Page 51 of Matched with the Small Town Chef
"I’m not changing how I run my restaurant," Lucas says. "If you don’t like it, find another chef who will do everything for you. I won’t sacrifice the soul of Timberlake for a single dollar."
Lucas looks at me for a long moment, then at Hunter. Something shifts in his expression—not defeat, but a subtle transformation. He taps at his tablet, then sets it down decisively.
"And that," he says, his voice suddenly warm with approval, "is exactly the response I was hoping for."
The room goes still. Hunter's posture shifts minutely, confusion replacing anger.
"What?" he asks, the single word laden with suspicion.
Lucas's mouth curves into a genuine smile. "Hunter, when you brought me your vision for Timberline years ago, I believed in it completely. I still do. But after yesterday's review, we're going to be flooded with offers exactly like this one." He gestures to his tablet. "Some with much more money attached."
He stands, moving around the table to face the staff as a group rather than from a position of authority.
"I needed to know if success would change our vision. If the first sign of mainstream recognition would tempt us to compromise what makes Timberline special." He looks directly at Hunter. "I needed to hear you defend your food, this place, your community—not just to me, but to yourself and everyone in this room."
Understanding dawns on the faces around the table. Miguel lets out a soft laugh, shaking his head.
"You were testing us," he says.
"Not testing. Preparing." Lucas picks up his tablet again. "This offer is real. It came in at 6 AM. I've already drafted a refusal, but there will be others, and we need to be united in how we respond."
He swipes to a new screen and turns the tablet so we can all see. "This is what I want to discuss today: a business plan based on Hunter and Miguel's authentic expansion ideas—cooking classes, producer partnerships, and foraging workshops. I've run the numbers, and with some adjustments, they're viable."
"You could have just said that from the beginning." Hunter's face remains guarded, but the rigid tension in his shoulders has eased.
"Would you have believed me if I hadn't shown you the temptation first?" Lucas raises an eyebrow. "You're stubborn, Hunter. Sometimes you need to be pushed to articulate why you believe in something so strongly."
"You're manipulative," Hunter retorts, but there's less heat in it now.
"I'm strategic," Lucas corrects, not unkindly. "And I've been protecting your vision from corporate vultures since we opened. But after yesterday's review..." His expression sobers. "The stakes are higher now. The Haven can't survive as it is. That part wasn't a test. We need Timberline to succeed, but on our terms, not theirs."
He turns to the rest of the staff. "I wanted everyone to hear Hunter's passionate defense of what makes this place special. That's the North Star we follow, no matter how tempting other offers might be."
Relief and renewed excitement ripple through the room. Hunter's expression remains guarded, but I can see him reassessing, recalculating.
"Then let me invest." The offer still surprises me, but once spoken, it feels inevitable. "I have savings. Enough to buy a stake in Timberline and help fund Hunter's expansion ideas."
Shock ripples through the room. Hunter's eyes widen, his carefully constructed mask slipping.
"You would invest in a restaurant run by a chef who currently hates you?" Lucas asks, but his incredulity seems more curious than dismissive.
I look directly at Hunter. "I believe in his vision. In what he's building here. Whether or not he forgives me is irrelevant to that fact. You need capital, and I have that."
For a heartbeat, the room falls silent. I can almost see Hunter's thoughts racing behind his eyes—suspicion, confusion, calculation.
"I need to speak with Ms. Tristan. Alone." Hunter's voice leaves no room for argument. "The rest of you, give us the room."
Lucas exchanges a look with Hunter I can't quite decipher—something like understanding passing between them—before nodding.
"Of course." He gathers his tablet and gestures to the others. "Let's give them space."
Lucas ushers the staff out, closing the door firmly behind them.
Hunter and I stand facing each other across the conference table, the mountains bearing silent witness through the windows.
"What are you doing?" Exhaustion threads through the anger in his voice.
"Trying to fix what I broke." My hands tremble, and I press them flat against the table to steady them. "Or, at least, not make it worse."
