Luke glanced at Laura. “She wanted music and now she’s complaining.”
Ivy started a tape and the three of them went to work. They finished the first coat of paint on the walls and put the second coat on the ceiling. That evening, Laura and Luke rolled the rest of the second coat on the walls while Ivy washed their dinner dishes.
Laura sighed and stretched. “This is more work than cooking, but it sure looks better in here.” The walls looked so much better, it made the furniture look more shabby.
The windows were bare. Queenie’s old curtains had gone into the trash on cleaning day. They were faded and rotted from the hot sun. The woven blinds Luke had shown her would look great in here. The pastel colors woven into the natural wood blinds would coordinate with the new carpet, and they’d be perfect with the wall paint she’d chosen.
She wanted a whole new look, but that would take new furniture, outside paint, a new roof, and a new parking lot, none of which she could afford. She couldn’t even afford the new flooring. She wished she hadn’t let Luke talk her into it.
After Ivy returned to her room, Laura turned to Luke. “I called my father last night to get his opinion on this partnership thing.”
Luke propped his hands on his hips. “What did he say?”
“He suggested I get references, names of other business owners you’ve worked with.”
“I’ll bring a list tomorrow, and I’ll take you out for dinner this weekend. This time, we’ll go to Titusville.”
Laura’s face warmed. He’d be taking her to one of his restaurants, so it was business, not a date. Still, she was going out to eat with a handsome guy.
Queenie wouldn’t like it, but Queenie wouldn’t like the partnership idea either. She’d expect Laura to do it all by herself, and then she’d complain it wasn’t good enough.
Nothing had ever been good enough to please Queenie.
<>
A man from Windsor Floors scraped off the old floors in the café. Luke helped. Watching the men work, Laura was glad she hadn’t attempted the job herself. It was messy, sweaty, hard work.
The new vinyl floors were installed two days later, and the new carpet went in the next day. While the men worked, Laura made new menus and a list of supplies. Luke handed her eight hundred dollars in cash. “You need money to stock the kitchen. It’s a personal loan.”
“Thank you. I promise, I’ll pay back every penny.”
“I know you will. I’ll send a contractor over to get some idea what the motel remodel will cost. When we get the figures back, we’ll sit down and discuss business.”
“All right.” She still wasn’t sure what she wanted to do. Luke seemed like a nice enough guy, but she didn’t want to give control of her business to anyone. She didn’t want someone else making decisions and telling her what to do.
She’d had enough of that with Queenie.
Chapter Five
S
aturday evening, Luke took Laura to Chubby’s, in Titusville. The parking lot was nearly full. It didn’t look fancy like Bernie’s Place, but it wasn’t like Queenie’s either. It was noisy, for one thing. Laughter, country music, and wonderful smells filled the air. Barbecue. Luke watched Laura’s face and knew she liked it.
“It sure smells good in here,” she said, smiling.
Someone called, “Luke!”
They both turned to see a man with a huge pot belly coming toward them. “Hey, Chubby. How’s it going?”
“Great. Business just keeps getting better. Who’s this pretty lady?”
“This is Laura. She owns a little café in Kingston.”
“Another competitor? Aw, Luke, don’t do this to me.” Chubby waved at the room. “Find yourself a table. Two specials coming up, on the house.”
Luke found a table in the back corner, where it was a little more quiet. He brought her here to talk business, and he didn’t want to have to shout to be heard. “Well, Laura, what do you think?”
“It’s definitely not like Bernie’s Place. What was this before, a barn?”
“An expensive steak house. Too formal for the neighborhood. There are plenty of places like that along the beach and overlooking the river. They couldn’t compete.”
“This place doesn’t draw the same people as a steak house.”
“That’s right. Now you’re thinking like a businesswoman. Opening just any restaurant won’t work. You have to consider what’s in the area. What do the customers want? What can they afford to pay? Are there other restaurants in the area? What do they serve? How are their prices? What’s their business like?”
“I see what you mean. There’s no other place to eat in Kingston except the pizza place, so I have no real competition.”
“As long as you keep your prices affordable, the service good, and the food decent, you can’t help but make a profit.”
Laura tinkered with the salt and pepper shakers. “Queenie never did very well, but I think that’s because nobody liked her.”
If Queenie’s surly personality was the reason the café didn’t do well before, Laura couldn’t help but bring in more business. A friendly atmosphere impressed customers almost as much as cleanliness and the quality of the food.
“Once you get established, you’ll have people coming in on a regular basis. People won’t want to drive twenty or thirty minutes to find a place to eat when Queenie’s is nearby.”
Laura grew quiet. She probably didn’t know the first thing about the principles of economics, but she had good instincts. This young woman had a lot on the ball. With a little help, she could build a very successful business.
Chubby brought a tray loaded with food. Laura’s eyes grew. “That can’t all be for us.”
“Aw, c’mon,” said Chubby. “I want you to taste everything.” Chubby leaned down close to Laura. “Don’t tell anyone, but the sauce is Luke’s mother’s recipe.”
Her eyes sparkled. “Is that right? Is it good?”
“I wouldn’t serve it if it wasn’t good.”
“How long have you been in business?”
“Six months. Can you believe it? If we get any busier, we’ll have to add on.”
Someone called, “Chubby, we need you in the kitchen.”
He grinned and wiped his hands on his apron. “I’m being summoned. Enjoy your meal.”
Laura tasted the barbecue beans. “Mmm, this is good. I love this place.”
“Barbecue is good, but it’s like pizza. People don’t want pizza all the time. They don’t want barbecue all the time, either.”
“Queenie’s offers a variety,” said Laura, licking her fingers. “This stuff is messy.”
Luke smiled and picked up a rib. “Makes it taste better.”
She finished her rib before asking, “How much of this place do you own?”
“A big piece. All Chubby had was the building and an idea.”
“Like Queenie’s?”
“More like the motel. Queenie’s doesn’t need the kind of work this place did. We completely redid the interior. It was too formal, too stuffy.”
Luke was incredibly proud of his restaurants. He’d like to think it was his perception and expert business skill that made them successful, although his partners added hard work and enthusiasm to the mix. Without exception, they were all doing well.
They ate quietly for several minutes before she asked, “Who makes the decisions here?”
“Chubby makes the day to day decisions. We work out the big issues together.”
She swallowed a bite of beans before asking, “What happens when you don’t agree?”
“We don’t make any major changes unless we agree.”
She didn’t say anything, but he knew what she was thinking. She didn’t want anyone telling her what to do. He couldn’t blame her for that, but he didn’t want a part of her business without having a say in major decisions, like that sunroom addition she talked about. “There has to be a level of understanding and cooperation or a partnership won’t work. No matter how profitable Queenie’s is, I don’t want a part of it without having something to say about major expenditures. Look at it this way, Laura. If Chubby decided he wanted to change the menu, go with something else entirely, get rid of the juke box, and require reservations, do you think this place would be as successful?”
“No.”
“If I owned a piece of your business and you decided you wanted to turn it into a health food store, don’t you think I should have a say in that?”
“Well, sure, but—”
“Look, I don’t want to take over your business. I want to help you be successful, take my profit, and go help someone else. Bernie’s profits and Chubby’s profits will go into my next project, whether it’s Queenie’s or someplace else. That’s the way it works. If I buy into your business, I’d expect to help decide about the sunroom, about how the new sign should look, and the kind of food you serve.”
She wiped her mouth and pushed her plate aside. “What if we don’t agree?”
“We’d have to compromise on some things. That’s true in any partnership.”
“What if we can’t work together?”
“You don’t think you can work with me?”
She didn’t reply, and he did a slow burn. Why was he wasting his time on a girl who didn’t want his help? “Are you finished?”
“Yes.”
Luke didn’t speak again until they were halfway home, when Laura asked, “Are you mad at me?”
“You obviously don’t want or need my help.”
She didn’t deny it. She didn’t say another word until he pulled into the parking lot at the motel. “Thanks for dinner.” She slid off the seat and slammed the door.
Luke sat in his truck, gripping the wheel so hard his fingers hurt. What was with her anyway? Was it him? No banker would give her money on this dump, not without a detailed business plan. And Laura Whitfield wouldn’t know the first thing about writing a damn business plan.
<>
Sunday, Laura put signs in the windows that she was opening Tuesday morning at six. She went to the grocery store for some last-minute things and told everyone she saw that Queenie’s would be open for business Tuesday morning.
Patty, an old high school friend and the clerk who checked her out, said, “I’ll spread the word, Laura.” Patty loved to talk, and Laura couldn’t buy that kind of advertising at any price.
Laura drove back to the café and unlocked the door. Except for the old furniture in the dining area, it didn’t look like Queenie’s now. It smelled new and fresh and clean. She hugged her arms, then flung them out and spun around. This was her business. Not Queenie’s. Not her father’s. Hers!
As she put her purchases away and ran the dishes through the dishwasher again, the time flew by. She glanced at Luke’s boom box sitting on the counter and thought about Queenie’s Elvis tape, but she couldn’t worry about it now. She had too many things to do.
Queenie was short and fat, so she had everything around the middle of the room, nothing too low or too high. Laura arranged things differently, using every bit of space to her advantage. She polished the counter and the tables again, making sure everything was clean and shiny.
Ready for opening day.
<>
Monday morning, when Laura put fresh food and water out for Sleepy, she picked up the Elvis cassette and carried it with her to the café. She put it in Luke’s boom box and pushed the play button, but the phone rang. She stopped the tape and grabbed the phone. It was the loan officer from one of the banks in Melbourne.
“I’m sorry, Miss Whitfield. We’re denying your loan application. If you want to re-apply and put a mortgage on the property—”
“No, sir. All I wanted was enough money to get back in business. I definitely don’t want a mortgage.”
She called the second bank, but they turned her down, too. When Laura asked why, the woman said, “For one thing, we think you underestimated the amount needed, and my boss has a hard time understanding why you’d want to open a rundown café like that in the first place.”
“And I’m a woman. And I’m only twenty.”
“Well...”
“I thought it was illegal to discriminate on the basis of gender or age.”
“It was a combination of things, Miss Whitfield. We didn’t feel you had the experience necessary to make a go of it on your own.”