Page 126 of Small Town Swoo
“Nothing is going on with me. I wish there was something, but there’s nothing. Same old, same old.” I looked out the window. The rain had finally let up after a few days, but the sky was still overcast.
“Maybe that’s the problem.”
“There’s no problem, Dad.”I’m just in love with a guy who doesn’t want to be in a relationship with me. It’s fine. I’ll get over it someday.
He was silent for a moment. Then he exhaled. “Trattoria DeLuca.”
I shifted my focus from the window to him. “What?”
“Da Maurizio. That’s what I was going to call my place.”
“What place?”
“The place I wanted to open instead of running Moe’s Diner.”
“I never knew you wanted to open your own place.”
“I did. I had a space all picked out and a menu planned. I had a vision.”
“What happened?”
“My father got sick. And my mother needed me to run Moe’s. My sister had just gotten married and had a baby onthe way—she couldn’t handle it. My mother said if I didn’t take it over, she’d sell it. She refused to hire anyone outside the family to run things, and we couldn’t really afford it anyway because of all the medical expenses. So my choice was Moe’s Diner or Da Maurizio.”
“And you chose the diner.”
“I had to, didn’t I? It had been in my family for decades. It was beloved in the community. It had been my grandfather’s dream.”
“So you set your own dream aside.”
“I did. And I don’t regret it.”
I looked out the window again. “That’s good, Dad.”
“But I always wondered what if, you know?”
I swallowed. “Sure.”
He was silent for a minute. “Your mom mentioned something about a food truck.”
Frowning, I shook my head. “She wasn’t supposed to say anything about that. It was just a silly idea I had, but it’s?—”
“It’s not silly. I like it.”
My jaw fell. “You do?”
“Yeah. Want to tell me more?”
“Uh, sure. But Mom said you guys had always avoided getting into any kind of catering.”
“This doesn’t sound exactly like catering though. The people would come to you, right?”
“Well, they’d hire me. And I’d bring the truck there and sell or serve right out of the window. Like at a carnival, but at a street fair. Or someone’s wedding. Or a graduation party.”
He smiled. “That sounds like fun.”
“I think so too. And I could experiment a little with themenu. That way, I wouldn’t be messing with anyone’s old favorites at Moe’s, but I could be creative.”
“Sure,” he said, nodding. “Like those dishes you served that Hugo Martin. I’ve been showing all my nurses his article about you.”
