by, the mayor said, “Shouldn’t it be Taco Tuesdays?”
Jess blanched. Oh, right. Tomorrow was Tuesday. And Taco Tuesday sounded so much better.
“Yeah,” Jess said to no one in particular, “if I hadn’t just thought of it now.”
Chapter 3
The next morning, after a serious chat with the bank manager and a double latte, Jessica was ready to take on Taco Tuesday—the real Taco Wednesday. Her flub from last night was still a little embarrassing, but she’d been so stressed with running the diner that it was no surprise she didn’t even know what day it was.
The main problem with Taco Tuesday was that no one knew about it—aside from Jess, Cal, and Nina, who were now sitting in the empty restaurant, trying to keep from going stir-crazy. The day crept by, and lunch passed without a ravenous crowd descending, vying for Mexican food.
Jess needed something to do. She accomplished nothing but wasting time as she sat, worrying, running the conversation—confrontation was a better word—with Charlie over and over in her mind.
Nina said, “Don’t worry, boss. It’s still early.” Jess appreciated the comforting words, but they didn’t help the bottom line or the wasted cost of the food she might have to scrap if she didn’t get inventive with tonight’s themed leftovers.
Jessica slumped, feeling defeated. “Taco night’s a bust, brunch buddies bombed, and clearly, our theme nights aren’t pulling customers in. So on to plan B. Or is it plan M at this point?”
Jessica was determined not to let Charlie get the best of her. Aside from preserving her grandfather’s legacy, Jess was dead set on beating the smug fellow business owner at his patronizing game. “I’ll think of something,” she said to Nina. There had to be a bright side, a way out, and Jess felt herself gravitating back toward hope. She had to—it was her only choice.
Nina, smiling at her boss, said, “You never give up, do ya?”
“I can’t,” Jess replied. And it was true. Ever since Wes’s dad had left, it had been up to Jessica to shoulder raising her son, running the diner, and all of the many tasks that everyday life required, and she took those responsibilities seriously. Everything she did here in Parker Falls, she did out of love. She wasn’t just another franchise out by the highway. She had ties to this place, to this town, to these people, even though it seemed as though they’d forgotten that the diner even existed. Jessica looked at a framed photo on the wall of her grandpa standing beside an old canteen truck. He’d started from next to nothing, and protecting what he’d built was important to her.
Jessica knew Nina needed no explanation. Nina had heard Jess bemoan the construction of Charlie’s place before. Jess squared her shoulders and tapped her pen on the fading Formica table in front of her. “It took Grandpa years to save up for this place. The least I can do is give Charlie a fight.”
Chase zoomed down the expressway, the midafternoon sun warm on his face, too preoccupied with thoughts of what he was leaving behind in Boston to appreciate the beautiful weather. Too much turmoil. Too much uncertainty. He was laying a little heavy on the gas pedal, but the open country felt good after being cooped up in the city for too long. He pushed his rented sports car just a smidge faster. He was headed home, to a place where nothing was ever up in the air, and nothing ever changed.
Hmm, except that.
Chase sped past a new restaurant, Charlie’s Cafe, that sat near the expressway. Several cars turned into its parking lot, but Chase kept driving, knowing that his flashy Mercedes convertible would be out of place among trucks and old cars. He didn’t want to draw any unnecessary attention on his first day back. Sure, people would know he had returned to Parker Falls. Even folks who weren’t sports fans would know that he was the baseball player from all the newscasts, but he was trying to slide in as quietly as possible so that he could lick his wounds at his parents’ house for a short while before he had to brave the public.
Chase zoomed past a huge sign that read: Welcome to Parker Falls. The sign had images of a factory worker, a farmer, a happy kid, and a baseball player who looked a lot like Chase. Above the sign was another, an announcement for the upcoming Spring Fling festival.
Wow, now that brought him back. His mind drifted to the memory of a young girl with warm hazel eyes and a million-watt smile...a girl who had once made him feel as though just being with her was a home run.
He wondered if Jessica was still living in Parker Falls. Last he’d been back, she’d been newly married to Davis Idle—a rocker whose idea of athletics was chasing after whatever groupies followed his local band around. Chase had never liked the guy. Still, Chase hadn’t reconnected with Jess on that or any of his few subsequent visits. Truthfully, he’d made it a point to not reconnect. He’d slunk in and out of town quickly so he wouldn’t run into her. He’d thought it might be awkward, since she’d been married.
Thinking of Jess made him remember their breakup, and that didn’t improve his mood. Now he needed something to keep his mind off current problems and old flames. More distraction. He tried the radio, but every station was country music. There was a tractor taking up a good portion of the road ahead, and he accelerated further and drove around it, tapping his horn with a wave before swerving back into his lane. Chase had a few minutes before he would arrive at his destination. He made a call on his car’s speakerphone.
The line rang and then clicked as the other party answered.
Chase didn’t wait to be greeted. “Spencer. How’s my favorite agent? You promised me something soon.”
“And I’ll deliver, buddy. I got feelers out to a dozen teams. But this is going to take some time.”
Chase could picture Spencer, thirty and slick, as he took Chase’s call at his bustling agency, sports photos on the wall of the sleek, modern office behind him. Chase remembered being impressed by Spencer’s office and fancy suits. How glamorous the inner workings of pro baseball had seemed to Chase fifteen years ago. Chase had tried to call earlier this morning, but Spence seemed to be dodging him a little.
Chase drummed his fingers on the steering wheel, accelerating a bit more as he rounded a soft bend in the road. “Spencer, spring training started without me! If a team doesn’t make me an offer before the season begins, I’m finished.”
Spencer paused. “Look, the memory of game seven still hasn’t quite settled down. And when I talk to owners, you have a reputation for risky moves. When you’re on top, people forgive some ego and swagger. But lately, your arm isn’t what it used to be.”
“My arm’s fine. It’s my ego that’s taken a bruising. That Channel 10 news piece was a real hatchet job.” Chase hadn’t turned his TV on in ages, knowing that the replay of that night was on a near-constant loop on the station. He might have dated and dumped one of their programming execs, but that was no call for such a gleeful vendetta against him. And as for his arm? Well, Spencer wasn’t saying anything that Chase himself hadn’t worried about constantly for the last six months.
“Look, buddy. Just lay low for a while. Stay out of sight and let me do my magic. Okay?” Spencer sounded concerned, and Chase respected his advice.
He
