Page 58 of Cooking Up My Comeback
“Of course. I was planning to.”
But we both know he won’t. He’ll text them instead, or worse, he’ll let me break the news and then act surprised when they’re disappointed.
“Anything else?”
“Actually, yeah. I heard through the grapevine that you’re opening a restaurant. That’s... wow. Good for you.”
There’s surprise in his voice, tinged with what might be skepticism. Like he can’t quite believe I’d be capable of such a venture.
“We’re working on it.”
“We?”
“My business partner and I.”
“Right. Well, that’s... ambitious. I hope you’ve thought it through. Restaurants are risky. High failure rate.”
The patronizing tone makes my jaw clench. “I’m aware of the statistics.”
“I’m just saying, with the kids to think about, maybe something more stable?—”
“I should go.”
“Sure. I’ll call the boys later this week.”
He won’t, but I don’t have the energy to point that out. “Goodbye, Chad.”
I hang up and stand there for a moment, letting the salt breeze cool my frustration. Through the window, I can see Brett and Dad still discussing suppliers, and the sight steadies me. This is what consistency looks like.
When I step back inside, both men look up with carefully neutral expressions.
“Everything okay?” Brett asks, his voice softer than usual.
“The usual,” I say, tucking my phone away. “Where were we with the clam supplier?”
Dad studies my face for a moment, then mercifully returns to business. “Rachel Morrison. I’ll give her a call this afternoon.”
The front door chimes, and the click of heels on our newly finished floors announces a visitor. Penelope Waters, the mayor’s wife, steps inside wearing oversized sunglasses and one of those flowy tunics that probably cost more than my monthly grocery budget.
Brett straightens instinctively. I set down my notebook and arrange my face into polite professionalism.
“Well, this is lovely,” Penelope says, removing her sunglasses to survey our space. “I was stretching my legs after my tourism board meeting and thought I’d take a peek at how our newest local venture is coming along.”
She moves through the restaurant with the careful attention of someone evaluating an investment. “This place has such character. Very authentic coastal charm.”
“We’re still under construction,” Brett says, his voice measured.
“Oh, I can see that. But the vision is coming together beautifully.” She pauses near our sample chalkboard where we’ve written potential menu items. “Seafood focus, I see. That’s... well, it’s certainly what people expect around here.”
There’s something in her tone that makes me pay closer attention.
“Is that a concern?” I ask.
“Oh, not a concern exactly. It’s just that Twin Waves has quite a few seafood options already. The Rusty Anchor, Johnson’s Pier House...” She trails off diplomatically. “I suppose my question is about positioning. How do you plan to differentiate yourselves in an established market?”
It’s a fair question, actually. One we’ve been working through ourselves.
“We’re focusing on fresh, local catch,” I say. “Day-boat fish, local suppliers, competitive pricing.”
