Free Queenie's Cafe by SUE FINEMAN Page A

as successful?”
    “No.”
    “If I owned a piece of your business and you decided you wanted to turn it into a health food store, don’t you think I should have a say in that?”
    “Well, sure, but—”
    “Look, I don’t want to take over your business. I want to help you be successful, take my profit, and go help someone else. Bernie’s profits and Chubby’s profits will go into my next project, whether it’s Queenie’s or someplace else. That’s the way it works. If I buy into your business, I’d expect to help decide about the sunroom, about how the new sign should look, and the kind of food you serve.”
    She wiped her mouth and pushed her plate aside. “What if we don’t agree?”
    “We’d have to compromise on some things. That’s true in any partnership.”
    “What if we can’t work together?”
    “You don’t think you can work with me?”
    She didn’t reply, and he did a slow burn. Why was he wasting his time on a girl who didn’t want his help? “Are you finished?”
    “Yes.”
    Luke didn’t speak again until they were halfway home, when Laura asked, “Are you mad at me?”
    “You obviously don’t want or need my help.”
    She didn’t deny it. She didn’t say another word until he pulled into the parking lot at the motel. “Thanks for dinner.” She slid off the seat and slammed the door.
    Luke sat in his truck, gripping the wheel so hard his fingers hurt. What was with her anyway? Was it him? No banker would give her money on this dump, not without a detailed business plan. And Laura Whitfield wouldn’t know the first thing about writing a damn business plan.
    <>
     
    Sunday, Laura put signs in the windows that she was opening Tuesday morning at six. She went to the grocery store for some last-minute things and told everyone she saw that Queenie’s would be open for business Tuesday morning.
    Patty, an old high school friend and the clerk who checked her out, said, “I’ll spread the word, Laura.” Patty loved to talk, and Laura couldn’t buy that kind of advertising at any price.
    Laura drove back to the café and unlocked the door. Except for the old furniture in the dining area, it didn’t look like Queenie’s now. It smelled new and fresh and clean. She hugged her arms, then flung them out and spun around. This was her business. Not Queenie’s. Not her father’s. Hers!
    As she put her purchases away and ran the dishes through the dishwasher again, the time flew by. She glanced at Luke’s boom box sitting on the counter and thought about Queenie’s Elvis tape, but she couldn’t worry about it now. She had too many things to do.
    Queenie was short and fat, so she had everything around the middle of the room, nothing too low or too high. Laura arranged things differently, using every bit of space to her advantage. She polished the counter and the tables again, making sure everything was clean and shiny.
    Ready for opening day.
    <>
     
    Monday morning, when Laura put fresh food and water out for Sleepy, she picked up the Elvis cassette and carried it with her to the café. She put it in Luke’s boom box and pushed the play button, but the phone rang. She stopped the tape and grabbed the phone. It was the loan officer from one of the banks in Melbourne.
    “I’m sorry, Miss Whitfield. We’re denying your loan application. If you want to re-apply and put a mortgage on the property—”
    “No, sir. All I wanted was enough money to get back in business. I definitely don’t want a mortgage.”
    She called the second bank, but they turned her down, too. When Laura asked why, the woman said, “For one thing, we think you underestimated the amount needed, and my boss has a hard time understanding why you’d want to open a rundown café like that in the first place.”
    “And I’m a woman. And I’m only twenty.”
    “Well...”
    “I thought it was illegal to discriminate on the basis of gender or age.”
    “It was a combination of things, Miss Whitfield. We didn’t