“She’s been at the hospital since early this morning, and she doesn’t have her car,” Donnatelle said. “I offered to drive her home so she could take a shower, change clothes, and maybe a nap for a while, but she’s not leaving.”
“How about the kids?” Ali asked.
“They’re kids,” Donnatelle said, and the truth was, those words said it all. Kids and hospital waiting rooms didn’t mix.
“How long are you going to stay?” Ali asked.
“Until tomorrow morning. After that I’ll have to head back, because my mother has to work tomorrow evening.”
“I’m planning on coming down tomorrow morning,” Ali said. “I may not get there before you have to leave, but I’ll be there shortly.”
“Good,” Donnatelle breathed. “That’s a relief.”
Ali was ending the call when the doorbell rang. Moments later, Leland came into the library announcing the arrival of Edie Larson.
“My mother without my dad?” Ali asked in surprise, but Edie Larson, who’d followed Leland into the room, protested.
“Your father and I aren’t exactly joined at the hip, you know,” she said. “I wanted to talk to you in private before everyone else gets here.”
That sounded ominous. Sitting down to a family dinner with Ali’s kids and her parents wasn’t exactly public, but the anxious look on Edie’s face sent a shiver of worry down Ali’s spine. Whatever her mother needed to discuss had to be serious. Ali’s first thought was that there was some looming health issue. After all, in terms of age, her parents were getting up there.
As usual, Leland picked up on the disquiet in the room. “Would you like me to bring some tea?” he asked.
“Please,” Ali said gratefully.
Her mother sank into one of the easy chairs positioned in front of the fireplace. Unasked, Ali pushed an ottoman into place in front of Edie. The long hours Edie spent on her feet every day meant that she spent a lot of time each evening with her feet up.
“What is it, Mom?” Ali asked, trying to keep concern out of her voice. “Is something wrong?”
“Not wrong, really,” Edie said. “Your father didn’t want us to say anything until it’s a completely done deal, but I don’t think it’s fair to keep something like this from the rest of the family. The kids are coming to dinner tonight, too, aren’t they?”
Ali nodded. “Yes, they are.”
“Good,” Edie said, “so when your father spills the beans about all this, I expect you to act surprised. You can do that, can’t you?”
It was sounding more and more serious by the moment.
“Of course,” Ali said, “but what exactly are we talking about, Mom? What’s going on?”
“We’re selling the restaurant,” Edie announced. “We’re due to sign the paperwork first thing Monday morning. The new owners take over May first.”
Ali’s jaw dropped. Of all the news she might have expected, the sale of the Sugarloaf wasn’t it. Her parents had entertained offers to buy the diner in the past, but for one reason or another, those sales had always fallen through, often because the prospective purchasers had wanted to come in and change everything. Those other times, Ali had always known about the possible sales well in advance. This time neither of her parents had mentioned that a sale was not only pending, it was soon to be a fait accompli. Besides, the sale of almost anything in the current economy was nothing short of amazing.
“Really?” Ali asked a little lamely.
“Really,” Edie replied.
Leland arrived with a tray laden with a teapot, cups and saucers, sugar and cream. He placed the tray on the table, then poured and served the tea before leaving them alone again.
There were a dozen questions Ali wanted to ask at once-all those who, what, where, and when questions she had learned from studying journalism-but she stifled the urge and contented herself with taking a calming sip of tea.
Edie sighed. “For years your father harbored the secret hope that one day Chris and Athena would want to take over the business, but that’s not going to happen. Athena loves teaching, and now that Chris’s artwork is starting to take off, thanks to you, he’s not going to be interested, either. And when it comes to running a restaurant, you’re obviously not a likely candidate.”
Ali had in fact run the restaurant for a week a couple of years earlier so that her parents could take a cruise, but it had taken a superhuman effort on her part and help from Leland Brooks to make it work. Besides, Edie’s comment wasn’t so much a snide remark about Ali’s lack of cooking ability as it was an honest assessment of her interests and aptitudes. Over the years, Ali had spent enough hours working in the Sugarloaf as hired help or observing from the sidelines to have no desire to run the place. She knew how much work went on behind the scenes-the baking; the cleaning; the ordering; the organizing-all the scut work that no one noticed or appreciated unless it wasn’t done.
“No,” Ali agreed. “I’m definitely not. So who is it? Someone from here in town?”
“Their names are Derek and Elena Hoffman,” Edie said. “Elena was raised in Scottsdale. Her family used to come up here during the summers, and it was always a big treat for them to come to the Sugarloaf for breakfast so Elena could have one of my sweet rolls. Her husband was raised back east somewhere. In Milwaukee, I believe.
“Derek is the chef in the family,” Edie continued. “He and Elena met at culinary school, where they were taking classes. They both dreamed about being able to open their own restaurant. They came out to Arizona last February to visit Elena’s grandparents. Derek has spent his whole life enduring those awful Midwest winters. He thought Scottsdale was splendid, but then Elena brought him to Sedona. He fell in love with Sedona, and he fell in love with my sweet rolls. They came back up last month and made us a generous offer.”
“If they’re just starting out, where’s the money coming from?” Ali asked.
“Elena’s grandfather is bankrolling them. He’ll be a silent partner, but this way they can start in a restaurant that’s already a going concern. For now they’re not planning on changing anything. And they’re cashing us out. The offers we had before always called for our carrying the note. You may not know this, but most new restaurants fail within the first year.”
Ali did know that, and she couldn’t help raising a few objections. “Just because this Derek guy is a chef doesn’t mean he’ll make a great short-order cook.”
Edie smiled. “They’re older than you think. Derek started slinging hash when he was with the marines in Desert Storm, so his initial cooking experience wasn’t so different from that of your very capable Mr. Brooks.”
Leland’s humble culinary beginnings dated from the Korean War, where he’d been a cook in the British marines before immigrating to the U.S. Once here, he served as the man-of-all-work for, first, Anne Marie; and later, Isabella Ashcroft, turning himself into an excellent chef along the way. But knowing about Derek’s military background went a long way toward explaining why Ali’s father would be enthusiastic about having him take over the restaurant.
“Do they have kids?” Ali asked.
Edie nodded. “One-a daughter, Savannah. She’s in kindergarten. That’s always a problem when people move their kids over the summer. They end up not knowing anyone. Derek and Elena want Savannah to have the benefit of the last two months of kindergarten in her new school. That way she’ll have a chance to meet some of her new classmates before summer starts. And I think it’s wonderful that there’ll be another little girl living in your old room.”
“Wait,” Ali said. “You mean they’re buying the house, too?”
“They’re buying the whole thing-lock, stock, and barrel,” Edie said. “The tax rolls consider the restaurant and house to be one property. To sell them separately, we’d have to subdivide, and chances are it wouldn’t be allowed. The city of Sedona would be all over us.”
It was bad enough to think of her parents selling the restaurant, but Ali bridled at the idea that they would no longer be living in the place she had considered home her whole life.
