“Would you be interested in talking about your experiences? I wanted to contact you and gauge your response before I reached out to Eva from the event company, though I’m interested in speaking with her as well.”
“Can I have a day to think about it?” Taylor asked.
“Absolutely. I know this puts your story out there in a public way.”
“There’s just one thing I want to clarify before we get off the phone.”
“Shoot,” Joy said.
“I wasn’t actually Eva’s employee. I’m her girlfriend. She broke her arm right before the wedding and she needed help. She knew she could rely on me. That’s really why I was there. I wasn’t just a random person she hired.”
There was a pause on the line before Joy responded. “You know what makes every story an even better human interest piece? Love.”
After Joy shared her contact information and they set up another time to talk, Taylor drove herself to her apartment and put a kettle on the stove so that she could brew a pot of chamomile tea. She wanted to think before discussing things with Eva.
On one hand, the story had the power to get Eva’s company name out there to reach an audience it might not otherwise. On the other, Eva wasn’t exactly a social justice warrior in the business of hiring people that were in vulnerable positions. When she brought on someone for an odd job, it was usually a college student from the local women’s college. Most of those girls grew up affluent like Eva did. The proof was in their diamond studded earrings and Lily Pulitzer dresses and quilted Vera Bradley backpacks, everything pastel and monogrammed. If Joy was going to highlight an employer, it should probably be someone that actually prioritized hiring people that might not have opportunities otherwise.
After pouring a fresh cup of tea and pulling out her laptop, she went to work researching who some of those employers might be in the event that Joy wasn’t familiar with them already.
By the time her tea pot was empty, the list Taylor was creating was still short enough to make her realize things were perhaps bleaker than she thought. Most of the jobs available to felons were minimum wage or hard manual labor. She didn’t need a whole spreadsheet when it could fit on a Post-It note. Taylor rubbed her temples and took a deep breath, thinking another guided meditation on mindfulness might be in order so that she didn’t let herself spiral or become overwhelmed.
She’d been toying at getting words of affirmation tattooed across the length of her forearm so that she could look down and see them any time she needed a boost, preferably in white ink so that it was for her and no one else. Something like that would definitely come in handy in moments like this where panic coursed through her body, making it hard to think or function when the racing thoughts got out of hand. After all, it was racing thoughts that led her to make the poor decisions that led to her arrest.
The buzz of her phone cut through the quiet of her apartment with a text from Eva. I just got some bubbles and cheesecake—sweets for my sweet. I saw what you did for me online and I’m beyond grateful. Can I bring them over? Have you eaten dinner?
Haven’t eaten dinner yet, she responded. Was just about to cook something. Would you like me to make food for you, too? Come over but bring something to read—I have a project I need to finish.
A few taps of the phone later, Eva had her address.
Taylor took a quick scan of her apartment and was grateful she’d taken the time to do a deep clean before the trip to Asheville. Everything was as tidy as would be expected for someone that had worked professionally as a maid, no matter how ill-suited she’d felt at the time for the job. She lit a seasonal candle and set it on the coffee table and another on the kitchen counter to make things a little cozier.
Then she set to work, slipping her grandmother’s old apron over her head.
The options were limited and nothing seemed quite fitting to go along with champagne. She also knew that she couldn’t afford to continue to live above her means just to try to impress Eva. Eventually, things needed to get real.
Luckily, Taylor was good at working with what she had.
On a cutting board, Taylor sliced a granny smith apple into thin slivers while a large dollop of butter heated in a pan on the stove. She lightly coated two pieces of white bread with Dijon mustard and then threw them on top of the pan. Each piece of bread was covered in a slice of American cheese, followed by a layer of apple slices, followed by a sprinkling of shredded cheddar and another piece of bread. It was a grilled cheese with a twist— melty and gooey with a tart surprise in the middle.
For the side, she diced the remaining apple into larger wedges. Seeing it probably wasn’t enough, she added a small pile of baby carrots to each plate.
Not every meal could be a celebratory feast but it could still manage to taste good if it was made with love.
Before she was done setting the table, the doorbell rang.
* * *
Apparently it didn’t matter that her dinner wasn’t from a hyped up food truck or an expensive restaurant. Eva devoured it and sang Taylor’s praises as though she was a judge on the television show Chopped where home cooks and chefs alike were given a basket of random provisions that didn’t make sense together and expected to make culinary gold. That’s what under resourced Americans strapped for cash had to do in their kitchens every night if they wanted to eat well.
Still, Taylor didn’t mind the way Eva gushed. “Apples! In! Grilled! Cheese! You are brilliant.”
“By the looks of it, so is this dessert.” Taylor ripped into the packaging so they could dig in. Instead of graham crackers, the base of the cheesecake was made with a smashed cinnamon bun. “It’s a good thing you got us two slices,” Taylor teased. “There’s no way I’m sharing mine.”
Taylor only hoped Eva would be so caught up in how delicious the dessert was that Taylor could get through telling her about the reporter’s request and how she was feeling about the whole thing without making Eva angry. They’d just barely survived their first fight. She didn’t want to go back to testing their mettle so soon.
Eva narrowed her eyes, licking a dollop of cinnamon speckled whipped cream off of her fork.
“What’s your biggest hold up? Having to put yourself out there or not being the one to control the narrative?”
“I can see why you’d want me to do it. It would get your company’s name out there. Give you some press—”
Eva held up her hand to stop her. “Don’t worry about what I think. You’ve already done way more than I could ask for my company. This story is about you and other people in your situation, not Eva’s Events.”
So they were agreed, then. Taylor scolded herself for thinking Eva would want the publicity. Now who was the one making the assumptions?
“Thanks for understanding. As to your question? I’m not sure, I guess. I know how much space the average news column in The Observer takes up. Not much. An article would reach a wide readership and bring some awareness about the struggles people go through post-conviction, but I don’t know if it would do enough to really drive home the message. And yeah, there’s the whole control thing.”
“Then don’t let The Observer tell your story. Tell it yourself. If Joy Langston is so committed to the cause, she’ll find another angle to approach it from. It sounds like her connection with her father is a good place that she could start”
“But where do I start? I don’t have a platform.”
Eva smiled and shook her head. “Then build one. You’ve got all those fancy coding skills from your computer science courses. Build a website. Build an app. A blog. Whatever. Figure out your message and find a way to get it out there.”
Taylor thought about all the proficiencies she’d been working so hard to master. HTML, Java, C+ and Python. Despite her aversion to social media, she’d also taken a class on digital writing and marketing that taught her about things like search engine optimization. And those student fees she hated paying every semester? They would allow her access to a us
ability lab at the university library that would allow her to test a website or app interface and make sure it was user friendly. She could make a platform that would help people while also building something that would give her something powerful to list on her resume and LinkedIn profile.
An app was out of the question given that she was still using a flip phone like a Luddite. A website though? That could be doable.
Her mind raced with the possibilities. Before she did anything, though, she needed to contact Joy Langston. If she’d made up her mind, there was no reason to leave the reporter waiting when she was probably working on a deadline.
She put her phone in the middle of the kitchen table, dialed Joy, and put it on speaker phone.
“I understand,” Joy said when Taylor had finished explaining. “I’d love to chat with you after you launch your project, so please keep my contact information. That being said, I’m without a story to write now. Do you think maybe Eva would be interested in a profile of her business?”
Eva leaned in from across the table. “I’m here with Taylor now and I would love to chat with you about possibilities. Maybe a piece on what it’s like to be a female entrepreneur? Or the considerations I’m taking in trying to make my business more inclusive for GLBT couples?”
“I think you’ve got this from here,” Taylor mouthed at Eva across the table, who responded by grinning and nodding at her.
Taylor got up to place their dinner plates in the dishwasher and then made her way to her writing desk.
They could pop open the champagne when she was finished with her homework. Maybe Eva could help her brainstorm about what kind of content she’d put on her website.
37
Taylor
Just inside the front door of the nursing home, Taylor and Eva paused to sign in at the desk. It was time for Eva to meet Grandma Scott. Taylor had called ahead to make sure her grandmother was having a good day. It wouldn’t do for the two of them to meet for the first time on a day when her grandmother wouldn’t recognize her own family members. Recently, though, it seemed that the fates were being kinder when it came to what and who her grandmother could remember. She was responding well to a new treatment regimen that involved an experimental medication that Taylor had been very, very nervous about her grandmother agreeing to try.
“Do you think she’s going to like me?” Eva asked, smoothing down her skirt.
“How could she not?”
Grandma Scott was already standing inside her front door waiting for them when they got there, all dolled up. Her hair was freshly curled and she had on her old signature lipstick and blush—both a dusky peach. Taylor couldn’t remember the last time she’d seen her grandmother do her hair or makeup.
Maybe the last time they’d gone to church. It had been a while.
“Don’t you look like a million dollars,” Taylor said, bending down to hug her grandmother. Every time she saw Grandmother Scott, she seemed more hunched over, smaller and lighter somehow. Today she was still feeble, holding onto the door frame for support, but was beaming like the chronic pain she endured from her arthritis wasn’t troubling her as much as it usually did.
Grandmother Scott kissed her on the cheek and whispered so that Eva couldn’t hear her. “Had to make a good impression on your lady friend so you’ll bring her around again.”
“Grandma, this is Eva.”
The two women hugged as though they were old friends, already comfortable with one another.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you.”
“Let me just lock up here and we’ll be off for an adventure,” her grandmother said, reaching for the purple cane decorated with hummingbirds Taylor had gifted her to replace the ugly doctor’s office issued one she’d been too vain to use before. “Thanks for helping me spring this joint.”
Taylor felt a little pang of guilt she didn’t get her grandmother out and about more often. Now that she had Eva’s help, it might be a little bit easier. Especially seeing how good Eva was with her—opening her car door and helping her with her things all the while teasing with questions about whether or not the facility had any cute male nurses Grandma Scott was eyeing.
“Oh, I’m eyeing them alright. They’re just not eyeing me unless it’s because they’re worried I’m a fall risk. What I wouldn’t give anything to be young like you girls again.”
* * *
Their destination was an upscale Italian restaurant north of downtown—the same place Amanda’s husband Jamison worked. Taylor dropped Eva and her grandmother off at the curb and then went off to parallel park.
For one night, the restaurant was closed off for a special invitation-only event for charity. In addition to paying for your meal, you had to pay for a ticket to get in. It was twenty dollars a head. They brought in a local celebrity from the classic rock radio station to host a trivia night. All of the cash that was collected went to the charity or nonprofit of the winning team’s choosing, provided the charity was on the restaurant’s carefully vetted list. Given the sizable crowd they’d drawn, the money pot was easily going to exceed a thousand dollars. Taylor couldn’t help but think about just how much more the community center could do for local kids with that kind of money.
To some people, a thousand dollars was chump change. To an organization like the community center, that was at least a month of free lunches for kids during the summer that had relied on the school system for two meals a day in the fall and spring. It was enough to restore the well-loved sports equipment used every day during the hours dedicated to programming for those that would otherwise be latchkey kids. Their basketball hoops and soccer goals had seen better days, the netting marred with holes.
“Remember, Grandma, we’re counting on you here. With all of the Jeopardy you watch, you’re bound to be our secret weapon.”
Grandma Scott shook her head. “Lord, child. Most days I can’t even remember your name. Your friend Eva here might just have to help us cheat by looking up the answers on her cell phone.”
Taylor pretended to be scandalized when Eva agreed. “With my lack of recent pop culture knowledge when it comes to anything outside of books, that might not be such a bad suggestion.”
When they got to their table, Dalton was already there. Taylor sat her grandmother next to him and introduced them. “Dalton here is a troublemaker. I need you to keep your eye on him so he doesn’t get us kicked out.”
“She exaggerates,” Dalton said, winking.
“And make sure he doesn’t leave to smoke. I’m helping him quit.”
Grandmother Scott raised her eyebrows. “All of the sudden my sweet, sweet granddaughter sounds like one of the dictators at my retirement community that cuts us off when they think we’ve had too much ice cream.”
“I’ll consent to your evil scheme tonight, but only because chatting with a beautiful woman is more fun than freezing my ass off outside.”
Was Dalton the obstinate actually flirting? Taylor hadn’t thought such a thing possible. It was like watching the Grinch’s heart grow a size or two.
Taylor was nearly positive that beneath Grandma Scott’s rouge, there might also have been a natural blush.
As far as she was concerned, her work there was done. She squeezed her grandmother’s arm and then whisked away with Eva to hunt down Amanda.
They found her with her husband in the kitchen, stealing a bite of the bubbling soup in front of him. “More pancetta,” she said.
Jamison saw the women approaching before Amanda did. “Can you believe the nerve of this woman? Correcting the chef unsolicited?”
Amanda clapped her hands together as soon as she whipped around to see Eva.
“Look at you, all honeymooned and sun kissed,” Eva said, throwing her arms around her friend.
“No, look at you two,” Amanda gushed, putting her hand on Taylor’s arm in greeting. “Here together as a couple looking absolutely beautiful.”
“I think I might have you to thank for that,” Taylor said. “I mean, yo
u did sort of force Eva into going out with me.”
“When it’s meant to be, it’s meant to be. Just like my onion, tomato, and pancetta soup. You gals better get out of here before I make you help me plate everything,” Jamison said.
“And he says I’m the bossy one,” Amanda quipped.
* * *
The meal had a set menu to make serving over a hundred guests all at once a bit more doable. The place was at maximum capacity.
On every table there were pitchers of ice water and tea, a glass of prosecco per person, a basket of crusty bread still steaming hot when broken open for butter and cruets of olive oil.
“Thanks for treating me and my grandmother,” Taylor said, squeezing Eva’s knee under the table.
“Happy early birthday.” Eva leaned over and gave her a quick peck of a kiss on the side of her head.
For the antipasto, there were veggie crostinis with balsamic, a cheese Taylor couldn’t place, basil and eggplant. The soup that followed was absolutely mouthwatering, fragrant with rosemary and garlic.
“Amanda, your husband needs to come to my facility and replace our chef,” Grandmother Scott said. “This is the first decent meal I’ve had in what feels like a lifetime.”
“If you like the food here, I can bring you back for lunch one day. Maybe right after you join me for senior book club with your granddaughter here. She makes for a great moderator,” Dalton said, bumping her arm with his.
“I bet she does,” Grandma Scott beamed. “I raised a smart cookie.”
“Grandma, you’re going to make the other women in book club jealous. Dalton’s the only male regular and I’m pretty sure several of the members are after him. He’s never brought a guest before.”
“Let them speculate!” Dalton bellowed. “Those women like their gossip.”
Grandma Scott dipped her head down to sip a spoonful of soup, looking bashful. Younger.
Forgetting Chuck Taylor Page 16