Page 20 of Tacos & Toboggans
When Ivy Lund told you to do something, you did it, so I lowered my butt back onto the chair. I couldn’t help but think, ‘Oh boy, here we go,’ while I did it.
What the heck was I thinking when I agreed to let Major work on the food truck with us? Was I ashamed of the work we did there? No. Was I nervous I’d make a fool of myself with him there to witness it? Yes. That was only one of the things I was nervous about. What if he didn’t like my management style? What if there was an accident or someone got hurt? Well, okay, so he was a doctor and could probably handle that, but my heart still hammered in my chest every time Ithought about working in such close confines with him. That cologne of his was likely to overpower my good sense and have me swooning into the fryers half the damn time.
With resolve, I straightened my backbone and climbed into the driver’s seat just as there was a knock on the metal passenger door. When my head snapped sideways, there he stood. He wore a blue t-shirt that said, “The Bird’s Nest,” and a smile. I motioned for him to open the door, and he slid it open, hopping up into the seat. Okay, not what I meant, but what’s a girl to do?
“Hi,” he said. “Let’s do this!”
“Hi,” I replied, trying to hide the grin on my face at his eagerness and enthusiasm, even if my heart was still pounding like I’d run a 10k race. “Where did you get the shirt?”
“Ivy! She said I had to have one since I was the celebrity chef for the day.”
“She did, did she? The celebrity chef? Last I heard, you struggled to use a microwave.”
He snickered as he buckled his seatbelt. “That’s fair. We can go with ‘celebrity order taker,’ how about that?”
“Sure, but what are you doing?” I asked, motioning at his seat.
“Riding to the job site?”
“The kids usually meet me there. I figured you would, too. Otherwise, you’ll be stuck there until I’m ready to bring the truck back.”
His shrug was nonchalant. “Not a problem. I have nothing else to do today.”
“What if the hospital calls?” I had turned fully in my seat now, so he couldn’t ignore the conversation.
“They won’t. I’ve marked myself unavailable for all calls and cases. I’m all yours.”
If only, I thought, remembering not to say it aloud at the last second. “Alright, then let’s do this.”
Rather than wait for his answer, I turned the ignition over and pulled out of the parking lot, turning left and heading down the main street.
“Where are we parking it today?” he asked in conversation, and I stopped for the stop sign.
“The park. I need a parking lot that is large enough for the truck and still has space for customers to park and socialize. I have to stay off the grass because of AJ.”
“You’re confident the town will turn out for it. I can tell.”
“Genesis has made it known on social media that this is the last day for the truck until spring. Yeah, I’m confident.” The truck was silent for a moment until I replayed what I said. “I mean, not like snooty, uppity, confident,” I clarified quickly. “Just that I know this town will grab their last chance to eat at The Bird’s Nest.”
His gentle pat to my shoulder was meant to be comforting, but it just keyed me up more. “Relax. I didn’t think you meant it in a snooty or uppity kind of way. The people in this town love their tacos. It’s understandable. The free cupcakes won’t hurt.”
“Magdalenas,” I clarified.
“Is that what the diner named the cupcakes?” he asked, the confusion loud in his tone.
I shook my head as I waited for traffic on the way to the park. “No. A Magdalena is a Spanish cupcake. They look like muffins but taste like cupcakes. Most are lemon or citrus flavored, but they can also have fruit or chocolate chips on the top.”
“No frosting? Not sure how those will go over.”
“Trust me, no one will care. Besides, they’re easier to eat without frosting. For this event, the bakery made them in their Twinkie-style pans and piped some buttercream into them. That makes them easy to carry and eat without sacrificing flavor. My favorite is lemon with blueberries.”
“I’m confused if they taste like cake or more like a muffin,” he said, his head tipped to the side as he engaged fully in the conversation.
“Sweet, like a cake,” I explained. “You don’t even need icing on them, but we often sprinkle powdered sugar over them. Yaya taught me how to make them when I was just a little bit of a thing, so I taught the bakers here. You can also use the batter to make a whole cake, which is why they now get plenty of birthday and wedding cake orders for them at the bakery.”
“I love that,” he said, turning to face the road again. “Sharing recipes is honestly the best way to keep our family’s legacy alive while also introducing people to new cultures. I learned that in the service. The locals often shared dishes with us.”
“I bet you had some great food,” I said, turning into the park. It was early, so there weren’t any cars waiting, but it wouldn’t be long, and they’d pour in. Becca was scheduled to arrive with the kids in fifteen minutes, and I wanted to get the table items out for Grady and AJ to work on first.
