I wouldn’t just want his money. I’d want (and would follow) his advice. He’s a millionaire for a reason. He’s also an incredibly decent guy who cares about our town and its history. And the diner I’d like to buy is an historiclandmark of sorts, and downtown would be a better place if it remains operational and successful.
I cooked in that diner while it was still incredibly successful, and I also cooked there under the current owner, under whose tenure the place has steadily declined. I recognized every mistake she made, and did what I could to dissuade her. But that’s the thing that sucks about not being the boss. All I could do was say, “I think that’s a bad idea, and here’s why”. It was up to her to listen or not. She mostly chose “not”, and the place is a shadow of its former self.
And that’s the thing. I may not be “manager” material, but, at this point in my life, I have been doing what I do for 32 years. I have worked for so many restaurants, some successful and some not. I have seen what works and what doesn’t work. I feel that I have a pretty damned good idea about what makes a successful restaurant work. Especially when it comes to this particular restaurant. Like I said, I worked there both when it was successful and when it started failing.
The first I heard that the place was for sale was from the parents of the current owner. They were amongst my residents at the retirement home. Two of the sweetest, most delightful people you’d ever want to meet. Floyd and Velma. They’ve been together for nearly 70 years. “Together”, not “married”. They never got married. They thought marriage was just a piece of paper. And who can argue with “70 years on their way to forever together” (to quote Paul Harvey). I can’t recall ever meeting two elderly people still so obviously in love with each other after so many years 
Floyd didn’t talk much (he’s on oxygen), but Velma was always very talkative. She loved my cooking, and once she found out that I used to work for her daughter, she told me that the diner was for sale, and kept telling me over and over that I should buy it. When she would say that, I’d always reply with, “But, Velma, if I bought the diner, I wouldn’t be here to cook for you!” But she persisted. She even made a point one day of telling me that her daughter had just lowered her asking price.
But that was before I got fired. I wasn’t going to leave Floyd and Velma, or any of the rest of them.
You know what Velma loved the most about my cooking? My soup. I’m a soup genius. I can take literally anything and turn it into an amazing soup. One day, while cruising the cooler for something to make soup out of (hey, that’s the whole reason soup was invented: using up leftovers), I ended up making a tomato-macaroni-hamburger soup. Which happened to be very similar to the tomato-macaroni soup that has been served at the diner for as long as I can remember. After serving that soup, Velma came and gave me a hug and thanked me for making that soup, because that was her favorite soup at the diner. So a couple weeks later, I made another tomato-macaroni-hamburger soup, from all fresh ingredients, and paid special attention to it to make sure it was awesome. And I let Velma know that I made it just for her.
That was just a couple days before I got fired. Velma’s last words to me were, “Rik, you’re my best friend!”
I would imagine that she would like to sell as soon as possible. I think she realized the place was failing at least 3-4 years ago. She got married to an already-successful local farmer, and then went out and earned a realtor’s license, and has been selling real estate. I suspect that the only reason she still keeps the diner open is because she doesn’t want to put her employees out of work (at least one of whom has been there since before she bought the place).
If I can get the place, my ego says I should rename it, “RIK’S DINER”.
Nope. I’mma call it “LEWIE’S DINER”.
Or just, “LEWIE’S”.
Lewie is my best friend, and I met him when I first went to work there in 1990. Lewie was there long before I came along. Lewie worked in that place for more than 20 years. Lewie worked there through FOUR different owners. Lewie was the heart and soul of that place.
Lewie had a stroke three years ago, at the age of 49. Since then, he’s been unable to work. And, to this day, he still can’t speak, and he can’t even read (which has to be pure hell for him — I thought I was an avid reader, but Lewie was like “a book a day” reader).
I don’t just want the place for myself, I want it for Lewie.
And I mean that in the best way.