Page 2 of Truce Of The Matter

As I walk out, I text my assistant manager and cousin, Taj, and tell her to add strawberry cake slices to the hospital order. I’m sending over smothered chicken, beef tips, mashed potatoes, string beans, yeast rolls, and two gallons of our lemonade.

Since I parked in the garage, I take the elevator down to Floor G, find my Infiniti, then head to the restaurant. Redmond’s isa staple in the city. We’ve had the same location since 1952. Prior to the building, my great grandma Mae used to cook and sell dinners out of church. Then, my grandparents acquired this space and we’ve been here ever since. We grew and expanded about twenty years ago, purchasing the structure next to us and expanding the dining area, adding additional restrooms, and upgrading the kitchen. We can now seat seventy-nine diners. Prior to the expansion, we were capped at twenty-two.

As one of the founding families, we have a legacy and reputation to uphold. Our bloodline runs deep too. My father has six siblings and my aunts, uncles, and cousins are all here in the city. As a unit, we own a number of businesses in Crescent Falls, but the restaurant is my parents’. We employ some family members but it’s ours. Each business is independently-owned.

When I pull up to the restaurant, I pull around back into my spot in the employee parking lot. There are four spots reserved. Taj is parked in Daija’s. The back door leads to the office space, storage room, employee bathroom, then the kitchen area. I walk into the office area and Taj is standing by the door on the phone. She holds up one finger to signal one sec as I walk in and place my bag in the desk drawer. The moment she’s off the phone, she steps to the desk.

“What are they saying?” she asks.

“They are releasing her tomorrow but she’s got to go to rehab for a few weeks. These seizures weren’t like her others.”

“Man, Truce. I should have called you or the paramedics when she first blanked out in the kitchen. She was just standing there over the juicer staring at the wall for a few minutes. When she snapped out of it, she said that she was fine but I felt like she wasn’t. If I would have called then, then maybe?—”

“Maybe nothing. You couldn’t have known. Besides, she would have talked you out of calling anyway,” I assure her.

My parents no longer run the restaurant; I do. However, they cannot stay away. They open every weekday morning at eight along with the team members. They don’t work on the weekends. Taj and I rotate opening then because we serve breakfast on Saturdays and Sundays. But when they work, my mom comes in to make our secret-recipe lemonade and my dad seasons the meats. They stick around until the doors open at eleven to greet the first customers then go home. She had seizures on Monday as soon as they left the restaurant. My dad was driving and took her straight to the hospital.

“What do you need me to do? Whatever, I got you.”

“Well, if you can, open tomorrow. I want to get to the hospital early to talk to the doctors and social worker. I’ll make the lemonade tonight.”

“Or… you can finally teach me the recipe. I am family,” she says. “I think I’ve figured most of it out anyway.”

“You haven’t,” I assure her. “It’s not just the ingredients, it’s the ratios. Our lemonade has a very distinct taste and the customers love it. You’ve never heard anyone say that the lemonade tastes different today and you never will. That’s our signature.”

“You sound like Aunt Irene,” she says while laughing.

“I know; that’s my momma.”

Mack, the head cook, steps into the doorway. “How’s Miss Irene?”

“They are releasing her in the morning but she’ll be out for a few weeks. We will have shift meetings tomorrow so I can catch everyone up and talk schedules. How’s the order for the hospital?’

“Done. It’s packed up and I’m sending Tia and Myshawn to deliver it.”

“Perfect. Thanks, Mack.”

“Don’t do that,” he scoffs. “We all fam here, and listen, I can come in and open in the morning too. Tell Pops I got it.”

“I will and I can’t help saying it. Thanks.” He dismisses me with his hands then walks off. He’s right though. The staff here is family, even the ones not related to me by blood. I actually love coming to work and not too many people can say that. “Okay. Well, let me go check the line then start on this lemonade,” I say then stand.

“Walk the dining room too. Maybe something or someone can put a smile on your face,” Taj says and I just stare at her.

“What?”

“It’s Wednesday night and about time for your favorite customer to come in,” she teases with a smirk.

“Girl, please. I do not have a favorite customer. They are all my favorites,” I say dismissively. I don’t have time for her shit tonight.

“Lies you tell. We all know that fine ass Rex Goode is your favorite. Hell, he’s my favorite too. Every time that man walks in, the staff goes crazy. Tall, thick but muscular, that beard and those jet-black thick eyebrows and lashes. Please, he’s your favorite.”

“He is too light for me. You know I love dark chocolate,” I say, telling a partial truth.

While I definitely prefer my men dark as midnight, if I was looking for and had time for a man, Rex for sure warrants an exception to my preference. He’s everything Taj said wrapped in a beautiful caramel skin tone. The man is gorgeous. He comes in a few times a week with his adorable little girl but Wednesday nights are almost guaranteed.

“Okay dark chocolate,” she mocks. “ Just make sure you visit all the customers in about thirty minutes.”

“Let me go make my lemonade and I might come out if I have time,” I say before walking out of the office. I’ll definitely make time to at least say hello.

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