Page 6 of Small Town Swoo
I yawnedas I wrote the Saturday morning breakfast specials on the chalkboard behind the counter at Moe’s Diner—two old favorites and two creations of mine, which was the deal I’d struck with my parents.
“Tired?” my mother asked as she began brewing the coffee.
“A little.”
“What time did you get home last night?”
“Late,” I said, frowning at the way my printing sloped downward. I erased everything and started again. “Xander was short-handed at the pub, so I offered to stay longer. Then I came in early this morning to bake.”
“You’re working too much and not getting enough rest,” my mother admonished. “I’m worried about you.”
“I’m fine.” I yawned again.
“Why do you need a second job?”
“I just bought a house, remember? And I make good tips at the bar.”
“But you don’t have any time for yourpersonallife.”
I snorted. “What personal life?”
“That’s my point! You’re young and beautiful, you should be out dating and having fun. If you need help finding someone, I can?—”
“No,” I said, glaring at her over my shoulder. “No more fixing me up with anyone. I’ve either known them since kindergarten and watched them eat too many boogers or they live in their mom’s basement and just want to talk about gaming. I’d rather be single.”
Her heavy sigh told me how she felt about that.
“Hey, listen,” I said, switching tracks before she started naming all my cousins who’d gotten married already. “I’d like to add some new things to the summer menu using in-season fruit. I’ve been testing out this galette that would be fantastic with Michigan strawberries and rhubarb. And I’ve got this idea for smashed cherry, basil, and goat cheese sliders on?—”
“That sounds too fancy for Moe’s,” my mother interrupted. “People come here because it’s familiar. They know what to expect.”
“But it’s boring.”
“It’s comforting,” she countered.
“You let me add a few dishes last summer, remember? A couple of them were really popular.” I put the chalk away and hopped off the counter.
“And expensive,” she reminded me. “You insisted on those pricey ingredients, and we had to charge more. Dad didn’t like that.”
“He never said that to me.”
“He wouldn’t—he adores you too much. But Moe’s Diner has been in the DeLuca family for three-quarters of a century! He doesn’t want to be the DeLuca to run it into the ground.”
“I’m not going to run Moe’s into the ground, Mom. I’m just trying toelevateit a little.” I made a lifting gesture with my hands.
“But Moe’s is down to earth, Ari. That’s the appeal. It’s not that Dad and I don’t appreciate your skills, because we do,” she said earnestly. “Nothing made us happier than when you came back home and said you wanted to work here.” She turned and cradled my face in her hands. “After all, you’re the only child we’ve got—our little miracle baby.”
I rolled my eyes but tolerated the brush of her thumb across my cheek. My parents hadn’t thought they could have children, and I’d been a late-in-life surprise gift. I appreciated being loved and wanted, I really did, but the wholemiracle babything was getting old. “Can you please stop calling me that now? I’m twenty-four.”
“I know, darling. We’re getting older too. And there’s no one we trust but you to take the reins, to keep Moe’s alive for the next generation.”
“I get it, Mom.”
“We haven’t wanted to burden you,” she went on, “but the truth is, Ari, the last few years haven’t been the greatest. Tourism is down, there’s that new breakfast place up the street, we replaced all the kitchen equipment last year and we’re still paying off the loan...” Her voice trailed off, and the lines in her forehead grew deeper. “It’s not as easy as it looks to keep this place in the black.”
Guilt slammed into me when I thought about the fact that they’d also paid for me to go to culinary school in thelast few yearsandgiven me a big down payment for a house. “I understand,” I said gently, taking my mother’s wrists and pushing her hands down. “And I want to help. I just think taking a risk on a few new ideas here and there might be a good way to infuse new energy into the place.”
“What energy?” Now she was studying my face with that critical look a mother somehow perfects during the teenage years. “You look exhausted. Can you get a nap in before your shift at the pub tonight?”
