by Molly Cannon
He fumed at her prediction. “I don’t know if I buy that, but why are you taking such an interest anyway, Irene?”
She looked at him like it should be obvious. “You’re a big dope if you don’t realize for Miz Hazel’s sake and Miz Beulah’s, too, everyone in town is hoping for the best. We want the B&B to be a success. And it’s no secret you have money tied up in it, too, Donny Joe. That worries me.”
“I appreciate your concern, but I think you’re overreacting, Irene.”
She flipped her hair over her shoulder and patted his arm. “Okay, babe. Maybe I’m way off base. Maybe the old yokels around here can’t wait to chow down on fussy French cuisine, but I’d hate to see your friend Etta’s first major step in this town be the wrong one.”
Donny Joe reluctantly reconsidered what Irene was saying. He looked at the flyer more carefully. He couldn’t pronounce half the things on it. Now that she mentioned it the folks around here were awfully stubborn about trying new things. “You may be right. I’ll discuss the menu with her. And I’ll come by this afternoon and have a look at your hot tub.”
After she left Donny Joe wandered down the street to the barber shop. If any place had its finger on the pulse of Everson it was MJ’s Barbershop. He pulled open the door and walked inside. Hoot and Dooley waved from where they sat in the front of the shop, engrossed in their usual game of Parcheesi. The game was the way they stayed out of their wives’ hair since they’d retired. And it was gossip more than the game that kept their attention all day.
Marla Jean Bandy, owner and operator of the shop, greeted him with a smile. “How’s it going, Donny Joe? Are you here for a haircut?” A few months ago his heart would have gone pitty-pat at the sight of her. He’d developed a small crush on her that had been doomed from the start, but she was engaged to be married now, and the happy couple had his full blessing. In fact, Marla Jean and Jake were one of the couples he hoped to convince that the Hazelnut Inn would be the perfect place for the wedding they were planning this year. But he had more important things on his mind at the moment.
“Not today, Marla Jean. Have y’all seen this flyer for the Valentine’s Day dinner at the B&B? You’re all coming, right?”
Hoot spoke up. “Not on your life. I’ve seen it, and I’ve already told the wife we aren’t going.”
Dooley rolled the dice and moved his game piece around the board. “Well, if you and Maude aren’t going, I’m telling Linda we’re not going, either.”
Marla Jean stopped trimming Walter Dobbins’s sideburns long enough to take a look at the printed menu then handed it back to Donny Joe. “Sounds pretty fancy.”
“It’s supposed to be fancy. It’s the Grand Opening of the Inn, besides being Valentine’s Day, for Pete’s sake. The day you take your special someone out for a special dinner. Come on, guys. What’s the problem?”
Hoot made a face. “I don’t want to spend a lot of money and have to guess what I’m eating. Sorry.”
Dooley nodded in agreement. “And we’re not the only ones. Everyone at the diner this morning was saying the same thing.”
Walter turned around in the chair. “Valentine’s Day is a made-up commercial holiday, and I refuse to buy my wife jewelry and flowers just because the calendar says I should.”
Marla Jean laughed. “But we still have to eat, Walter.” She turned to Donny Joe. “I’ll talk to Jake about making a reservation.”
“That’s the spirit. You won’t regret it, Marla Jean. I promise. Etta is an awesome cook.”
He got the same reaction over at the lumber yard. Larry Binnion greeted him as he walked in. “Donny Joe, if you’re here to check on the supplies for that pavilion you’re building, they’re all stacked up in the loading area ready to be picked up.”
“Thanks, I’ll let Paul Lott know. He’s in charge of the construction crew.”
“So, how can I help you then?”
Donny Joe held out a menu. “Have you seen this? I’m trying to get the word out about the Inn’s big Grand Opening dinner.”
Larry wrinkled his nose. “I’ve seen it.”
“You look worried. I’m here to tell you Etta Green is a fantastic chef.”
“Is she like one of those chefs on TV?”
“What do you mean?” Donny Joe didn’t know what he was driving at.
“You know. They give those fancy chefs a basket full of weird ingredients. Say a chicken, a bag of candy corn, and an old dirty sock, and then tell them to whip up a delicacy fit for kings.”
Martha Miller, the store’s cashier, leaned across the counter. “Yeah, and then they have those celebrity judges. They take a bite of chicken and act all delighted at woody undertones added by the sock while the candy corn relish provides a sweet counterpoint. I say it’s all a bunch of bull honky.”
Larry agreed. “You tell ’em, Martha. No one in their right mind would eat that stuff.”
They both started laughing uproariously, enjoying themselves at the expense of serious chefs everywhere.
Donny Joe waited until they had themselves under control. “I promise Etta never uses socks in her cooking. But if she did it would be delicious.”
That set them off again.
He didn’t think he’d won them over so he stopped in at the Rise-N-Shine. It was full of men and women drinking coffee or eating pie. He was bound to find some willing folks to attend the Valentine’s Dinner in this crowd. He called out as he came in the door. “Hey, Bertie, how’s it going?”
Bertie looked up from refilling a cup of coffee and her eyes widened when she saw him. She sat the coffee urn down and started shooing him back toward the diner’s front door. “Get out of here, Donny Joe, before Ray sees you.” She hissed and flapped her dish towel at him, herding him back out the way he came.
“Is that Donny Joe?” Ray Odem’s head popped up at the end of the counter. “I’m going to break you in two and feed you to the buzzards.”
Donny Joe sighed, threw up his hands, and beat a hasty retreat. He knew from past experience the town folks would keep Ray from coming after him, and Bertie would distract him with a free slice of pie.
His mission to drum up enthusiasm for Etta’s menu had been met with defeat. And if he was going to have to go around town twisting folks’ arms to make reservations they were going to be in big trouble. He needed to talk to Etta right away.
Etta was feeling better about things. Carlton Starling had looked over the paperwork Sandra Mann had gifted her with and said he’d contact her lawyers and see where she stood. He thought that even if the agreement stood they could insist on more money. All she could do for now was wait, so she decided to leave it in his hands and try to manage the other obstacles more directly in her path.
Daphne was talking to her mother every day on her computer, but Belle still hadn’t committed to a firm date on when she’d be returning. At least Daphne seemed to like school and the friends she’d made. They’d invited her to join their soccer team, and she seemed to be excited about that. And most importantly, she hadn’t said anything else about finding her father. Etta didn’t know if that was good or bad, but in the long run it was an issue Belle needed to deal with when she got home. Daphne was old enough now that she wouldn’t be put off by the kind of vague answers her mother had given her up until now. And the whole thing still made Etta mad enough to spit.
She sat at her grandmother’s desk drawing out a floor plan to reconfigure the dining room using small tables instead of the big old pedestal table that was in there now. It only seated twelve. They needed to be able to accommodate twenty five or thirty diners on big occasions like the Valentine’s Day dinner. If she incorporated part of the solarium she thought it would work. Now she needed to find a bunch of small tables. They didn’t need to match. Table cloths would take care of that.
She heard a truck pull into the driveway, and looked out the window in time to see Donny Joe walking up the front walkway. Lately her heart seemed to speed up at the sight of him. What was that al
l about? The last thing she needed was to develop some unrequited lust-filled crush on the guy. But lust-filled crushes didn’t respond to reason. Her body reacted whenever he was near. The sound of his voice caused shivery anticipation of the way he’d tease her. Of the way he’d smile. And of course she knew he acted the same with all women. He didn’t single her out to charm. But that didn’t seem to matter. Even if this was nothing but a passing fancy, she’d fallen under his spell. It was a good thing she wasn’t foolish enough to want anything more.
She opened the door before he could knock, and waved him inside. “Hi, Donny Joe. Come look at my plan for the dining room. What do you think?” She held out the floor plan for his inspection, even as he hesitated at the edge of the room. “I’m going to be on the hunt for small tables. If you have any ideas of where I should look, I’d love to hear them.”
He seemed to have something important on his mind. “We can talk about that later, Etta. Right now we have a bigger problem.”
“What kind of problem?” She didn’t want any more problems, much less a bigger one. Her effort to remain above the fray was beginning to crumble.
He took his hat off and shuffled his feet “Well, I hate to be the one to tell you, but everyone is turning their nose up at your menu. If we don’t do something quick, there won’t be anybody to eat at those tables you’re so anxious to find.”
That was the big problem? “Don’t be silly. I just took those flyers around early this morning. It will take a while, but before long the reservations will start pouring in.”
He looked uncomfortable. “From what I hear that’s not going to happen.”
“Why not? I outdid myself coming up with that menu. Those dishes are proven crowd pleasers. Before you know it people around here will be lined up around the block to eat my food.” She crossed her arms over her chest feeling put out with Donny Joe and maybe, if what he said was true, the whole town.
“I’m sure it’s all delicious, but maybe for a first meal, for their introduction to you and your magical way with food, we should try something simpler, more familiar to their palates.”
Simpler, as in ordinary? She didn’t do ordinary. “Humph. Maybe I should just make a pot of chili and slap a box of crackers on the table.” She stomped over to the desk and threw the floor plans down.
“Well now, that’s a little too plain, but it’s a step in the right direction.” He added a smile as if that would help.
“Are you nuts?” Even as she asked she could tell he wasn’t kidding. At least not completely.
“I know how people around here think, sugar.”
“Is that right?” She glared at him.
He met her glare calmly and added a stubborn set to his chin. “That’s right.”
She wasn’t about to back down. “I think you’re wrong, sugar, and I think the phone is going to start ringing off the wall any minute now.”
“If you say so. I’ll give it a day or two, and then we’ll see.”
“Okay, mister smarty pants. We’ll wait a couple of days, and if I don’t have a full house reserved by then you can come up with the winning menu all by yourself.”
“It will be my pleasure to step in and save the day.” The look he gave her was filled with a combination of compassion mixed with pity. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I have an appointment with a lady and her hot tub.”
Chapter Fifteen
Etta rode her bicycle down Main Street with a smile plastered on her face. She called out a friendly “How are you?” and a hardy “Good afternoon” to one and all she passed. Maybe it was just her imagination, but no one seemed inclined to wave back or meet her eye. Most likely because not a single one of them planned to come to the Hazelnut Inn’s Grand Opening Valentine’s Dinner. She’d gotten exactly one call in two days. One. Marla Jean Bandy had phoned to reserve a table for herself and her fiancé. At least she sounded excited about it. Of course, she also admitted that Donny Joe talked her into it by telling her that Etta was an awesome cook. His word. Awesome.
Dammit.
Apparently, Donny Joe had been right. And she was sure he’d never let her hear the end of it. He could gloat all he wanted later on, but that wouldn’t mean squat if they had an empty dining room on February 14th. She stopped in front of his place of business ready to eat crow. Even though it was set back from the street, Backyard Oasis was hard to miss. A big, bright sign with the name of the store alongside a neon palm tree invited customers to step inside. Outside the entrance a paved area with colored lights strung in a zigzag pattern overhead beckoned to the customers to come in and explore. And underneath those lights assorted patio furniture, chimeras, pottery planters, and pink flamingos lined the path leading to the store’s front door. It was actually quite charming. But, she shouldn’t have been surprised. The store’s owner had invented the word “charm” the day he was born.
She pushed open the door and walked inside. The bell overhead jingled, but she didn’t see anyone working in the store. Donny Joe’s truck was parked out front, so she figured he had to be here somewhere in the maze of stuff. One whole wall was lined with BBQ grills that looked more like spaceships than something designed to cook a humble hamburger. Wind chimes of every shape, size, and color hung from the ceiling in one corner. The musical sound of water led her around a corner to a spot filled with flowing fountains and decorative birdbaths. Shelves ran the length of the store, filled with row after row of doormats, chair cushions, solar lights and bug zappers. A forest of tiki torches filled another corner. She’d never thought about how many items fell into the backyard furnishing category.
There was still no sign of Donny Joe so she wandered toward the rear of the store. Maybe he was back in an office and hadn’t heard her come in.
“Donny Joe?” She called out, deciding to make her presence known. “Donny Joe, are you here?”
Still no answer. This was an odd way to run a business.
It suddenly occurred to her that he might not be alone. He might have one of his women back there in one of his hot tubs, and they might be having wild monkey sex in the middle of the day. She wouldn’t put it past him. After all, his reputation with the ladies was the stuff of legends in this town. On second thought maybe it would be better if she waited and talked to him later tonight after he got home. Feeling awkward, she started for the front door wanting to make a quiet escape. The bell on the door jingled when she opened it, but she wasn’t worried since he hadn’t heard it the first time. Wild monkey sex most likely required all his concentration. She had one foot out the door when she heard her name.
“Etta, is that you?”
His voice stopped her in her tracks, and she turned around to see him pulling a wet T-shirt over his head. It clung to his chest and a bare strip of his flat stomach winked at her before he tugged the shirt into place. He came forward smiling and wiping his hands on a towel. She looked behind him to make sure he wasn’t followed by a naked woman or two.
“I was out back and didn’t hear you come in.”
“Oh gosh, you’re working. I didn’t mean to interrupt.” She blushed even though it was clear the only place his wet naked ladies were hiding was in her fantasy life.
“Please interrupt. I don’t mind at all. I was replacing a hose on a hot tub, and as you can see it got away from me. Wait a minute and I’ll grab a dry shirt from my office.” He strode over to an open door and she followed him.
She watched with great interest as he pulled the wet shirt off again, and without a smidgeon of modesty walked bare-chested over to a file cabinet and pulled out a folded T-shirt. His chest was broad, as she’d imagined, with a light scattering of blonde hair. Her mouth was dry when she asked, “Does this happen often?”
“All the time. Why do you think I have a filing cabinet full of shirts?” His muscles flexed as he put on the new shirt, and once he was redressed he pointed to a chair. “Do you want to sit down? I assume you’re here to talk about the Inn and not to buy a birdbath.”
&n
bsp; She dropped into the chair still feeling off kilter from the sight of his half nakedness. “I don’t know. That copper birdbath I saw would look great in the side garden. But you’re right. It’s about the Inn. I’m here to concede defeat.”
“In that case, maybe I should sit down, too.” He sat down behind the desk. “What exactly are you conceding? I don’t want to presume anything.”
“There’s no need to be coy, Donny Joe. You were right.”
“Do tell? I was right? I like the sound of that.” He was enjoying himself a little too much in her opinion. “And what exactly was I right about?”
She narrowed her eyes and spit out the words. “The Valentine’s Day Dinner. Nobody’s coming. My menu is a giant bust with the finicky folks of Everson.”
“I’m awfully sorry.” He rocked back in his chair with an I-told-you-so glint dancing in his eyes.
She threw her hands in the air and declared, “People are avoiding me like I’m a carrier for bird flu. I swear Arnie Douglas ducked into an alley a minute ago just so he wouldn’t have to say hello.”
“Now, I wouldn’t take that personally. Arnie is awfully shy when it comes to women.”
“I’m not actually worried about Arnie.”
“Since his wife left, he’s just not as outgoing as he used to be.”
“Good Gravy, could you forget about Arnie for just a minute? I’m trying to say you were right, and I was wrong. Doesn’t that make you happy?”
“Of course not, Etta. You’re groveling gives me absolutely no pleasure at all.” The grin on his face said it gave him gargantuan amounts of pleasure. “And I’m still convinced once folks around here taste your cooking, they’ll be lining up in droves.”
“Humph. That doesn’t solve our immediate problem. We can’t have a grand opening without customers.”
He leaned forward with his arms on the desk. “So, to be clear—let me make sure I have this straight—you’re saying you need my help?”