Liam drove toward the heart of the city. They had decided on the Grant Park location for the first stop. As the weather warmed, it would be a great spot for business and probably overly competitive, but in December, they hoped he could grab it without issue. At ten forty-five, he parked, glad to see no other truck in sight.
He started the burners to warm the grill and opened the windows and the awning. His breath puffed white clouds, and the air was cold enough that he thought icicles might start forming on him. Carmen had written up the menu board. Her curvy script was much neater than whatever scratch he would’ve displayed.
Grant Park was desolate. Buckingham Fountain stood in the distance, shut off for the season. Traffic remained constant, though, and he hoped foot traffic would pick
