Page 70 of Totally Fanatic

“Do you think Tim will like it?”

“I think he’ll love it. Where is it now?”

“On the back of Mouse’s car, she took it home until I can ask Tim if he knows anywhere to store it. Neither one of us has a yard, so hopefully one of his friends do and are cool with it living there for a bit.”

“You can store it at the cafe if you want.”

“Huh?”

“Out back, where we load the deliveries.”

“Are you sure?”

“Of course. Message Mouse to bring it whenever she likes.”

“I’m going to text her now. You are the best, Mary Beth. Thank you.”

***

“Why are you riding an old smoker?” Tim asks when I show him the photo Mouse took of me today. “I mean, you look adorable, but where was this taken? Was this today?”

“It was at the Bunnies task I was telling you about.”

“Oh, cool. Yeah, I never knew how many people liked to smoke their own ribs and brisket and stuff. That one is a beast, though. You could feed an army with the food you cook in there.”

“Or a truck load of people,” I say, winking at him, but he just nods and hands back my phone.

“Did you want to grab plates, and we can eat?” he asks, unpacking the food containers onto my table, Daffin weaving in between his feet. Daffin is completely obsessed with Tim. Whenever he’s here, he doesn’t go out visiting Mrs. Crisp, or anyone else. He meows at the bedroom door, waiting for Tim to come out and sits immediately in his lap the second he’s seated anywhere.

“One like this would be good for you, wouldn’t it?” I ask, and he rips the lid off the ribs container and swipes his finger overthe streak of sauce left on the lid, bringing it into his mouth as he nods.

“Mmmhmm. They cost a bit, though, so I might have to start smaller. One day, though, yeah, that size would be perfect.”

“Today.”

“What?”

“Today, that size would be perfect.”

“I’m not sure I understand,” he says, opening the second lid to the shredded brisket.

“Today, a smoker that size would be perfect. Then you can start practicing bigger cooks, to get used to the thing for when you start the food truck.”

“I mean, yeah, if I had one now, I would practice.”

“But you do.”

“I do what?”

“You do have one. That one. You have that one, it’s yours.”

“What?”

“I got it for you.”

He tilts his head slightly to the side, the frown on his brows softening as realization sets in.

“You got me a giant smoker?”

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