Page 86 of Tough Nut to Crack

I smile at the delivery man, noticing the way he grins back at me.

"Do I need to sign something?"

He hands me a clipboard with an electronic tablet on it, and I scratch out my name with the stylus as the man pulls his dolly into the back. He takes the clipboard back from me with a thank you before leaving.

I look down at the stack of boxes and my mouth drops open. That's how Ruth finds me.

"You had a delivery," I mutter.

There's an uneasy pause that seems to last an eternity, but then she shuffles past me as if her secrets and lies aren't right there, staring me in the face.

"Thank you, dear."

I tilt my head to the side as I watch her scuttle past toward the large freezer door.

"Have you considered retiring?" I ask, the question hitting me out of the blue.

"Are you here to make an offer on the diner?" she asks, her astute eyes narrowing.

I take a moment to think about it, but what this woman built doesn't resemble my goals at all. I've never wanted to be a short-order cook, and there's just too much that goes into running a business the way this one is structured.

"Or are you here to blackmail me?" The bitterness in her tone makes my forehead crease as I stand a little taller.

"I'm not the type of person to use blackmail to get what I want," I assure her, but my declaration doesn't ease the tension in her shoulders.

"How can I help you?" she asks with the fakest tone I've ever heard the woman use.

"I came by to ask about selling to-go meals for families who need more time in the evenings."

"What does that have to do with me? Is it because you need a commercial kitchen? I'm too busy here with the dinner rush to support another business getting in the way. There's space to consider. I don't have storage room for the things that would be required, and carting all of your things in and out makes no sense."

"I'd find my own commercial space."

"A storefront?" she asks, sounding even more annoyed. "That's direct competition, and I'm sure you know about—"

I hold my hand up to make her pause. "I don't want a storefront. I just want to sell to-go meals."

"I don't see that being a problem," she says, looking a little relieved.

"I'm considering changing my catering menu to include recipes from my grandmother's cookbook."

Ruth should know exactly what is in that cookbook. She was very good friends with my grandmother many years ago.

"Homestyle cooking?"

"Yes, ma'am."

Her eyes narrow, and I know this is the point where she says there's no way she'd agree to that.

"I don't think that would be a problem," she says instead.

"Please understand that it may interfere with your evening rush."

I wait as she pulls in a deep breath, certain she's going to back down and refuse.

She looks over her shoulder in the direction of the large stack of boxes.

"I'll talk with the Chamber of Commerce to make sure they know I'm okay with it," she says.

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