The Reluctant Bachelor

by Syndi Powell

  “Need a cup of coffee?” Rick stood and retrieved the coffee carafe from behind the counter, hooked a mug with one finger, then joined his brother in the back booth. He poured the coffee into the empty mug before topping off his own. “Still drink it black or should I find the creamer?”

  “Black’s fine.”

  Rick nodded and took the seat across from Dan. “What’s wrong? Is it Mom again?”

  Dan shook his head, then glanced behind him at the customers gathered at the diner. “We can talk here?”

  Any news his brother had to share would be sure to make the gossip rounds in Lake Mildred before too long. “Sure.”

  Dan sighed, rubbing the space between his eyebrows. “I’ll be glad when this whole economic downturn is over.”

  Downturn? Was that what people losing their jobs, homes and lives was? Rick took a sip of his coffee, mostly to keep from saying what he really wanted to say. “Just tell me what you came here for.”

  Dan leaned forward. “I heard that producer is in town.”

  Biting the inside of his cheek, Rick nodded. So that was what his visit was about? A pretty face? “Yeah, Lizzie’s here. She might be back in about twenty minutes if you want to talk to her.”

  Dan frowned. “Why would I talk to her?”

  “She’s cute. All wrong for you, of course. But she does fit your type.” Rick poured some creamer into his coffee and stirred it. “Smart. Pretty. No nonsense.”

  “I’m not looking for a date, Rick.” He took a sip of his coffee, then placed the mug on the table. Rubbed his forehead and twitching eye. “She wants you to do that show again?”

  He sighed. He couldn’t escape the show, not even with his family. “Don’t worry. I already told her to forget about it.”

  Dan frowned and shook his head as if Rick had said the worst thing in the world. “Why would you do a stupid thing like that?”

  Wait. His brother wanted him to do the show? “If memory serves, you didn’t want me to do the show the last time. Hated it when I left. Then resented me when I came back home.”

  “I was stupid, okay?” He glanced at his cell phone. “All of Dad’s talk about what was good for the family? The company? I think I get it now.”

  Rick remembered the discussions he and his dad had had over the show. In the end, it had come down to Rick choosing to help save the family company. “You got it five years too late.”

  “I wasn’t CEO then. I didn’t realize what a boon that show could be.” Dan adjusted the lapel of his suit coat. “Last time, our sales went up almost thirty percent. We got distributors in a dozen more states that sold our product. Business at the diner tripled after they aired your hometown visit.” He leaned in closer. “We could use that kind of publicity again.”

  “No.”

  Dan shook his head. “What’s changed? Dad told you to do the show then. I’m telling you now.”

  Telling him what to do yet again. Well, Rick wasn’t the same little brother who went along with Dan’s ideas. He had his own life. His own choices to make. “I’m smarter this time around. I won’t do it.”

  “I get it.” Dan jutted his jaw forward, the same way he had since they were kids and he thought he was not only right, but that Rick would be convinced of it, too. “You need to think about it. I’ll call you in a few days.”

  “Call me next week. The answer will still be the same.”

  Dan stood and placed a hand on Rick’s shoulder. “You’ve got to think of the family, little brother.”

  Rick shook his head and bit back a laugh. “I am thinking of the family. You’re focusing on the company’s bottom line.”

  “You don’t understand the hole we’re in. And if we fail, this town will never be the same—” Dan broke off and shook his head. “Never mind. This was a mistake.”

  Rick got to his feet and leaned in toward Dan. “Why would we fail?”

  “Maybe if you read those company reports I send you more than you read the sports pages, you might understand why I’m here.” Dan took one last sip of coffee before slapping the mug on the table. “Thanks for the coffee.”

  Rick was getting pretty good at making people storm out of his diner.

  * * *

  ELIZABETH STARED INTO her suitcase as if a waitress uniform would magically appear. Thankfully, she’d never had to go the same route as her mother. She’d known someone who knew someone offering a job as a page on a studio lot when she turned sixteen, and she’d been into television ever since. It was all that she knew. All she wanted. That was why she had to use this week to convince Rick to do the show. If that meant washing mountains of dishes and pouring rivers of coffee, she’d do it.

  A pair of khakis peeked at her from the bottom of the suitcase, so she pulled them out and found a sleeveless green shell and matching short-sleeved top to go with it. It was better than nothing. Or at least better than the sopping oxford and slacks that hung over the shower curtain rod in the tiny bathroom of her room at the bed-and-breakfast.

  She returned to the diner to find Rick barking orders to his cook through the window. He looked comfortable here. As if he knew that he’d be doing this for the rest of his life.

  Unfortunately.

  Didn’t he see that he had so much more to offer? She’d watched the dailies again from the last show he’d done and knew that he was made for bigger things than running a small-town diner. Maybe he didn’t want to work for the family company, but he wasn’t being challenged here. That was where she came in. She needed to broaden his horizons. Provide him with a better life. Success on the show would mean opened doors for him, and he could write his own future. Be a celebrity chef if he wanted. Get his own cooking show and endorsement deals.

  “I’m back.” She did a Vanna White impression and turned around. “Will this suffice for a waitress?”

  Rick looked her up and down, then grimaced. “You sure you want grease to touch that silk shirt?”

  “It’s either this or another suit.” She put her hands on her hips. “I didn’t exactly plan on working at the diner this entire week with you.”

  “The diner is my life now.” He looked at her outfit again. “We’ll go shopping after lunch.”

  She could handle shopping. That thought might get her through whatever he had in store for her. “Is that part of my small-town education?”

  Rick grinned and handed her a clean apron to tie around her hips and a blank order pad. “I’ll help you with the first three tables, and then you’re on your own. Got it?”

  She produced a popular television show and made it look easy. How hard could this be? “I think I can handle taking a few orders.”

  Again with the smile. Why did she get the feeling that there was more to this?

  “I’ll still help you with the first three. They can be tricky.”

  Rick chose the first table of two older women, who chatted with each other more than glancing at their menus. Elizabeth approached them. “Good afternoon, ladies. What can I get you today?”

  Talk ceased as they turned to look at her. Perused her outfit. Glanced at Rick. Then sighed collectively. The woman with salt-and-pepper hair spoke first. “Well, aren’t you the cutest thing?” She turned to Rick. “Where did you find her?”

  Rick stepped forward and clasped his hands behind his back. “She’s just helping out a few days for the Pickle Festival. So be gentle with her.”

  The two women gave each other telling glances. The fading redhead turned to Elizabeth. “What soups do you have today?”

  Elizabeth glanced at the back of her order pad, where she’d written them. “Chicken noodle. Clam chowder. And vegetable.”

  The women resumed looking at their menus. The salt-and-pepper looked up at Rick. “Char’s coming in for the festival this weekend, you know.”

  R
ick gave a tight smile. “You must be looking forward to seeing your daughter.”

  Elizabeth glanced at him. He tugged at the collar of his T-shirt and rolled his head on his shoulders. Clearly not a good topic.

  “What she’s looking forward to is seeing you again, Rick. Should I tell her to give you a call?”

  Rick shifted on his feet until Elizabeth stepped in. “Actually, he’ll be busy with me this weekend. Working the festival and all.” She glanced at Rick. “Isn’t that right?”

  Rick sighed and nodded. “Yeah, that’s right. It’s gonna be pretty busy, Mrs. Stanfill.” When the older woman wrinkled her nose, he quickly added, “But I’ll be sure to say hello if I see her in town.”

  Red gave her friend a sideways glance, then offered a big smile to Rick. “Donna will be in town, as well. You be sure to say hello to her, too.”

  Rick nodded, but he looked as if he’d agreed to pour salt into old wounds. “Elizabeth, why don’t you go ahead and take their orders? I’ve got to check on something in the kitchen.”

  Rick left her standing alone. She took a big breath. “So what can I get you?”

  * * *

  ELIZABETH WAS CONVINCED that he’d chosen the three most difficult tables to train her on. They all wanted specific orders rather than something off the menu. Maybe he’d put them up to it. Maybe he’d told them to be difficult. She groaned and hoisted the tray of food for the second table onto her shoulder like Rick had shown her. It was heavier than it looked, and she almost sagged under its weight. A drop of oil dripped from the tray onto her blouse.

  Great. She’d definitely need that trip to the clothing store. How did people not have to buy a wardrobe at the end of the day working in food service? If nothing else, she would appreciate how hard her server worked the next time she ate at a restaurant. She promised she’d tip better if she could get through this afternoon.

  By the end of the lunch rush, she found herself again at the back booth, her feet up and resting on the seat across from her. She’d developed blisters. She must have the way her feet throbbed and ached. She needed better shoes. New clothes. What else would this glimpse into Rick’s life cost her?

  “Here.” Rick set a plate laden with a BLT and fries in front of her. “My specialty, just for you.”

  She wrinkled her nose at the bacon but one whiff of the sandwich made her stomach grumble loud enough for Rick to hear. He chuckled.

  “Thanks.” She laid a napkin on her lap and took a tentative bite.

  Mmmmmmmm.

  Rick grinned and left, only to return momentarily with his own sandwich. “Mind if I join you?”

  “Think the diner will survive without us?” She took another large bite and tried to chew faster to get to the next one.

  “I think we have time to eat. You don’t have to rush.” He looked around the dining room, which held a few stragglers left from the rush. “Shirley’s here, so she can take over.”

  Elizabeth took another bite of her sandwich and groaned again in delight. There was something different about the bacon. “What’s your secret?”

  “If I told you, then it wouldn’t be a secret anymore.” He smirked at her. “I bake the bacon rather than frying it. Sprinkle it with Cajun seasonings and brown sugar to give it a little something special.”

  She wiped her mouth with her napkin. “This is fantastic.”

  “Thank you.”

  They ate in silence until Elizabeth pushed her plate away. It held only a few of the fries and a stray piece of lettuce. She patted her very full belly. “I can’t eat another bite. What are you trying to do to me?”

  He looked her over. “You could use some fattening up.”

  “Now you sound like a grandmother.” Not that she’d ever known one personally. Yet another part of childhood she’d missed.

  Rick stuffed the rest of his sandwich in his mouth. They smiled at each other, not saying a word. Not needing to. When he was finished, he wiped his mouth and rubbed his flat stomach. “That really hit the spot.”

  It felt good to sit. To put her feet up and relax. She almost hated to ask, but she did. “So what’s next on the agenda?”

  “I show you around town. The Pickle Festival kicks off tonight, so what better way to see it than that? The rides. The food. The people.” He winked at her. “You won’t be able to resist.”

  If only that were true. “Even if we agree to tape here, you’ll still have to come to L.A. for the live finale. That’s a tradition we can’t break.”

  “I’m not asking to break anything. Just change it a little.”

  Elizabeth nodded, then attempted to get to her feet, which protested. She sat back down. “As long as we’re not talking about long walks anywhere, I’m in.”

  CHAPTER THREE

  SEEING THE NATURAL beauty of Michigan would woo Lizzie, who would in turn convince the suits, so Rick followed the scenic route along the lake. The sun glanced off the smooth dark green surface of the water while boats drifted in the distance. Picturesque cottages and run-down fishing shacks shared the shore, providing its tenants with lake living.

  When it was safe to do so, he pulled the truck over to the side of the road and held out his hand to help her down. She groaned as her feet touched the ground, only reminding him that working in his diner had taken a lot out of her. But she was a trouper. Whether it was to convince him for the show or something else, it didn’t matter. He admired her spunk.

  “I was thinking that this would really look spectacular on film.” Though he still had no desire to do the show, the idea of filming here was growing on him. It could be just the boost the Lake Mildred economy needed. He turned back to gauge her impression. “It’s amazing here in the spring. Summer. Fall. Even winter with all the snow.”

  Her eyes widened. “Snow?”

  She’d probably never seen a snowflake, much less a foot of the white stuff dumped overnight. “When were you looking to film the show?”

  “A live Valentine’s Day kickoff. Then live again for the finale in time for the May sweeps.”

  “So snow, then budding flowers. Nice.” He looked out over the lake and took a deep breath. He’d tried the California atmosphere, but he’d been homesick for this the entire time. The clean air. The lap of the waves on the shore. Even the splash of fish, who were practically calling his name to catch them. “We could do a ski fantasy date. Or an ice-fishing expedition. Later in the spring, they could even try out for my softball team.”

  “You really want us to come here? Disturb the peace of your small town?” She looked around her. “I’ll admit this would look good on television. Practically a postcard from Middle America. But we wouldn’t leave this place the way we found it.”

  “Besides bringing your audience a taste of real America, you’d also be bringing local jobs for the time you’re here. Jobs that people could really use.” He stepped closer to her. “You’d need people to drive. To build. To cater. Sure, you could bring some of those people from L.A. out here, but think of what you could save by hiring locally. You could improve the town’s economy.”

  She looked at him as if he’d suggested that they could cure cancer while they were at it. “We’re a television show. Don’t give us too much credit.”

  “Lizzie.” He stepped closer. “My dad always told me that with our money came responsibility. I had to give back in any way I could. If I do the show, I want to be able to help the people who have supported me. Will you help me do that?”

  She sighed. “You’ve given me some things to think about, but I’m going to need more than this. Where would I house twenty-four women? As well as a crew of two dozen more. The bed-and-breakfast I’m at is nice, but let’s be realistic. We need something a lot bigger.”

  Rick nodded and considered the issue. “What about some of these abandoned homes? Could
n’t you rent one of those?”

  “And fix it up with what money? The studio owns a mansion specifically for this show. It works for a reason.”

  She always had to look on the bleak side, didn’t she? But he could see the wheels turning in her head behind the skeptical expression. She might be throwing up objections, but he could tell she saw the benefits. “What if you don’t pay me for my time on the show? What if you instead use that check to do this?”

  She turned and looked at him closely. “You’d do that?” She didn’t seem convinced.

  Rick knew it could work. Bring the show. Put people to work. Keep some kind of normal life while living it out in front of a national audience. It had to work. “To get the show here? Yeah.”

  She crossed her arms. “Keep talking.”

  “Consider the tax breaks the state would give you for filming here. The cost of living is less, so you’d be getting bargain prices on the things you take for granted in Hollywood.”

  “Let’s say we could rent a house around here. Two dozen women sharing one, maybe two bathrooms? Even that’s a little too real for television.”

  Rick grinned. “And a whole lot of fun.”

  Lizzie held up her hands. “Okay. Show me more.”

  * * *

  BY THE TIME they got in the truck and headed back to the diner for dinner, Elizabeth was dog tired. She doubted she’d be awake long enough to eat, much less call Devon with an update. And she had to admit the idea of filming here had started to wiggle into her already clicking mind. It would be a change, something that could spark ratings for a show that was starting to show its age. Rick might be onto something.

  Instead of going to the diner, however, Rick turned his truck into the driveway of a large Victorian house with a wraparound porch and pulled around back near the lakefront. Elizabeth looked at the manicured landscape outside and frowned. “We’re having dinner here?”

  Rick wiggled his eyebrows. “First we’re going to catch it. Then we’ll eat here.”

  Elizabeth groaned. “You’re taking me fishing? Haven’t you tortured me enough for one day?”