Nothing she couldn’t handle. A sheet of paper next to the register with a running tally of slash marks under the days of the week caught her attention. “What’s that for?”
“Those are for Gavin’s specials. He’s saving up to move to the city and get into a culinary school. In the meantime, I let him try out new recipes on the good citizens of Whitford. Since we’re not computerized yet, just put a hash mark down whenever somebody orders one of his specials. I’ve thought about separating it out so non-residents, who seem to be a little more adventurous, are broken out, but this is enough to give us both a general idea of what works and what doesn’t. He’s had a few flops, but overall his recipes are well received.”
“I’m still trying to wrap my head around the fact Mike Crenshaw’s son is all grown up.”
“And you know Tori is Jilly’s niece, right? Her brother’s daughter. She moved here last year from Portland because her parents’ divorce was not amicable and she was tired of being stuck in the middle.”
Liz didn’t really know Jilly Burns Crenshaw. Mike met her while he was away at college and she couldn’t remember when they’d moved back to Whitford. There was a lot of that throughout the morning. Faces she knew. Some that were vaguely familiar. Many she didn’t know but who knew who she was.
Everybody, of course, had something to say about her driving Chief Miller’s Mustang.
She was tempted to greet every customer with, “Yes, I’m Liz Kowalski and I’ve moved home from New Mexico because I missed my family and I’m driving Chief Miller’s Mustang because I wrecked my car, but I’m okay, and he lent it to me because I’m his best friend’s sister and no other reason.”
But she didn’t think that would go over well. Not with this crowd, anyway. They liked to ferret out information for themselves, with a whole heap of wild assumptions thrown in.
The chief himself showed up after the lunch rush was over, taking a seat at the counter. “Hey, Liz. How’s it going?”
She hadn’t seen him since he’d rejected her pretty overt attempt at flirting three days before, and she was worried things would be weird between them again. But he seemed normal enough, so she tried to relax. “I guess you’d have to ask Paige, but I think it’s going good.”
He ordered a salad topped with grilled chicken and a diet soda. “I went on a cheeseburger binge after my divorce, until I woke up one day and had to suck in my breath to button my uniform pants. Spent the better part of two weeks sitting at my desk because I could unbutton them and nobody was the wiser.”
“I was sorry to hear you and Mallory split up.” She had been, too. That was, of course, before she’d gotten him to herself for a few minutes.
He shrugged. “Wanted different things.”
It was a lot worse than that, from what Rose had told her. Mallory kept putting off starting a family until Drew finally dug in his heels and told her he didn’t want to wait anymore. She’d finally confessed she’d never planned to have kids and didn’t tell him because she was afraid of losing him. He tried for a while after that, but besides the fact he still wanted kids, he couldn’t get over the fact Mallory had started lying to him before they were even married and never stopped.
“Better cheeseburgers than alcohol,” she told him, trying to lighten the mood again.
He chuckled. “Yeah, until you can’t strap on your gun belt and live in fear of having to chase somebody down.”
She handed his order slip to Gavin, who’d replaced Carl and was preparing for dinner. The special was a steamed haddock with a sauce in a language Liz didn’t understand, so she suspected Ava wouldn’t be putting many checkmarks on the specials sheet during the dinner hour.
Paige had disappeared into the office and they’d pretty much finished the prep work, so Liz poured herself an ice water and went back to talk to Drew. “So, based on customer comments today, we’re quite the Facebook sensation.”
“I swear there are people inventing reasons to talk to me just so they can ask about it.”
“Does it bother you?”
He scoffed. “Of course not. This isn’t the first time the good folks of Whitford have speculated about my personal life.”
“It’s something I’ll have to get used to again, I guess. I was a little more anonymous in New Mexico. In some ways it’s freeing to live someplace where people haven’t known you since you were born. But in other ways, it’s lonely. It’s nice having a shared history with people. Stories, you know?”
“Like the time I put the plastic wrap over the toilet bowl in the bathroom your brothers always used, but Rosie was cleaning the other one, so you used that one and peed all over yourself?”