Flippin’ Cowboy by Ophelia Sexton
Chapter 6: Showdown at The Yummy Cowboy
The Yummy Cowboy DinerFour hours later
“So, I’m thinking of bringing in Nick Evans to help with the restoration of your great-great-grandmother’s home,” Grandma Abigail said, sipping from her tall mug of steaming spiced cider.
She shot a slyly interested glance across the table at Winnie, clearly waiting for her granddaughter’s reaction.
She’s a pro at this, thought Winnie.
Most people couldn’t help glancing nervously at the TV cameras recording their conversation from every angle. Not to mention the microphone dangling from a long boom overhead and blindingly bright handheld lights and reflectors held by other members of the camera crew arrayed in a semicircle around the table.
Because of the filming, the diner was closed to the public tonight. The only people seated in The Yummy Cowboy’s dining room were a small group of carefully selected locals. Karla had instructed them to ignore the cameras and converse in low voices to provide some background color.
Winnie recognized several of her brother’s friends from the volunteer fire department at nearby tables, as well as a few of the town’s older residents seated on the banquettes built along one wall.
“He’s a respected preservationist. And a fourth-generation Montanan, just like you, Winnie,” added Grandma Abigail.
Winnie sat back in her chair. “I think anyone who’s been on social media over the past couple of years also knows that he’s one of my biggest critics,” she pointed out, just as they’d rehearsed. “I don’t know if he’d be interested in working with someone he clearly doesn’t respect.”
Karla, standing behind Jake Lee, their director of photography, gave Winnie the thumbs-up.
Conflict attracts eyeballs, she’d advised Winnie earlier, while they were setting up for filming. Be honest but don’t be nasty. This is supposed to be your redemption. We want people to root for you, and they won’t do that if they think you’re bitter and angry.
Grandma Abigail sighed dramatically in response to Winnie’s comment. “But, dear, who else would be interested in a project like this? The Livingston Vintage Railroad is scheduled to begin operations next summer, and this town desperately needs the Snowberry Springs Inn fixed up and ready to receive guests before the grand opening day of the new Livingston-to-Yellowstone service. I’ve left the organizing of the first annual Vintage Railroad Festival in your sister Autumn’s capable hands, but without a hotel, our visitors won’t have anywhere to stay. And we’re located so close to the North Entrance of Yellowstone National Park, too.”
Okay, that sounded a teeny bit rehearsed, Winnie thought. But Karla wasn’t wincing, so it was probably okay.
“I know how much this project means to you, Grandma,” Winnie said, doing her best to radiate warmth and sincerity in the face of this on-camera plea by her sweet, silver-haired grandmother. “Of course, I’ll consider working with Nick Evans… if he’s game.”
Given that both Karla and Grandma Abigail had told her that Evans actually tried to have her fired after she left, Winnie thought it a safe bet she wouldn’t have to follow through on that promise.
No way in hell would Nick Evans change his mind about partnering with her. The arrogance of this guy astounded her.
Maybe he’s great at restoration work, Winnie thought. But good gravy! His ego is clearly too big to fit in the room. Any room.
“And… cut!” Karla barked.
As the camera crew relaxed and took a step back, she beamed down at Winnie and Grandma Abigail. “Great job, guys! Mrs. Snowberry, you look fabulous on camera. If Nick decides not to join our production, maybe you can be our co-host for the rest of the season!”
“The Winnie and Grandma Snowberry Show?” asked Grandma Abigail, her cornflower blue eyes crinkling with amusement. “That might be fun.” She chuckled. “You know, I never imagined that I would appear on television, especially at my age!”
“Well, if you’re game, I’d love to feature you as a regular on the show,” Karla said enthusiastically. “I think our audience would really dig the whole hometown and family vibe.” She looked around the diner’s interior. “And this is a super-cute place. I’m glad you recommended it for filming, Mrs. Snowberry.” She turned to Winnie. “And your sister’s the chef here?”
Winnie nodded. “She and her fiancé, Brock Michaels, have done amazing things with the food here.”
Not only the food, but the dining room, too. Winnie hadn’t visited The Yummy Cowboy since its recent renovation. Melanie and Geoff had helped redesign this space, back before it all went so disastrously wrong. It was a bitter reminder of all that Winnie had lost… not just her happily-ever-after in Seattle with her business partner, but her friendship with the pair of them, too.
Melanie had been her college roommate. And Winnie had met Geoff during her first year in the renovation business. He’d quickly become her business partner, and then their friendship had blossomed into something more. At the time, it had seemed like a match made in heaven.
How could I have been so wrong?Winnie asked herself for the thousandth time. Her first week back home in Snowberry Springs, she’d shuffled through the days like a zombie, her mind numb and her emotions raw.
But it was amazing how healing two weeks with her family proved to be, with the bonus of bright, sunny winter days under a cloudless, deep blue sky to lift her spirits.
Now, the pain had faded enough that she could assess her former partners’ work with only a twinge of hurt pride and an internal clench of remembered humiliation.
Winnie was forced to admit that Geoff and Melanie’s design looked outstanding here. It was rustic yet modern, and it paid homage to the diner’s long history in Snowberry Springs.
The Yummy Cowboy Diner of her childhood and high school years had been a dingy, worn place with beat-up burgundy vinyl booths, wood-paneled walls cluttered with old license plates, metal road signs, vintage photos, tacky cowboy memorabilia, and a moth-eaten bison head mounted above the door leading to the bathrooms and kitchen.
The newly renovated dining room featured barn wood wainscoting, with the upper part of the walls painted a soft sage color. And Brock and Summer had replaced the bison head with a stencil of Autumn’s custom logo. It was the stylized silhouette of a cowboy kneeling next to a campfire, tin mug in hand, with an old-fashioned coffeepot hanging from a tripod over the flames.
Behind the quartz-topped breakfast bar, an antique pharmacy counter with dozens of drawers stood against the back wall, with a shiny chrome espresso maker and a vintage seafoam-green milkshake machine placed side by side. Open shelving stacked with cups, glasses, and plates lined the backbar wall, along with several framed photographs of the diner’s former and current owners, including Brock and Summer’s recent engagement photo.
Custom wallpaper featuring a collage of old Snowberry Springs newspaper clippings and advertisements beneath a sheet of clear Plexiglas concealed the chipped and peeling vintage Formica tabletops Winnie remembered.
“Summer and Brock have done a lovely job with this place, haven’t they?” Grandma Abigail asked, following Winnie’s gaze to the vintage barn lights hanging from the ceiling.
“It looks great,” Winnie said. “I reviewed the, uh, concept drawings before Geoff and Melanie sent them over to Summer. It’s always interesting to see how their ideas translate to reality.”
There. She’d spoken the Dastardly Duo’s names without more than a twinge of pain.
A bustle of activity rose around them as some of the camera crew left to store their equipment in the large vans parked outside, while production assistants began pulling together tables and rearranging chairs.
Now that the day’s filming was a wrap, it was time for the Reviving Snowberry Springs teams to enjoy a team dinner.
Grandma Abigail ignored the scrape of moving furniture and the swirl of people. Her blue eyes filled with compassion, she leaned forward and covered Winnie’s hand with her soft, warm one.
“I know how much it hurts when the people you love don’t measure up,” she said in a low voice. “I’m truly and deeply sorry for your pain, Winnie.”
Winnie swallowed hard. I’m not going to cry, she told herself fiercely as her eyes stung. I’ve done too much of that since the wedding. “Thanks, Grandma. I appreciate it.”
Grandma Abigail’s expression hardened. “I’m only glad that we all found out what kind of person Geoff really is before you married him,” she continued, her tone thick with loathing. “He wasn’t worthy of you, Winnie. And you deserve someone worthy, my dear. You have such a big talent and an even bigger heart. All I want is for you to be happy.”
Winnie looked away as she battled to control her emotions.
“…and for you to restore the inn before summer,” her grandmother added, in a wry tone.
Winnie laughed at this, and the moment passed.
Karla and Jake seated themselves next to Winnie and Grandma Abigail. The rest of the crew took their seats and began chatting.
“So, I hear that Winnie’s sister used to work at a Michelin-starred restaurant in San Francisco,” Karla said conversationally.
“Yes, and I’m so glad she decided to come home last summer and save this historic diner,” Grandma Abigail answered. “Thanks to all of the hard work that Summer and her fiancé, Brock, put in, The Yummy Cowboy just won the Rocky Mountain Foodie Review’s award for Best New Montana Restaurant.” She beamed at Karla. “I’m so proud of my grandchildren. They’re all so hard-working and talented.”
The kitchen door at the rear of the dining room swung open. Summer emerged with a tray loaded with steaming bowls, followed by Brock and two of the diner’s waitstaff.
They delivered the first course, a velvety butternut squash soup drizzled with balsamic vinegar and sprinkled with toasted pumpkin seeds. Because Karla, Jake, and two other crew members were vegetarians, Summer and Brock had prepared a special meatless menu for tonight.
Winnie and Grandma Abigail each received a warm kiss on the cheek as Summer delivered their soups.
“I’m so glad you decided to film here,” Summer said warmly to Karla as she set a bowl down in front of the producer. “Thank you. It means a lot to a small business like ours.”
Karla chuckled. “Your grandmother was very persuasive,” she replied, shooting Grandma Abigail an amused look. “I like how she looks out for y’all,” she continued. “That’s how family should be.”
Grandma Abigail nodded in agreement.
“And you’ve figured out that resistance is useless once Mrs. S. gets a notion in her head?” Brock asked dryly.
Winnie’s prospective brother-in-law was tall and broad-shouldered, with short dark hair and intense brown eyes. He’d already been a senior when she’d started high school, and she hadn’t known him well.
But he was a decent, hard-working man who made her sister very happy, and that was all Winnie needed to know to welcome him into the family.
“I’m starting to figure that out,” Karla said, laughing. She lifted a spoon of the soup to her lips. “Oh. My. God. This might be the best thing I’ve ever tasted!”
Brock looped his arm around Summer’s shoulders. “My fiancée is a culinary genius.”
A chorus of agreement and happy moans rose from the RSS crew.
“Don’t let Brock fool you,” Summer said, blushing. “His stuffed portobello mushrooms are going to knock your socks off.”
Winnie smiled up them, trying to suppress a twinge of envy. She’d been hoping for the same kind of loving partnership with Geoff.
“Speaking of which,” Brock said, “we should get back to the kitchen. Those mushrooms aren’t going to cook themselves. Enjoy your meals, everyone.”
“Yes, bon appétit,” Summer said. “And thank you so much for coming.”
For a few minutes, no one talked. Only the clinking of spoons against bowls, interspersed with happy sighs, broke the silence at the long table.
When they were down to the last delicious drops of butternut squash ambrosia, Karla looked at her smartwatch. “No word from Nick Evans,” she reported. “I gave him until the end of the day to make a decision.”
“He made it pretty clear that he wasn’t interested in working with my granddaughter,” Grandma Abigail reminded her.
Karla’s generous mouth turned down in an unhappy expression. “I know. But I’m an optimist. Because I think he’s perfect for this project.”
Winnie snorted. “Admit it. It’s only because you’re hoping for lots of on-camera drama on this project.”
Karla pursed her lips but didn’t deny it.
“He came across as kind of a dick today,” Jake ventured.
“And I’ve had enough drama for one year, thank you very much,” Winnie continued, shooting Jake a look of gratitude. “If Evans wants to bail, that’s fine by me. Surely you can find someone else for me to work with.”
“How about Jim Northman over in Anaconda?” Grandma Abigail suggested. “I’ve been hearing good things about him for years. He’s done a great job preserving the old buildings in the outlying areas of the town, as well as over in neighboring Phillipsburg.”
Winnie perked up. “That sounds like a great idea.” Northman’s work in restoring those two historic mining towns was renowned in Montana.
“I’ll consider it… but only as a last resort,” Karla said. “I want Nick Evans on this project.” At Winnie’s scowl, she added defensively. “He has an impeccable track record in doing historically sensitive yet budget-friendly restorations. And his social media game really impressed my boss.”
She crossed her arms and sat back in her chair, gazing expectantly at Winnie.
Winnie let an uncomfortable silence stretch for thirty long seconds before she sighed in defeat. “Fine. If you guys can convince him to lighten up and work with me, I promise I’ll give him a fair chance as my partner on the Snowberry Springs Inn project.”
“Thank you, dear,” said her grandmother.
Karla nodded her agreement.
Winnie raised her spoon in a cautioning gesture. “But remember—Evans is the real problem here. He’s the one who wanted me off the project.”
Even now, the sheer temerity of his request made her roll her eyes. Jake nodded vigorously in agreement.
She continued, “He hates my guts and he has zero respect for my work. Plus, how do you know he isn’t planning to trash our show on his social media feeds, just like he trashed Restoring Seattle?”
Before Karla could answer this, her smartwatch buzzed and lit up with an incoming call notification.
She pulled out her phone and immediately shoved back her chair. “Excuse me.” She rose to her feet. “It’s Nick,” she called over her shoulder as she strode away from the table and pushed open the diner’s front door.
“Oh, shi—shoot,” Winnie hastily corrected herself as her producer stepped outside into the chilly twilight.
Grandma Abigail’s brows rose. “You don’t have to censor yourself around me. I’ve heard all those words before.” She paused for a beat. “Would it really be such a bad thing if you worked with Mr. Evans? If nothing else, he would keep you from thinking about your broken heart.”
“Because I’d be too busy simmering with rage?” Winnie asked sarcastically. “Not sure that would be an improvement.”
Karla returned to the table a few minutes later. “Nick’s on his way. He’ll be here in fifteen minutes,” she reported to Winnie’s dismay. “Looks like he wants in on the restoration, after all.”
“Great,” muttered Winnie. “Just great.”
Now she was stuck with Nick Evans and his monumental arrogance.
Working with someone who didn’t respect her was going to be an ordeal. It would’ve been easier if he’d just walked away from the project and forced Karla to find someone else to partner with Winnie on the show.
“You promised you’d give him a fair chance,” Karla reminded her. “On camera, too.”
Me and my big mouth, Winnie thought in disgust. But she was well and truly stuck now.