Oil & Ink

Chapter 13: The Business Lunch

Hank called Tom early in the morning, just as he'd promised he would. To Hank's surprise, Tom sounded alert when he answered the phone, as if he'd been awake for hours.

"Good morning, Tom," Hank said.

"Good morning," Tom said. "How are you doing today?"

"Good so far," Hank said. "I told you I'd call. I wanted to see if you still would like to meet up for lunch today?"

"Of course," Tom said. "Is there a specific time and place you had in mind?"

Hank almost thought about not taking Tom to Dina's because of the already-failed business deal Hank knew about. But he decided it wasn't up to him to make Tom feel comfortable in his town. Plus, he loved Dina's chicken salad sandwich.

"I always eat at Dina's," Hank said. "That sound okay?"

"Fine by me," Tom said. Yeah, right, Hank thought.

"Okay, great," Hank said. "Let's meet there around 12:30."

"Sounds good," Tom said. "I'm looking forward to it."

"Okay," Hank said. "See you then."

They both hung up. Hank wondered if Tom was as cool, calm and collected as he appeared on the surface. Did it not bother him that he was messing with local business owners? It didn't bother him that he was being turned down left and right? Seemed fishy, but Hank figured Tom was just a different kind of folk.

A few minutes after noon, Hank left his house to head over to Dina's. He'd spent his morning getting things done around the farm. He had horses for riding and vegetable gardens in the back of his property. Just in the last 10 years, Hank put seeds into additional acres of his property and sold the crops to bigger companies in the region. It wasn't a huge farm, but it was another revenue stream for his family.

Hank pulled into Dina's and was not surprised to see it crowded. Not only was it lunchtime, but Dina's always seemed to pull a crowd. Hank looked at his watch. He was a few minutes early, but that gave him time to sit down and get comfortable. He preferred to be the first person there, no matter who he was meeting.

He usually sat at the counter, but he wanted to get a booth. This way, he could look at Tom in the face. See if he squirmed or not. Hank put his index finger up in the air, his personal signal to a server that he needed assistance.

"Hey Hank," E.Z. said, coming to the front of the restaurant. "What's up?"

"Hi there," he said. "I would like to sit at a booth, if there's one available."

E.Z. stretched her neck to look behind her. "There's one," she said. "It's not in my section, but I guess that's okay." She smiled at him to show she was kidding with him.

He followed her to the booth. "It's going to be two of us," he told her as he sat down.

She nodded. "Okay," she said. "Samantha will be your waitress, so I'll let her know."

Hank enjoyed these few moments to himself. He put his hands on the table and interlaced his fingers. For a brief moment, he closed his eyes and took a deep breath. By the time he opened his eyes, Sam, the waitress, was standing at the end of the table holding two menus.

"Hank?" she asked. "You doing okay?"

"Ha, yes," he said. "Just taking a breath."

She placed the menus on the table. "Do you want me to put anything in for you?" she asked. "Or should we wait for your other guest?"

"I'll go ahead and take a coffee," he said. "Then, I'll wait."

"Sure thing," she said, heading back to the counter.