Another red envelope fell from the mailbox. The rent was well beyond due now. Amie sighed just as she had done last month and the month before that. The restaurant needed a miracle.
She went inside, pushing the door against a bell that signaled customers were coming in or going out. The bell was silent most days.
She started cooking for a morning rush that would never come, but she loved to hear the sizzle of steak and potatoes against a hot pan more than anything else. The aroma of cheap coffee filled the dining room and Aimie waited.
She cleaned. She read about marketing. She cleaned some more. The shop if nothing else was very, very shiny. Two hours after open and still, no one had arrived. She could not afford to listen to the sizzle of steak and potatoes any longer.
She muttered to herself a quiet curse and returned to cleaning.
The bells chirped.
Amie was beside herself. She adjusted her apron and turned to face the newcomer.
“Welcome, stranger,” she said as she turned around. “What can I -” her words were cut off as she set eyes upon the most attractive human being she had ever seen. She muttered to herself a silent curse, happier this time, and continued along with her usual greeting. “Sorry, what, uh, wowsa, what can I get for you this morning?” She asked, still catching her own breath.
“Amie, I am here this morning for a bit of steak, a bit of potato, and a bit of an offer,” the patron said.
Amie smiled. “I can provide two of the three. I assume you have the third though?”
A devilish smirk came over the patron’s face. “I would like you to keep this restaurant open. All I ask is for a few items to be added to your menu.”
Amie had found her miracle. “Of course, of course,” she said, beaming with joy, “what do you need?”
“I will make sure this place is popular, beloved, and open for years. All you have to do is add two foods to your menu. Two of the greatest foods the world has ever know,” the patron said.
“What two foods?” Amie was pretty sure she already offered what people within a 50-mile radius enjoyed.
Another smirk. “Devil’s food cake and deviled eggs,” the patron cackled and Amie was pretty sure lightning crashed in the distance.
“No one likes those foods anymore though,” Amie said. “They fell out of fashion a long time ago.”
“Nonsense!” The patron shouted. More lightning followed. “Everyone loves them we just need to remind them of that.”
Amie realized who the patron was. “Are you the devil? Are you offering me a thriving restaurant so you can rebuild and rebrand foods that had your name on them from like 80 years ago? People were eating carrots and ham inside Jello molds 80 years ago.”
“You’re very clever,” the gorgeous devil replied, “do you want your restaurant to thrive or not? Deviled eggs are all it takes. Come on, they may make your breath stink, but O.M.G! the flavor is sinsational! Get it!?”
“OMG, really?” Amie Asked.
“Well I obviously can’t say the full thing, don’t be weird. Are making a heck of a deal here or what?” The devil asked.
“I mean…sure? Can I put like jalapeno or fried onions on the deviled eggs?” Amie asked.
“Do what it takes! I will corner the culinary world once more!” The devil laughed and more lightning crashed.
The bells rang once more as the devil left. Amie went to boil some eggs. Her miracle, of sorts, had arrived.