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“Absolutely,” Kennedy said, her brown eyes sparkling with enthusiasm. “I appreciate you guys accommodating my schedule this morning so last-minute, but some sampling is definitely in order next time. Tough job I have.”
We’d met Kennedy years ago. Her younger sister, Sierra, was best friends with our sister, Hayden. We hadn’t known her well, just in passing. We’d recently become reacquainted when Kennedy’s husband, Hunter, a former brand manager for a Chicago brewery, took an interest in Rusty Anchor.
Maribella, the server, arrived with our food—skillet scramblers for Seth and me and waffles for Kennedy—the diner’s famed Dragonfly Dust waffles.
“This is like a dream come true that I didn’t even know I had,” Kennedy said as she took in her colorful, over-the-top breakfast.
Dragonfly Dust waffles were the creation of Monty Baynes, the owner. Though he didn’t have formal chef training, I respected the hell out of what he’d created here and had no trouble admitting the guy knew food. These were thick Belgian waffles with a dusting of blue, green, and purple sprinkles in the batter, hence the “dust.” On top was a layer of homemade whipped cream and another dusting of sprinkles, these in the diner’s signature custom-made dragonfly shape.
“My marketing brain and my pregnant brain are fighting it out, trying to determine who’s more in love,” Kennedy said, dipping her spoon into the whipped cream and sprinkles. “My God, this is genius.”
“Monty Baynes has never been accused of being stupid,” Seth said.
“The dude can create good food. If you like sugar, you can’t go wrong.” I much preferred the savory dish I’d ordered, but I couldn’t deny the Dragonfly Dust waffles were legendary.
“I’m part owner of a bakery,” Kennedy reminded us. “There’s more sugar than red blood cells in my veins.”
“A bakery and a marketing consulting business and a toddler and a baby on the way,” Seth said in his engaging way. “You, Sierra, and Hayden are three peas in a pod as far as badass driven business owners.”
“Not gonna lie,” she said as exchanged her spoon for a fork, “it took me a long time to figure it all out. I couldn’t do it without a supportive husband. I think Sierra and Hayden would agree. And Everly, from what I hear. I don’t know her well yet, but I can tell she qualifies as badass too.”
At the mention of his fiancée, my brother’s fool-ass infatuated grin spread across his face. “Everly’s got some badass in her.”
“And a good man behind her,” Kennedy said, finishing her first bite. “This”—she pointed her fork at her waffle—“is out of this world, as promised.”
“No need to inflate Seth’s ego,” I pretended to grouch. Fact was, if Seth hadn’t gotten over himself and gone all out to win over Everly, I would’ve kicked his ass six ways to Sunday then thrown him in the lake.
Kennedy laughed and said, “It sounds like there’s an epidemic in the Henry family. Hayden, Holden, and Seth have fallen hard, all in the past few months, right? Your dad too. What about you, Cash? Are you next?”
“Nah. I’ve got zero prospects and I’m just fine with that. I’m married to my job.”
“He’s not lying,” Seth added, his tone making it clear he considered that a fault of mine.
“I’m focused on the restaurant,” I said, steering the conversation back to a comfortable topic as we all dug into our food. “There’s something I’d like us all to discuss that I haven’t had a chance to talk to you about yet.” I indicated Seth with a nod. “When we’re done with everything else.”
Seth’s brows shot up in curiosity, but he took my cue and launched into what he considered Henry’s strengths and weaknesses and opportunities for growth. We were staring down the off-season and our annual downturn in business. The restaurant wasn’t hurting, but now that Rusty Anchor was open, we believed we could become even more of a year-round destination for special occasions, weekend events, and craft beer aficionados.
“Tell me about your social media,” Kennedy said, pushing a stray strand of copper-colored hair behind her ear and then leaning back over her food with enthusiasm.
I let Seth fill her in on our accounts and our less-than-stellar attempts to fill them with compelling content. “We fall short pretty regularly,” he said. “That’s one of the things we’d love help with. Cash doesn’t have time to post from the kitchen, and it’s too easy for me to get absorbed by supplier issues or staff issues or any of a dozen other things. Before I know it, it’s six p.m., I’m home for the evening, and I forgot to post.”
“I get it completely,” Kennedy said. “You both already have your hands full with the day-to-day. You need someone to head up your social media efforts.”
“That’s the dream,” Seth said.
“That’s something I can help you with.” She jotted some notes on her tablet. “What about regional advertising?”
I listened but didn’t participate much for the next few minutes as they discussed tourism magazines, brochures, and online ads. I was familiar with most of it, but Seth was the one who handled the details. My focus was on the kitchen.
When Kennedy had gotten through her list of questions, Seth pushed his empty plate away and turned his attention to me. “What else did you want to discuss?”
I’d just shoved the last bite of my scrambler in my mouth, so I gave him ajust a minutegesture while I chewed. Maribella stopped by our table and refilled coffees and waters and asked if we needed anything else.
“Did I see you sell the dragonfly sprinkles to go?” Kennedy asked.
“You did. We have two sizes of bottles,” Maribella said.
“One of each,” Kennedy said. “Ivy will do something genius with those on cupcakes at the bakery, and my little Stella definitely needs some at home.”
