you could sit for a minute?” he suggested.
“I’m sorry. It’s still lunchtime around here. I have a few tables left,” Libby answered.
“Of course,” he said. “I should have known that. I was hoping to talk to you about a few things Scotty and I were thinking about this morning.”
“Like what?” Libby asked. She cared about Scotty, always would. He was like her own little brother and she loved him. Problem was she loved Travis once upon a time, too, and he’d stomped all over it. Even after he’d shown a little progress lately, he’d pulled away again.
“It’ll take more than a minute to explain. Maybe I’ll still be around when your other tables thin out,” he said.
“Maybe,” she answered, walking away from him.
Libby took care of the rest of the customers and when they were done, she bussed their tables and got them cleaned up for the next customers who may wander in.
Once she only had one other table occupied, she looked over at Travis who sat patiently watching her. There was no getting around talking to him. He wasn’t going to go anywhere. Reluctantly she walked over to the kitchen and asked for blackberry cobbler with a scoop of vanilla ice cream.
Constance was in the kitchen with Richie, cleaning up behind him as he prepared that night’s dinner menu. “Constance, could you keep an eye on the last table for me? Travis is insisting that we speak for a moment.”
“Sure! I’ll go see if they need anything right now. You take your time,” Constance said, grinning and hurrying to get out of the kitchen and onto the dining room floor.
“You agreed to that real quick,” Libby said.
“Talking to your mate is always important. I’m just cleaning back here anyway.”
“He’s not…” Libby started to object, but Richie cut her off by handing her the cobbler.
“Here you go. Extra large order with two spoons,” Richie said, smiling at her.
“He’s alone,” Libby said.
“Not once you sit down,” Richie said, grinning.
“Ya’ll are incorrigible,” Libby muttered as she took the cobbler and made her way to Travis’s table.
“I thought you might like some cobbler,” she said, placing it in front of him.
“Thanks,” he said, lifting a spoon and digging right in. “You know how I love cobblers,” he said, chewing appreciatively.
“Yes, well. What is it you wanted to tell me about?”
“Scotty floated an idea this morning, and the more I think about it, the more I think it might be something we should try. I wanted your opinion,” Travis said.
“Why?” Libby asked.
Travis looked at her, really looked at her. “Because I value your opinion, Libby. Always have.”
“Since when does what I…” she started, then caught herself. “That’s fine. What’s the idea?” she asked.
“There’s several parts to it. He wants to open a Christmas Village like my parents used to. Offer hot chocolate and cookies, arts and crafts, cut down your own tree. If it snows, build a snowman competitions and even scheduled snowball fights. He even thought of putting up a couple of tables that people could use along with some supplies we make available to them to make their own wreaths, or they could buy some we’ve already made.”
“I think it sounds like a great idea. You should do well with it. Haven’t had anything like it since your parents passed away.”
“Yeah, I think so, too. He thought it would also be a good idea to dedicate an acre or so to pumpkins. Put up some swing sets and pumpkin carving stations and stuff like that for fall of next year.”
“I think that’d be great! Get as much as you can from the holidays.”
“Good, I’m glad to hear you say that.”
“Why, Travis?” Libby asked, looking him directly in the eye.
“Because I’m hoping you’ll help me,” he said.
“Help you how?” Libby asked.
“Just, getting it all together. Help us pick out the craft supplies and setup the tables. Show me how to make some wreaths and stuff. Maybe come out on the weekends and help us out if we can pull it off this year at this late stage of the game.”
Libby sat there across from Travis and let her gaze drift off toward the parking lot she could see through the window. When she looked back at him, she’d resolved to stop skirting the issues. It was too tasking not to. “I’m not strong enough for it, Travis.”
“I don’t understand. Is working here and there too much? Is it money? I’d be happy to pay you.”
“No. I’m not strong enough to keep believing that