a light-hazard to a medium-hazard operation. Now, if public space is over four hundred feet away…”
Libby groaned. A sprinkler system would cost two thou, easy. All this because they’d installed a new oven that was supposed to be more energy-and time-efficient. Talk about no good deed goes unpunished. From now on, Libby vowed, I’m sticking with the tried-and-true. If it works, it stays. Screw Bernie and her technology.
“We are over four hundred feet away,” Bernie said. She gestured to the other man. “You have a tape measure?”
He laughed. “In my profession I never leave home without it.”
“You want to measure?” she asked him.
Libby watched while he whipped his tape measure out of his pocket. “I guess you’re in luck,” he said to her when he finished. “It’s four hundred and thirty feet, so you can just squeak by. “By the way, my name is Tim Conner. I own Conner Construction. Your sister asked me to drop by.” He extended his hand and Libby shook it. He looked up at the exhaust fan. “Doesn’t look too bad to me. We’ll just rip everything out.”
Libby gasped.
“Hey. I’m kidding. Just a little contractor humor.”
“You know what you have to do?” Peter asked him.
Tim nodded.
Libby felt as if she was losing control of the situation.
“What if we got our old oven back?” she asked.
She could see the two men exchanging glances. Peter Hager shrugged. “Then I guess you wouldn’t have to make any changes.”
“Good,” she said. “Because that’s what we’re going to do.”
Bernie rolled her eyes.
Libby turned to her.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” she demanded.
“It means exactly what you think it does.”
“That’s not an answer.”
“Ladies, ladies.”
Both Libby and Bernie turned. It was Peter Hager.
“You have to make up your mind here,” he said.
“We have made up our minds,” Bernie said.
“I suppose,” Libby said grudgingly.
Peter Hager crossed his arms over his chest. “Good. I’m glad that’s settled because now you can concentrate on the meal you’re cooking for the Just Chocolate benefit.”
“You’re going?” Libby asked. She was surprised. He didn’t look like a food person.
“Wouldn’t miss it for anything. You two always come up with interesting takes on things.” He gestured to the door. “You coming?” he asked Tim Conner.
“Might as well,” Conner replied. “If I need to I can come back and take measurements later.”
“So,” Libby heard Hager say to Conner as they both headed out of the kitchen, “I hear you had some trouble down at the shop.”
“Naw. Not really. Just the usual stuff. Someone borrowed one of our backhoes. We found it off Lakeland. Happens all the time.”
“You’re kidding.”
“Nope. Probably someone who worked for us. Did you hear what happened at the Smollet Restaurant? I about died…”
Then they were through the door and Libby couldn’t hear anything else.
“Who says men don’t gossip?” Bernie said. “I wonder what did happen at the Smollet Restaurant. When I go to R.J.’s I’ll have to ask Brandon.”
“You do that,” Libby told her sister. Personally she didn’t care. “You should have told me. I feel like a moron.”
Bernie hung her head. “I know. I kept meaning to, but the time never seemed right. Were you really thinking of getting a deck oven back in here?”
“Definitely.”
“But we’ll be able to bake so much more with the new one.”
“We would if it worked.”
“It does work. We just have to iron out a few kinks.”
“We’ve been ironing out the kinks for way too long in my humble opinion.” Libby was set to continue in that vein when she felt someone pull her sleeve.
She turned around. It was Googie.
“What’s up?” she asked him.
“I’m baking the lemon squares now.”
“That’s great.” On the way downstairs Amber had told her that they were nearly out of their best seller.
Googie tugged at his hair. Recently he’d grown it back again after shaving it off. “I thought you said you were going to give me more hours.”
“I did,” Libby said.
“I need more.”
“I’ll see what I can do.”
Libby thought for a moment. There was always something to do around the shop. The question was, could they afford to pay to get it done, especially now that they were going to be spending money on enlarging the venting system? On the other hand, Googie was usually a good worker and she didn’t want to lose him.
“Well,” Libby told him, “you can clean the mixer out tonight and inventory our supplies after we close.” That was one of those jobs that always needed to be done and no one ever had the time to do.
“I have to leave tonight,” Googie protested.
“Well, when do you want to put the hours in?” It was not, Libby thought, an unreasonable question, but judging from the expression on Googie’s face he thought it was.
Googie tugged at his hair again. “How about tomorrow?” he mumbled. “I could come in early tomorrow.”
“That’ll be fine.”
His phone began to play some tune Libby didn’t recognize. Hip-hop? Or was it rap? Libby couldn’t tell them apart, although Googie had explained the difference numerous times. Bernie probably knew, Libby reflected. But then, Bernie was hip. Really, she defined the term. Libby watched Googie take the phone out of his pocket and move away from her.
Bernie turned toward her. “What was that all about?”
Instead of replying immediately Libby opened the cooler door, reached in, and took a bite of their classic chicken salad. The chicken was slightly dry. It had cooked too long in the oven. Mayo would help. Like
