Unlike men like Oliver Krispin.
Oliver parked the Mercedes. As she stepped out onto the sidewalk, Oliver rushed around the back and said, “I planned to open the door for you. Like a gentleman does.”
“No need,” Amelia said coldly. “I’ve managed to open plenty of doors on my own over the years.”
“Maybe you should give lessons,” Oliver returned.
The joke again surprised her. Amelia let out a single laugh and then tried to swallow it back. Oliver gave her a look that told her just how clever and funny and interesting he thought he was. Her eyebrows lowered. She had to keep it together.
They appeared at the front of the restaurant, where the hostess greeted them warmly. Amelia eyed the diners and realized that, for maybe the first time in a long time, she didn’t recognize a single person. This wasn’t your typical islander’s night out joint.
“Oliver Krispin. For two,” Oliver said.
The hostess eyed Amelia. Amelia wondered what the look meant. Did she perhaps think Amelia wasn’t good-looking enough for this handsome and clearly rich man? Was she asking herself, why her?
“Right this way,” the hostess said. She turned and swung her hips to-and-fro as they walked through the tables, which flickered with the soft light from the candles. They marched all the way to the back, where the hostess opened up a little side door and led them into a private room, with gorgeous, vintage-looking wallpaper, and a single, long table, set with china.
Oliver pulled out a chair for Amelia as Amelia peered at him curiously. “What is this?”
Oliver flashed another arrogant smile. “This is where we’re dining.”
“But—” But before Amelia could protest, the hostess stepped up alongside them and began to describe some of the expensive wines they currently served, along with the day’s menu, which constantly changed. Oliver sat across from Amelia and then gestured for Amelia to sit, as though he had to remind her not to be rude.
Amelia just felt like a fish out of water.
“I think the ‘98 Merlot will suit us just fine,” Oliver said evenly. “Along with some roasted garlic for now.”
The waitress bowed her head and retreated back into the beautiful restaurant. She pulled the door closed behind her, which meant it was just Amelia and Oliver, Oliver and Amelia, in a space from the rest of society.
“Why won’t you sit down?” Oliver said finally, after a strange, tense moment of silence.
How could Amelia explain? He looked at her now as though she had three heads. Slowly, she gripped her chair and dragged it out, then sat.
“I just don’t understand why we have to be all cooped up in here,” Amelia said finally.
“It’s what I always do with business meetings,” Oliver returned. “And you said it was a business meeting, didn’t you?”
“Yes.” Amelia’s heart pattered quickly. Was she just nervous about being so close to him? “We’re just so far from everyone else. It feels weird to be at a restaurant, without all the ambiance.”
“Really?” Oliver continued to blink at her as though he hardly recognized her. “I normally get so annoyed at everyone around me. You can hear every boring and banal conversation.”
“Are you suggesting that the people on Martha’s Vineyard are too boring and banal for you to sit close to?”
Oliver arched his eyebrow. “I think you’re trying to look for reasons to be mad when there aren’t any.”
“Is that so?” Amelia demanded. She felt a sudden rush of energy, as though every moment thus far since she’d taken her leave of absence had built toward this one.
At that moment, the waitress arrived back with their wine. She tilted the bottle toward Oliver, who nodded, then watched as she removed the cork, then poured the tiniest bit of liquid into his large glass. He lifted the glass so that two fingers sat on either side of the stem, and then he sipped. His gentle nod told the woman to pour them both glasses. Amelia wondered if she sensed the tension between them.
When the waitress left, Oliver lifted his glass of wine toward Amelia. Amelia crossed her arms over her chest, suddenly disgusted with all of this. Why had she come here with this man? Did he really plan to help her get back to work, or did he want to toy with her like this — take her out for strange private dinners and make fun of her?
“To you,” he said. He then waited for Amelia to lift her glass, but she made no motion to.
“I don’t feel up to drinking,” Amelia said.
Annoyance fluttered through Oliver’s eyes. He cleared his throat and then took a big sip of wine. “Okay. It’s only four hundred dollars a bottle. But okay.”
“Enjoy,” Amelia returned as she flashed him a huge smile.
What did he care if he spent four hundred dollars? He was made of money.
“So. Tell me. What’s up with Zane?” Amelia said somberly.
“Don’t you want to order food before we get started on business?”
“No. I want to get started as soon as possible.”
“Hmm. Well. Then.” He returned the menu to the tablecloth and lifted his wine glass again. “You should know that he’s started calling you a ‘previous’ employee.”
Amelia’s blood ran cold. She gripped the fabric of her skirt hard, as though she wanted to restrain herself. “You don’t even know all the trouble I’ve gone through to keep that place above water.”
Oliver shrugged. “Let me ask you this, Amelia. Didn’t you ever want to do anything else? I mean, you seem like a smart woman. Much smarter than Zane or any of those other clowns down at city hall.”
Amelia’s chin quivered. “I don’t know if that’s a compliment or some kind of insult.”
Oliver chuckled. “Take it however you want. I can already tell; you’re winding yourself up.”
Amelia shot up from the chair. She glared at him and then demanded of herself why, why, why she remained in that stupid, closed-off room with this man. Before she knew what she was doing, she shot through the door and headed back toward the foyer of the fancy restaurant. When she reached the sidewalk, she began to walk away from the restaurant, as her eyes became wet with sorrow and anger.
“Amelia! Hey!”
Oliver wasn’t far behind her. She clacked forward, her arms crossed over her chest and her eyes focused on the western horizon. She prayed for one of her best friends to drive by if only so she could make a quick escape.
But seconds later, there was the sound of racing feet, and Oliver’s hand clasped around her elbow to make her stop. “Amelia! Stop, will you?”
Amelia yanked herself around and glared at this rich specimen. “I’m sorry. Did you want something from me? Or did you just want to rub in all this power you have over my job and my position on the island and the people of the island and the island itself?”
Oliver seemed disheartened. It was clear that the evening hadn’t gone in the direction he’d wanted it to.
“Just come back inside, Amelia. Please. I want to buy you dinner. I promised I would.”
Amelia drew her elbow away from his hand. “I’m not hungry.”
“Perfect. We can order those ridiculously expensive small plates. It’s barely food, anyway,” Oliver said.
Amelia’s chin quivered. She couldn’t snap out of her anger and sadness. “You really don’t know what you’ve taken from me, do you? You don’t understand that none of this is really a joke to me.”
A car whipped past; its tires slashed through a puddle and splattered the dark water across the sidewalk. Amelia turned her eyes toward the puddles.
“I really do want to help you,” Oliver said finally. “It’s the reason we’re here together.”
“You don’t understand,” Amelia said softly. “People don’t help me. I’ve never needed help. I’m the one who helps. I’m there for everyone. It’s my—my thing. It’s—”
Just then, her stomach gurgled so loud that Amelia stopped speaking. She turned her eyes toward her belly. Her body had totally betrayed her.
And at that moment, Oliver laughed aloud. Amelia’s giggle rolled out a few seconds after that. The two of them stood out there in the grey darkness of early spring, laughing themselves silly. If asked about it later, Amelia wouldn’t have been able to say what the heck was so funny. But in these moments, she felt strangely united with this man, as though he was someone she’d known a long time.
“I think it’s possible I’m just really hungry,” Amelia said as she clenched her eyes tight. “And I don’t think I can be blamed for anything I say.”
“I’m starving, too,” Oliver admitted.
Amelia turned back toward the restaurant. She could still practically see that long-ago evening when she and Suzy and Daniel had gathered outside before the rehearsal dinner. The place seemed cursed.
“Do you mind if we go somewhere else?” she finally asked.
Oliver laughed again. “I swear. No other woman on the planet would make a fuss about the special night I just planned.”
“I just can’t go back in there,” Amelia said. “And those small plates? I don’t think they’re going to cut it.”
Oliver brushed a strand of hair from his forehead and gave her a tender smile. “Where do you want to go?”
Chapter Eighteen
Amelia and Oliver stood in front of the Edgartown diner, a place Amelia and her best friends had frequented as teenagers — with glowing white tables and retro furnishings and a jukebox in the corner. Oliver’s eyes were doubtful, and Amelia slipped her arm through his and said, “It’s the best of the best of all the comfort foods. Fries. Onion rings. Grilled cheese sandwiches. Chicken tenders.”
Oliver rolled his eyes playfully. “You know, The Terrace had a special on snails tonight. I couldn’t wait to show you. They cook them in this garlic sauce, and—”
“I’m sorry, what was that?” Amelia said as she rushed forward and pressed the door open. “Something about mozzarella sticks?”
Once in the diner, Amelia had to admit that Oliver looked entirely out of place. Not a single soul, in the history of the diner, had worn such a spectacular suit within its walls, and the various diner regulars looked up at him as though he’d stepped out of the pages of a magazine. Oliver blushed, as though, for the first time in a long time, he realized his money mattered very little.
To Amelia’s surprise, Chelsea, Olivia’s daughter, was at work. She’d broken her leg in a freak accident at Olivia’s inherited mansion the previous month, but she sped around easily on crutches and ordered her boyfriend, Xavier, to take various plates and trays out to customers. They had quite a formula worked out, one that seemed seamless so that all the orders were delivered on time, and all the tips were pocketed by the two of them. Amelia could feel the new yet hopeful love that brewed between them. Olivia had mentioned that Xavier and Chelsea planned to leave the island together in the near future. Probably, they’d already begun to save up.
Chelsea eased over her crutches clacking and her smile widening. “Amelia!” she said. “I haven’t seen you in a while.”
“You look fantastic, Chels,” Amelia said. “You whip around here faster on crutches than I do on two legs.”
“I’ve really mastered them. Maybe I’ll even miss them when they take the cast off. I’m just glad they let me come back. I was getting so bratty sitting on the couch all the time. I think we watched every single movie that has ever been made. Xavier was about to lose his mind.”
Chelsea’s eyes turned toward Oliver, who looked increasingly anxious, as though for the first time ever, he had no idea what to say.
“Anyway. You two look like you’re headed to the symphony or something,” Chelsea said. She slipped a pen behind her ear and leaned heavily on her crutches.
“Actually, we’re just here for dinner,” Amelia said.
“Huh. Okay. Well. I have this table by the window free. Does that work?”
Amelia and Oliver sat across from one another in strange silence as Chelsea smacked two laminated menus between them and then cut back toward the kitchen. In the meantime, Xavier arrived with two ice waters. “Chelsea will be by to get your orders in a sec,” he announced before he headed back in her direction. Just before Amelia looked away, he placed a hand on the base of Chelsea’s back and whispered something in her ear. Amelia could feel it — the hope between them.
“So, what do you think of the menu?” Amelia asked finally.
Oliver cleared his throat. “It certainly doesn’t align with my nutritional values.”
Amelia laughed aloud. “Nutritional values?”
“You know, low carb, high protein—that kind of thing.”
“Right. It sounds like you really know how to live,” Amelia said.
Oliver blushed and placed his menu off to the side. He then folded his hands over the table and wagged his eyebrows.
“What is that look for?” Amelia asked.
“It means I’m ready to order.”
“The salad, no dressing?”
“Something like that,” Oliver said.
Chelsea arrived back and blinked down at them, her pen poised on her notepad. “Ready when you are.”
“Okay. Great. I’ll have the grilled cheese with a side of onion rings,” Amelia said. “Plus, hmm. A diet coke.”
Chelsea jotted down various notes and then turned her eyes toward Oliver. Her expression was lined with doubt.
“And for you?”
Oliver cleared his throat. His eyes glittered strangely.
“This is my first time here,” he began. “So I want to make sure I get to taste all of your cuisines. I’d like to start with breadsticks, with both garlic and cheese dipping sauce, along with mozzarella sticks and a side of pickle rings.”
Amelia’s jaw dropped.
“After that, for my main course, I’d like the double-cheeseburger with bacon and, of course, french fries. It seems like this is the type of place where you have to try the fries. Right?”
Chelsea nodded. “Yeah. They’re killer.”
“Great. And I want a milkshake. Chocolate. But bring out a strawberry milkshake too, for the lady.”
Amelia forced her eyes to meet Oliver’s. Chelsea made a final note and then said, “I’ll bring a wheelbarrow out after to take you out of the restaurant.”
“Great service.” Oliver winked. He wore a grin from ear to ear.
Chelsea gathered the menus as Amelia continued to sit in shock. After a long pause, she clucked her tongue and said, “You really know how to order.”
Oliver shrugged. “I can’t just come in here and get a run-of-the-mill burger. I want to experience this diner in all its greasy glory. And! I want to do it while listening to something good.” Oliver grabbed his wallet and found three dollar bills, which he then took over to the jukebox.
Amelia watched him, totally mesmerized, as he flipped through the CDs from other eras and typed in the numbers to his chosen songs. By the time he arrived back, Fleetwood Mac’s “Everywhere” flourished from the speakers.
“I love this song,” Amelia said, totally surprised that he’d picked something so close to her heart.
“Me too,” he said.
Xavier arrived with the breadsticks and the mozzarella sticks. Oliver grabbed a breadstick, tore it in half, and dunked the doughy part into the garlic. As he did it, he said, “I’ve already given up on trying to kiss you, so I guess garlic it is.”
Amelia laughed aloud again. She grabbed the other half of his breadstick and followed his lead. “I told you. This is a business meeting.”
“Yeah. It really feels like that.” Oliver’s words sizzled with sarcasm, but they weren’t unkind.
After a long moment of silence, Oliver swallowed his breadstick and then added, “I really haven’t eaten anything this delicious in a long time. It makes five-star New York cuisine look sad.”
“Long live the diner,” Amelia said. “I have so many memories in this place.”
“So many guys, I guess,” Oliver returned. “You probably
bring us all here.”
Amelia’s cheeks burned. Delicately, she placed the second half of her mozzarella stick on her plate and dried her hands of grease. “Actually, not really. To be honest with you, I haven’t done much dating over the years. My life was my job. And now, I don’t have anything. Weird to say, I know. But it’s true.”
Oliver chewed contemplatively. “It’s not weird to say. I’m kind of a workaholic myself. I respect that kind of life.”
Amelia nodded. “I am grateful that I found a career that fulfills me so much. I know it’s not a common thing.”
“Right.”
“But, well. I can’t help but think that I’ve really neglected some major parts of what life is meant to be,” Amelia continued.
Why was she speaking so openly? Was it the grease on her tongue? Was it the Fleetwood Mac on the speakers? There was something strange and outside of time here.
“Like, a few weeks ago, I went on a date with a guy I met after he hit my car,” Amelia continued.
Oliver’s eyes sparkled. “Wow. That’s a funny way to meet someone.”
“Yep. I thought so, too, until I went out on the date and realized I had absolutely no idea what to say to this guy. I felt like a complete idiot. He was kind of like you, very wealthy and powerful. He had the world on a string, that kind of thing. And then, to make matters worse, I went back to his hotel room and had to do the walk of shame back to my car,” Amelia said.
Oliver laughed appreciatively. Amelia was surprised that he didn’t make her feel like a loser with three heads.
“A walk of shame. Haven’t done that in a while,” Oliver returned.
“Can men even do a walk of shame? I thought that was a purely woman-only action.”
“Sure. We can feel shame as we walk,” Oliver said with a laugh. “Women don’t have a moratorium on walks of shame.”
“Learn something new every day,” Amelia said.
The rest of their food arrived, along with the milkshakes. Amelia sucked at her strawberry shake greedily and immediately got a brain freeze. Oliver laughed aloud as another of his songs came on the jukebox — Bruce Springsteen’s “Dancing In The Dark.”
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