Chapter One
They’re gonna kill us. We don’t have enough food. We’ll sell out in five minutes, and everybody who snoozed on us will chase us back to the shop, loot it, and burn it down. They’ll dance on our graves and upload the videos for clout.
Kit Cheever tried to nap in the passenger seat, but these recurring fears kept her on edge. Thank the stars she wasn’t driving this morning, otherwise she’d have run the car into the nearest ditch with her lethargy. Either that, or banked right toward the next spur road out of town. Driving far from the madding crowd raging rent-free in her head.
Seven in the morning on a day she usually had free, Kit woke at five to help load the car and exhaustion caught up with her. Her boss, Tish Richmond, peppier and better rested, tapped out a beat on the steering wheel in time to the soft music playing over the radio.
“How’re you holding up, hon?”
“Food truck.” The words tumbled from Kit’s lips in a low mumble.
“Say what?”
You heard me, lady.Kit squeezed her shut eyes harder and pulled the hood of her jacket over her face. Too early to rehash that argument, and Kit knew how it would end. Best to rest up and bring her game face to this gig.
It wasn’t that she dreaded working today's Saturday in the Park. Held at Dareville, Virginia’s largest community park, the seasonal event attracted people from the beach and surrounding townships. Beautiful weather, live music, and artisan treats reeled in non-stop foot traffic from the park’s opening until mid-afternoon. Tish’s Riches, the local gourmet chocolatier andbakery, sold well here but Kit felt their tent and table setup looked amateurish compared to those of other vendors.
They needed a food truck, or at the very least a van with a sliding service window. More space to hold more product. Increased sales, return customers. Higher profits and a raise for Kit. Everybody’s happy, except for the angry soccer moms in her dreams, overturning their tables to get to the truffles and S’mores bars and chocolate-dipped popcorn balls.
The car hit a speed bump, and Kit jolted awake.
“Wakey-wakey, sweetheart,” Tish sang as she turned off the music. “We’re almost there. Damn, is the temp gauge on the dashboard right? It feels so warm.”
“We’re in a car.”
Trish slowed to a single-digit MPH, panning her gaze at the people they passed. “I mean it was cold this morning, always is, but everybody’s still bundled up.Knew I shouldn’t have left my jacket at the shop.”
Kit glanced at Tish, ever the cautious driver with a death grip on the wheel, then behind them at the many plastic containers of candies and other confections strapped to the floor and piled up on the backseats. A worn vinyl banner bearing an outdated logo for the shop hung limply from the clothing hook on the driver’s side. The laminated sign emblazoned with the shop’s social media handles rested at Kit’s feet, and during setup she’d tack it in place over the now invalid phone number.
She sighed. Vans cost money, yes, but Tish’s thriftiness aggravated Kit at times.At least let’s get a new banner.If they didn’t look professional, who would believe they produced good food? It helped that Tish fostered nice word of mouth, but to Kit, they looked like two moms arriving at a school bake sale instead of the women behind a shop praised on Virginia tourism and foodie sites.
“Hey, you think Jake’s Organic Grocery is open yet?” Tish asked. She idled the car behind a line of vehicles waiting to turn into the park, then reached for their special parking pass. “If so, coffee’s on me.”
“I’m sure they are. I’ll get the coffee, I don’t mind.” Kit yawned. She’d go instead to BuzzKill, the cafe on the main street across from the park, and get them something decent to drink. She didn’t mind shopping at the family-owned market for everyday stuff, but the joe they served sometimes tasted like hot, liquid dirt. Also, BuzzKill employed way hotter baristas, and a quick flirt with the fuschia-hired one with the kohl-lined eyes could help Kit’s mood.
Speaking of baristas…
Kit dashed a short text to her friend Annalise to see if she was working there this morning. Annalise Wright was usually good for throwing in a spare, day-old bagel or two and a mini-tub of cream cheese at no extra charge. Kit’s empty stomach growled, reminding her that she’d skipped breakfast.
“Good enough. Get me my usual and one extra, plus yours.” Tish handed Kit a twenty and smiled at her. Bless her heart. Twenty bucks would just cover the cost of three large drinks. Kit hoped she had enough for the tip. “Vinnie’s going to meet us a bit later and help out today.”
“Really?” Kit knew she sounded surprised, and perhaps a bit annoyed, to hear this. A pang of regret seized her, and she hoped Tish didn’t take her reaction the wrong way. Kit liked Tish’s husband very much, but the prospect of bearing the brunt of the customer crush while Tish and Vinnie canoodled in the back of the car unnerved her.
Not that her boss might try that. Kit berated herself for presuming as much, but precedent had been set at Tish’s Riches. More than once while at work, Kit had opened the walk-in coolerto discover a bare-breasted Tish leaning against a rack, with Vinnie’s lips clamped around one of her nipples.
She could complain, but Tish owned the damn place, and Kit loved her job. Dareville wasn’t exactly a hotbed metropolis of employment opportunities, either, but she preferred the small-town vibe to nearby Norfolk and Virginia Beach. After the most recent incident, she’d learned to knock on every door.
Anyway, good for Trish and Vinnie for keeping the fire stoked.
“Um,” Kit rejoined quickly so she didn’t come off like a complete bitch, “I thought Vinnie was working his own booth today.” Big Apple Limo, run by one of Vinnie’s relatives, set up space at these events as well. They handed out coupons and swag while kids crawled through a tricked-out stretch Humvee for the five-cent tour.
“All the drivers are taking shifts today, so he’ll have some extra time to spend with us,” Tish explained. They watched a parking attendant wave them to an empty spot next to a convertible filled with cardboard boxes. Great, they’d have to walk and tote everything to their area, rather than roll a fully equipped van or food truck into the green space reserved for them and flip a switch. “Anyway, that’s great. We have an extra pair of hands, which we’ll need since it’s looking gorgeous out.”
“Or, Gloria could have gotten her ass out of bed to help, seeing as how she works at the shop and Vinnie doesn’t,” Kit said.
“Kit. Be nice.”
Kit snorted. “Why? If I were the boss, I’d have fired her long ago.”
