by Amy DeLuca
Once again, Kristal realized how fortunate she’d been to have her father essentially underwriting her struggling photography career since graduation, to have been doing what she loved without the pressure of supporting herself.
Well, that was over, obviously. Things were what they were. Photography wasn’t cutting it earnings-wise, but maybe she could still do some on weekends or something.
One thing was for sure—Kristal’s life was about to change big-time. She had to find a full-time job and a place to live, in that order.
Luckily, she had somewhere to stay in the meantime. Her friend Cinda owned a very comfortable couch, and Kristal had no doubt she’d let her stay a few days, at least until she could gather enough money for first and last month’s rent on an apartment—and find a roommate.
Kristal left the den, still feeling shell-shocked, and went upstairs to pack her belongings. When she was done, she opened her laptop and created an account on a job-search site.
Unfortunately, there was no category for Over-educated, Under-employed, and Suddenly-desperate.
Scanning the dismal display of local options, she found precisely nothing in her field. Maybe Cinda had an opening in her business, the Fairy Godmother Home Cleaning Service.
Kristal could certainly use a fairy godmother right about now. Or perhaps a magic mirror.
Mirror, mirror on the wall… happen to know anyone who’s hiring?
Four
Nice work, Bozo
Hunter cruised America’s Cup Way, the windows of his Bentley Mulsanne rolled down, inhaling the brisk marine air and taking in the beauty of Newport’s main drag.
On his left stood the historic Trinity Church, where George Washington had worshipped when visiting Newport. The white wooden structure, with its clock tower and tall, graduated steeple, watched over the quaint downtown of the colonial-era city.
On his right, the upscale hotels, high-end restaurants, and tony shops and galleries of Bowen’s Wharf buffered the street from the harbor, attracting tourists, even in this chilly weather.
It was good to be back after several weeks away meeting with business partners and clients.
Seattle and Silicon Valley had been especially fun places to visit, but Hunter would never want to live in either of them. The old adage was true… there really was no place like home.
Feeling hungry and wanting a true taste of home, he took a right onto Thames Street, heading for Ocean Avenue and his favorite restaurant.
It was a gorgeous winter day, and he had a yearning to see the ocean. There was no better reward for hard work than good food and great views, and there was no better venue for both than Castle Hill Inn.
The historic inn and its award-winning restaurant sat on a rocky bluff jutting right out into the meeting point of the open Atlantic and Narragansett Bay.
Its panoramic water views and dining room were legendary, and though Hunter would never say it out loud within earshot of his wealthy new acquaintances, it never failed to thrill him that he could actually afford to eat there now whenever he wanted.
Heck, he could afford to buy the place if he wanted to.
Who’d have thought the science Olympiad nerd from the poor side of town would grow up to be a jet-setting billionaire?
Well, actually, he had. Hunter couldn’t have foreseen all the details of his current life, but he’d known he would do whatever it took to change his circumstances, to ensure he’d always have enough to eat and a decent place to live and nice things to wear—and to show all those snooty rich kids who’d made fun of him he was just as good as them, if not better.
And he’d done it. He had it all. Almost.
Pulling up in front of the historic mansion that housed the restaurant and inn, Hunter gave his keys to the valet—with a hefty tip—and went inside.
Dark wood and antique furnishings created an elegant but welcoming atmosphere, and the smell of delicious food made his stomach growl.
“Mr. Bestia,” the hostess, Miranda, said. “So nice to see you again. Would you like to sit in the main dining room or in the smaller one near the window today?”
He grinned at her. “Either. But you know I want a water view. Always.”
Following her to a petite, beautifully set table in the small dining room, he slid into the bench seat, facing out toward the ocean-view window.
Miranda handed him a menu encased in a fine leather folder. “Would you like a wine list?”
“No. I’m jet-lagged already, so I’d probably drive off into the ocean on the way home if I drank anything right now.”
He wouldn’t get into it with her, but he’d given himself strict rules about drinking—minimal amounts on special occasions only, never on an empty stomach, and never during the day.
For one thing, he had far too much to do and the stakes were too high to ever let himself get sleepy, foggy, or out of control.
For another, he’d grown up with a daily example of how undisciplined alcohol consumption could ruin your life and the lives of those closest to you.
“Okay, your waiter will be with you in a moment,” she said. “Enjoy your lunch.”
Everything on the menu looked good. Hunter had taken the six am flight out of San Francisco this morning direct to Rhode Island and had slept through first class meal service. He could probably have eaten one of everything.
As he perused the entrees, wondering how he’d manage to narrow his choices to just one, his attention was stolen by the conversation from a nearby table.
A middle-aged couple, the only other diners in the small four-table space, spoke in low voices, but their affection for each other was evident in their mushy, lovey-dovey tones.
Hunter couldn’t stop himself from peeking in their direction. He’d expected to see two people on a first or second date—you could usually tell. But the man and the woman both wore wedding rings on their left hands, which were clasped on the tabletop.
Huh. Married.
The man must have noticed him watching them because he turned to Hunter with a happy smile. “I’m sorry. Were we talking too loudly? We’ve been here for a while and finished a bottle of wine. It’s our anniversary.”
His wife giggled like a newlywed. “Sorry. I don’t usually drink.”
Hunter raised a hand. “No. No. You weren’t bothering me at all. How many years?”
“Twenty-five,” they said in unison, then laughed again.
“Well, congratulations, and happy anniversary.”
They thanked him, and he made a mental note to pick up their tab.
Twenty-five years. Hunter briefly wondered if his mom had lived, would she and Dad have made it that far?
Would his father’s drinking still have spiraled out of control… or would he have been a completely different man?
Maybe the alcohol would still have won out, and he’d have made her as miserable as he’d made Hunter and Jack. Maybe his mother’s early death was a merciful escape for her.
Shaking away the unpleasant thoughts, Hunter decided to order the indulgent nineteen-dollar brisket burger—and some earplugs. The sweet talk from the happy couple was sweet, but it was making him feel like an interloper into a private moment.
It also made him jealous.
Neither of them looked older than fifty, so that meant that by his age they’d found each other—and obviously had made the right choice in life partners.
Hunter wasn’t having any such luck in his own personal life.
Work was great. He had amazing friends and business partners, but dating was… well, it just wasn’t much fun.
At the encouragement of his crazy-in-love newlywed brother, he’d been making an effort to get out more, to meet people, ask out women he found interesting instead of spending all his time in front of a screen, working.
The thing was, it all felt like a waste of time. Several of the women had been nice, but they’d really had nothing in common, and the conversation had been stilted and awkward.
Others
weren’t so nice. It had been obvious from nearly the beginning of those dates that they’d read up on him and his financial success and that had been pretty much the extent of their interest in him.
No thanks. I’d rather be alone.
Hunter was at the point of telling Jack he’d gotten the last good one in his wife, Bonnie, and even that courtship hadn’t exactly been simple. Jack had gone to extreme measures to lock that one down.
There was only one person on earth Hunter would ever go to that much effort for… and she wasn’t available or interested.
“Are you ready to order, sir?”
The sound of a soft female voice jerked his head up from the menu. Hunter had been so lost in his self-pitying thoughts he hadn’t noticed the waiter’s approach.
When he saw her, all the breath left his lungs in a whoosh.
“Kristal?”
He was dazed by a sense of unreality, as if his thoughts had conjured her like a genie. Kristal Bianco stood in front of him wearing a crisp white shirt with khaki pants and navy flats.
And a name badge.
“Oh, Hunter. It’s you.” One of her hands came up to rest at the base of her throat, her fingers fiddling with the top button on her shirt. “I didn’t recognize you with your head down. How are you?”
“Good… good…”
Hunter knew he sounded absentminded, maybe even a little clueless, but his head was spinning, and nothing was computing. What was she doing here?
“So… are you ready to order, or do you need more time?” Kristal prompted.
Finally, the fog cleared. “You… work here?”
She smiled, a little tightly. “I do. For the past couple of weeks. I’m still getting my sea legs under me, but at least I’m not doing everything wrong now. You wouldn’t believe how many glasses I knocked over the first week—and plates I delivered to the wrong table. So embarrassing. It’s not as easy as it looks.”
He nodded, utterly confused. “Yeah, I’m sure.”
At her expectant stare, he said, “’Oh, uh… I’ll have the burger. And an iced coffee… lots of sugar. I may look like a man, but actually I’m an oversized ant in disguise.”
She didn’t laugh at his joke, just gave him a polite, professional response. “Great. I’ll put that right in for you. Can I get you anything else right now?”
“No. I’m… good. Thanks.”
Actually, he wasn’t. Hunter watched as Kristal walked away, trying to make sense of the nonsensical.
She’d grown up on Bellevue Avenue with the kind of house and car and lifestyle he’d only dreamed about back in high school.
Now he was living in a mansion on Newport’s version of Billionaire Row—albeit a leased one he was sharing with six roommates for the time being—and Kristal was waiting tables. What a reversal of fortune.
Cursing himself for being so awkward and tongue-tied, (An oversized ant? Really?) Hunter vowed when she returned, he’d pull it together and actually talk to her like a normal human being, find out what was going on in her life.
What could possibly have happened?
He knew her father had died a couple months back, but Kristal was his only child—she should have been all set financially just from the inheritance alone, not to mention the life insurance Richard Bianco must have had.
Maybe she wouldn’t want to discuss it. They didn’t know each other that well… in spite of that blistering few minutes of intimacy they’d shared last summer at the Charity Relief Ball.
That unexpected—and much replayed—interlude was the reason he hadn’t attended her dad’s funeral.
It was already undoubtedly such a hard day for her, he hadn’t wanted to compound her misery by showing up and possibly making her uncomfortable with her boyfriend and family and friends standing nearby.
Hunter had sent a card and flower arrangement to her house, and that had been the last contact between them.
But now… she was here, and he was here, and well… frankly he was going to die of curiosity if he didn’t find out what was going on.
Maybe she was just bored and wanted to get out of the house. Did heiresses do that kind of thing?
When she returned with his lunch, Kristal seemed much more in control than she had earlier—or than he felt himself.
“The brisket burger with beer-battered onion rings… and one cup of sugar with a side of coffee. See? I got it right, Ant-Man,” she quipped.
“It’s perfect,” Hunter said, once again chagrinned at his stupid joke.
The happy anniversary couple got up and moved toward the door, and he lifted a hand in a wave to them. “Enjoy the rest of your day.” They beamed at him and left, holding hands.
Kristal smiled at the interaction while Hunter pulled out his wallet and handed her his credit card. “Do me a favor? Tear up their credit card slip and put their meals on mine.”
“Sure.” She smiled and cocked her head to one side. “That’s so nice. Friends of yours?”
“No, we just met. But it’s their twenty-fifth anniversary. In this day and age, that’s a monumental accomplishment. It should be celebrated.”
“I agree. Maybe I should follow them out to their car and ask how on earth they did it.”
Kristal’s cynical tone made Hunter curious. “How’s Harry doing?”
Her expression flattened. “I hear he’s fine. He left the firm and went out on his own. I haven’t spoken to him in a while. Will there be anything else for you?”
A pilot light flared to life inside Hunter, setting his blood to simmer. She’s not with Harry anymore.
“No. Thanks.” Kristal turned to go, but stopped when he said, “Actually…”
“Yes?” She turned back to him, wearing an expectant expression.
“I’m wondering… why are you working here?”
Her entire body tensed, her tone adopting a defensive edge. “It’s a nice place to work. My dad’s old friend runs the restaurant group that owns it. He gave me a job.”
Hunter shook his head. “No… I mean I know it’s a nice place. It’s my favorite restaurant. I just wondered why you’re working at all.”
She took a step back from the table. Her fingers twisted together, and she slapped on an impersonal smile. “It’s a long story. I’ll let you enjoy your lunch now.”
“Kristal. Wait.”
She darted a look at the door, clearly wanting to escape. But Hunter plowed ahead. “Listen… I’m not sure what’s going on, but if you need a loan or something…”
Her face went dark pink in an instant. Her expression shut down, going cold. “I’m fine… thank you. I don’t need your money. Enjoy your meal.”
She turned and fled from the room, disappearing around a corner. Great. He’d offended her.
Nice work, bozo.
He couldn’t seem to stop putting his foot in his mouth when he was around her. He spent the entire meal trying to come up with the right words to say when she came back with the check, something to mitigate the damage.
But she didn’t come back. A different waiter brought the check and asked how his food was.
“Excellent. Thank you.” Hunter pulled out his wallet and withdrew a credit card once again. “Where’s Kristal?”
“Shift change,” the woman said with a smile. “I’ll be right back with this.”
She departed, and he was left wondering how and when he’d be able to talk to Kristal, to explain that embarrassing her was the last thing he’d wanted to do. He wanted to help her for goodness sake. He’d do anything for her.
For weeks after seeing her—and kissing her—at the party, Hunter hadn’t been able to go more than a few minutes without Kristal on his mind.
Honestly, the encounter still popped up far too often on his internal movie screen. And it probably had a lot to do with his lack of interest in the women he’d been dating.
Who was he kidding? It had everything to do with it.
No matter how nice or attractive or smart they were… they wer
en’t her. And his stupid heart had, for whatever reason, decided to fixate on her. It was beyond frustrating.
Hunter couldn’t stand the thought Kristal might be in some kind of bad situation. He hadn’t been kidding when he’d offered a loan.
As far as he was concerned, they could just call it a gift and forget about it. His net worth was so high, just the interest on his bank accounts alone brought in nearly three million dollars per day. He’d never even notice a few hundred thousand dollars.
And in spite of her poor taste in boyfriends, Kristal was a good person. He wasn’t sure what kind of trouble she was in, but he had a strong suspicion it wasn’t her fault.
Whatever the problem was, he wanted to fix it.
Hunter signed the credit card slip, adding a brief note and deciding to stop by the Bianco family’s house later after Kristal had had a chance to make it home. He could apologize for his idiocy, tell her he was there if she needed him.
Maybe she’d invite him in, and they’d talk. Even if she wouldn’t let him help her financially, he could still be a friend.
Before walking away from the table, Hunter pulled several hundreds from his wallet and tucked them inside the small leather folder with the signed slip and the restaurant’s pen. Then he walked quickly to the exit before anyone came back to collect the payment and outrageous tip.
If he wasn’t there, Kristal couldn’t refuse to take his money. It was the least he could do.
Five
Pity for the Win
Kristal peeked from the kitchen door, releasing a sigh of relief as the back of Hunter’s head disappeared through the front exit.
When she’d walked into the small dining room, and he’d lifted his head from the menu, she’d nearly had a heart attack. It was the first time she’d seen him since the incident at the party.
He looked just as yummy as he had that night—maybe even better, with a light scruff and dark, windblown hair, wearing jeans and one of those off-white cable knit fisherman sweaters that made even an average guy look like a Kennedy.