Total pages in book: 142
Estimated words: 131345 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 657(@200wpm)___ 525(@250wpm)___ 438(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 131345 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 657(@200wpm)___ 525(@250wpm)___ 438(@300wpm)
The man was a creative genius, and for some reason known only to him, he had given it all up to open a tiny coffee shop in the Western Cape of South Africa. The place had been running for four years and was only now starting to build a reputation as a quality restaurant. Chris barely advertised and was wholly dependent on word-of-mouth referrals. It was starting to work, as patrons loved the idea of eating at a hidden gem of a restaurant that only they and a few others knew about.
“I know that,” Libby said in reply to the tall, gorgeous man’s former statement while offering him a small smile. “But Clara and I are cramping your swinging bachelor lifestyle. We’ve imposed enough, and I’m excited about the new place. And you know I can’t commute between your place and Riversend every day. It’s a forty-minute drive.”
Chris made a rude sound and waved his hand dismissively. “I do not know why you have chosen to buy that house. It is . . . how do you say? A dump. Not fit for you and this precious bonbon!”
“I like the town, and I know the house needs work, but I’m looking forward to fixing it up.”
“It will take more than some paint and the crack filler to fix that place up.”
Libby bit back a smile at the awkward turn of phrase. Chris’s English was generally excellent, but occasionally words like Polyfilla defeated him.
“I know that commuting to and from Riversend every day could be a nightmare in that piece-of-shit joke you call a car. But this means you should change cars,” he pointed out. These were all familiar arguments; he had been against the idea of her buying that house from the start. Libby had filled out the paperwork two months ago. The transfer deed had been finalized just the week before, and Libby would be moving out of Chris’s place today.
But her extremely handsome Congolese friend with the dreamy accent was not too crazy about the fact that she was leaving. He had taken her and Clara in without reservations, had asked few questions about her marriage, and had gone completely gaga over the infant. Which was a bit shocking, as Libby didn’t think Chris had ever really been near a real, live baby before. He was a completely doting uncle and spoiled Clara rotten.
“There’s nothing wrong with my car, Chris.”
“It is in worse shape than that dump you want to live in,” he argued, holding up a finger and glaring at her. “I do not understand why we cannot continue like this. You can work here, and there is ample space for Clara.”
“You don’t really need me, you know that,” she muttered. He had a small but highly competent staff at his restaurant. Employing Libby had been a favor, and they both knew it. Especially since she could only work part time while Clara was so tiny. The arrangement was fine for the short term, but it had never felt permanent to Libby. She wanted to settle down and build more of a career. Working for Chris would be too limiting: because of the nature of his business, there was absolutely no room for growth for Libby.
“I’ll be putting Clara into day care; they have an excellent kindergarten—which offers a phenomenal infant day care service—in Riversend. I’ve loved working here, and I owe you so much, Chris. But it’s time for me to find my feet and establish a secure future for myself and Clara. Besides, MJ’s offers an exciting new opportunity for me.”
“A fast-food restaurant. You will waste your exceptional talent at a fast-food restaurant.” He practically spat the words, and she grinned wryly. He could be such a snob sometimes.
“It’s hardly a fast-food restaurant. It’s a family restaurant, with a decent and varied menu.”
“I know this place. The menu has not changed in twenty years.”
“How do you know that? You’ve only been here for four years.”
“How I know is not important. I do not understand why you want to be a grill cook at some diner with a mediocre menu.”
“I won’t be the grill cook. I’ll be revitalizing the menu. Tina has big ideas for the restaurant.”
Tina had first seen the restaurant when she had brought Libby and Clara to stay with Chris three months ago. It had been a long drive, and Libby could easily have flown, but she hadn’t wanted to risk taking her four-week-old baby on a plane. Tina, despite her emotional detachment while Libby and Clara had been living with her, had seemed hurt that they were moving out and had eagerly suggested a road trip.
They had stopped in the tiny, picturesque town of Riversend and had enjoyed a meal at MJ’s. Shockingly, Tina, who had been directionless for so long, had fallen in love with the faded establishment and immediately claimed that she had to have it. Said it was fate since she had the same initials. Never mind that she knew absolutely nothing about running a business. But Tina had inherited a huge amount of money from her paternal grandfather and had more than enough to purchase and revitalize the restaurant. Upon purchase, she had offered Libby a partnership of sorts: free rein to run the kitchen as she saw fit and license to create the new menu and focus on experimental desserts, while Tina ran the business end of things.