Home > Don't Go Away Mad (Burgers and Brew Crue #2)(4)

Don't Go Away Mad (Burgers and Brew Crue #2)(4)
Author: Lacey Black

“Perfect,” he states as I slide the last stack on the shelf.

Taking a step back, I smile proudly and agree. I look around the entire kitchen, from the stainless-steel double ovens, the massive refrigerators, and the dishwashing system. This room took the biggest hit on my start-up budget, but it is all necessary to do business.

“What else is on the list to do today, boss?” I ask, stretching my achy back.

“The kitchen is pretty much done. All that’s left is that big case out front. How are we going to move it?” my brother asks, concern filling his brown eyes.

“I’ve got a plan,” I tell him.

I have no plan.

“Do tell,” he says skeptically, turning his chair and facing me.

“I would, but then it won’t be a surprise,” I reply, trying to hide my grin.

Dustin laughs and shakes his head. “So, you have no clue how we’re going to do it.”

I don’t argue, because he’s not wrong. I’m going to have to ask for some assistance moving the large pieces. Our neighbor to the left is a bank, while the one on the right a gifts and boutique store. I could possible ply some of the male loan officers next door with fresh goodies if they’d come over and assist with the move. There’s also the option of asking for assistance from the men across the street. I’ve seen a few come and go from the restaurant, but the biggest activity comes from the warehouse next door. Rumor has it there’s a brewery going in there, and I’m sure there a few able bodies there who would appreciate some sweet rolls as payment for helping a neighboring business.

“I figure we can ask for help from a neighbor,” I finally acknowledge.

“Have you met them yet?”

“Well, the bank next door gave me the loan,” I reply with a chuckle.

“What about the one across the street. That restaurant has a steady stream of customers in and out all day, not to mention the ones who go into the bar side.” Dustin’s words cause me to pause and turn.

“How do you know that?” I ask, glancing toward the front windows that are covered with white paper.

“I have eyes, Lyn. Every time I’ve been on the sidewalk, I’ve witnessed it. They’re very busy for a burger joint.”

I lean against the large center island I’ll use as my prepping station and relax. “I’ve been told it’s a nice one though. Not like the McDonald’s down the road. Maybe we should order to-go one of these nights before we head home,” I suggest.

“Sounds good,” he replies.

I’ve slowly been learning about our new town over the last few months. Dustin and I rented a small two-bedroom condo that is wheelchair accessible and only two blocks off the main artery through town. We’ve been able to walk to and from the bakery, but we know the weather won’t hold much longer. It’s almost Christmas, and every day the temperature drops colder and colder. When that happens, we’ll resort to using my old Chevy Malibu and either his walker or the other wheelchair that’s a bit more compact. Dustin’s able to get in and out of my car with a little assistance, but I always hate how using the walker slowly takes its toll on him throughout the day. With his motorized chair, he has the freedom to move around all day, which I know he appreciates.

In the four months we’ve been in Stewart Grove, we’ve stuck pretty close to home. I’ve been on a budget, especially since I’m opening the bakery, but we’ve enjoyed eating at a few local restaurants. Unfortunately, Burgers and Brew hasn’t been one of them yet. Maybe this Friday night we’ll treat ourselves to dinner at the place known for its gourmet hamburgers and homemade fries. Just thinking about it causes my stomach to growl.

“When does the new girl start?” my brother asks, referring to the part-timer I hired last week to help.

“She’ll be here Wednesday through Friday this week for training,” I reply, excited to actually get started doing what I love. But that’s just two days away and I’m not set up yet. I’m going to have to bite the bullet first thing tomorrow and ask for help in moving the counter and display case. Once that’s set, the rest will fall into place and we can add the final touches.

“Well, then let’s get all this finished so we’re ready for her,” Dustin proclaims, turning and heading for the dishwasher.

He gets up out of his chair and works the new system easily. I turn on the radio, finding a local country station, and continue setting up the kitchen. The first order of supplies will be delivered Friday, and I’ll be able to start prepping for Monday’s grand opening over the weekend. I really don’t have any idea how much to make. I don’t want to overshoot my quantities, but I don’t want to be short either. Though, I suppose running out of a certain product would be a good thing, right?

Daisy will serve customers at the front counter, while Dustin and I focus on the baking and restocking. Well, I’ll technically fill in wherever needed. It’s my business, and for the first several months, we’ll be operating on minimal staff. I’ll arrive at four in the morning to prepare the first batch of goods. By the time we open at six, I’ll have hot coffee and the pastries flaky and fresh. Daisy will work six to eleven, leaving her time to get to her other job at noon. The rest of the day, Dustin and I will handle the front counter and kitchen until we close at two.

Someday, I hope to expand and offer lunch options too. Paninis, soups, and salads. Quick, healthy, and delicious lunch options to dine in or carry out when you’re on the go. Fresh lemonades, teas, and smoothies, and maybe even ice cream. But that’s all a pipe dream. First, I have to make my business plan profitable as it stands, then maybe someday, I’ll be able to expand.

We work the rest of the afternoon on the kitchen, making sure it’s ready. I even grab the broom and mop to clean the flooring up front. It’s hard when I have big stacks of chairs and tables in the way, but at least I get it clean enough to not track dirt throughout the rest of the building. Every completed task is a step toward opening day, and with each check I tick off my list, a fresh wave of pride overcomes me.

Just as I place the broom and mop in the storage closet, I hear the back door open. Dustin has been on top of taking out the trash, so it’s probably just him. I step out of the small space and head for the employee bathroom to wash my hands. We got lucky all the bathrooms were already ADA compliant, which is perfect for my brother. He doesn’t have to worry about shimmying into a tiny bathroom or having to use the one up front for customers.

An old George Strait song plays on the radio, and I instantly start to hum along. Once my hands are washed and dried, I head into the kitchen, my eyes cast down as I pick at a big run of yellow paint smeared across my stomach. “Did you get it taken care of?” I ask Dustin, feeling his presence in front of me.

“Lyndee Gibson.”

That voice.

I’d know it anywhere.

Warm, rich, and smooth as honey and exactly as I recall it from my dreams. A voice I haven’t heard in more than a decade, not since we completed culinary school, but one I’d never forget.

Jasper Kohlmann.

I look up, my wide eyes meeting his chocolate brown ones. I’m instantly transformed back to a time where my biggest worry was whether or not I’d be able to pass applied mathematics and whether or not my scholarship would cover everything I needed it to.

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