Page 94 of Small Town Swoo
Which is exactly what the chef wants.
“I have the utmost respect for the perennial favorites,” she says. “I don’t want anyone to come to Moe’s and feel like they won’t be able to get what they came for. I just want to put my own spin on those timeless dishes. Make them more interesting, more elegant.”
If my experience at Moe’s was any indication, she succeeds. When asked if she’ll stay at her family’s restaurant or venture out on her own, DeLuca smiles. “I’m not sure what the future holds.”
No doubt she has a bright future ahead of her, no matter where she ends up. In the meantime, head toMoe’s Diner in Cherry Tree Harbor. Ms. DeLuca makes it worth the trip.
My chest felt like it might burst, I was so proud of her. She hustled out of the kitchen carrying two plates, and after setting them down in front of two customers, she hurried out from behind the counter. I was out of my seat already, my arms open. She flew right into them and I hugged her hard, picking her up off the ground.
“Congratulations! I’m so happy for you.”
“Thank you.” She was breathless with excitement as I set her down. “I still can’t believe the things he said!”
“Have your parents seen it?”
She nodded. “My dad didn’t come into work today, but my mom is on the phone with the local paper now. They want to do a story for our seventy-fifth anniversary this summer!”
“They must be so proud.”
She lifted her shoulders and smiled shyly. “I think they are.”
I grabbed her hands and gave them a squeeze. “Maybe now’s a good time to bring up thethingagain.”
“Hey.” She stole her hands back and clasped them against her chest. “You promised you’d stop with the pressure.”
“I said I wassorryabout the pressure. I never said I’d stop.”
“You’re terrible,” she said, shaking her head. “But since you’re here, can I feed you?”
“Always.” I took a seat at the counter and watched her get back to work, trying not to think about what it would be like a week from now, when I wouldn’t get to see her smileevery day, or hear her voice, or make her laugh, or remind her that she shouldn’t come last on her own list.
It made me want to grab her arm and pull her onto my lap and hold her close. The longing was deep and sharp, a grappling hook lodged in my heart.
This felt like more than strings.
EIGHTEEN
ari
Dash endedup staying at Moe’s until my shift was over. He sat at the counter like one of the regulars, chatting with old Gus and Larry for hours. It made me smile every time I looked over at him.
They told anyone who’d listen about the piece Hugo Martin had written about me. Between the three of them and the rest of the Moe’s staff, my ego was having its best day ever. Even my mother seemed genuinely excited for me, proudly emailing the link to all her friends and even printing it out on the rickety old HP LaserJet in the office. The article—along with the accompanying photo of me—now hung on the bulletin board right by the diner’s entrance.
Would it change my life? Probably not. But it was a step forward, and I’d take it.
Eventually, the diner cleared out and I locked the front door. My mother had run home to check on my dad and would come back to open for the dinner shift.
“Hey,” I said, dumping out the last of the coffee from the pot. “I just have a few things to do in theoffice and then I want to run home and change out of my uniform before we go to the airport.”
“I can wait and follow you back.”
“Okay.” I smiled at him. “Don’t get into any trouble out here.”
In the office, I removed my apron and set it aside. I’d just sat down at the desk to look at some inventory notes when I heard my phone buzzing in my purse. Reaching into my bag, I glanced at the number but didn’t recognize it. It had a New York area code. Media maybe? Someone who’d seen Hugo Martin’s piece?
“Hello?”
“So you still answer the phone when I call.”
