Chapter 2-2
809 Words
“Where are the menus? Jesse, go find out where Ash put those menus, otherwise I’ll strangle him myself,” Trent growled.
Jesse nodded and ran to the back of the restaurant, practically quivering like some terrified fawn. He was sixteen, although he looked so much younger than his age that Trent always felt guilty scaring the kid.
Tomorrow was opening day for Trent’s latest restaurant, La Bonita: a tapas place with organic fare that was fancier than his other two restaurants without being downright snobby. Fair Haven was small, but it was always growing, and when Trent had realized the potential revenue stream of a tapas place—or small plates in Spanish cuisine—he’d found the perfect location and started his third restaurant.
But he couldn’t very well run a restaurant if he didn’t have any damn menus.
“Here, asshole,” Ash, Trent’s younger brother, said as he lightly hit Trent on the head with a bunch of menus. “They were just in the back.”
“Aren’t you glad you’re my brother so I’m less likely to fire you?” Trent looked over the menus, relieved to see that the updates he’d sent to the printer had gone through. The last thing he needed was to try to have these reprinted the night before the restaurant officially opened.
“Less likely? How about never? You can’t fire family.”
Trent raised an eyebrow. “Wanna bet?”
Ash just laughed. “Good luck finding anybody else who would do your accounts as good as I would at the salary you pay me.”
Shaking his head, Trent stacked the menus near the front, gazing out at the restaurant. He’d wanted it to have a warm and inviting interior in colors of muted red and yellow. The lights weren’t overly bright, washing the entire open room in a golden glow.
Trent took a deep breath. This might be his third restaurant, but that didn’t stop the nerves that inevitably resulted.
“Need anything else?” Ash asked. At twenty-five, Ash was three years younger than Trent. Ash was broader than Trent, and his hair was a darker blond, almost auburn, his eyes a pale blue. He’d worked various odd jobs throughout his early twenties, but when Trent had offered him a chance to use his accounting degree for an actual accounting job at one of Trent’s restaurants, Ash had readily agreed.
Trent had never thought his jokester younger brother would get a degree in accounting, of all things. Ash was the opposite of a paper pusher in appearance: he looked more like a wrestler, with his muscles and short hair. Ash, though, had a head for numbers, whereas Trent had more of a head for overall strategy, combined with the stubbornness necessary to be a successful entrepreneur.
“Just tell me I haven’t forgotten something important,” Trent muttered. His head was turning to mush at this point, though; he needed a drink.
“Everything will go fine. You’ll make loads of money, pay me only a tiny percentage of it, and the world will keep on turning.”
“I pay you plenty, jerkface,” Trent said with a laugh. Right then, his attention was snagged by a woman coming from the kitchen, her hair long and dark. Trent’s heart seized in his chest.
Why would Lizzie be here?
He watched the woman, and when he caught sight of her face—not Lizzie Thornton after all—he let out a breath. Now I’m seeing Lizzie in random places. I need help.
Trent hoped Ash hadn’t noticed his momentary stunned-faced silence, but of course he wasn’t that lucky. Ash made a noise in the back of his throat.
“You know what I heard?” Ash said suddenly.
Trent really didn’t want to know, so he just shrugged.
“I heard that Lizzie Thornton is going to be in town for a while longer, especially now that Seth is back.”
Trent bent down to look for a pen, although he was just wasting time until Ash finished running his big mouth. “Fascinating story, Ash.”
“Right?” Ash leaned against the table next to the entranceway. “Funny how people you thought you’d left behind come popping up years later.”
“I wouldn’t know.”
That made Ash laugh. “Okay. You keep on thinking that. Just a word of advice.”
Standing up, glaring at his little brother who wasn’t so little anymore, Trent waited.
“Don’t give up on something—or someone—if you really want it. Or them. It sucks to think you missed out on something important.”
Trent knew Ash was right, but he wasn’t going to tell him that. Except that Lizzie was no longer important to Trent. She hadn’t been for a long, long time.
“Thanks, I guess. Now, can we get back to work? Or do you want to sit, hold hands, and sing ‘Kumbaya’ together while braiding each other’s hair?”
“Only if you give me one of those fancy braids. The ones that wrap around your head. How do girls do those anyway?”
Ash laughed, which made Trent laugh, and if it sounded forced, he was glad his younger brother didn’t notice.
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