Page 51 of The Strawberry Patch Pancake House
She rolled her eyes at him like that was an absurd thing to say. ‘Not here it’s not. Dream Harbor likes a more … elaborate name.’
‘But,’ the mayor went on, ‘before we get to that, we have our very own world-renowned chef here tonight and he has something to say.’
‘Is it an apology for that travesty of a short stack he served me the other day?’ A man down front called out.
‘Less of the murder face,’ Iris whispered and Archer tried his best to decrease the level of his scowl.
‘Archer, why don’t you come up here?’ The mayor gestured enthusiastically to the podium.
‘Good luck,’ Kira whispered as Archer shuffled out of their row.
Judging by the disapproving faces he passed on his way to the front, he was going to need it.
‘Welcome, chef,’ the mayor said with a smile and a handshake. ‘The floor is yours.’
Archer looked out at the eclectic crowd. It seemed that representatives from every age bracket and cultural community were present this evening, and they were all staring at him in expectation. He rolled his shoulders back. He could do this. He’d handled the dinner rush at more restaurants than he could remember at this point. Surely, a little town meeting wouldn’t be too bad.
If he was stuck here in this town, at this diner, he was going to give it everything he had, just like he always did.
‘Right,’ he said. ‘I’m aware of people’s feelings about the pancakes.’
‘They stink!’ a little old lady yelled from the back. Probably a friend of Iris’s.
Archer cleared his throat and went on. ‘I’m aware they are not what you are accustomed to and I’m working on the recipe.’ Here’s where he needed to swallow every urge in his body to say ‘fuck it’ and do what he thought was best. ‘I thought I would check in and see if you had any input on what the original pancakes tasted like. Anything that might help me get the recipe right.’
Kaori Kim stood up. ‘Hello, chef. Kaori, book-club president.’
A few people groaned but Kaori just shushed them.
‘We already know each other,’ Archer reminded her, waiting for her suggestion.
‘Has anyone tried calling Martha?’ she asked, ignoring Archer’s comment. ‘Wouldn’t she have the recipe?’
‘I—’
‘She’s off the grid,’ Noah chimed in, with a nod of acknowledgement to Archer. ‘And I think the pancakes should have blueberries.’
‘Don’t listen to him,’ a grizzled old man said. ‘He’s not even from around here. And we’re trying to get the old pancakes back, not add new ones with fruit in them!’
Noah laughed. ‘Thanks for clearing that up for me, Norm.’
The old man scowled in his direction.
‘If we’re adding new ideas, I want chocolate chips,’ a woman in the third row added. Archer recognized her as the woman who’d found him his house. Barbara something.
Archer ran a frustrated hand through his hair. He didn’t need people to tell him that blueberries and chocolate chips were popular add-ins for pancakes! What part ofchefwere these people confused about? He knew how to cook, for Christ’s sake. He just needed to figure out what the hell was in the elusive original diner pancakes.
‘I think cinnamon would be nice,’ another woman, Jeanie, whom he knew from the cafe, added in.
‘The originals definitely had more vanilla,’ Annie argued.
‘Wait, can we circle back to Martha?’ the woman seated next to Kaori asked. ‘What do you mean “off the grid”?’
‘Oh, hey, Isabel,’ Noah said. ‘She ran off with a Brazilian helicopter pilot. Most of the time she’s completely out of cell reach.’
‘How do you know that?’ Kaori asked.
Noah shrugged. ‘Gladys told me.’
