“Takes more than technique if you want to separate from the herd,” she said. She unwrapped her silverware and smoothed the creases from her paper napkin. Biting into the burger, she closed her eyes as she savored the juicy flavor and the soft buttered bun. She didn’t speak for several minutes as she ate the first half of the burger. She set the rest down, knowing she would explode if she kept eating. Besides, Libby would smell the burger on her breath and want a bite or two.

Matthew inspected his grilled-chicken sandwich, then removed the bun before he sliced into the meat. When he seemed to sense her amused attention, he said, “Keto. It works.”

“Is life worth living without carbs?” She bit into another fry.

“Better to be healthy.”

“Right.” She took another pull on her beer.

“You could name the place, set the theme, pick the menu and the staff.”

Though it was flattering and a little exciting, she shook her head. “I don’t mean to burst your bubble, Matthew, but we aren’t going into business together.”

He grinned. “I’m not so sure about that.”

“I am.”

His wide grin and expressive eyes had once had great sway over her. After the junior prom, he’d charmed her shirt and bra right off and coaxed her to willingly give up her virginity in an empty Seaside Resort bungalow.

Either she was now immune to his charm, or she’d learned it was better to say no than make promises to keep the peace. “I’m not a kid anymore, Matthew.”

His expression turned serious. “Neither am I. I have a child to support, and my feet are firmly planted on the ground. I’ve made mistakes in business, and I’ve learned hard lessons. But a lot of solid thinking has gone into this place. I’m telling you, Ivy, with you running the kitchen and me handling the front of the house, it’ll be golden.”

“That might be true during the season, but what about the off-season?”

“We’ll make eighty percent of our annual income during a fourteen-week period.”

“And if it’s a bad summer? Too bad Ruth’s not here to tell us what happens during an active hurricane season.” She sipped her beer. The light buzz was loosening her tongue. “She has stories of Hurricane Hazel in 1954, and I remember Hurricane Floyd in 1999, and your namesake, Hurricane Matthew in 2016, did a number on this state. And let’s not forget this last nameless storm that wiped Ruth out.”

“If she was younger, she would have rebounded from the storm.”

“Do you want to spend a lifetime always monitoring the weather and wondering if it’ll hit you directly?”

“You get that from Ruth.”

“What?”