Chapter Nineteen
Gordon
“Something sure smells good,” Mr. Handler said as he stepped through the door. “If you don’t count the…” He sniffed again as he took a seat at the bar. “Disinfectant?”
I cringed and willed my hand not to shake as I sat his freshly made Belgium waffles and black bacon in front of him. “I wanted the place perfect for you, sir,” I said. Not a total lie, but not total truth, either. I spun around, grabbed the coffee I’d made for him along with a tall glass of ice water and set it next to his plate. “It’s not espresso,” I said, “but that’s only because I don’t have the funds for the machine. If you decide to invest in this business, that will be the first purchase we make.”
He scooped up the mug and took a fast sip. “I’ve had worse.”
Perfect. I took a deep breath, willing my eyes to look sharp and intelligent as opposed to exhausted and strung out.
Jay and I had worked through the night, and I’d only had an hour to go home and grab my paperwork before having to get back here in time to make Mr. Handler’s breakfast. I was beyond tired. So tired I thought my brain might literally be mush, but I couldn’t give up.
Zoey had done her best to ruin my shot at the internship so that hope was gone. But this? If I could do this…if I could convince Mr. Handler to not flip us…everything else would be bearable.
I swallowed the acid crawling up my throat and reached for the blue folder I had on the bar as Mr. Handler tore into his waffles.
“Mmm,” he said around a mouthful. “I should come here for breakfast more often.”
My brows raised as I opened the folder, hope surging me with a much-needed spike of adrenaline. “You should,” I said. “Let me show you why.”
Mr. Handler ate and, aside from a few questions, remained mostly quiet as I went over my proposal.
He would own more than 50 percent of the shop, but my father would have the freedom to change and improve as needed.
“And this will return a profit for me?” he said.
“Yes,” I said.
I explained that between losing the dead weight that was his old partner, and further implementing the device I’d rigged to increase our profit margins, the shop would be a sure-fire earner for him.
“We’ve already established ourselves with the community,” I continued, finally setting the figures down as he took his last bite of bacon. “We have a set of regulars that account for forty percent of our business. And with new freshman coming in each year, we have a steady stream of fresh customers since the place has been a laid-back yet safe place for students to come and eat and study.”
I took a deep breath, wishing I could read him. His face wasn’t exactly stone cold, but it wasn’t an open book, either. “There is much less of a risk,” I continued, “profit wise, if you stick with us and our operating plan. Flipping this into a coffee shop will not only take time and renovation money, you run the risk of losing the regular clientele we’ve worked years to acquire.”
I sighed, my shoulders dropping now that I’d delivered the finality of my proposal. I wasn’t sure if Zoey had spoken to him before he came here this morning, and I was trying like hell to ignore the curiosity. She wouldn’t be able to sway his mind on such a big business deal, unless perhaps she told him about our kiss. Then he may be waiting to sign the papers and bulldoze it to the ground. I shuddered.
Mr. Handler never took his eyes off me, even when he finished the last sip from his mug of coffee. He laid his hand over the now closed folder, shaking his head. “I always knew you were smart,” he said. “You had to be, constantly battling my Zoey.”
Her name shot a spear of ice through my chest, but I kept my face even.
“But I didn’t realize just how smart you were.” He sighed. “It’s funny what you can see when you’re really looking, huh, Gordon?”
I narrowed my eyes, unsure what he was trying to get at, but he shrugged it off just as quickly.
“I had an interesting conversation with my daughter last night…”
The ground fell out from beneath me and I gripped the edge of the counter to steady myself. The man could likely smell my fear.
“Not about this meeting,” he said. “But about…well, sacrifices. We had a moment…one I’ve been desperate to have for years, but I didn’t know how to find a common ground between us. And somehow, I owe that moment to you.” He pointed at me, and I tried not to look as confused as I felt. Not sleeping hadn’t helped me stay sharp at all. “Don’t worry,” he said. “I wouldn’t dare tell her that. You know how hardheaded she can be. She gets that from me. Which makes it hard to communicate sometimes.” He sighed. “Sometimes we can get so focused on our plans, on seeing out our objectives, that nothing else matters.” He waved his hand as he stood up. “We can’t see anything other than the win.” He arched a brow at me as he slipped on the suit jacket that he’d slung over the opposite barstool. “I’m sure you can understand that.”
I furrowed my brow. “I’m sorry, sir,” I said. “Lack of sleep is making it very hard to understand what you’re saying right now.”
“I’m saying thank you.” He eyed his cleaned plate. “For breakfast. For whatever happened between you and my daughter to lead us to that moment last night. And for caring about something as much as you do this business.” He glanced around the shop that had been my second home for as long as I could remember. “It’s refreshing,” he continued. “Seeing that kind of passion matched with this kind of business savvy. Reminds me of me when I first started the company way back when.” He smiled, his eyes glazing for a bit as he walked toward the door. “I’ll have my lawyer draft up the papers today.”
The door opened before he could get there, my dad freezing in the entryway, his eyes darting between us.
I stood frozen, locked in place and terrified this was all a dream. “Sir?” I asked for clarification.
Mr. Handler looked at my dad, but motioned to me with his head. “You’ve raised a smart boy, there.” He turned to me, nodding. “I accept your proposal. Fill your dad in and set up a time with my secretary for us all to have a sit-down midweek, okay?”
“Yes,” I said. “Thank you, sir!” I called as he pushed past my dad and the door shut behind him. The familiar chime of the bell over the door was like a release on the tension I’d held, and I dropped to the floor.
Dad rushed around to the back of the bar, kneeling with wide and confused eyes. “What’d I miss, kid? You pop the question to Mr. Handler over waffles?”
I laughed so hard two tears pooled in the corners of my eyes. I swiped them away and leaned my head back against the cabinet, my elbows on my knees. “No, Dad,” I said, grinning. “I convinced him to become an investor, not a flipper.”
Dad tilted his head. “You mean…”
I nodded. “We get to keep her.”
Dad’s mouth parted and closed several times before he crushed me in a hug.
Losing the scholarship sucked. Losing the internship hurt. Losing Zoey…well, I’d never had her in the first place, I guess…but it was worse.
Saving the shop? That made it all seem…worth it somehow. Like I got a piece of myself back, and when all facets of my life had practically shattered yesterday, that was a good as hell feeling.
…
“Gordon.”
I snapped my eyes open at the sound of my dad’s voice, darting my gaze around as my brain caught up with my eyes. My right cheek was sore from where it’d pressed against the wooden bench seat next to the window in the shop.
“I go to check the kitchen stock and you pass out?” he teased.
Rubbing the sleep out of my eyes, I glanced through the closed glass door. I’d only meant to take a breath while he inspected the place. “I guess,” I said, then stood. “Dad. Can we talk about last night now?”
Dad slowly surveyed the shop, nodding as he clamped his hand on my shoulder. “The place looks like new. I didn’t know it would take you all night.”
I shrugged. There had been so much junk strewn around, but I’d kept getting distracted thinking about Zoey, or talking to Jay about Zoey. Going over every detail of the night and wondering how she could fake everything so damn well. How I could be such a fool. How I’d lost everything. The distraction made for slower cleaning time, but I’d needed it to get my head on straight and accept the outcome.
“I didn’t do this, Dad. You need to know that.”
“I know,” he said. “Jay came to chat before I headed over here. Told me everything.” Dad pressed his lips together and motioned toward the kitchen in the back. “Come on, son. It’s my turn to make you breakfast.” I followed him as he walked through the swinging door. “I’ll cook, you talk.”
I leaned against the stainless-steel prep station as Dad slipped on his apron and took his favorite position in front of the stove.
“Someone stole my keys. Jay had the code for the alarm from all the times at breakfast, but he honestly thought I was cool with it. And the rest…well, it was all to get me to lose my chance at the internship.”
Dad furrowed his brow as he grabbed a skillet. “Jay didn’t list any names besides his. Who would go to all that trouble and why?”
I pinched the bridge of my nose, not wanting to tell Dad the whole story but knowing I had to for it all to make sense. After I’d told him about my stupid speech, I shook my head. “Guess in a way I deserved this?”
“Hell no, you didn’t.” He plopped a ladleful of pancake batter onto the steaming hot griddle before turning over the fat strips of bacon next to it. “You made a mistake, but you admitted to it. Sought her out to apologize. What she did?” He sighed. “Well, that was a mistake, too.” He flipped the shredded hash brown patties in the skillet. “I wish she hadn’t chosen this place to overrun, but you have to give the girl credit…straight diabolical.”
I snorted. “You didn’t just say that.”
“Don’t be mad.” He shrugged. “You said she apologized, too. That she tried to help you clean this place up.”
“Yeah,” I said, nearly growling. “But that doesn’t erase everything else.”
He arched an eyebrow at me over his shoulder before focusing on the food again. “You leave out part of the story?”
Yes. Because there was no conversation I wanted to have about the hot make out session I’d had with Zoey, or how I thought I was falling for her when in reality she was playing me. “Maybe.”
“Then how can I know what to say?”
“I don’t know,” I said. “She…she made a fool out of me.”
“And you did the same to her in that speech.”
I flinched. “I know. But, Dad, I lost everything because of her. No scholarship, no internship. I’m done. I can kiss Stanford goodbye.”
“And if she would’ve earned the internship on her own? Without all this crap attached to it, what would you have done then?”
It would’ve sucked, but I would’ve asked Zoey out. I would’ve had her. “It’s complicated, but I wouldn’t have been as upset.”
“Stanford is still an option, son. Even more so after the brilliant stunt you pulled with Mr. Handler.” He slid a stack of pancakes on the two clean plates I’d laid out for him. “We will find a way. I promise. We’ll take out loans. I’ll refinance the house if I have to.” He finished filling the plates and shut the stove off.
“No.” I took the food through the kitchen and sat down at the bar. “That’s just it,” I said as Dad followed me with two huge glasses of orange juice. He sat next to me. “I don’t want you to do that. I was this close to earning it all on my own.” I pinched my thumb and index finger together. “And if anyone needs to figure it out, it’s me. Not you. You’ll have enough to do now that you’ll have full control over this place.”
He beamed at me. “I still don’t know how you did it, but I’m so grateful you did. I didn’t think there would ever be a way to change his mind. Not when he’s wanted to flip this place for years.” He stabbed into his pancakes.
“This is like our second home. I wasn’t going to let it go down without a fight.” I glanced around the place. “We can do so much with it now. We could get a new stove, an espresso machine, freshen up the menu.” The possibilities seemed endless. “We could possibly triple our customer intake with the right finances.”
He smiled at me, arching a brow. “You keep saying we.”
“This is as much mine as it is yours. And since I won’t be going to Stanford, I’ll be here to help you get this place back on its feet.” The prospect that our restaurant could live and thrive instead of fizzle out because of one bad guy’s actions filled my chest with hope. It may not be the future I had planned, but it wasn’t bleak.
“It’s a good idea,” he said. “But you wouldn’t be happy staying here.”
“Sure, I would.”
“Okay,” he said, waving the potato on his fork in a circle. “You may be fine with it, but you need a challenge, son. Something that pushes that big brain of yours—which you got from your mother, by the way.”
I laughed. He always said that. Never gave himself enough credit.
“We’ve got some time,” he continued. “We’ll figure it all out. Right now, I need to ask you something critically important.”
“What?” I swallowed hard. I’d already told him the truth about everything. What else could go wrong?
He dipped his pancake in the small bowl of syrup and popped it in his mouth. After chewing for what seemed like an hour, he asked, “Do you think the pecan syrup is too nutty? I can’t decide if I’m not caramelizing them long enough beforehand.”
A breath of air rushed out of my lungs and I laughed. “It’s spot on, Dad. Jeez.”
He clapped me on the back. “What did you think I was going to ask?”
I shook my head, shoveling another bite into my mouth.
“Maybe something like how long you’ve been in love with Zoey?”
I spit the sip of juice I’d taken back into my cup. “What?” I snapped.
He laughed. “It’s kind of apparent, kid. It wouldn’t have hurt so much if you weren’t.”
“I am not.” I huffed. I hadn’t thought of it in those clear of terms.
“Son, I know you better than anyone. You wouldn’t think you’d be okay with losing the internship to her and the scholarship to her fair and square and be fine if you weren’t totally in love with her.”
I sighed, staring at my bacon like it could feed me another lie.
“I think I’ve liked her for a lot longer than I even realized,” I finally admitted.
“People who challenge us, push us to be better versions of ourselves…” He held his cup out to mine and clicked it against it. “Those are the best ones to fall for.” He took a drink before setting his cup down. “You get what I’m saying?”
I nodded. “Doesn’t change the fact that she was acting the entire night. Everything she did was to keep me at that party. To keep me from finding out about what happened here too soon.”
Dad crunched off a piece of bacon. “Son, you dragged me to see Zoey in a total of six plays from middle school to your freshman year…she isn’t that great an actress.”
“Dad—” My groaning was cut off by the sound of my cell ringing from my pocket.
“Maybe it’s her!” he teased as I jumped up and I rolled my eyes.
“Hello?” I answered when I didn’t recognize the number.
“Hello, Gordon,” Mrs. Rollins said. “I’m sorry for calling so early. I hope I didn’t wake you.”
“No worries,” I said, pacing the length of the shop. “I was up.”
“Oh, good.”
“What’s going on?” I asked when she didn’t continue.
“I told you I would be looking into other scholarships and grants and things for you after Zoey was awarded the scholarship yesterday.”
“Uh-huh…” I froze in the spot right by the door, my heart beating rapidly. “Did you find something?”
“Well, not exactly.”
The hope deflated right out of me, dropping my racing heart into my gut.
“Though Zoey did.”
“What?”
“Zoey was awarded another scholarship. She called to tell me this morning. And I immediately called the admissions director at Stanford. They’ve made the adjustments necessary.”
“For what exactly?” I blinked over and over like that would help me understand what she was saying.
“For the scholarship you and Zoey competed for. It’s been transferred to your name.”
“Are you serious?” My vision blurred as Mrs. Rollins laughed over the line.
“Absolutely, Gordon.” I could hear the smile in her voice, but I couldn’t seem to catch my breath.
“Thank you,” I blurted out. “Thank you so much.”
“I’m so proud of you, Gordon. I’ll email you all the details now.”
“Thank you.” They were the only two words I knew at the moment.
“Thank Zoey,” she said, and my mind cleared. “If she hadn’t searched for other means, this wouldn’t have happened.”
“I will,” I said and hung up the phone.
“What happened?” my dad asked, standing right in front of me.
I pocketed my cell. “Zoey took another scholarship.”
“And?”
“I’ve got the original one.”
“The full ride?” My dad’s eyes were wide.
I nodded, a rock lodged in my throat.
“Woo-hoo!” my dad hollered and crushed me in a bear hug. “That is amazing, son!”
I patted him on the back, a state of shock numbing my body. Last night I thought my future had crumbled, and with one phone call it had been restored.
“Wonder what made Zoey take another one?” Dad asked, releasing me.
I arched an eyebrow at the way he looked at me with a knowing gaze. I couldn’t remember there being another scholarship. Certainly not one that she could apply for this late in the year. “I guess I should go find out?”
He smacked my shoulder. “Yeah, you really should.”