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Annoyed that he was right, I threw him a half smile and ran back into the bedroom, where I grabbed my red bandana and tied it like a headband to keep my hair out of my face, then I went back to the mirror to check my work. Good enough.
“Okay, I’m ready.”
“Good! Because we’re already late. Mom had to drag Dad in to help her with prep, so I’m expecting a bit of a… let’s say moody atmosphere when we get there.”
“Oh my God!” I yelled, rushing out the door. “You should have let me worry all night! At least that way, we could have been there to help sooner.”
Liem laughed as he followed me out to take care of locking up.
The sun rose over the twin bridges as we left the Coast. Liem sang along to the radio in Cody’s truck—he’d insisted I keep it while he was away—in a surprisingly lovely tenor.
I pulled into Ari’s gravel lot and parked the truck quickly before scrambling out the door while fussing with my hair and wishing I were wearing my comfort sweater. I’d left it on the boat for fear of getting it irreparably dirty.
Liem whistled, drawing my attention to the closed front door, where a short queue was forming. I checked the time on my phone. 7:11 a.m. If the sign out front was accurate, the restaurant should have been open for nearly forty-five minutes already.
“That’s not a good sign, is it?” I asked, feeling worried.
“No, but we can fix it.”
We hurried up the ramp to the side door, where Liem produced a key to let us in. The cacophony of banging pots, pans, and raised voices from the back could be heard before we even cleared the doorway. Liem grimaced, mumbling something to himself as he soldiered on to the back. He pushed the saloon doors and, unsure of what I should do, I followed as the voices of Vinh and Liem’s parents became clearer. And louder.
“Monny Lott, you have made us late for opening! It is not the time to reinvent the wheel.”
“But everyone loves my crab cakes, Carebear!” There was a loud gasp followed by “Cara, no! No, you can’t pull me—I put the brakes on. Jesus, woman, if you pull any harder, I’m going to come out of this chair!”
We stepped into the kitchen and found Vinh and Liem’s mom engaged in a standoff with a man who must’ve been their dad, Monny. They were currently tugging a large stainless steel mixing bowl between them. Liem cleared his threat loudly, which drew their attention to us.
We all stared at one another for a moment before Liem’s parents exchanged a look, apparently agreeing to a ceasefire.
“There’s a line outside already,” Liem said, taking charge of the situation. “Why don’t Mom and I go out there and get that started while Bree and Dad get things organized here?”
“Good idea, son,” Mrs. Lott said, rounding the large stainless-steel table. “Bree, it is good to see you again. We’re glad you’re here.” She squeezed my arm and followed Liem back out into the restaurant, leaving me and Mr. Lott in the kitchen.
I smiled as I waved at him. “Hi, Mr. Lott. I’m Bree. It’s nice to meet you.”
He smiled back, his cheeks turning endearingly red as he cleared his throat and wheeled over to me. “Hi, Bree, it’s great to meet you. And call me Monny.” He extended his massive hand, completely engulfing mine as we shook. His hair was buzzed close to his head in an unmistakable military style, but his soft, kind eyes reminded me of Liem.
“Where should we get started? Liem mentioned something about making biscuits?”
“Those are pretty much done. I was just trying to convince Cara to let me do a special biscuit today,” he explained, his deep baritone reminding me of Vinh. I could easily see both of his sons in him. He put on a set of oven mitts, wheeled toward the oven, and started pulling out pans of steaming buttermilk biscuits.
“Vinh mentioned you were a great cook,” I commented, admiring the perfectly formed, golden biscuits. “Want me to start buttering those?”
Monny nearly dropped a hot pan of biscuits as he looked at me in shock. I ran over to help, yanking a dish towel off the table on the way. I carefully took the pan from his hands and placed it on the counter.
“Vinh said that? Really?” His rumbling voice was quiet, nearly reverent.
I smiled, wondering why that would be surprising. “He did.”
He nodded to himself for a moment before a giant smile bloomed across his face. “Alrighty, girlfriend. Let’s get to work. And yes—” He let out a booming laugh. “—butter away.”
It took us a bit, but soon enough Monny and I found our groove working together in the kitchen. He talked the entire time about anything and everything, from the fishing he hoped to do, to the local sports teams, and finally to the recipes he’d stumbled upon on YouTube or dreamed up in his sleep. I’d laughed at that before he told me he was serious and that his dreams were the reason he had his famous BBQ Sauce—Monny’s Dream Sauce.
He’d even gotten his phone out to show me a picture of the custom labels Liem had designed for it. They were placed proudly on the mason jars of sauce that, Monny explained, he used to give out as Christmas gifts.
Liem and Mrs. Lott were in and out of the kitchen, relaying compliments from the customers over Monny’s crab cake biscuits and my spicy honey chicken biscuits—the idea I’d come up with when Monny had demanded I also make a special biscuit for the day. At the beginning, Mrs. Lott had checked in regularly, but once she realized that we were holding our own, her check-ins became less frequent. I hadn’t talked to her much, but every time she’d caught my eye, she gave me a warm smile before she’d move back to the front.
She was a powerhouse and seemed to carry the energy of five women within her, reminding me of a disciplined, fierce hummingbird.
