serious.” Grandma Imelda chuckled.
“If it doesn’t work out I’ll stage a feline intervention.”
Just as the words left my lips, Mary Jane bounced through the door. “Sorry I’m late. What did I miss?”
“We were just discussing cats,” Grandma Imelda said, giving me a wink when Mary Jane wasn’t looking.
I stifled a giggle.
Mary Jane slipped the apron over her head. “I have three, but that’s it. I don’t want to be a crazy cat lady.”
Grandma Imelda chuckled again.
Mary Jane grabbed one of the muffins and pinched off a bite. “Imelda, your granddaughter made the best dish the other day. What’s the special for the day, Elly?” Mary Jane asked with a mouth full of muffin.
“The same as last week only because you’ve nagged me about it relentlessly.”
She grinned. “Nagging works.”
“It’s Mary Jane’s favorite dish now,” I said to Grandma Imelda.
“Well, tell me what it is,” she said.
“I made a healthy version of Chicken n’ Dumplins. Except no one knows it’s a healthier version. Somehow, I think they wouldn’t like it as much. I’m not sure how long it’ll stay on the menu. It’s probably not very good.”
From the very beginning, I had intended to take this new café endeavor seriously. Just because I hadn’t known magic hadn’t meant that I couldn’t make the café as successful as Grandma Imelda. The first thing on my agenda had been for Mystic Café to include healthy Southern dishes on the menu—an oxymoron, but I’d made substitutes for even the most fattening offenders. Sure, I envisioned myself a cross between Paula Deen and Jamie Oliver.
I’d jumped in full force with the café and the magic. It was no time to turn back now. My mama hadn’t raised a quitter.
Mary Jane continued to chew. “Maybe they would like it even if they knew. You should give it a chance. One of the best dishes in the house, with a little magic added, of course.”
I shrugged. “If you say so. Thank you for the compliment in spite of my insecurities.”
She chuckled.
I pulled a spiced walnut apple pie from the oven. “You know, I really think some magic is involved in my new cooking skills.” I took off my oven mitt and used it to point in Grandma Imelda’s direction.
She ignored the gesture.
“Remember that pizza I made for us a couple of years ago?” I asked Mary Jane.
She choked on her water. When she stopped coughing, she said, “Yeah, I remember it tasted like cardboard with a little bit of ketchup on top.”
“Exactly.” I stared for a beat. “Wait. It wasn’t that bad.” She raised an eyebrow. “Okay, you’re right. It wasn’t very good. But just look…” I pointed at the pie. “Now I’m whipping up dishes that would make Paula Deen feel inadequate.”
“Hmm. Do you think your grandmother has something to do with it?”
We looked at her, but she continued to act as if she wasn’t listening to our conversation. Yeah, right.
The front door jingled drawing our attention away from the current topic and my stomach instantly flip-flopped.
“That must be our new employee,” Mary Jane chirped.
“Well, I must go say hello and welcome him,” Grandma Imelda made a beeline for the door.
Mary Jane looked at me with a devilish grin. “I didn’t get a chance to ask you. What’s going on with Rory? Is he freaking out because Tom is working here?”
“Well yeah, he is a little concerned. But I told him there is nothing to worry about because there is nothing between Tom and me. Zero, zilch, nada. Maybe I need to fix Tom up with another woman. I could play matchmaker.” I wiggled my eyebrows.
“Yeah, something tells me Tom wouldn’t appreciate that. I think he’s the kind of guy who likes to be spontaneous.”
“He does seem that way, huh?” I said.
Tom stepped into the kitchen. “Good morning.”
“How are you?” I asked while looking down.
“Ready for work,” he said with a flash of his dazzling smile.
The best job for Tom would
“If it doesn’t work out I’ll stage a feline intervention.”
Just as the words left my lips, Mary Jane bounced through the door. “Sorry I’m late. What did I miss?”
“We were just discussing cats,” Grandma Imelda said, giving me a wink when Mary Jane wasn’t looking.
I stifled a giggle.
Mary Jane slipped the apron over her head. “I have three, but that’s it. I don’t want to be a crazy cat lady.”
Grandma Imelda chuckled again.
Mary Jane grabbed one of the muffins and pinched off a bite. “Imelda, your granddaughter made the best dish the other day. What’s the special for the day, Elly?” Mary Jane asked with a mouth full of muffin.
“The same as last week only because you’ve nagged me about it relentlessly.”
She grinned. “Nagging works.”
“It’s Mary Jane’s favorite dish now,” I said to Grandma Imelda.
“Well, tell me what it is,” she said.
“I made a healthy version of Chicken n’ Dumplins. Except no one knows it’s a healthier version. Somehow, I think they wouldn’t like it as much. I’m not sure how long it’ll stay on the menu. It’s probably not very good.”
From the very beginning, I had intended to take this new café endeavor seriously. Just because I hadn’t known magic hadn’t meant that I couldn’t make the café as successful as Grandma Imelda. The first thing on my agenda had been for Mystic Café to include healthy Southern dishes on the menu—an oxymoron, but I’d made substitutes for even the most fattening offenders. Sure, I envisioned myself a cross between Paula Deen and Jamie Oliver.
I’d jumped in full force with the café and the magic. It was no time to turn back now. My mama hadn’t raised a quitter.
Mary Jane continued to chew. “Maybe they would like it even if they knew. You should give it a chance. One of the best dishes in the house, with a little magic added, of course.”
I shrugged. “If you say so. Thank you for the compliment in spite of my insecurities.”
She chuckled.
I pulled a spiced walnut apple pie from the oven. “You know, I really think some magic is involved in my new cooking skills.” I took off my oven mitt and used it to point in Grandma Imelda’s direction.
She ignored the gesture.
“Remember that pizza I made for us a couple of years ago?” I asked Mary Jane.
She choked on her water. When she stopped coughing, she said, “Yeah, I remember it tasted like cardboard with a little bit of ketchup on top.”
“Exactly.” I stared for a beat. “Wait. It wasn’t that bad.” She raised an eyebrow. “Okay, you’re right. It wasn’t very good. But just look…” I pointed at the pie. “Now I’m whipping up dishes that would make Paula Deen feel inadequate.”
“Hmm. Do you think your grandmother has something to do with it?”
We looked at her, but she continued to act as if she wasn’t listening to our conversation. Yeah, right.
The front door jingled drawing our attention away from the current topic and my stomach instantly flip-flopped.
“That must be our new employee,” Mary Jane chirped.
“Well, I must go say hello and welcome him,” Grandma Imelda made a beeline for the door.
Mary Jane looked at me with a devilish grin. “I didn’t get a chance to ask you. What’s going on with Rory? Is he freaking out because Tom is working here?”
“Well yeah, he is a little concerned. But I told him there is nothing to worry about because there is nothing between Tom and me. Zero, zilch, nada. Maybe I need to fix Tom up with another woman. I could play matchmaker.” I wiggled my eyebrows.
“Yeah, something tells me Tom wouldn’t appreciate that. I think he’s the kind of guy who likes to be spontaneous.”
“He does seem that way, huh?” I said.
Tom stepped into the kitchen. “Good morning.”
“How are you?” I asked while looking down.
“Ready for work,” he said with a flash of his dazzling smile.
The best job for Tom would
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