Chapter 11

11

R y was proud he'd made it through the weekend without texting Emerson. He'd decided to give her some space.

And hope she regretted the decision she'd made about keeping him in the friend zone.

He'd kept busy the last several days. Braden had asked if he might like to come and visit the winery and see the production process, and Ry had jumped at the opportunity. They'd walked through the vineyards, with Braden explaining the difference between white and red grapes and the harvest of both coming a little later in the summer during separate weeks. Braden also gave Ry a tour of the facilities where the wines were made.

It was fascinating, and he'd asked a boatload of questions. Just as different woods gave smoked meat various flavors, the wood barrels wines were stored in also impacted its flavor. He and Braden talked about how they both had tried and true formulas for their meats and wines, and yet they also were of a younger generation who liked to experiment.

Braden allowed Ry to sample several different wines, telling him about the subtle differences. Thanks to the wine tasting lesson he'd shared with Ivy, Ry was able to pick up on notes Braden mentioned. His new friend was also excited when Ry shared that he'd like to feed the crew this coming Wednesday night. Since it was Finley's turn, Ry had texted her about holding off a week and allowing him to fill in the gap.

She'd been more than willing and had asked him to stop by the house she and Holden had recently purchased. They'd sat in her spacious office, and he'd shared the digital photo session he'd done just before his separation occurred from the military. Finley had one bedroom in the house devoted to printing and enlarging photos, and she downloaded the two best photographs and had printed out several. When he'd expressed an interest in her help in framing the largest ones of him in his BDU and army service uniforms, she told him she would take care of the matting and framing of both as a welcome home gift, which he thought incredibly kind.

He'd also accompanied Finley and Holden to Java Junction Saturday night, where they sat with Ivy as Dax performed. Ry had learned the coffeehouse owner invited local singers to perform on Saturday nights, and this Saturday was a rare occasion for him to perform. Usually, Dax was either serving as the DJ or playing with his band at a wedding held at Lost Creek Winery. The Saturday night wedding this weekend, however, was definitely a family affair, with the groom's cousin serving as the DJ and the bride's stepfather photographing the ceremony and reception, freeing up Finley, as well.

Ry had enjoyed the night out with friends and was surprised just how well Dax sang and played his guitar. When he learned that every song played had been written by Dax, he was effusive in his praise.

Again, being around the two couples, he had seen the strong connection between them. The small touches. The little glances. Looking at Ivy and Dax, as well as Finley and Holden, it was obvious both pairs were very much in love.

He wasn't in love with Emerson— but he saw potential in a relationship with her. Whether it might lead to love or not, he couldn't say.

But Ry wanted a chance to explore that possibility with her.

Emerson would have to go on the back burner for a while because he was ready to have a heart-to-heart with his dad. Shy Blackwood was one of the nicest men on the planet, but he was also one of the most stubborn. He wouldn't take kindly to Ry coming in and wanting to change things. That wasn't his plan, however. He wanted to see how Blackwood BBQ operated now. Things had to have changed since his teen years, when he would work the dinner service, clean the dining room and kitchen, and then hang around from ten until midnight, helping load the smokers with various meats for the following day's lunch offerings. Then again, maybe they hadn't. His dad was of the ‘if it ain't broke, don't fix it' school of thought. What Ry needed to see was if there were a place for him. His dad seemed to think so, but he wasn't about to step on any current employee's toes or force anyone out.

He showered and shaved and walked several blocks to the town square, glad it was not yet eight o'clock. The past few days the temperature had been climbing, and he was certain triple digits were just around the corner.

Entering the diner, he saw his mom working the cash register and noted the place was busy on this Monday morning.

"Hey, Sweetie," Mom greeted. "Are you stopping by to say hi, or do you want to be fed?"

"Both," he said, smiling at her.

"Why don't you go back and see everyone?" she suggested. "They've been asking about you ever since you got home."

He went to the back, greeting the longtime breakfast cook and his assistant, as well as two servers who'd worked at the diner for a couple of decades. They were all happy to see him, thanking him for his service, and asking what he wanted to eat.

"Surprise me," he said. "Whatever I get, I know it'll be good."

Ry found an empty booth and seated himself. The floodgates opened, and a continual stream of people stopped by, greeting him, telling him how happy they were to see him back in Lost Creek.

His breakfast arrived, brought to him by his mom. She slid in across from him.

"Sunrise Special," she said. "Eggs. Pancakes. Bacon. Sausage. Hash browns. And a biscuit and gravy."

One of the servers had already brought him coffee and refilled it now as he dug into his food.

"Are you going to talk to your dad today?" Mom pressed.

"Yes. I've enjoyed a few days off, but I get itchy if I'm not doing something. After I eat, I'll go over and see how he has things set up these days. I want to hear about his employees and who does what. I'm not going to come in and take anyone's job."

"I know that, Ry. Your dad will make room for you, though. You know that."

"I want to be useful, Mom. I also have some new things I'd like to see Dad place on the menu."

She frowned. "You might want to hold off on that. You know he's not open to changing things."

"I get that. I'll bide my time, but I do think the menu could use a little updating. The website, too. I looked at it, and it's pretty bare bones. In fact, I saw Ivy this weekend. She actually does website designing, in addition to painting. I think it would be worth it to have a conversation with her and see how she could freshen things up."

His mom looked worried. "I don't know about that, Honey. It took a lot of arm pulling just to get him to have a website. Please. Take your time. Don't push him right away."

It sounded as if he'd have to use kid gloves with both Emerson and his dad.

"Okay. But I'm not going to stay quiet forever."

"Nor should you," she agreed. "You're a grown man. You have ideas you want to implement. I get that. You have to realize, though, that Shy has been doing things his way for many years. He turned sixty this spring. He's been running Blackwood BBQ since he was twenty and your grandfather passed. And he worked there a decade before that. That's a lot of years doing it a certain way. His way."

"I understand all that, Mom. I'm not going to go in like a tornado and decimate the place. I believe just a few things could be altered, though. Improved."

She glanced up. "I need to get back to work. See you at home."

After he'd eaten, Ry accepted a to-go cup of coffee and set out, traversing the square and then leaving it, turning on to Main Street. It was only a few short blocks to the family restaurant, and he went around back, following his nose to the smokers. He saw almost double the number of smokers from what used to sit here but realized only half of them were in use right now.

Spying Joe Bob, he headed toward the tall, lanky, bearded employee who'd been with Blackwood BBQ for as long as Ry could remember.

"You son-of-a-gun," Joe Bob greeted, enveloping him in a bear hug. "You're all grown up, Ry."

"You haven't changed a bit, Joe Bob," he replied. "Well, there's a little salt and pepper in your beard and hair, but other than that, you look the same. I see you're nursing the meat."

"Yup. I put on a bunch of things between five and seven every morning for dinner. Keep my eye on them and work the lunch shift."

"Billy still doing the other?"

Joe Bob nodded. "He does the dinner shift and then hangs around and loads the smokers between ten and midnight."

Since smoked meats usually cooked in indirect heat for a dozen hours or so, they were placed into the smokers twice a day in order to have a variety for each meal service. Billy— like Joe Bob —had worked for Shy Blackwood for decades.

"You gonna be spelling me some?" the older man asked.

"I'm going to do whatever Dad needs me to do," he replied. "Don't worry. Your hours won't be cut by me coming to work."

"Hope not," Joe Bob said. "I got a kid in college and one starting in another year. I need all the hours I can get."

"Good seeing you," he said, heading toward the back door, the smell of smoke already clinging to him.

Inside, he found two men in the kitchen and introduced himself.

"I'm Ry Blackwood."

The older of the pair lit up. "Mr. Ry. I'm Carlos. This is my son Jose."

He glanced around. "I bet you two are in charge of sides."

"And desserts," Carlos said. "Jose also runs the cash register during most services."

Blackwood BBQ was set up cafeteria-style, with customers pushing their tray down a long line, asking for the cut of meats they wished, and then selecting sides. They paid their bill at the end of line, avoiding the need for servers to take orders and distribute meals.

Jose was mixing a large bowl of coleslaw, while Carlos chopped bacon. He finished that now, scraping the bacon bits into a simmering pot of beans on the stove.

"Is my dad around?"

"In his office," Jose said, adding more vinegar to the bowl as he stirred the shredded cabbage and other ingredients for coleslaw.

"Thanks. Good meeting you both."

"You, too, Mr. Ry," Carlos said.

He approached the closed door and took a deep breath before knocking.

"Come in," Shy Blackwood boomed.

Opening the door, he popped his head inside. "You busy, Dad?"

"Not for my son. Get in here. Glad you came. Ready to go to work?"

Ry took a seat in the chair in front of the desk. "I'd like to. But it seems as if you already have a full crew running things. I won't usurp anyone's position, Dad. I'm not going to take paying work away from people who work here. It looks as if Joe Bob and Billy have a great system smoking the meats. Carlos and Jose manage the sides. I'm sure you have a couple of teenagers coming in to bus tables and wash dishes."

He paused. "I know we talked about me coming to work for you, Dad— but I don't think there's any work to be had. I refuse to put people out of a job."

Shy frowned. "You wouldn't. I just need to juggle things a bit."

"No," Ry said firmly. "No juggling. Nobody's hours get cut."

"What about part-time?" his dad asked.

"Doing what?" he asked.

Shy raked a hand through his hair. "Weekends have gotten a little rough because of all the catering at the winery. Not that I'm complaining. I really appreciate Harper recommending me to so many of her brides. It's brought in a heckuva lot of income."

It dawned on him that the additional smokers he had seen were used for catering weddings and other events at Lost Creek Winery.

"Who supervises the catering?"

"I do. And I do all the smoking for it. With the diner closing at three every day, your mom comes over here and helps me load all the meats and sides into a van I bought. She and I— and sometimes Carlos —spread everything out in the kitchen at the winery. Cut the meats. Keep things warmed until the ceremony is over and pictures are being taken. Harper's got a couple of assistants who take the plated meals and distribute them to guests. Your mom, Carlos, and I then clean up."

Dad sighed. "It's really starting to get to me, Ry. Catering weddings and other events is damned hard work. I never seem to have a chance on a weekend to put up my feet and take it easy. No watching football or playing golf. Just work, work, work."

"You'd like me to take over all the catering then?"

Relief swept across his dad's face. "Absolutely. It would mean you'd be responsible for smoking all the meats for the event. Carlos and Jose can handle preparing the sides, though. Would you be interested in that, son? I know it's not what either of us envisioned, but it would really make a difference."

Ry thought not only would he enjoy preparing those dinners, but he would also pitch a new, varied menu to Harper. It would give him a chance to see how others responded to his new ideas regarding barbeque, and he would be useful to his dad. If things went well, he might even think about investing in a food truck and driving to different places around town during the week. He could serve lunch weekdays. Offer something beyond the scope of Blackwood BBQ.

"I'm in," he said, thrusting out his hand and shaking his father's. "I'll need to see the catering calendar. Become familiar with what the different plates consist of. Since I'd free you and Mom up on weekends, I might even need to hire someone on a limited basis to help with plating and serving."

And Ry had in mind exactly who he'd offer that opportunity to.