeting’s over. Don’t panic. I’ve got everything under control.”

  Dan looked me in the eye. “Does that mean you’re going to talk to Tanner?”

  I’d hoped they forgot about Tanner and were more interested in the finer points of potluck lasagna. With a heavy sigh, I said, “Yeah, I’ll run a couple of ideas past him.”

  “No booting out the avocados yet?” Carol blinked her eyes at me.

  The conversation didn’t end where I thought it would. I planned that we’d all be singing the praises of double cheeseburgers and grilled cheese on Texas toast by the time the meeting wrapped up. Instead, I scratched my head and decided to cave to the pressure—at least temporarily.

  “Yep, we’ll keep the avocados for now, but I need the two of you to do something for me.”

  “After I cook the food and clean the grill and fill the walk-in and…” Dan let his voice fade out, and he replaced it with a Cheshire cat smile.

  “Yeah, I know you’re both overworked, but please, talk the place up. Tell the customers who like this newfangled—uh—food to encourage their friends. We’re not merely a few dollars down. We need a turnaround.”