The Second Chance Café (Hope Springs, #1) by Alison Kent Read Free Book Online Page A

come in? I only have bar stools to sit on, and nothing to offer you but coffee or water.”
    “Water is fine, and I’d love to see the place. I understand you’re doing some renovations.”
    So word was getting around. “I am, yes, with plans to open a café.”
    “The café is actually why I’m here.” The screen door bounced closed behind both women and the dog. Luna perched on the stool Kaylie offered. “I was at a craft show in Gruene over the weekend. That’s where I heard the news. I used to work there at the Gristmill Restaurant, and if it’s true that you’re interviewing for a cook…”
    “Oh, definitely,” Kaylie said, handing Luna a bottle of water, amazed that not only was word spreading, it was leaving Hope Springs—even if Gruene was only a few miles east.
    “Good. I know someone who might be perfect.”
    “Would it happen to be Dolly Breeze? Because her daughter-in-law sang me her praises last week.”
    “Dolly would be an excellent choice, but no. This is someone else.”
    Topping off her coffee, Kaylie glanced toward the other woman. “Why don’t you have her, or him, come by and talk to me?”
    “I will, but could I ask first about your plans? Your hours, your menu.” Luna toyed with a nick in the bottle’s label. “I hate to be pushy, but I don’t want to waste your time or his if things don’t sound like a good fit.”
    “Sure.” That made sense. “I’ll be open for weekday lunches only. At least to start. If there’s a demand, I may add weekends and dinners down the road.” She took a sip of her coffee, then took the bar stool across from Luna’s at the island. “As far as the menu goes, each day there’ll be a single entrée, along with salad and bread. For dessert, brownies. I’ll handle those. And I have a wonderful recipe for hot rolls the size of your head,” she said, and thought of the Thanksgiving story she’d told Ten. “Those I’d prefer
not
to handle, though I can.”
    Luna nodded, her expression thoughtful. “What about your main dishes? You said there’ll just be one?”
    “For now,” Kaylie replied. “The café service will be set up buffet style, so I’ll have to see how it’s all received. The entrées will be…hearty and nurturing, as well as nourishing. I’m competing with fast-food burgers and fries and taco trucks and buckets of chicken with potatoes and gravy. I’ll never win over the Lean Cuisine crowd, but that’s the beauty of self-serve and bushels of salad.”
    “Let your conscience fill your plate.”
    “Exactly.”
    “And your entrées?”
    “Casseroles, primarily. Lasagna. Baked ziti. King Ranch Chicken. Stacked spinach enchiladas.” Kaylie found herself smiling, her stomach rumbling. She needed breakfast before she skipped it and went straight for lunch. “Things that aren’t all Italian or Tex-Mex, which is why I need the cook, because that’s where my mind wants to go.”
    A dimple in her cheek, Luna lifted a brow. “Are you sure it’s your mind in charge?”
    “When it comes to food? Never.”
    For the next half hour, and much to Kaylie’s surprised delight, the two women talked about everything under the sun. After explaining the workings of Two Owls, Kaylie learned her guest had grown up in the area and still lived on her parents’ farm. It was there, at Meadows Land, on the far edge of Hope Springs, where her father raised the sheep that produced the wool her mother spun and dyed, and Luna then wove into scarves.
    “Why scarves? Why not shawls, or rugs?”
    “Because I have a short attention span? A need for instant gratification?” Luna laughed. “A scarf can be done fairly quickly, as long as I have inspiration and the right yarn. And not a lot of other things going on. Like shopping. Or sleeping. Or tubing down the Guadalupe. A shawl would probably take me the rest of my life.”
    Kaylie shared the other woman’s love of shopping and sleeping, though she had never done so much as dip a toe into the