Almost a Family

To avoid meeting his eyes, she gazed around his office once more. He was a land developer and it was obviously very lucrative. Katie smoothed her department-store skirt, terribly aware of how circumstances had changed. Richard—Ric—now held the power to reject her and her idea, and she wondered if he’d turn her down as simple revenge for how she’d treated him in the past. Until now, she’d done a good job of avoiding him. Sucking up to him and his bank balance was something that didn’t appeal to her. If only she’d apologized all those years ago instead of leaving it be. But now their past was like another person in the room with them. She fought to get the words out.

“I want to open a restaurant.”

He steepled his fingers and rested them on his lips. “I see.”

“Not any restaurant. Something different.”

“Everyone thinks their idea is different.”

“Y-yes. I’m sure they do,” she faltered. She had to convince him that her idea was innovative. And beyond that, profitable. But every time she looked at him, she only saw the hurt in his eyes that day when she’d laughed at him.

He crossed his ankle over his knee, the black trouser leg flawless. “Convince me.”

Katie took a breath. Damn him for being completely in control, coolly implacable. She was sure her face was flushed, ruining any effect her careful application of makeup may have had. She uncrossed her arms and reached for her portfolio and the facts and figures she’d brought along to back her up.

“I want to open a healthy-choices type restaurant. Nothing upscale, in fact, it would cater mostly to the downtown lunch crowd. All of our selections would be based on sound nutrition. Whole grains, low in saturated fat, emphasis on vegetables and fruits, locally sourced and mostly organic. An alternative to fast food, if you

will, but at the same time a step up. Something to grab on the run but also to sit down and enjoy.”

“Do you seriously think it will fly?”

“Yes, I do,” she replied, taking files out of her case. “In fact, I developed a bit of a survey about people’s dietary habits, dining out habits and what sort of things they’d be interested in. I tabulated the results. It’s clear. People are increasingly aware of their health and wanting to eat better, but they admit there seem to be few choices for eating out on a budget, and even fewer for eating out without overloading on starch and fats.”

She handed him the survey but continued on as he looked at it, the words spilling out as nervous energy pushed her on.

“Several fast food chains carry salads now. And they’re obviously popular, because they haven’t pulled them from the market. They’re slowly incorporating other healthier choices. The newest trend though, is not just healthy food but where and how it’s grown. I’d like to get established now. What is it you say? Get in on the bottom floor?”

Richard looked up, met her eyes, and she felt a jolt. He had grown up well. Now he was rich. He’d always said he would be and people had pointed their fingers and laughed. He’d told her about it one afternoon at a brunch his parents had held. He’d remarked with some amazement that she was the first person who hadn’t laughed at him.

Now here he was, president of his own company, mature, filled out and handsome. There was more to him than his physical appearance…it was power. It made for a potent combination.

“Katie? I asked if you had a sample menu.”

She shook her head, pulled out a sheet and handed it over. “The breakfast menu is small, as you can see.”

Ric scanned the menu but Katie continued, amazed he’d even asked to see one. “Egg-white omelets, low-fat muffins, multi-grain pancakes, oatmeal, cereals, fruit, Greek yogurt. I’d expect most of the morning traffic to be the coffee crowd, so we’d stock mostly muffins, tea and coffee. Our biggest rush would be at lunch. As you can see, we’d have two hot specials each day…for example, a vegetarian lasagna and perhaps chicken stir-fry with brown rice, that sort of thing.”

He kept staring at the sheet and her stomach tumbled. Desperate to convince him, she plowed on. “The sandwiches and wraps would be custom-made and served with a side of either one of three salads or a soup. Soup and a whole grain bun will also be a staple of the menu, as well as meal-sized salads. The nice thing about the sandwiches is that they are hot. Grilled chicken and mushroom. Lean steak and peppers. Roasted vegetables, for example. All may be made on a choice of whole-grain bread, wraps or pitas. No fried food of any sort. The dessert menu is also small. Fruit cup with dip. Fat-free chocolate cake with frozen yogurt. I’m still looking for dessert ideas.” She looked up again, surprised his eyes hadn’t glazed over.

“And dinner hour? Or does your plan include being closed over dinner?”

“The lunch selections will be available, but in addition we’ll have a handful of dinner entrees. Grilled chicken breast, brown rice or baked sweet potato and steamed vegetables, salmon, sole, grass-fed beef. Marinara sauce with whole-wheat or gluten-free pasta. Fajitas. Depending on response we could, and should, adjust the menu accordingly.” Katie took a breath as she finished.

He put down the menu and she got the sinking feeling she was going about this all wrong. Business plan, business plan, she chanted in her mind.

“Look, menus aside, the most important thing to realize is that there is a real hole in the market for this type of establishment. One of the biggest markets today is weight loss—food, programs, books, you name it. Come out with an eating establishment that carries great tasting food, healthy ingredients and the flexibility to fit it to a specific plan, and you’ve got a winner.”

“And who would do the cooking?”

She paused, expecting some surprise at the least and, most likely, strict resistance. “Me.”

“You?”

“Yes. I’ve worked in the food service industry for several years.” She made it sound more than it was and felt a little niggle of guilt over fudging the details.

She should have known he’d persist. He quirked an eyebrow and she felt as if he saw right through that statement. “You’ve studied?”

“N-no,” she stammered, “not exactly. I’ve, well, I’ve worked in several restaurants, either serving or in the kitchen.”