| September 29, 2023 – 7:30 PM
Lin pulled into Riverton, the next town over—bigger, but still small enough that everyone probably knew each other. The main street was lined with brick storefronts, neon-lit diners, and a handful of locally owned shops that had survived the rise of big-box stores.
She slowed the truck, eyes scanning the town as they drove in.
Richard noticed. "You're not just here for dinner, are you?"
Lin smirked. "Always thinking ahead."
Richard huffed a laugh. "What exactly are you looking for?"
"Supply chains, possible partnerships. " Lin's eyes flicked over a hardware store, a feed supply shop, and a farmers' co-op.
Good to know.
Richard shook his head, amused. "You're really treating this like a business."
Lin pulled into a parking space outside a classic American steakhouse, cutting the engine. "It is."
Richard raised an eyebrow. "And where does this place fit into your grand plan?"
Lin smirked, unbuckling her seatbelt. "It doesn't. But I'm hungry."
Richard chuckled, pushing open his door. "Alright, let's eat."
| September 29, 2023 – 7:35 PM
Richard paused outside the steakhouse, glancing through the window at the white-tablecloth setup and polished menus. He made a face. "Nah. Too fancy."
Lin raised an eyebrow. "You just drove for hours and quit your job. You deserve a real meal."
Richard smirked. "Yeah, and I want pizza."
Lin sighed. "Of course you do."
Richard was already scanning the street, spotting a small, family-run pizzeria a block down. A bright red neon sign flickered over the door: Gio's Brick Oven Pizza. A good sign.
"That's the place," he said, nodding toward it. "Come on, kid, indulge your old man."
Lin exhaled but followed. "Fine. But if the crust is bad, I'm never letting you pick again."
Richard chuckled. "Deal."
They pushed open the door to Gio's, stepping into the warm scent of baking dough, melted cheese, and fresh basil.
Alright, maybe this wasn't a bad call.
| September 29, 2023 – 7:50 PM
The pizza arrived—perfectly crisp crust, bubbling cheese, and the sharp scent of fresh basil and garlic. Richard took one look and grinned like a man who'd just proven a point.
Lin picked up a slice, took one bite—paused.
She chewed, slow. Thoughtful. Then, finally—"Alright. It's good."
Richard smirked. "Damn right it is."
Before Lin could fire back, the front door chimed, and a tall man in grease-stained coveralls walked in, dusting off his hands. Mid-40s, built like a guy who spent his days lifting engine parts, with a streak of oil running down his forearm like a badge of honor.
He walked straight to the counter, leaning against it like he practically lived here.
"Gio, I need something loaded with carbs before I start throwing tools at customers."
Behind the counter, the older man tossing pizza dough—Gio, apparently—just grunted. "You want the usual, Greg?"
"Yeah, yeah. And make it fast before I lose what's left of my patience."
Lin arched an eyebrow, intrigued. Richard, meanwhile, took a sip of water and casually said—
"Rough day at the shop?"
Greg glanced over, eyes flicking between them. "Buddy, every day's a rough day at the shop."
Richard smirked. "Tell me about it."
Greg sized him up. "You a mechanic?"
"Used to be. Ran a shop in the city for twenty years." Richard leaned back in the booth. "Now I'm figuring out what retirement looks like."
Greg let out a short laugh, sliding into the booth across from them like they were already halfway to being friends. "Retirement? And you still got the hands of a guy who works twelve-hour shifts. Either you just quit or you're lying to yourself."
Lin smirked, wiping her fingers on a napkin. "He quit this morning."
Greg let out a low whistle. "Damn. And you drove all the way out here for pizza?"
Richard shrugged. "Small town I moved to only has a diner and a Chinese place. I needed real food."
Greg snorted. "Yeah, Maep's limited. But Gio's? Best damn pizza for miles. That's why I eat here more than my own house."
Lin raised an eyebrow. "You the town mechanic?"
Greg smirked. "You looking for one?"
Richard leaned in slightly. "She just bought a farm. Big property. Needs work."
Greg's eyes lit with interest. "Farm, huh? If you need a guy for equipment repairs, I know my way around more than just cars."
Lin studied him for a moment, then nodded. "Might take you up on that."
Greg grinned, leaning back as Gio slammed a plate of spaghetti in front of him. "Good. Because I'm telling you now—whatever junk you've got sitting on that farm, it's gonna break. And when it does, you're gonna need someone who knows what the hell they're doing."
Richard laughed. "That's the truth."
Lin smirked, picking up her drink. "Good thing I invest in the right people."
Greg pointed his fork at her, amused. "Smart. You'll survive out here just fine."
| September 29, 2023 – 8:10 PM
Richard wiped his hands on a napkin, leaning back in the booth with the comfortable air of a man who just had a damn good meal. Across from him, Greg twirled his fork in his plate of spaghetti, already halfway through his second helping.
"So, what do you work on most?" Richard asked, nodding toward Greg's grease-streaked sleeves.
Greg smirked. "Whatever keeps this town running. Half the folks in Riverton and Maep's drive trucks older than me, and they still expect them to run like new."
Richard chuckled. "Let me guess—lots of 'Can you just take a quick look?' followed by a full day's worth of repairs?"
Greg pointed at him with his fork. "Now you get it." He took a bite, then added, "Though, my real specialty? Retro cars. Restorations, rebuilds. You give me a rusted-out shell, I'll bring it back to life."
Richard's eyebrows lifted slightly. "That so?"
Greg leaned forward, interested. "Yeah. Why? You a classic car guy?"
Richard's smirk was subtle, but there. "Not just a guy. It's what I did. Restored '60s and '70s models out of my shop in the city. Mustangs, Camaros, Cudas—ran a whole side business fixing them up and flipping them."
Greg whistled. "Damn. You one of those 'everything by hand' guys? No shortcuts?"
Richard nodded. "If you don't do it right, what's the point?"
Greg laughed, shaking his head. "Alright, now I respect you."
Lin, who had been silently sipping her drink, finally spoke. "You two gonna start a club or something?"
Richard smirked. "Could. But we'd need a project first."
Greg scratched his chin. "I do have an old '72 Chevelle sitting at my shop. Needs an engine, bodywork, and someone who actually knows what the hell they're doing."
Richard leaned in. "You offering?"
Greg shrugged, but there was a glint of interest in his eyes. "Maybe. You get that shed of yours cleaned up, I'll bring it by."
Lin chuckled, shaking her head. "So this is how it starts."
Richard glanced at her. "Kid, when you get the chance to rebuild a classic, you don't say no."
Greg pointed at him again. "Exactly. She gets it."
Lin smirked. "Oh, I get it. I just didn't expect you to be this excited about retirement."
Richard just grinned, tapping the table. "Retirement's just another word for free time. And now? I've got a damn good way to spend it."