Total pages in book: 51
Estimated words: 49490 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 247(@200wpm)___ 198(@250wpm)___ 165(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 49490 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 247(@200wpm)___ 198(@250wpm)___ 165(@300wpm)
But Haverton didn’t have a bagel shop.
So here we were, eight years postgraduation, back at the starting line, ready to take on a new challenge.
I couldn’t speak for Amber, but this place had always felt like a warm hug to me with its fresh air, clean streets, and plenty of interesting things to do. The college’s proximity to town kept it from being too sleepy in the winter months, so I had every reason to believe a bagel store would do well.
The only snafu so far was the new neighbor.
“I didn’t think Mateo was still here,” I grumbled. “Such a jerk.”
Amber snickered at my cranky face. “Oh, c’mon Robbie. He can’t be that bad.”
“He is.”
“Well, I vote for not antagonizing our new neighbor. Let’s get this shop lookin’ pretty and get those bagels rollin’ out the door. What d’ya say?” She held her hand up for a high five.
I smacked my palm against hers and nodded.
“But we’re still making pizza bagels.”
3
MATEO
Icalled a meeting with my cousins immediately after my run-in with the bagel boy. They thought I was overreacting.
“Cuz, bagels and pizza are like apples and bananas. You can eat ’em both. One’s superior,” Vanni said. “But you know what I mean.”
“It’s more like Froot Loops and mac n’ cheese,” Sal interjected.
I was surrounded by lovable bozos, but maybe they were right.
According to my family, I was a hothead, and was it possible that Rob had just rubbed me the wrong way? Yeah, definitely.
I felt a little silly about my outburst. Getting angry didn’t solve problems and for all I knew, Rob’s bagels could be complete shit. In which case, it didn’t matter if his entire menu consisted of pizza bagels. No one would buy that crap when the real deal was right next door.
Still, I kept an eye on the hullabaloo next door all fucking summer.
Two months of annoying pounding on walls, accompanied by the grind of a saw and delivery vans blocking the curb in front of our shop and the sidewalk.
Okay. That wasn’t cool.
I hummed affably at Mr. Braun’s weekly commentary about the weather as I peeked out the window.
“Another day of sunshine. We’re spoiled, I’ll tell ya that much,” the old man proclaimed, pushing his large round glasses along his hooked nose and squinting at the menu above the register. “Is the special any good today?”
“Sal’s mushroom pepperoni is excellent, Mr. B. Give it a try.”
Bang! Bang! Bang!
“Sorry, son. I missed that.” Mr. Braun fiddled with his hearing aid and pointed at his ear meaningfully. “They’re making a racket next door.”
“They sure are,” I agreed, apologizing for the noise and adding, “It should be done soon.”
Bang! Bang! Bang!
He nodded distractedly and toddled to take his place at the end of the line.
We were busy today, which was normal for mid-August. School wasn’t in session at the college yet. However, tourists had flocked to the area in droves this season. I paid attention at Town Hall meetings, and according to our local real estate agent, summer beach rentals had been booked solid since January. Great news for local businesses.
But right this second, Vanni had the register under control, and now was as good a time as any to do a little snooping. I had to see what was going on next door.
I sneaked outside and glowered at the mountain of cardboard boxes stacked on the sidewalk. They were unmarked, of course—totally unhelpful, but from the size alone, my guess was that some countertop appliances had arrived. No doubt everything would be brand-spankin’-new. And yeah, maybe I did have mixer envy. In my defense, the one in our kitchen was a relic from the last century. It still worked, though, and we had strict “If it ain’t broke, don’t fix it” rules at the pizzeria.
“If you abscond with my new Cuisinart, I’ll have to hurt you, Mateo Cavaretti,” Amber singsonged, her curly hair bouncing as she approached.
I held my hands up in surrender. “You caught me. Luckily, I’m not in the market for a food processor. I’ll take a toaster, though. Got one?”
Amber snickered. “Nope.”
“Damn it.” I blew a raspberry in faux disappointment and set my hands on my hips.
Unlike her dickhead partner, Amber was cool. She’d introduced herself the day after my initial run-in with Rob and had immediately corrected my assumption that she was his wife or girlfriend.
“No, no. Rob and I are best friends and business partners. That’s all,” Amber had clarified.
Vanni had been happy to hear that. He thought she was cute and nice, and that I was an idiot for making enemies when I could have been angling for a sweet bagel discount. But he had it wrong. I wasn’t looking for a fight. I just wanted to be sure Rob wasn’t inadvertently making trouble for us.
I liked Amber, though.
She was friendly and vivacious, and apparently, the real chef behind the scenes. I assumed that meant she’d have a say regarding pizza bagels, but the one time I alluded to the situation, she’d simply shrugged and said the menu hadn’t been finalized. Then she’d reminded me that we’d been in a couple of classes together at Haverton, and since I had no memory of previously meeting her, I decided it was best to let the subject drop.