Quinn.”
“Look at me.” He tilted her chin up to face him. “We’re drowning. You and me, lovey. When your mother died she left us with her beloved diner, and she would never have given it to us if she knew we’d be turning it into the Titanic. She’s watching over us now, rolling her eyes.”
“Now I know where I got that annoying habit from.”
He smiled. “She’s gone, and we can’t change that by burying ourselves in her memory and suffocating in the diner.”
“No. It’s not. I can take care of it and you without a hitch.” She struggled to keep her voice from cracking, and willed the stupid tears back behind her eyeballs.
“I won’t have you looking after me. It’s not right. I’m the parent, and yes, not the brightest pop around, but smart enough to recognize his own stupidity. Lovey, after this week you’ll be back in Chicago. I will survive at the diner without you. Your job is to finish your thesis. You need to be working and doing what you love. Preserving historical buildings. After that, we’ll talk again.” He hugged her. “You’re fired from Ms. Katie’s Diner.”
“What?”
“Let me show you the plans.” He pulled her to her feet.
She stumbled behind him and into the dining room.
Strewn about the dusty teak table were notes and design scribbles that she hadn’t noticed earlier. She stared blankly at them as her dad babbled on about the generous offer he’d accepted from Quinn and his sleek designs to expand the diner. “He’s going to double the size of it, by knocking it into the defunct pet store next door. And Quinn assured me that the menu will remain focused on good, healthy, and organic just as your mother wished.”
Her pop’s voice faded in and out and Sadie started feeling nauseous. She’d been so hell bent on taking care of him and the diner she’d scarcely thought of her mother. It was like she’d been paroled from one sentence only to be jailed again for a lesser crime. Her legs started aching again. “Pop, I’m shattered. Is it okay if I look at these designs tomorrow? I’m desperate for a hot bath.”
“Sure. I’m going over to the diner but not to work. I’m leaving that to Lindy and Quinn. They’re two capable gems. I’m going to fix that album I tore off the wall. U2’s Rattle and Hum needs to get back to its rightful spot next to Joshua Tree .”
“Capable. Right.” Sadie trudged upstairs to soak in a hot tub until her skin pruned.
Chapter Eight
Sadie lassoed the rope on the post and pulled close to the pier, careful to keep the aluminum boat from scraping the concrete slip. She hadn’t talked to Quinn since his stint as cook yesterday, and hoped Eddie, not him, would be on the dock so she could pass along the coolers and skedaddle.
She had almost spewed, “Go to Hell” to her own father when he asked her to deliver the two coolers filled with veggie burgers, brats, and beer to the Wrigley mansion work crew for their barbeque celebration. I should have quit before he had a chance to fire me.
She prayed that rowing the boat, instead of using the one-engine outboard motor, to cross the lake would spare her the humiliation of coming face-to-face with the stud who had bonked her than ran off like she’d stewed his pet bunny.
Not to mention—she cringed thinking about it—Dad’s new best buddy seemed to be Quinn. So if she was successful in avoiding him, she still needed to plan her next disappearing act when he came to the house to fix the old oven. Great.
Strands of Christmas tree lights twinkled on the Wrigleys’ ostentatious boathouse. The last and only boathouse left on Lake Geneva, grandfathered in before the DNR decided to care about the lake’s eroding shoreline. So the remaining descendants of big daddy Wrigley plowed millions of dollars into renovating the ten-slip Tudor style boathouse that protected a small fleet of gorgeous Chris-Craft wooden boats.
At Lake Geneva’s annual Fourth of July Boat Show and
“Look at me.” He tilted her chin up to face him. “We’re drowning. You and me, lovey. When your mother died she left us with her beloved diner, and she would never have given it to us if she knew we’d be turning it into the Titanic. She’s watching over us now, rolling her eyes.”
“Now I know where I got that annoying habit from.”
He smiled. “She’s gone, and we can’t change that by burying ourselves in her memory and suffocating in the diner.”
“No. It’s not. I can take care of it and you without a hitch.” She struggled to keep her voice from cracking, and willed the stupid tears back behind her eyeballs.
“I won’t have you looking after me. It’s not right. I’m the parent, and yes, not the brightest pop around, but smart enough to recognize his own stupidity. Lovey, after this week you’ll be back in Chicago. I will survive at the diner without you. Your job is to finish your thesis. You need to be working and doing what you love. Preserving historical buildings. After that, we’ll talk again.” He hugged her. “You’re fired from Ms. Katie’s Diner.”
“What?”
“Let me show you the plans.” He pulled her to her feet.
She stumbled behind him and into the dining room.
Strewn about the dusty teak table were notes and design scribbles that she hadn’t noticed earlier. She stared blankly at them as her dad babbled on about the generous offer he’d accepted from Quinn and his sleek designs to expand the diner. “He’s going to double the size of it, by knocking it into the defunct pet store next door. And Quinn assured me that the menu will remain focused on good, healthy, and organic just as your mother wished.”
Her pop’s voice faded in and out and Sadie started feeling nauseous. She’d been so hell bent on taking care of him and the diner she’d scarcely thought of her mother. It was like she’d been paroled from one sentence only to be jailed again for a lesser crime. Her legs started aching again. “Pop, I’m shattered. Is it okay if I look at these designs tomorrow? I’m desperate for a hot bath.”
“Sure. I’m going over to the diner but not to work. I’m leaving that to Lindy and Quinn. They’re two capable gems. I’m going to fix that album I tore off the wall. U2’s Rattle and Hum needs to get back to its rightful spot next to Joshua Tree .”
“Capable. Right.” Sadie trudged upstairs to soak in a hot tub until her skin pruned.
Chapter Eight
Sadie lassoed the rope on the post and pulled close to the pier, careful to keep the aluminum boat from scraping the concrete slip. She hadn’t talked to Quinn since his stint as cook yesterday, and hoped Eddie, not him, would be on the dock so she could pass along the coolers and skedaddle.
She had almost spewed, “Go to Hell” to her own father when he asked her to deliver the two coolers filled with veggie burgers, brats, and beer to the Wrigley mansion work crew for their barbeque celebration. I should have quit before he had a chance to fire me.
She prayed that rowing the boat, instead of using the one-engine outboard motor, to cross the lake would spare her the humiliation of coming face-to-face with the stud who had bonked her than ran off like she’d stewed his pet bunny.
Not to mention—she cringed thinking about it—Dad’s new best buddy seemed to be Quinn. So if she was successful in avoiding him, she still needed to plan her next disappearing act when he came to the house to fix the old oven. Great.
Strands of Christmas tree lights twinkled on the Wrigleys’ ostentatious boathouse. The last and only boathouse left on Lake Geneva, grandfathered in before the DNR decided to care about the lake’s eroding shoreline. So the remaining descendants of big daddy Wrigley plowed millions of dollars into renovating the ten-slip Tudor style boathouse that protected a small fleet of gorgeous Chris-Craft wooden boats.
At Lake Geneva’s annual Fourth of July Boat Show and
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