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I hummed, taking in the produce aisle. “There are many communities that could benefit from a local store like this one that caters to their dietary needs,” I explained. Turning back to face her, the corner of my mouth kicked into a grin, and I couldn’t help myself. “But here I am wondering how the hell I ran into you again.”
Frankie giggled softly, lifting one of her shoulders in a cute half-shrug. “I guess it's cosmic,” she mused.
“Cosmic?” I repeated, the word heavy on my tongue.
Her eyes glittered, rich hazel turning almost molten gold. “I’d like to think I’m justsomagnetic that you couldn’t stay away.”
Wrong, I thought.This is business. I cleared my throat, trying to tear my focus away from her dimpled cheeks.
“Anyway,” I said, wrenching my gaze away. I put entirely too much energy into studying the nearby vegetables. “Tell me about the store; the history, the patronage, all of it.”
Frankie blinked in surprise, no doubt at the sudden ice crystallizing my words, but I had to stay focused.
“Well,” she began, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear, “my parents noticed there was a huge gap in the community where people with specific dietary requirements, allergies in particular, slipped through. So they started talking to those people, asking them what they needed, what their difficulties were, and how my parents might be able to fix it. And this is the result.”
“And what exactly is catered to here?”
“Every kind of medically recognized allergy, dietary preferences like vegan, gluten-free, vegetarian, pescetarian. Our suppliers are all local,” she said, leading me down the refrigerated aisle. The fridges were stocked with obscure brands that were rare in larger supermarkets, but most of the products were bagged in-store. Each one bore the small wreath of the store’s logo. “Most of them were approached years ago when the store was in its earlier stages. We’ve been as loyal to them as they are to us.”
“Impressive, there’s definitely an opportunity to-”
“Frankie!”
We spun around at the urgency in Blanca’s voice, spotting her looking thoroughly frazzled at the end of the aisle.
“What’s going on?” Frankie asked, her voice calm.
Blanca pulled a face, glancing at me and then back to Frankie. “Our veggie delivery isn’t gonna happen this week.”
“Why the hell not?” Frankie asked, a deep frown marring her features.
“Our supplier is out,” Blanca pouted, the distress clear in her voice. “He wasn’t super coherent, but from what I gathered, his wife is ill and he can’t make the delivery.”
“That’s awful,” Frankie said. “Is she okay? Does he need any help?”
“What about the delivery?” I cut in, my brows rising expectantly. “What happens to stock that needs to be replenished?”
Frankie turned to me, a brow lifted in confusion. “Darryl is one of our oldest friends who helped us out on more than one occasion,” she said. “It’s our duty to help him out. Besides, his wife took care of me when I was a kid.”
“There’s a definitive line between family ties and business,” I countered.
Frankie’s brows knitted as she stared at me, her expression turning defiant. “Darryl has his own business to run,” she said slowly, as if waiting for me to snap. “And he’s always been good to us.”
“Is that what you’ll tell customers who are looking to buy the products he was supposed to deliver today?”
I was vaguely aware of Blanca slowly backing away, but I was wholly intent on the fire burning in Frankie’s narrowed eyes.
“Our customers are just as loyal, Hayden,” she ground out, and I hated how my name sounded on her tongue: edged, sharp. “There is still plenty left in the cold room that we can use if we somehow run out before Darryl delivers on his next run.”
“That’s not good enough,” I spat, trying and failing to ease the tension from my voice. I didn’t like being this way, but business was business. The flush in her cheeks did nothing to cool my less-than-professional thoughts. “It’s a missed delivery today, and next week it’s another, and then what? Are you really willing to hang the department on the whim of others?”
“What would you have me do then?”
“Definitely get more than one supplier on contract, for a start.”
“Oh, and that’ll just make everything better, I suppose,” she scoffed. “We built the store on the foundation of community and trust, only to have you come in and turn it into a watered down version of the local Walmart.”
“Do you really not see how it would benefit you?” I asked in disbelief, the ire in my words burning my throat. “This is a business; not a charity.”
