An Unexpected Family. Jenna Mindel

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      Hearing grumbles, she looked at Chuck and muttered under her breath, “Now what?”

      A grumpy cook had come along with her inheritance of Dean’s Hometown Grille from her mother-in-law, Linda Dean. Evidently, the terms of the will had been very specific. Rose did not just inherit the building; Linda had stipulated that Rose run the diner herself until such time Greg could take over. Rose had had no idea the woman intended to leave her anything. Why would she? Linda’s eldest son had abandoned Rose and Greg years before he died.

      Chuck cursed and threw the spatula across the stainless-steel grill.

      Rose glanced at the few remaining breakfast patrons seated near the sunny window overlooking Main. They didn’t appear to hear anything. Chuck’s colorful language had become more commonplace since Rose took over, and she didn’t like it. Not one bit. Chuck hadn’t liked her directives to rein in his tongue, either. Firing the cranky cook without a replacement wasn’t an option. She couldn’t cook.

      Rose sighed. “What happened?”

      “Burned my thumb,” the cook growled.

      She glanced at Greg. Her son rolled his eyes and drained his glass of milk. Chuck was no role model. He wasn’t the kind of man she wanted Greg around. Rose had recently signed her son up for a summer program during the week. Although this little café was his legacy and more than likely the only reason Rose had inherited it, she couldn’t fill all her son’s summer vacation days with busing tables.

      He was too old for day care, and Rose couldn’t make Greg stay indoors upstairs until the restaurant closed at two in the afternoon. Nor did she want her son roaming around Maple Springs on his own. Not yet anyway, not until she knew more about their new hometown. Even tiny resort towns held dangers for unsupervised eleven-year-olds soon to be twelve.

      The bell over the front door rang, announcing more customers. This morning had been busy. Since she had taken over the diner, they’d been busy nearly every day. Except for Sunday. Rose had started something new by closing the diner on Sundays. That had earned more complaints from the cook. Linda never closed the diner.

      Well, Rose wasn’t Linda. Despite carrying the last name, Rose wasn’t a Dean. She hardly knew the family she’d married into twelve years ago, but then she’d ended up divorced five years later.

      A man and woman walked inside and their laughter snagged her attention. The two greeted people they knew. The man was handsome, broad shouldered and tall with disheveled blond hair, but his bright blue eyes captured her interest. They shone like gemstones from all the way across the small dining area.

      Those brilliantly colored eyes locked onto hers, and he smiled, showing off near-perfect teeth. It wasn’t a pleasant, hello-how-are-you kind of smile, either. He reacted with a lazy, I-can-show-you-a-good-time smile. This man recognized a lonely woman as if he could see straight through to her heart and the secrets locked there.

      Rose ignored the hiccup of her pulse rate and looked away. What a jerk! Making eyes at her while he was with another. She nearly tore her order pad apart flipping over to a clean sheet.

      Grabbing a couple menus, Rose approached their table. The woman was equally fine with long, straight blond hair and perfectly manicured nails. Figures.

      “Are you the new owner?” The woman looked up and smiled. Her blue eyes were the same brilliant shade as the man’s. Now, what were the chances of that?

      Rose smiled. “I am. In fact, this is my second Saturday.”

      The woman held out her hand. “My name’s Monica. Welcome.”

      “Thank you, Monica. I’m Rose Dean.” She shook the woman’s hand, liking her instantly even though she felt sorry for her bad taste in men. Rose had been there, done that.

      Monica dug in her purse. “I’m so sorry for your loss. Everyone loved Linda and she’ll be sorely missed. If I may, here’s my card. Linda never wanted a website, but as a new owner, if you’d like to consider an online presence, let me know.”

      “Oh.” Rose took the card and pocketed it. She wasn’t sure she could afford to hire anyone for a website. She hadn’t had a chance to go over the financials with more than a cursory glance. She didn’t know what to look for and that meant hiring an accountant to find out. Another expense she wasn’t yet sure she could afford.

      “Nice sales pitch,” the man drawled.

      “Just trying to help.” Monica forced another smile. “This is my brother, Cam Zelinsky.”

      “Oh.” Maybe he wasn’t quite as despicable as she’d first thought, but Rose knew his type and didn’t take his offered hand. She gave him the menu instead. “Nice to meet you both. Our lunch special is a grilled Reuben with fries, and we serve breakfast till we close at two. Can I get either of you something to drink before ordering?”

      Cam narrowed beautiful eyes. “An iced tea, no lemon.”

      “Just water for me, with lemon,” Monica said.

      Rose nodded. “Be right back.”

      While she was filling their drink orders, more people came in. The bell rang again, announcing a few more. Rose checked her watch. Eleven o’clock seemed awfully early for the lunch crowd, but then, this was mid-June. Summer was in full swing and many folks vacationed up north.

      Although she’d never lived here before, she knew northern Michigan was a destination for vacationers and summer residents alike. Her ex-husband had once explained that nearly three-quarters of this town’s residents lived here primarily in summer. In winter, Maple Springs rolled up and died.

      Rose looked forward to that slowdown. But for now, she loaded her tray with more ice waters and got to work greeting customers and taking orders.

      * * *

      Cam took another bite of his grilled Reuben. He’d tasted better. He’d made better. Chuck was slipping, but then, without Linda Dean to keep him in line—

      “Write so I can read it!”

      Cam jerked his head toward the new owner, curious to see how she handled the cook’s rudeness. Rose. What an apt name for a woman with such a fresh face. Her skin flushed pink, looking as soft as a petal from the flower bearing her name.

      He cringed. He’d never compared a woman to a flower before.

      “I don’t recall seeing her at Linda’s funeral.” Monica watched her, too.

      Dean’s Hometown Grille was a small place. It had been closed for only a couple of weeks after Linda’s untimely death. A restaurant couldn’t afford to close their doors for long and hope to survive. Poor Rose. After giving the cook a stern look, she darted from table to table, taking orders, putting them in, picking them up. She looked overwhelmed. A gangly young kid cleared the empty tables and wiped them down.

      Cam sipped his iced tea. “I remember two of the Dean boys from high school, but not the oldest. I don’t remember them having a sister.”

      Monica shrugged. “Maybe she’s a cousin or something. Word on the street is that Linda’s boys aren’t happy.”

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