Page 68 of Small Town Swoo
“Yes. You’re not the only one who knows how to cook, Miss Fancypants Culinary School.” I set the bag on the counter and pulled out a package of meat, two potatoes, and a bag of broccoli rabe. “Can I use your big iron skillet?”
“Yes. Cupboard to the left of the oven.” She peeked into the bag to see what else was in there. “Are those steaks? Is that burrata? What’s the lemon for? Ooooh, pinot noir, my favorite.”
“Stop it.” I took her by the hips and swung her toward the door. “You are not allowed to help. Go take your shower.”
“But—”
“Go.” With my hands still grasping her waist, I marched her out of the kitchen and sent her toward the bedrooms and bathroom. “I’ve got this.”
She turned around and took a few backward steps. “Thank you.”
“And when you come back, I have some cool news for you.”
Her eyebrows shot up. “Did you hear back from Izzie? Do you have an audition for Katherine Carroll?”
“No. The cool news is not about me.” I smiled at her. “It’s about you.”
While she was in the shower, I prepped the steaks for searing and preheated the oven for the baked potatoes. I wasn’t an accomplished cook by any means, but all my time in restaurant jobs had taught me a few things. And I’d once had a housemate in L.A. who was a chef—in fact, he won this ridiculous reality TV show called Lick My Plate, which featured good-looking contestants who sometimes worked shirtless in the kitchen. The rest of the actors who lived in the house—at times, there had been four or five of us—gave himsomuch shit about it.
The funny thing was, he was actually from Michigan and didn’t live too far from Cherry Tree Harbor. Just a couple hours or so. I’d lost touch with him after he left L.A., which had been right around the time I’d been cast as Bulge, but I knew he’d moved back home, and later I heard he opened up a restaurant. I’d managed to get his number from a mutual friend, and this morning I’d reached out.
“Hey Dash, good to hear from you,” he said. “You calling from your infinity pool overlooking the ocean? Or maybe the screening room in your Hollywood mansion?”
I laughed. “Not even close. I’m back at my dad’s house in Cherry Tree Harbor walking his dog.”
We caught up for a few minutes—turned out Gianni was married with two kids and a third on the way. He and his wife lived near her family’s winery, Abelard Vineyards, where he ran a French restaurant called Etoile and she was the tasting room manager.
“Wow,” I said. “Two kids? And another one coming? You’ve been busy.”
“I have,” he said, laughing. “But life is good. So what can I do for you?”
“I’m back in town for my brother’s wedding, and I reconnected with an old friend who works at her parents’ diner but is interested in mobile catering—a food truck, specifically.” Okay, it was a slight stretch of the truth, since I was really the one who was curious about mobile catering, but whatever. “I wondered if you had any experience in that area.”
“Sure,” he said. “We actually have a food truck at Abelard we use for events—festivals, tastings, wedding vendor expos—that kind of thing. It’s a good investment.”
“You think so?”
“Yeah. There are a lot of benefits. Startup costs are a lot lower compared to a restaurant. Food trucks are popular with younger demographics. You’ve got better flexibility and convenience. As long as you have your niche figured out?—”
“She does,” I interrupted. “Her parents’ diner—it’s called Moe’s—has been around forever, and she likes taking the tried-and-true dishes served there and coming up with ways to make them a little more upscale.”
“That’s cool,” he said. “I know Moe’s Diner. Great place. And she’d have the name recognition to help her out.”
“So what does a food truck cost?” I asked. “Any idea?”
“It depends. Cheap end—a used vehicle, let’s say—maybe like twenty grand. Top of the line, brand new custom truck could run you a hundred-fifty, easy.”
“I don’t think she wants top of the line or anything. She’d probably be fine with used if it was in goodcondition.”
“That would probably be best to start out. Then she’d just have to invest in the exterior customization.”
“Any ideas where I might find trucks for sale?”
“You know, it’s funny you called me today because I just had a conversation with Ellie’s dad last week about getting a bigger truck for Abelard this summer. We did a lot of mobile business last year. If he agrees with me that we need to expand, our current one would be up for grabs.”
“Really?”
“Yeah. It’s not huge, but it’s fuckingnice.”
