“Anything to drink?”
“Water is fine.”
She gives me a long look, and I laugh, setting the menu aside. “I’ve already had my coffee fix for the day.”
She frowns as she jots the order down on a pad of paper before turning to punch it into the computer. That seems redundant, but I’ve never worked in the restaurant industry.
The diner is busy, chatter filling the room along with the clinking of silverware and the occasional scraping of chairs against the tile floor.
Gina checks on an order with the cook, then makes her way back to me.
“What brings you to our little town?” she asks, a slight drawl in her voice.
“I’m here checking on some flats that aren’t finished yet,” I say, taking a sip of water.
“There are a lot of those at the southern end of town. Idoubt you’ll be able to finish them to be usable until next year,” she says, handing me a glass of water.
I add a straw and stir the ice to help order my thoughts. “It’s better to get them done rather than leave them empty. Maybe a few of them would be ready toward the end of the summer.”
Gina raises an eyebrow. “You’d have to furnish them for rentals. It’s a lot of work.”
I study the woman, and there’s a flicker of something in her eyes. “It sounds like you’re the person I’ll need to come to when they’re finished. You can point me to all the right decor and furniture.”
She gives me a small smile, and I can see the small flattery has helped break whatever ice was between us before.
“I do have a lot of experience with decorating. All of this is my design,” she says, waving to the knickknacks all over the diner. “The building you’re talking about is owned by some big company who’ll charge a premium to live there. Do you know the owner?”
What do I say to that? “A bit. He was told things would be done soon, but plumbing, electrical—none of it’s finished.”
Gina leans in slightly. “That’s because someone hired Rusty Simms. He’s the laziest man on the planet. I hope the owner got proof of work before paying him.”
I frown. “From what I understand, the owner had a few people working under him. Seems like things didn’t get communicated properly.” I pause, then add, “Do you know any trustworthy contractors in town? My boss would like to get the project done right.”
She gives me a sympathetic smile. “Not anyone who’ll be available before summer.”
“What about subcontractors? Plumbing or heating on their own?”
It might not solve everything, but at least it would be a start. I did a fair amount of building as a teenager with Opa Vogel—but that was a long time ago, and I’m more than a little rusty now.
“Not that I can think of.”
Another server walks behind her and says, “What about Talia Bernsen?”
Gina turns with a frown. “What about Talia?”
“I thought she was taking over her father’s building company,” the woman says. Her nametag says Rainy. “Chances are, she might be open.”
A flicker of hope stirs in my chest at the suggestion, but Gina doesn’t look convinced.
“Talia? Good at building? She helped put in the counter here, and it’s still a little off.”
The other woman rolls her eyes. “Gina, she was twelve when that happened. And you’ve been too cheap to fix it ever since.”
I bite the inside of my cheek to keep from reacting. The ease of the callout makes me wonder if they’re related or just that comfortable with each other.
“Where would I find her?” I ask, hoping to redirect things before it turns into a full-blown argument.
“Outside of town,” Rainy says, lifting a large tray of food. “Head left here and follow the main road up and over the hill. Knock on the lime-green house. You’ll find them there.”
