“Gavin.” She sighed and leaned back. “I love the diner and I know you do, too, but you have to take this shot.”
“The chef came here. You see these guys ride into town on their ATVs in muddy jeans and you don’t give them much thought. I guess one of them is some super-rich banker guy who knows the chef and he kept talking up my food. The chef stayed at the lodge and came in three times and nobody knew. He came to Whitford to taste my cooking, Tori. Can you believe that?”
“That just proves my point.”
“I guess this chef isn’t hung up on formal training because anybody can be taught to cook. He’s big on instincts and passion and the ability to take whatever you have on hand and make it a meal a customer won’t forget.”
She shook his arm, unable to contain her excitement. “That’s what you do, Gavin. When are you supposed to go?”
“A week from Thursday. They’ll put me up in a bed and breakfast and I’ll have the weekend to show them what I can do. That way, if they offer me the job, I can acclimate during the off-season and be at full strength for next tourist season.”
“That’s great timing for us, too. The ATV season’s about over, but the sledders won’t start coming in until mid-to-late December, so we can look for a cook during the slow time. Gavin, tell me you’re going to do this.”
He took a deep breath and, when he exhaled, she could hear the tremor. “I’m going to do this.”
She wrapped her arms around him and squeezed. “I think you’ll have to make this town at least a year’s worth of buffalo chicken dip to freeze before anybody will let you go.”
“I’ll leave you the recipe. Or you can find it on the internet. It’s not exactly a secret gourmet dish.”
She waved her hand dismissively. “It won’t be the same. It’s never the same if you have to make it yourself. And I confess I tried to make it and screwed it up.”
“Says the woman who offered to cook in my place.”
She grinned. “Hey, we’ll make the Trailside Diner the first potluck restaurant in Maine if that’s what it takes.”
The nap was put on hold while she helped him plan what he’d take and what he’d wear. She also taped a note on his fridge reminding him to go see Katie for a haircut. The closer it came to next Thursday, the more nervous he was going to get.
She was getting pretty good at taking care of other people, she thought. Tori Burns, helping men get their shit together. Too bad she was barely keeping up with the two jobs she already had. And Max.
*
Max finished his lunch and pushed his empty plate back toward the edge of the counter. Paige snagged it as she walked by with a coffeepot and dropped it into a bus pan under the counter without even slowing down.
He’d hoped Tori would be working, but Paige had told him she’d already left. It was disappointing and he’d thought about texting her, but during a lull, Paige had told him how their morning had gone. Tori had enough going on without dealing with him.
Nola was a conundrum. He wasn’t sure how to handle the follow-up to their first date. Should he call her? It seemed like if he called to thank her for a lovely evening, there would be an expectation of asking her for a second date. If he wasn’t the best at taking social cues in person, he was even worse over the telephone.
He paid the bill and then walked outside, debating on his next course of action. He’d parked in the municipal lot, which meant walking by the town hall to get back to his car.
He could go in, thank her for the information and inquire as to the next step. While it may have begun as a way to talk to Nola, actually building a garage made sense. He wouldn’t have to arrange things like a jigsaw puzzle in the shed, his property value would go up, and there would be less lawn to mow.
As he went by the town hall, he turned sharply and went through the door before he could change his mind. It wasn’t fair to ask Tori to keep holding his hand—figuratively, of course—and he needed to stand on his own two feet.
Nola’s smile was warm and genuine when she saw him step up to the counter. “Hi, Max.”
“Hi. I was walking by and I thought I’d come in and thank you for the information you gave me. I think I’m going to go ahead with the project, so I need to research the next step.”
She held up a finger, then rummaged through a file drawer behind her. Then she handed him a form across the counter. “Fill out this building permit and the building inspector will look it over and then you’ll talk. You need to know your property lines and the setback and such.”
“Okay.” His grandmother had given him a fat folder of house papers, so he made a mental note to go through it again. He thought that information was in there.
“I should warn you, he’s only here every other Wednesday because it’s part-time so it could be a slow process.”
“That’s fine. It wouldn’t make sense to start the construction until spring, anyway.”