“You grow the most beautiful vegetables, Tiffany.”
She kept her silence as Greg sorted her produce atop one of the big steel prep tables in the back of the Puffin Bay Diner. Greg and his father the Judge always made her a bit nervous. The Judge was an austere, silent man, and she felt like a trespasser every time she entered his kitchen. Greg was an amazing chef, or so everyone said; she’d never eaten one of his dinners. And he always complimented her produce.
“Winter beets, spring leeks, fresh spinach, and snow peas. I can’t believe you grow snow peas. This gives me some great ideas for tomorrow night, you really must come at least once.” Greg had recently added a Tuesday night dinner at The Puffin.
His father served breakfasts at the Puffin Bay Diner five days a week. His son turned
