More Than Anything (Broken Pieces #1)(20)

The doors had been open for just over half an hour, and, so far, people had merely trickled in. But—if their awkward shifting on the high-backed, spindle-legged chairs and their whispered conversations were anything to go by—most of the current patrons seemed a little uncomfortable in the newly renovated space.

It was a dismal turnout. Nowhere near the throngs of excited people they had been expecting.

Tina stood at the entrance to the kitchen and reverted to a bad teen habit: lifting her thumb to her mouth and chewing on the nail and cuticle nervously. The vultures in her stomach were out for blood, clawing and scraping at her insides while she tried her best to look unperturbed by all that inner turmoil. If Libby’s concerned glances were anything to go by, she was failing miserably.

“Nobody’s coming,” Tina lamented.

Libby sighed and tugged Tina’s hand away from her mouth. “They’ll come,” she said, her words imbued with a confidence Tina wished she possessed.

Tina wasn’t sure what she’d been expecting from her opening night, but it certainly wasn’t this. A little more interest maybe, curiosity if nothing else. But this lack of interest felt like a death knell to the business, which was starting to mean so much to her.

“People here are really old fashioned,” Thandiwe, a college student home for the midterm break, said. The young woman had worked for MJ’s throughout her teens and, according to the former owner, was one of their best servers. She had been invaluable over the last week, helping with the last-minute training of the newer staff members. Unfortunately, she’d be leaving for veterinary school again the following week, and Tina already dreaded the loss. “MJ’s has been something of an institution in this town, and maybe they think you’ve messed with tradition or something?”

“But when I first came here and ate at the place, people were complaining about how the menu never changed and it would be nice to have some variety,” Tina lamented.

“Yes, but they’ve been saying that for years,” Thandiwe said with a shrug. “I think they enjoyed complaining about it. But it was familiar, and they loved it. I’m sure people will come. Give it time. It’s this or Ralphie’s. And everyone knows the food is usually terrible at Ralphie’s. Once they’ve sampled the new menu, they won’t know what to do with themselves.”

Tina cast another despairing glance around the mostly empty restaurant and fervently hoped Thandiwe’s words would prove true. Because just a month of disappointing numbers like these would put her in a hole so deep she wouldn’t see daylight for years. Thandiwe excused herself and went to chat with a few of the other servers, who were loitering about, looking bored. After a few words from Thandiwe, they all went scurrying, busying themselves with minor tasks.

Seriously, the woman was a gem.

“You sent notice of the relaunch to the paper, right?” Libby asked, referring to the local paper, the Riversend Weekly, which usually circulated on Thursdays. It contained job opportunities, as well as advertisements for local businesses and news about regional events.

“Yes, of course,” Tina said, lifting her phone and bringing up her sent-email folder to show Libby the press release she had typed up for the paper. The reporter she had spoken to last week had promised to save a spot for the short announcement. The woman had even sent a reminder four days ago. Tina swiped down her list of recently sent emails but couldn’t seem to find the one to the paper.

“I . . .” She frowned, confused. “It has to be here. I sent it on Monday.”

“Did you check the paper?” Libby asked, and Tina shook her head.

“I forgot to pick up a copy. I meant to get one, but it completely slipped my mind. But I sent it . . .” She paused, her stomach roiling with dread—the vultures at work again—when she noticed that there was something left in her outbox. She blinked a few times before reluctantly clicking on the outbox.

“Crap,” she muttered, feeling queasy as she stared at the unsent message. How could this have happened?

“Tina?” Libby prompted.

“It didn’t send. I don’t know why it didn’t send,” Tina said faintly.

“Oh, Tina,” Libby exclaimed softly.

“I should have double-checked,” Tina said. Hindsight being twenty-twenty, of course. It was a miracle people were actually showing up. She had been swamped the entire week leading up to the relaunch, and instead of creating a proper schedule for all essential tasks, she’d allowed herself to be overwhelmed by the sheer amount of work that needed to be done. Things had started slipping through the cracks. Major things, through huge cracks.

“I’m sorry, Libby. First the banner, and now this.”

“It’s okay. People are coming in—it could have been worse.”

Tina couldn’t really see how much worse it could have been. Their entire promotional plan for the relaunch had gone tits up, thanks to her own incompetence. Tina’s thumb drifted to her mouth again, and she started gnawing agitatedly at the nail.

The door tinkled, and a couple walked in. They were holding hands and laughing but paused when they realized the place was close to empty.

“Hey. You’re open! That’s fantastic. Where is everybody?” the woman, pretty in a wholesome way, asked.

“Apparently resistant to change,” Libby said, and the woman’s eyes swung toward Tina’s friend. A smile lit up the other woman’s face, transforming her from pretty to beautiful.