Page 133 of Death of a Grill Master

She walked through the space, running her hand along the edge of the prep station, past the espresso machine, around the corner where Kelton used to sneak snacks. So many service rushes. So many last-minute specials, shouted orders, slammed walk-in doors, and bursts of laughter over burned garlic bread.

Footsteps echoed behind her.

Liddy appeared, heels clicking, blazer immaculate, hair in place. “Well,” she said, unfolding the final folder. “Time to make it official.”

Kelton and Betty were already seated at the bar, papers spread out before them. Betty, calm and collected in a crisp collared shirt, smiled warmly. Kelton looked like he was mentally reviewing the kitchen’s inventory, the wine list, and his entire life’s decisions—all at once.

Hayley slid onto a high-backed bar chair beside them, and Liddy guided them through the paperwork with the confidence of a woman who had finally passed the licensing exam on her fourth try and would never let anyone forget it.

When Kelton’s hand knocked over a saltshaker on top of the bar, he flinched and scrambled to mop it up with a napkin, mortified.

Betty rolled her eyes fondly, pinched a bit of salt, and tossed it over her shoulder. “Good luck. Old family tradition.”

Liddy nodded. “Also good for absorbing nervous sweat.”

The final signature was signed, although Kelton was so nervous he almost tried writing his name with a spoon, and a quiet hush fell over the table.

Kelton sniffed.

Betty blinked quickly.

Hayley swallowed hard.

She’d told herself it was just business—a clean hand-off, nothing more—but watching Betty and Kelton beam across the table made her realize what she was really letting go of. Hayley’s Kitchen had been her fresh start, proof she could build something of her own. But lately she’d been walking through those doors and feeling … done. Maybe it was the near-drowning, or seeing Hank’s body pulled from the water—a reminder that life doesn’t wait for you to catch up. She didn’t want to cling to a routine just because it felt safe. Betty and Kelton still had that spark she’d lost somewhere along the way.

Maybe it was time to let them run with it—and finally give herself permission to figure out what came next.

When they stood to leave, Hayley hugged Kelton longer than she meant to. He hugged her back just as tightly, his arms shaking a little.

“Don’t mess it up,” she whispered into his ear.

“We won’t,” he whispered.

Hayley stepped out into the sunlight with Betty and Kelton close behind, the final paperwork tucked under Liddy’s arm like a sealed goodbye.

The old, hand-painted sign creaked gently in the sea breeze above the door: HAYLEY’S KITCHEN.

Hayley paused, looking up at it. The brushstrokes were a little faded, the red in her name pinker now, but it still made her heart squeeze.

She turned to Betty and Kelton, trying to keep it light. “You two thought of a new name yet?” she asked. “I always liked ‘The Dinner Bell.’ Or maybe ‘Bet and Kel’s’—very Maine diner meets mom-and-pop empire.”

Kelton looked panicked at the idea.

Betty just smiled.

“We’re not changing it,” she said.

Hayley blinked. “You’re not?”

Betty shook her head. “It’s always going to be Hayley’s Kitchen. Doesn’t matter who’s in the back or out front. This place has heart. And the name’s part of that.”

For a second, Hayley couldn’t speak. Her throat tightened too fast, too full.

Kelton reached over and gave her hand a quick, clumsy squeeze. “Hope that’s okay,” he added, eyes wide with earnestness.

Hayley looked back up at the sign.

Then at them.