“My husband battled cancer for several years. I took care of him until he passed. And then, well, I’ve been in recovery mode since then. I wasn’t sure what to do with myself. We have a place on Clark Lake. It was where he wanted to retire. I was holed up there, well, honestly stunned. Anyway, I’m ready to not be holed up anymore.”
Clark Lake was about fifteen minutes’ drive from Lake Manitou. Hope loved everything about Camila Rojas. Instead of worrying if Camila was a good hire, Hope worried she wasn’t a good enough boss for the woman.
“I’m not going to be able to promise that you’ll make anywhere near what you did in those restaurants you mentioned. I’m afraid I’m not qualified enough for you, Camila.”
“I’m here for a good experience, not good tips. I’ve been watching your work, walking past when you’re burning the midnight oil here. I want to help you build it. That’s more important to me now—plus, I’ve had it with big cities. Irish Hills is my speed.”
Hope explained her idea of only lunch and dinner four days a week and her concept of locally sourced ingredients. Camila didn’t blink at Hope’s ambitious plans.
“You’re hired if you’ll have me,” Hope said humbly.
“That’s why I’m here,” Camila replied. “I have a good feeling about this place.”
Camila also agreed to put the word out to a few of her favorite servers in the area to see if they could fill in the ranks. It was hard to find people to work in a small town, but thanks to a successful morning and the confidence of her first hires, Hope felt pretty good.
Braylon Brady was her last interview of the day.
Braylon was as handsome as his father but not gawky like the younger Keith had been. He was broad-shouldered, barrel-chested, and had a warm smile that peeked out of a rather impressive red hued beard.
“I’ll shave it. That’s one hundred percent fine,” he said after Hope commented on it.
“You’re good, you’re good.”
While Camila’s interview focused on the logistics of running a smooth service and check out, Braylon’s passion was the food.
He lit up, describing his signature dish, his favorite summer vegetable, and the things he’d learned from his experiences working his way up in various kitchens. Before Hope knew it, the interview had stretched into an hour, moved back to the kitchen. Where the two shared ideas and inspiration. They spoke the same language, even though Braylon was a quarter-century younger.
Not that he needed to seal the deal—there was no doubt Hope was lucky to have someone of Braylon’s caliber at the restaurant—but Braylon knew how to get local fish, beef, and other key ingredients, right here in their own backyard.
“A friend of mine owns a distillery in Tecumseh, and they’ve developed a local producer in season list. It’s amazing, totally useful.”
Braylon showed his phone to Hope, and she looked at the list. Some were the farmers she knew, from Aunt Emma, some were new to her.
“This is what I needed; it changes the game!” It was the final piece she needed to really pull a menu together.
“If it’s cool with you, I could be totally involved in helping source ingredients.”
“It is cool with me.”
They finished the interview with a handshake, and Hope felt like she was walking on a cloud. She wasn’t alone. From her old friends to her new hires, this restaurant was happening!
She also realized she was feeling hungry.
J.J. and Libby arrived with the promised takeout lunch from Poppa’s Place.
Hope gave her friends a quick recap of her busy morning.
“I’m excited. This looks good for July Fourth weekend. What a great way to start,” Libby said, and Hope felt more and more like they could make it. They’d danced around that date as an opening target, but after the morning’s successes, she was feeling more confident than ever.
“I don’t want to jinx it, but yes, if I can get at least half the staff in here, start doing a few run-throughs, maybe.”
The idea did fill Hope with nerves. That was a lot of ground to cover, but her friend was going out on a limb to give her this prime space, rent-free. Libby seemed to really want it to be open on the Fourth, and Hope wanted to come through. Even so, Hope was starting to lose sleep over pitfalls and potential disaster of disappointing her old friends with the tight timetable.
Still, Hope finished her day with a sous chef, a front-of-house manager/host, and three servers. This was progress!
The hot sun was sinking in the west by the time she arrived home. Home. She smiled to think she was referring to the old cottage as her home. The sunset did a lot of favors for the run-down cottage. It streamed in the windows and made the rooms glow, despite their lack of modern décor or lighting.
“Hello, any wild birds in here?” she said to no one in particular as she kicked off her shoes, padded into the bedroom, and made a snap decision.
