Page 8 of Monster Diner

“Afternoon, Victor…” She glanced at Lizzy, raising her brows in question.

Lizzy still had that mile-long stare, and he thought now wasn’t the time to make introductions. He shook his head, and Vivianne slipped into the back room to get ready for her shift. The dinner rush would be starting soon.

Then Lizzy stood up, hands slapping against the counter as she stared at him. “Listen, I don’t care what my father’s plans were. I have no intention of running this place. I plan to sell, so either you buy me out or we put it on the market together.”

Victor’s brain short-circuited at her declaration. She had to be joking. Lizzy loved Frank’s as much as him. She’d been the reason he’d fallen in love with the diner, along with the way she’d talked about it when they were kids as if it were an enchanted forest where dreams came true. And while it wasn’t that, the staff were like family and this place was his home. Hers too, even though she’d been gone for ages.

Vivianne, who was doing her side work suspiciously close to them, audibly gasped, then spun towards Lizzy. “But it’s your family legacy! You’re the third-generation Stein to own Frank’s!”

“And I don’t want it. Look, I know it sounds romantic, inheriting a cute diner in a small town. But that’s not my dream. It was Frank’s. I’m done living for others.”

Trudy looked up from the bussing station, face paling. “You can’t sell. Where will I work that will accommodate my schedule?” Trudy’s voice rose in panic.

“Victor, you won’t sell, right? This place has been in the family for generations.” Vivianne gave Lizzy a scathing look as she turned her attention to him.

He blinked at the two women. He’d expected this conversation to go a lot smoother than this. But he hadn’t considered the grief and shock she was under.

The door’s bell rang again as the first of the afternoon regulars shuffled in. An elderly man named Dave, who came in every Thursday to order a Coke and an extra-crispy bacon BLT, headed over to his usual booth in Trudy’s section without acknowledging any of them. Trudy looked torn between greeting her customer and begging Victor not to sell.

“It’s ok. Your job is safe,” Victor assured her.

She didn’t look convinced.

“Please reconsider. I’ve got kids, and I’m the sole breadwinner,” she said to Lizzy before heading over to greet Dave.

Vivianne was typing on her phone, no doubt texting Annalise and Jason about the new development. Victor felt the situation slipping out of his control. If he didn’t handle this right, rumors of Frank’s shutting down would be all over town in no time.

“Let’s talk in my office.” He lifted the swinging ledge of the counter and gestured for her to join him in the back.

Lizzy’s face was flushed pink as she followed him into the back room. Clyde, the afternoon cook, was doing prep in the back, and with a nod, Victor signaled for him to go work the flat top as he opened the door to Frank’s messy office.

There were papers scattered everywhere, and he felt a twinge of embarrassment as he shuffled through the mess on his desk, trying to organize it into somewhat neat stacks. There was hardly room for a desk and two chairs in the room, and when he stepped out of her way to let her sit, her hips brushed against his side and his entire attention became focused on the way she pursed her cherry lips and tapped her foot on the linoleum floor instead of finding the manila envelope holding Frank’s last will and testament.

“Did you bring in your most sympathetic employees to try to coerce me?” she asked.

“What? No,” he said, pausing in his riffling for the will. This wasn’t the Lizzy he remembered, she’d been kind and empathetic. The woman standing across from him was paranoid and jaded. What had happened to her?

“Then, why else would you lure me here under false pretenses and announce our co-ownership in front of my new employees?”

“We’re understaffed, I couldn’t get away from the diner, and it was convenient…” He realized he’d botched things. He had this romanticized version of Lizzy he’d fallen for as a teen. As if the bubbly teenage waitress who’d greet patrons with a smile was going to save the diner in its darkest moment. Perhaps he’d been hoping for too much.

Her shoulders sagged as if it’d taken all she had to confront him, and she slumped into the chair across from him, head in her hands.

“This might possibly be the worst week of my life.” She groaned.

He didn’t know how to comfort her and instead redoubled his efforts to find the will. Maybe if she saw Frank’s intent written in black and white, she’d understand and carry out his wishes. He spotted it tucked beneath the schedule sheet he’d been wrestling with all afternoon and slid the envelope over to Lizzy.

She glanced up at it. “What’s this?”

“Frank’s will.”

She sighed. “I believe you. There’s no need to prove you’re part owner. I just wasn’t planning on staying long is all. I was hoping to find a realtor and list both the house and diner for sale.”

His stomach clenched at the thought. “You can’t.”

“Well, obviously not. I’d be putting families out on the street if I did,” she said with a bitter tone.

She chewed her lip.