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. But not much, the way I plan it. A dinky little place, but bright and cheerful - after I paint it. A soda fountain, plus a very limited Menu. Hot dogs. Hamburgers. Danish open-face sandwiches. Nothing else. Soup, maybe. But canned soups are no problem and not much inventory.'
Margrethe looked shocked. 'Not canned soups. I can serve a real soup... cheaper and better than anything out of a tin.'
'I defer to your professional judgment, Ma'am. Kansas has half a dozen little college towns; any of them would welcome such a place. Maybe we pick a shop already existing, a mom-and-pop place - work for them a year, then buy them out. Change the name to The Hot Fudge Sundae. Or maybe Marga's Sandwiches.'
'The Hot Fudge Sundae. Alec, do you really think we can do this?'
I leaned toward her and took her hand. 'I'm sure we can, darling. And without working ourselves to death, too.' I moved my head. 'That traffic light is staring me right in the eye.'
'I know. I can see it reflected in your eye every time it changes. Want to swap seats? It won't bother me.'
'It doesn't bother me. It just has a somewhat hypnotic effect.' I looked down at. the table, looked back at the light. 'Hey, it's gone out.'
Margrethe twisted her neck to look. 'I don't see it. Where?'
'Uh... pesky thing has disappeared. Looks like.'
I heard a male voice at my elbow. 'What'll it be for you two? Beer or wine; we're not licensed for the hard stuff
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