Page 12 of Tattered and Torn

Ryan scoffs as he stacks packages of toilet paper onto a cart. “Age is just a number. Besides, I think older girls are hot—I mean attractive. I’m not an ageist. How old do you think she is? Like twenty?”

Now it’s my turn to scoff. “Try closer to twenty-eight or twenty-nine. Like I said, she’s too old for you.”

“That old, huh?” Ryan gives me a calculated look. “Then that means she’s too young for you.”

I stand there speechless as Ryan rolls the cart of toilet paper out into the store. My mouth falls open, but I haven’t got a comeback to save my life, not that it would do me any good since the kid’s already out of earshot. Am I being so obvious that a teenager can see right through me?

I’m not—she’s not—oh, hell.

Chapter 5 – Gabrielle

“All this is organic and local?” I’m pointing at bins of fresh berries. I’m impressed that a lot of the produce here is grown locally, and much of it is organic. “If I give you an order for a week’s worth of food at the beginning of the week, do you think you can fill it?”

“It shouldn’t be a problem. And if there’s anything in particular you’re looking for, just give me a couple days’ notice, and I can probably source it for you. I know all the ranchers and growers around here. They’re more than happy to accommodate special orders. Especially when they know there’s a new restaurant in town.”

“This is fantastic, Maggie. Thank you.”

Maggie’s son comes out of the storage room pushing a cart filled with a mountain of toilet paper packages. He rolls the cart right up to us. “You’re Gabrielle, right?” he asks.

“Yes. And you’re Ryan? Nice to meet you.”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” Maggie says. “I didn’t properly introduce you two. Gabrielle, this is my oldest son, Ryan. Ryan, Gabrielle is the new restaurant manager at the lodge.”

“Nice to meet you, Gabrielle,” Ryan says. He offers me his hand.

John comes out of the storage room as we’re shaking hands. When he shakes his head at us, I feel like I’m missing out on something.

While I’m here, I pick up some ingredients for a quick meal I can make this evening—fettuccine Alfredo with grilled chicken. Besides the chicken and the pasta, I grab parmesan, butter, heavy cream, and fresh garlic to make garlic bread. I buy out Maggie’s entire stock of French bread. She kindly offers to keep my perishable groceries in a refrigerated case until we’re ready to return to the lodge.

John joins us at the sales counter as Maggie rings up my purchase.

“Here you can use my card,” John says, handing Maggie a credit card. “It’s for the business. I’ll remind Killian to give you one, too.”

John picks up my sack of nonperishable groceries and carries them out to the truck, where he sets them in a large plastic tub in the bed. He points to our right. “This way to the butcher’s.”

We walk two blocks to Ed’s Meat Shoppe, passing a dry cleaner, a realtor’s office, a thrift shop, and an antiques shop. It looks like they’ve got a little bit of everything here.

When we reach the butcher’s shop, John opens the door for me. “Ryan Emerson is a senior in high school,” he says tersely. “Just thought you should know.”

“Okay.” I’m taken aback by his comment, not sure why he’d feel the need to tell me what grade Ryan is in. Unless—oh, my God. No way. He couldn’t possibly think I’d have any romantic interest in a teenager.

A man standing behind the tall glass counter smiles at us. “Hi, there. I’m Ed.” He’s wearing a white apron over his street clothes. “Welcome. You must be the new chef at the lodge. Have a look around. See what I’ve got in the cases. If there’s anything in particular you’re looking for, just let me know and I’ll see if I can get it for you.”

“Thanks, Ed.” I give him a smile before I start perusing the inventory.

While I’m looking around, John and Ed get into a conversation about fly fishing, all of which goes right over my head.

After I’ve looked at everything on display, I return to the two men. “I’m hoping I can send you a weekly order for fresh meat for the restaurant.”

He nods. “Absolutely. I’ll be happy to have your business. I work with all the local farmers, so if there’s something particular you want, just let me know, and I’ll get it.”

“Thanks. I’m primarily interested in organic fed and pasture raised. Can I find that around here?”

“Sure you can. Local, free range, grass fed, grass finished—not a problem.”

Ed hands me his business card, and I tuck it into my purse. I’ve made two important connections in town so far. Things are looking good.

After we say our goodbyes to Ed, John and I head back outside.

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