Autumn After (Waiting Hearts World)

1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1

Willow

They’re wrong , I reminded myself for the 57,000,000th time. They’re wrong . “They” being my family and friends who all told me I was throwing my money away when I bought an old food truck and restored it so I could sell my yums, instead of cooking for friends and family as a hobby.

“Get a restaurant,” they said. “Maybe just try it out of your home kitchen first,” they said. “Think about your future. What about insurance?” Any and every excuse they had all boiled down to the same thing: keep it safe. The message was loud and clear . We love you and think we’re protecting you.

And that’s why I couldn’t be mad at them. Their reasoning was wrapped in kindness, but kind or not, it started to eat away at me. Did they not believe that I could do this? I didn’t want to save up money for decades to start a restaurant or half-ass my ventures by only doing what I could manage in my own kitchen. If I was going to do this, I wanted to do it and now. I was all in. And I needed them to be all in with their support.

But to be honest, even as confident as I was, there were days when doubt seeped in. On more than one occasion I nearly quit. I had to keep reminding myself that I didn’t (couldn’t) quit, and that was the important thing. Having a bad day and pushing through only makes us stronger, after all. Right?

While I knew a lot about cooking—though I was self-taught—I didn’t know spit about trucks when I bought my baby. It took a lot of research and time to save the machine from the junkyard. I had an entire shelf full of manuals on how to fix different things in that truck—how to make sure the wiring was to code, how to do the plumbing. Sure, there were tutorials online, but I was the kind of person who needed it right there in front of me where I could tick off each step as I went. And I did it.

That was how Willow’s Wonders was born, and in my town, it did well. People liked my dumplings, my cookies, my sandwiches. There was nothing innately fancy about what I did. It wasn’t cooking school-type food, but it was damn good. And once someone came for lunch, they came for the next one, and the next one too, because the bottom line was, I gave them a happy memory. My food filled people’s bellies and warmed their hearts.

But as true as all that was, my small town couldn’t support me. There just weren’t enough people to make it economically feasible without another job. I refused to allow that to mean that this venture couldn’t work. I was stubborn like that. Sadly, despite sticking my feet in the ground, even combining my “real” job with running the food truck wasn’t enough. I wasn’t getting anywhere. I had to branch out.

Getting the flyer about the food truck festival in the mail was like a beacon of hope shined down on me from the heavens. When the application opened up for the Bite and Roll Festival, I put my name in the hat. They were going to have 50 trucks there, and they had over 800 people apply from across the country. I wasn’t sure what put me over the edge or what had me standing out. Maybe I had just the right menu, maybe my reviews were strong enough, or maybe they thought my truck was adorable—which it was. But whatever the case was, I was thrilled to be heading there.

I was going to put my food truck on the map!

My phone rang for the first time since starting this trip. Unsurprising, since no one knew where I was and they all just assumed I was at home. They had no reason to call.

I glanced at the screen where the phone sat in the cup holder. I put it there so I could stream music while pretending I had actual speakers. It worked well.

It was my best friend—only friend—Alex calling me.

“Hello?” I answered.

“Please please please tell me you are not on some harebrained journey to bumfuck nowhere with that truck!”

Ah, he must’ve gone to my apartment and seen my note. I knew someone would find it eventually.

“I am,” I said, confidence unwavering. I was secure in this decision, even if Lavender’s motor was whining more and more with each passing mile.

“Willow.” His voice stretched out my name like a plea.

“Alex. This is my dream. I’m taking a chance.”

“A dangerous chance!”

“Not all of us want to play it safe,” I said carefully. I loved Alex. He had given me the most support for this truck, even helping me the few times I’d needed an extra set of hands, but he still didn’t understand why I would ever actually take it anywhere. To him it was a hobby, and according to him, I needed to find a steady job to pay for said hobby.

Only, I wanted this to be my job. Bringing hot, delicious meals to people was the ultimate awesomeness.

“What am I going to tell your parents?”

I shrugged, though he couldn’t see me. “When they call, I’ll tell them where I am. I’m not keeping it a secret.”

“Fine. Fine.” I could practically see him pinching the bridge of his nose the way he did when he finally gave into my plans. “Please text me when you arrive and send pictures. I really hope this goes well, Willow. I truly do.”

“I know, Alex. I appreciate it.”

We chatted for a while longer, but eventually, I needed to focus on driving, so we hung up. I appreciated his call and his reluctant support.

Why couldn’t they all just support me without me having to beg for it?

I’d been driving for two days straight. My truck wasn’t thrilled. It was great for its job giving me a place to cook and sell my food, but it really wasn’t the best as far as transportation went. A couple of times it had me worrying if we’d make it. I’d already had to add oil twice, which wasn’t a good sign, and I had to add water three times—another not-good sign. But I was only three hours from my destination, and as long as I was gentle and kind to Lavender (the name of my truck), she’d get me there. I knew she would. Even if I was the only one who believed it.

My parents, once Alex informed them where I was headed, would no doubt call and berate me about taking unnecessary risks.

But if I didn’t take risks now, then when? I couldn’t play it safe my whole life! There was adventure out there, and I knew it.

The festival felt right. I could feel it in my bones, I belonged there. Even if I had to fight tooth and nail and oil leaks to get there, I would make my mark.

Only, I was a quarter mile down a road that looked like it wasn’t well-traveled when Lavender decided she was done, cutting out right there in the middle of the street. No hiccups or weird movements. Nope. She just up and died.

Sweat beaded on my brow. I gripped the steering wheel and kept my foot on the gas, as if I could will her back to life.

Trees lined the road, all golden and red with their fall leaves. The wind blew the fallen ones across the road like a fiery orange tornado of color.

It could be worse. It could’ve been my brakes, and I could’ve ended up in a ditch without a view of the fall colors. At least that was what I kept telling myself as the fear of what Lavender shitting the bed would mean as far as my future in this career. But I refused to focus on that. What I needed now was a tow, one that would take me all the way to the Bite and Roll Festival, and I wasn’t sure how to get it, my phone showing no bars.

I’d make it there, no matter what. I just needed… something. I rolled my shoulders back. This was a minor inconvenience on my road to success. It was not the end.

Much like the night I discovered that a family of mice had made a home in Lavendar’s cabin air filter after chewing through five different hoses and wires to get there, this was just a minor setback. I’d fixed that problem—after safely relocating the mice momma and her four babies—and I’d fix this problem too.

I’d figure it out. I refused to miss this festival. My career depended on it.