“Absolutely. We can’t serve it to customers without a liquor license, but that doesn’t mean we can’t enjoy it as we bake with it.” He sends me a wink.
Still smiling, I pop the last bite of the turnover into my mouth. Then I shake my head, thinking of how many of these we could have sold over the summer. I peek back into the dining area to make sure Harriet’s still on her break. “Bo, can I ask you something?”
“Anything but where I left my keys. Because I have no idea about that.”
I smile. “They’re under the cash register counter.”
“You’re a lifesaver. First thing to go is the memory.”
I press my lips together thoughtfully. “You’ve known Harriet since she opened this place, right?” I ask, even though I already know.
“Yep.”
“So do you know why she’s always so reluctant to change things?”
“Change things?”
“Yeah. I mean, it took me almost four years to convince her to just change our pie crust recipe. Two years to get her to open up social media accounts. And these—” I nod toward the remaining raspberry turnovers and lick my lips, “—they should be on the menu.”
“Yeah, Harriet’s like a container ship.”
“Huh?”
“Slow to change course.”
“Oh. Yeah. Exactly. So, why?”
He shrugs. “Because the diner is fine as it is.”
“But it could be better.”
He grins. “You don’t need to convince me of that. But Harriet—she got burned pretty bad about ten years ago when she changed up the menu. We nearly had to close the doors permanently.”
I scrunch my brow. “Harriet changed up the menu?”
“Yep.”
“To what?”
“Barbeque. It was right when all those barbeque competition shows were really big on TV. Ribs, chicken, pork loin. The taste was phenomenal if I do say so myself. But the smell…”
“I love the smell of barbeque.”
“Sure, who doesn’t? But what’s our busiest time of day?”
“Well, breakfast.”
“Bingo. And no one wants to smell barbeque when they’re drinking coffee and having a plate of pancakes. The place reeked of barbeque, 24-7.”
“It’s a good seller, though.”
“Sure. Probably would have done okay with it if she opened it up in a different location. But this is a small town. People like their routines here. They like being able to walk up to that counter and enjoy a cup of Joe and hear the latest gossip without having to smell what everyone’s going to be eating for lunch or dinner. We lost almost forty percent of our business, as I recall. It might have caught on, given time. But you know this business. A few months in the red and you’ll be playing catch-up for a long time. You don’t need to tap into your MBA training to know that nearly spelled the end of us.”
I press my lips together, thinking for a moment. “I never knew that. But that was ten years ago.”
“Fear’s a bitch, kiddo. Look at you and that guy you’renotdating.”
“What about him?”