Today is the final installment of the Nuncasola Chica Lit Blog Tour.  Thanks for stopping by and reading Myrtle Lane Bistro.

Answer the question at the end correctly and you’ll be entered into a drawing to win a Chasing Heroes Mouse Pad, a well as a ten dollar gift card from my favorite place…Starbucks!  Check back here tomorrow to find out if you’re the winner! [no previous winners, please!]

 Clove Pink

Now, without further adieu…

Myrtle Lane Bistro

by Misa Ramirez

Lara Rubi tucked the newspaper under her arm and glanced around her back porch and barren backyard.  One day she’d have a garden.  If she closed her eyes, she could imagine just what it would look like.  It would be the most magnificent garden ever with flowers of coral and yellow, pink and white, and every other shade God had created.  It would be a veritable kaleidoscope of color. 

The aroma of banana bread drew her back into her little house.  A casita her mother called it because it was more like a miniature house than a real one, and it was only a rental.   But Lara had worked and saved; one day, along with her garden, she’d have una casita of her own.  

There was just one problem.  No job had meant she’d been spending her savings instead of growing it.  Unless that changed, there would be no house and no garden.  Mama had always told her to have high expectations and she always had.  But despite her mother’s wisdom, Lara was beginning to feel like she had been misled.  She couldn’t decide if it was better to aim low, thereby keeping your feet firmly on the ground and never facing failure, or better to deal with the disappointment of not reaching the stars you set your sights on.  

Neither option looked good a the moment.  

She’d put in three years at La Mission, a cute little Mexican restaurant in town.  Though she’d only been the assistant manager, she’d practically run the place, working twenty-four seven, sacrificing any prospect at love and a relationship to prove herself.  But she’d been able to save for her house and that had made the job worth it.  Being passed over for the manager position in favor of the owner’s brother, however, had sent her off the deep end.  She’d worked too hard to be so blithely overlooked.  Without thinking through the consequences, she’d quit. 

Now, two months later, she was still paying the price.  She’d had no luck finding a new job and her savings had dwindled to almost nothing.  She couldn’t bring herself to call her family for help.  Mama was wise, but she was also full of ‘I told you so’ and Lara wasn’t ready to hear her mother’s chastisements.  Pride and determination were Rubi traits.  She hadn’t found a new job yet, but there was no way she was giving up.

“Today’s the day,” she muttered as she went back into her bright coral and blue kitchen.  She cut herself a piece of banana bread, flipped open the newspaper, and turned to the classifieds.  She looked at the job listings everyday, but so far nothing had been quite right.  Still, she held out hope.  “Today, I will find a job,” she murmured, “whether or not it’s perfect.”   

She traced her finger down the columns, discouraged at the same old listings.  Then she saw the new ad and her finger stopped.  Restaurant Manager, See Will Hawthorne.  

The air in her lungs stilled.  Another Rubi trait was a hearty belief in signs.  Hawthorne was a flower and it meant hope.  This was it.  The job.  It was meant to be.  Lara felt it down to her core.

She took her time getting ready.  Her upswept honey-streaked mahogany hair, smart black slacks and a cream-colored tailored blouse spoke volumes.  Smart, professional, classy…  This job would be hers.  Twenty minutes later she was standing in front of a quaint restaurant.  An oval sign sat out front:  Myrtle Lane Bistro.  

A shiver swept through her.  A restaurant named after a flower.  Another sign.  

Her superstition subsided and she noted the stark, sparsely planted flower beds along the front walk.  Clove pink and lamb’s ear were dotted here and there, but the rest was bare.  That would need to be fixed.  First impressions were everything.  She raised her hand to knock, but the door wrenched open suddenly and she stumbled backward.  “Oh…”

She found herself looking into crystal blue eyes that belonged to a tall dark-haired man with perfectly-pressed Khaki’s and a crisp button-down shirt.  “Can I help you?”  

She smiled, trying not to let his intense stare disconcert her.  She was going to get this job.  She extended her hand.  “I’m Lara Rubi.”  She took a breath, then added, “The new manager of Myrtle Lane Bistro.”

Time seemed to freeze for a second as the man looked at her.  Lara waited, her hand dangling there, holding her breath.  Had she gone too far?   Been too presumptuous? 

Finally, the man’s serious face cracked a smile.   He took hold of her hand and his grin spread to his eyes, warming them with a twinkle.  “I guess that makes me your boss,” he said.  “I’m William Hawthorne.  Call me Will.”   

She had a flash of him as much more than her boss.  Loca.  She scolded herself at her exaggerated imagination.  A sign was one thing, but to think she’d found both a job and love in the want ads was a little too much to believe, even for her.  “Nice to meet you, Will.”

He held the door open for her and stepped back inside.  She walked by him and looked around.  The place had a welcoming bed and breakfast atmosphere similar to her casita–or at least how she dreamed it would look if she owned it.  

Myrtle Lane Bistro felt like home.  

She turned to find Will studying her, his brows drawn together in perplexed angles.  “Is something wrong?  Do you like the place?”

She nodded quickly, smiling.  “Oh, I love it.  It’s fantastic.”

He looked pleased.  “I’ve spent everyday for the past year working on it, from refinishing the floors and all the wood, to painting and installing a state of the art kitchen.”

“Ar you the chef, too?”

“I am.  I finally realized that I can’t do it all.  I need a manager to handle things outside the kitchen, including personnel.”

She’d done that and more at The Mission.  “You can take the ad out of the paper, Will, because I’m your girl.”

His clear blue eyes sparkle at her.  “Are you, Miss Rubi?”

She noted his strong hands, the same hands he’d labored with to create the beauty of his restaurant.  She and Will would compliment each other.  He’d handle the kitchen, and she’d handle everything else, including a garden fit for Myrtle Lane Bistro.  “Yes, I am.”  She handed him her resume, trying to still her nervous hands.  She wanted this job more than anything.  And she wanted to get to know Will Hawthorne better.  

He took the paper, scanned it with his astute eyes, and looked at her again.  “Tell me, Miss Rubi–”

“Lara  ,” she said.

“Lara.”   His smile vanished and he was suddenly all business.  “What was your first impression of Myrtle Lane Bistro?”

Lara took a deep breath.  So much of the restaurant looked amazing, but the first impression, approaching from the street, was a disappointment.  She was tempted to sugarcoat the truth, but her mother’s wisdom came to her–la verdad, m’ija.  Que importa es la verdad–and she knew the truth was the most important thing.  “My first impression,” she said carefully and with bare honesty, “was that I belonged here.”

The steady look he gave her made her eyes blur.  She hadn’t given the smart answer, even if it had been the truth.  Her heart hammered in her chest as she waited for his response.   Finally, his serious expression melted away and he nodded.   “I know what you mean.  When I first laid eyes on this place, I knew it was special.”  He walked to the front door and looked outside, finally turning back to her, his gaze penetrating.  “But something’s been missing.”

The rest of the truth spilled out of her.  “Flowers,” she said immediately.  “A few rose trees, lavender, maybe some rosemary.  Será perfecto.”  He raised his eyebrows at her and she added, “It’ll be perfect.” 

“You’re right.  It will be perfect.”  His eyes sparkled.  “But I think what’s been missing is you.  I knew it the moment I laid eyes on you.”

Her insides warmed.  Will Hawthorne believed in signs, too.  

“The job’s going to take a lot of time,” he added.  “You’ll be seeing a lot of me.  Think you can handle that?”

She laughed.  “I’m pretty sure I can.”

“Good.”  He guided her to the immaculate kitchen.  “We can start with lunch and get to know each other better.  I’ll whip up something special for you, Lara Rubi.”

She looked out the window as he rustled around in the kitchen.  An apple tree was in full bloom, the blossoms vibrant and welcoming.  High expectations.  Maybe her mother hadn’t misled her after all.  Lara had found the place where she belonged.   “Will,” she said, turning toward him, “how about adding more clove pink along the front walk?”  

He nodded at her.  “I have no idea what that is, but the garden is yours as long as you stay and manage Myrtle Lane Bistro.”

She flashed him a coy smile.  Clove pink meant true love, but she didn’t need to tell him that.  Maybe they’d figure it out together one day.  A nice guy like Will Hawthorne and a garden.   Her garden.  What more could a girl want?  “Don’t worry.  I’m not going anywhere.”  

Question of the Day:

What does Lara’s mother believe is the most important thing?