Total pages in book: 84
Estimated words: 81808 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 409(@200wpm)___ 327(@250wpm)___ 273(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 81808 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 409(@200wpm)___ 327(@250wpm)___ 273(@300wpm)
Beside him, Reggie groaned. “We,” he said, emphasizing the word. “Our pack, the Swann Pack, would like to be your friends as well, Merritt.”
I was happy to hear it. So much better to start off on the right foot.
TWO
When I’d built The Bower, I had done it with the same boundary that I put around my home, my land, and the shelter. That meant if anyone who had any desire to harm anyone there put even a foot on the cobblestone drive, they would be rendered unconscious. That was my intention. What had not been planned, or anticipated, was that the boundary magic drew others looking for a port in the storm. Meaning, if you were having a crappy day, week, month… popping into The Bower could be quite soothing. After the first hundred years or so, I understood that lots of folks would come in to eat as an excuse to simply sit on the patio or by the hearth in the winter, and breathe.
So it was not a surprise that when new people came to town, they would eventually find their way to my restaurant. Over the following month, I saw a lot of new faces. Guests came in for coffee in the morning, appreciating that they didn’t have to wait to order. We had a designated counter to the far right with a gorgeous rendering of Titania from Shakespeare’s A Midsummer Night’s Dream. She was smiling down from a sign, where it looked as though her arms were crossed and her head was resting on them in serene contemplation of every customer. It had been painted in the 1920s, and I had kept it in mint condition. All the artworks that hung in The Bower were originals, and every now and then a historian would recognize a piece that should have been in a museum somewhere. Of course, I would not part with my treasures, so they remained where they were, adorning the walls of a restaurant in the middle of nowhere.
Our new residents were also stunned to find that there was no meat served at The Bower. I was always surprised when people couldn’t tell from the names of the items on the menu. Things like beetloaf instead of meatloaf. What did they think that was about?
We were a plant-based restaurant, but not vegan, as we did serve eggs and cheese. All the servers wore T-shirts or hoodies—because in the winter, everyone was cold—that said “We don’t eat our buddies.” I had some made with pigs on them that said “No little piggies went to market.” The kids normally got it before their parents, which was fun. We had some with cows, turkeys, and chickens too, and the one with lobsters on it had crabs on the back that said “You don’t really want crabs, do you?” Paris had cracked herself up ordering them.
In the fifties, there had been red sweaters with heart-shaped turquoise acrylic buttons. Everyone liked the look of those in the black-and-white pictures on the walls, so we got some like that as well.
Now, some newbie diners left when they found out about the lack of cow, pig, or, since we were near a forest, even deer on the menu, but never the ones with kids. Kids wanted to eat the giant cinnamon rolls we brought out with water at breakfast, or the cheese fries at lunch, all before they even ordered. Parents tended to try as well, and since we had everything but meat… they always came back. Seriously, it was either us or you were driving out of town. And it wasn’t far, but it felt that way, I’d been told, when your kids were in the back seat, whining because they were about to expire from hunger. And fake bacon frying up on the grill still smelled pretty good.
Reggie came with his fiancée, Helene, and was surprised by the lack of dead anything, but she was thrilled. Apparently, she felt it would be fantastic for him to frequent the restaurant, as he ate far too much red meat as it was.
No one minded the oat milk, and we had almond and soy as well. Even our fabulous coffee was dairy-free, and it was just as rich and frothy as anywhere else. Reggie surprised himself with how much he loved the caramel and chocolate concoction Lupe whipped up, and when she let him try her coveted café de olla on his third visit and he drank it as fast as I did, she was impressed. When she discovered he also loved her chai, and would sit and wait patiently for her to make whatever she wanted for him, she made him one of her special customers and always had something new for him to try. I looked forward to him coming in every morning just to see her face light up when she saw him.