Chapter 12
Lucas sat in his grandfather’s small office and presented Joe with his options. None of which Joe looked particularly thrilled about. “I’m not cutting my employees’ pay. That’s out of the question,” he all but barked. “Those kids barely make enough as it is. What else you got?”
“You can change vendors. Shop around a little and see if you can get a better price on buns, butter—”
“Absolutely not,” Joe said. “I’ve been working with the same vendor since I opened these doors, and it’ll be a cold day in hell when I stop.”
Lucas took a deep breath and settled back into his chair. “If we don’t come up with something, I’m afraid you won’t have enough money to get you through the season.”
“I’ve managed for over five decades to keep this place up and running, even during the recession. There has to be a better answer.”
“Other than selling a share of the restaurant—if you’re lucky to find a buyer—I’m sorry, but I don’t think there is a better answer.” He wished there was. Hell, if his assets weren’t currently tied up in his company, he’d lend Joe the money, but he’d invested every last cent he had. He projected in a year he’d earn it all back and then some, but that didn’t help him right now.
“Keep looking,” Joe said.
Lucas ran a hand through his hair, trying to remain calm. If he learned anything from his father, it was losing his cool and yelling didn’t get him anywhere. Not that Lucas felt the need to yell, he just didn’t know how else to get through to Joe. He wouldn’t listen to reason and refused to see the reality of the situation.
He understood that Joe had relationships with people and he wanted to honor them and the business they had done over the years, but none of this was personal. It was a matter of staying afloat or watching the ship go down and refusing to try and save it.
“Grandpa,” Lucas said, hoping to reason with him, “this is business. Don’t make it personal.”
“Don’t make it personal?” he scoffed. “Al, my distributor, I used to bounce on my knee when he was three when he would come with his dad to do deliveries. Becky… her mother worked here every summer until she was twenty-two when she got pregnant with Becky and decided to go back to school and get a degree to have a better life for her daughter. I watched that girl grow from a wide-eyed, pigtail wearing little girl to a smart little woman. Pedro, my main cook, has been with me since he was sixteen. He’ll be forty-five this year. I watched him grow from a smartass teenager to a loving father of three beautiful girls. So don’t sit here and tell me it’s not personal, because this place, the people… are my life. It is as personal as it gets, which is why I’m telling you there’s another way. Please, figure it out.”
How the hell was he supposed to argue with that? For so long, Joe didn’t have family. The people he worked with were his family. Maybe Lucas could look things over one last time. Maybe he missed something that could be helpful. It couldn’t hurt to run the numbers once more.
“I’ll see what I can do,” he said.
“Good!” Joe patted his thighs and pressed up. His face squinted as he tried to straighten. “Getting old sucks,” he said.
“I told you ginger and turmeric,” a woman’s voice said from the doorway. “It will help with inflammation brought on by your arthritis.”
Joe grumbled as he turned to the curly salt and pepper haired woman with dark green eyes that matched her flowy shirt. She was an attractive older woman, a natural beauty with minimal to no makeup on. She had a few lines around her eyes that looked like they came from years of living freely and aging gracefully.
She had a row of bracelets up both arms and silver rings on almost every finger.
“Maybe if it didn’t taste like dirt,” he moaned.
“It doesn’t taste like dirt. Stop being a stubborn old man,” she said. She jangled as she moved into the small space.
Joe stood proudly, jutting his chin up high. “I am a stubborn old man.”
“Don’t we know it.” She moved around him and held her hand out to Lucas, the row of bracelets on her arm clattered together with the movement. Her other arm held a box. “Hi, I’m Martha. You must be Lucas.”
He accepted her offered hand, the cold metal of her rings pressing into his skin. “Nice to meet you, Martha.”
“I own Mind, Body, and Soul, only two doors down.”
Lucas snapped his finger and pointed at her. “The place with the big sun on the sign.”
“Exactly. The sun attracts positive people and circumstances. It helps you to radiate your true self with confidence. And that is what my store is all about.”
“What a bunch of nonsense,” Joe said, and Lucas stifled a laugh.
“Your grandfather isn’t a believer in holistic healing or freeing his mind of what society has drilled into him from birth.”
Joe pinned her with a look of displeasure. “She thinks you can achieve everything through an oil or a crystal.”
“Not everything,” she said. “Sometimes you need a special blended tea.”
“I rest my case,” Joe said.
Martha waved her hand at Joe, the noise of her jewelry echoing through the room, and turned her attention back to Lucas. “It’s such a pleasure to meet you. I wanted to stop by sooner but haven’t had the chance. Joe has been talking about your visit for months now.”
“Have not,” Joe said.
“I don’t know why men feel the need to hide their emotions. He was very excited to have you come even if he doesn’t act like it.”
Lucas watched as Joe rolled his eyes, resting a hand on the desk to help steady him. He couldn’t help but wonder if there was something between these two. While they didn’t greet each other affectionately, they were definitely giving off some sort of vibe.
“Are you two…?” Lucas asked, letting them fill in the blank.
“No,” they both said.
“Martha’s just a pain in my ass, always checking on me.”
“Someone needs to make sure you’re taking care of yourself. You’re not a spring chicken any longer.”
“That spring passed a long time ago,” Joe said.
“Exactly my point, which is why I came to bring you this.” She placed the box on the desk and pulled out a big chunk of what looked like a pink rock. A round wooden pedestal was attached to the bottom where a cord stuck out.
“What in the hell is that?” Joe asked.
“A Himalayan salt lamp.”
“It’s ugly.”
Martha hugged the hunk of salt to her chest as if Joe offended the inanimate object. “It’s natural and beautiful.”
“Why do I need that?” Joe asked.
Martha walked around the desk behind Lucas and plugged it in, resting it on the shelf to the left of the desk. “It’ll purify the air and help with your allergies. It’s that time of year, and we all know how you get. I’m doing the entire town a favor.”
“You have bad allergies, too?” Lucas asked. He lived on allergy meds for half the year.
“Only in the spring and fall.” He turned back to Martha, a look of pure skepticism in his eyes. “How is that chunk of salt going to help with my allergies?”
“It can attract pollutants in the air,” she explained like he should’ve already known.
“Grandpa,” Lucas said. “It’s worth a shot.” It might’ve seemed a bit crazy, but people swore by the powers of natural products, and if it didn’t cause them any harm to try, why not?
“Fine,” Joe spat. “Leave the damn lamp as long as I don’t have to eat it.”
Martha laughed. “I mean if you want to lick it that’s your prerogative. I’m not going to stop you.”
Lucas laughed. Martha was turning out to be a delightful distraction. Joe let out a perturbed breath obviously not feeling the same way.
“I need to get back now,” Martha said. “Lucas it’s been a pleasure. Don’t be a stranger.”
He looked past Joe, who was mumbling under his breath, at Martha. “I’ll stop by. I’d love to check out what you have.”
Joe grumbled behind him some more.
“I heard you have homemade soap made from beer.”
“Now why in the hell would you want to wash yourself with beer when you can drink it? You hippy dippies; I’ll never understand you.”
“Oh you hush,” Martha said. “And yes, Lucas, I do have homemade soap made with beer. It’s made by one of Willow Cove’s own. How did you hear about it?”
Lucas froze before he could reply. He thought this sneaking around with Ella would be easy, but he didn’t realize he’d have to think before speaking. If he admitted Ella told him, he’d be admitting he’d seen her again, and while he would love to just put it out there, it wasn’t his choice to make. He was letting Ella take the reins on that one.
“You aren’t still seeing Vinny’s grand-daughter, are you?” Joe asked, jaw tightening.
“You knock that off,” Martha said. “Ella is a beautiful young lady, and any man would be lucky if she paid him any mind.”
“She’s a Moretti,” Joe said.
“And I’m tired of this conversation. Lucas, as I said, it’s been a pleasure.” Martha turned back to Joe lip curled. “Can’t say as much for you.” She gave Lucas a wave and headed for the door. “I’ll put some of that soap on the side,” she said before floating through the door, leaving behind a cloud of patchouli.
“She seems really nice,” Lucas said after she left. “I like her.”
“She’s a pain in my ass,” Joe said, which Lucas assumed was code for “me too.”