Donovan took a seat at the Star Lite counter, setting the soup ladle down wrapped now in a red and white basketball jersey.

A jersey he’d found this morning when he’d checked inside the antique purse.

And it just so happened to have his number, 24, on the back.

How did Mary get her hands on his old basketball uniform, and why did he find it rolled up inside the purse?

He’d contemplated calling Sheila, but he’d wanted to get out the door and to the Ice Heaven to get today started. Besides, it was way too early to bother her.

Unfortunately, when he arrived at the frozen yogurt shop, the door was locked. He settled on having a warm breakfast and a cup of coffee at the Star Lite while he waited for Zoe to arrive.

When she did, he planned on taking an inventory of all of the Fresh Food items, roll up his sleeves, and get cooking.

It’d take a couple of days, but people would start coming in. He turned his head to the empty barstools, lining the counter. At least he hoped so. He might have to recruit his friends to help spread the word. Maybe he could start by putting up flyers in Rachel’s flower shop and Will’s auto body shop.

“Hey, Sugar. What can I get you?”

He glanced up to see Betty looking down at him with notepad in hand. “Hey, Betty. I’ll take your bacon and eggs special.”

“Two scrambled and one over easy?”

“You remembered.”

She leaned in and grabbed his cheek. “I remember a lot, Toots.” Turning around, she reached for a full pot of coffee and placed a mug in front of Donovan, filling it up. “I hear a lot, too.”

He etched an eyebrow. “What have you heard?”

“Oh, that you proposed to Zoe Mathews at the Sweet Match Up.”

“Old news.” He reached for a tiny cow creamer and added some cream to his coffee. “And for the record, she said no.”

“I would have said yes,” Betty said, batting her thin lashes.

“I’ll remember that next time.” He chuckled and took a sip of coffee, letting the warm caffeinated beverage wake him up. He’d been so excited last night just thinking about his new adventure with Zoe that he’d hardly slept.

“She’ll come around. Give her time.” Betty gave him a wink and turned to shout her order to Mel who flashed her a toothy grin and a thumbs-up.

Some things never changed in this town, and the teamwork between Betty and Mel was one of them. He loved coming into the Star Lite as a kid. He never worked here, choosing to take a job with Ralph over at the pizzeria, but that didn’t stop him from getting culinary advice from Mel. The restaurant owner even showed him how to make his infamous BBB Burger.

He envied them. Glancing over his shoulder in the direction of Zoe’s shop, he couldn’t help but wonder: Was today the beginning of a new dynamic partnership in Buttermilk Falls? He could only hope.

When he’d chased Zoe down Sheila’s hill in the snow, he never imagined that they’d spend the night enjoying a meal, getting to know each other over a bottle of wine, and her agreeing to give a business partnership with him a try. Not in a million years.

But that’s exactly what happened, and he was freakin’ excited to get this day started.

When the coin had landed on heads, he’d said a silent thank you to Mary. It’d been the perfect evening that ended up with the roads still not drivable.

They’d spent the rest of the night brainstorming combinations for soups and sandwiches. He had to hand it to Zoe. She knew exactly the kinds of meats and cheeses that would go well with his soup. Frozen yogurt might be her specialty, but he was beginning to think Zoe might be holding back her own culinary skills.

Maybe the past she seemed to not want to talk about involved working in a restaurant.

He shifted on the stool. That made her even more attractive to him. If that was even possible.

Yep. He was smitten by one Zoe Mathews.

The snow had fallen all night. They’d talked until the early morning hours, and then he’d offered her Rachel’s room.

The next morning, he’d made her another one of his signature omelettes before driving her to her car.

God, he loved snowstorms.

“What’s got you all smiles?” Betty set his breakfast plate in front of him.

His grin widened, and he grabbed his fork and dug in. “As a matter of fact, I’m starting a new job today. A new food venture.”

“Oh, really?” She leaned in. “Are you looking for a waitress with experience?”

He laughed. “I think we’re good for now. It’s going to be a la carte comfort food. I just hope we get the customers.” He looked around the empty Star Lite. If even the regulars weren’t coming into the well-known diner during this cold spell, would anyone come out to the Ice Heaven? “How’s business for you these days?”

“It’s tough right now. Dang weather. Probably won’t break fifty customers today.”

“Really?” Fifty wasn’t going to help him turn Zoe’s business around. He needed hundreds to flock in daily.

“Yeah. This winter’s been brutal. It’ll pick up eventually.” She placed her bony hand on the basketball jersey. “Say, I have an idea. You could give out some samples at the next high school basketball game. It’s a home game. That might help spread the word.”

Donovan sat up at that thought. “That’s a great idea.” Giving out free samples to a packed gymnasium was an awesome way to expose the town to his food as well as those out-of-town spectators who attended to cheer on the opposing team. “Who do I ask?”

“You’re looking at her. I man the concession stands.”

He arched an eyebrow. “You do?”

“Yeah, I’ve been doing it for the last five years with my sister, Helen.”

“Betty, you truly run this town.”

She scoffed. “Don’t say that too loud. Helen roped me into it years ago when her husband passed away. Come join us on Friday.” She paused. “Although, the team isn’t so hot this year. It’s not like when you played. We don’t even fill two rows of bleachers these days.”

His initial excitement died down. When he played, the team was pretty good. There wasn’t one game that didn’t bring down the house. “That’s a shame.”

“It sure is. These kids work so hard and love the game. If people would come and support them, I’m sure it would make all the difference. They might even win one. Their parents are there, but that’s about it.” She tilted her head. “If a former star player showed up, I’m sure the place would be packed.”

He laughed. He was a decent athlete, but basketball hadn’t been his life. When he wasn’t playing basketball, he was studying or in the kitchen. “I was hardly a star.”

“You are now. People would come from miles to meet culinary sensation Donovan Foster. Think about it,” Betty gave one final encouragement and then stepped away to greet an older couple who’d come in.

Donovan attacked his breakfast, letting Betty’s invitation marinate. It would be a nice opportunity to share samples from the menu, but would it make a difference if there wasn’t really anyone there? Sure, word of mouth was powerful, but he needed more mouths to try his soup.

He grabbed the jersey off the counter, unfolding it. Wearing it all those years ago had given him enormous pride. He’d loved playing, stepping onto center court with the town cheering him on. Those kids deserved to experience the same thrill. Maybe basketball hadn’t been his end game, but it taught him how to set, launch, and stick a goal, metaphorically speaking, with the basketball.

Was this why Mary left him the jersey? “Do you want me to help the team?” he asked out loud.

“Only if you want to.”

He looked up to see Betty, refilling his coffee mug.

“Oh, I didn’t mean . . .” he started, but corrected himself immediately, an idea forming. Of course. Why hadn’t he thought of this earlier? He couldn’t simply get in the kitchen and assume customers would form a line down Main Street. He needed to be at big, local gatherings.

They needed to see him as one of their own who’d come back to share his love and passion for food.

And he might need to roll up his sleeves and help create those big gatherings. He set the jersey down. No matter what Betty said, simply advertising he was going to be at an event wasn’t going to work. Sure, he’d won some international culinary awards, but who cared?

No, he needed to reintroduce the town to Donovan Foster. The boy who left to follow his dream and came back a man wanting to share his skill and love for food with his hometown. “Do you have an extra notepad I could borrow?”

“Sure.” She reached behind her and grabbed one with a pen, setting both down in front of him.

He clicked the pen and began jotting down every idea that came to mind to promote his appearance. “Oh, this is good,” he said, continuing to write furiously. He needed to build a buzz before he sliced one tomato, turned on one burner, or flipped one sandwich. That’s how he was going to get people to give his new venture with Zoe a try.

“What are you doing, Toots?”

“Working.”

“I thought you start your new job today.”

His smile widened. “I just did.”