by Sarah Gerdes
“I thought you were here to provide me encouragement and support,” she complained, then turned his reprimand around. “It was all your fault anyway. I got to thinking about what you said and thought that…”
“You thought that if he was really serious, he’d see you, change his mind and say he’d wait?” Her father sighed in the absence of a response. “I have one more thought I didn’t share during our last conversation.” Danielle could hardly wait. “Perhaps part of his bitterness that you just experienced was from his frustration that you couldn’t step back and let him take care of you. There is little more than a man wants than to feel as though he can provide for the woman he loves.”
“What? Are you serious? I have my money and he has his.”
“You’re missing the point. Yes, you have your money, but not enough to quit, at least in your mind. He apparently has enough of it to take care of you, and me and who knows what else, and you couldn’t just sit back and say, great.”
“Are you suggesting you would have had me do that?”
Her father laughed at her. “Of course not. What I’m trying to get you to see is that whether it’s with Andre or anyone else, at some point, the conversation will likely come up involving you allowing yourself to be mentally, emotionally, or financially taken care of. A man who feels underappreciated is not one who will remain for the long haul.”
“Geez Dad,” she replied, exhausted with the conversation. “I thought you were going to be an upper, and not focus on all my deficiencies.”
“And I thought you were going to be satisfied with the memories of what was and focus on what can and will be.”
“I was just hoping,” she said pathetically.
“No,” her father firmly cut in. “You were lonely. Either work more or pick up another hobby. People fall into depression when they’re not occupied. Get busy. Whatever it is. Make sure you don’t have time to think about him.”
The next day, as Lani and Stephen prepared to host Andre and his friends, Danielle called Giles. She told him she’d give discounted instructions if he let her teach at his shop.
“An instructor? I don’t have a single one other than myself. I’d love to farm that out to you. How much do you want?”
She laughed. “I want your staff guy to carry my board in so I don’t have to. Fair trade?”
“No, but I’ll throw in some free waxing and we’ll get closer to fair.”
Danielle told Lani she was staying away from the restaurant that night and received no pushback. Lani was too nervous and excited to argue. It wasn’t until the following morning at ten that Lani sent her a text.
We killed it. They want us to be open 7 days a week. No changes to anything. Even the music!
Danielle smiled, the news taking away the regret she experienced from not being a part of the event and towards the next milestone, which was the food editors. They were scheduled for Friday and Saturday. Her mood was lifted yet again by a text from Giles. He’d booked her first instruction lesson the following day.
That afternoon, Danielle waited until 3:30, closed her door then placed a phone call. Georgy was surprised and pleased to hear from her.
“Georgy, my father gave me some very good advice recently, which was to keep myself busy so I don’t have time to reflect on things I can’t change. Since I don’t yet speak fluent Swiss-German, nor do I know where to start helping out in this town, I thought Layda could give me a suggestion or two on retirement homes or other organizations where I might be able to make food and deliver it.” The thought had occurred to her that she might even spend a night here or there entertaining at the piano if the home happened to have one. She mentioned this to Georgy as well. He assured he would ask Layda at his soonest available opportunity.
“And you?” he paused. “How are you doing?” He asked with such kindness that Danielle felt a rush of emotion.
“I’ll be honest. It’s hard.” She told him about going to Andre’s game and the reaction she received. “I was stupid to think he might see me and change his mind. I just wanted one last time, to try.”
“Andre felt like you were already a part of the family. He’s taking it very hard. Worse than…well, I think this is the hardest event of his life.”
Danielle hesitated before she asked the next question. “Georgy, do you still believe I did the right thing?”
“Do you?” he answered back.
“Yes,” she said somberly. “I knowingly broke a contract I’d signed after I learned the facts. Even if it was only for a week, it was wrong. Had I ended it right then and there, it wouldn’t have been an issue. Now—well, to Andre’s point, I could have left and eventually earned my way out of a huge financial hole, but to leave the firm that brought me here high and dry wasn’t moral or ethical.”
“And that’s why I’ll remain a client, and I’ll do all I can to ensure my associates don’t leave either.”
Danielle’s throat tightened. “Georgy, I don’t know if it’s right to say this to you as a client, but as a person, I want you to know I really love you, in the most platonic, American’s say-what they-mean-type-of-way. You’re the best. In fact, you’re like my adopted Swiss dad.”
Georgy sighed heavily. “And you, my dear, are the daughter I never had. I’ll get back to you with some suggestions, but know this. If you ever need my help, on anything, call me. I’ll always pick up for you.”
Danielle thanked him, feeling a little less lonely in this adopted city of hers.
CHAPTER 28
Georgy kept his word, providing Danielle with contact information for the Asper Family Home, a caretaking facility for the elderly. He also mentioned that the home would love entertainment. “Andre told me you sing rather well. Better than many of those on the radio.”
Danielle pitched Lani and Stephen on donating extra food to the home and they happily agreed. In the meantime, she spent Friday evening making food in her home kitchen, knowing that as she did so, Lani, Stephen and the new staff were doing their best to impress the Zurich food editors.
Saturday she gave her first sailboarding lesson to a woman visiting from France, spending two hours on the basics. By the end, the woman was able to stay upright on the board long enough to catch the thrill. That evening, Danielle delivered homemade apple pie to the elderly. She also sat down at the piano, playing and singing old American favorites from the fifties and sixties. Many residents sang along to the music.
Danielle was home, laying on the bed, the television on and an unread book on her lap, when she received a phone call.
“We are ready to open!” Lani half shouted, her voice exultant. In a rush, she told Danielle the described the facial expressions, comments overheard and her general impressions of the food writers. Second helpings were requested, recipes were discussed, techniques explained and ambiance applauded.
“Danielle, you were so right. Even Andre said so.”
“Andre? Was he there?”
“Sure, I mean, of course. I’d told him you weren’t going to be present, so he came both Friday and Saturday, helping and observing. He agreed they were all in—my words, not his, but the point is the same. We think they loved it.”
Danielle was thrilled and said so.
“Good, because we want to go celebrate. It’s only eight and I want you ready by ten.”
Danielle stared at the TV set. The last place she wanted to be was on the dance floor. She wasn’t going to have another Andre-first-time-experience, nor did she want one. When you have the best, why try for another?
“I’m lying on the bed, Lani. You and Stephen and Andre go. You deserve it.”
A defiant snort burst through the earpiece. “So do you. Get off your butt, get dressed. We can meet you there or pick you up. Andre isn’t coming. It’s us three. You started this and you sure as hell are going to be a part of celebrating it. And I’m not taking no for an answer, so if we come over in an hour and you are in your pajamas, we stand and wait. We’ll pick you up in sixty,”
Lani told her, then hung up before Danielle could respond.
At the club, Stephen valet parked and the three walked towards the back of the line. Danielle was shocked when the bouncer called her name, ushering her and her friends to the front. Danielle murmured to the large man that she was alone tonight, and he nodded, unclipping the brass ring, waiting until Stephen was through before reclipping it.
“Better that way,” he said, motioning her up. Danielle caught Lani and Stephen sharing a look.
The manager with white, spiky hair caught her eye, came over and asked if she’d like a table by the bar. “I’m alone,” she repeated, “although with friends.” Danielle looked at Lani and Stephen, making it clear she didn’t want him giving her favors if Andre wasn’t about.
“No problem,” he said. “This way.” Danielle took the unexpected attention with equilibrium, ordering drinks along with the others. Johanne saw her, came over and the group did a round of shots, herself excluded, and then proceeded to the dance floor.
“Did you notice the manager making eyes at you?” Lani half-shouted once they were on out on the floor. Danielle shook her head. “You are so blind, it’s amazing.” After that, Danielle did see him looking at her once or twice, but it wasn’t the type of look Lani was implying. They were more…aware, as though he were looking for her and making sure she was doing ok before turning away.
Danielle stayed with Lani and Stephen, the threesome only broken apart when they started making out. She wandered over to the bar, then glanced up to the cages that were really square platforms with bars up to the ceiling. It was the one place she couldn’t be asked to dance.
Up she went and there she stayed, keeping her eye on her friends until they motioned they were ready to go. On the way out, the manager thanked her for coming, gave her his card and told her to call him if she needed anything special. “We’ll take care of you,” he said with a wink.
She smiled, remembering her father’s comment about what a man taking care of a woman really meant in today’s society. Her father implied she should be a little more grateful for Andre’s offer, rather than so scornful. For her part, she felt it was morally wrong for Andre to take on her father’s health bills, but that wasn’t her real issue. It was also her unease at giving up her independence. She’d seen what happened to women who stopped working: their skills grew out of date, finding a job wasn’t easy and the peak time of productivity was viewed as history.
Sunday night, Danielle told her father of volunteering at the home and giving sailboarding lessons. The hurt was still there, but not so crushingly intense. The love in her heart was like a summer animal crawling under the rock to escape the heat.
“I do feel a little better thinking Andre was in fact as hurt as I was. And yes, the job is fine,” she added, before her father could ask more about Andre. Danielle told her father how Ulrich remained overly formal, the stance he’d adopted after “the incident” as she now described it, but Lars acted as though nothing had happened. He was business as usual.
“He accepted my decision,” Danielle told her father, the statement interrupted by his coughing. “I’m here to work and that’s the end of it.”
“As…it… should be,” her father said, between hacks.
“That doesn’t sound real good,” she commented. The sounds were wet and deep, not dry and hard. She’d gotten to be an expert at the sounds the lungs make—and the potential causes of either. “How have your latest results been?”
Another cough. “Fine. You get the reports.” Danielle did, but during the last few weeks, she’d only glanced at the summary section. Because they were generally positive—or stable—in the words of the physician, she’d not read much further. “To change the subject, are you planning on coming home for August break?”
She sighed. Another thing she’d blocked from her mind. Three weeks in August. She would have liked to stay in the country and enjoy the weather and the water. On the other hand, getting back home and seeing her father, riding the waves of the Columbia and walking along the river during the Rose Festival would be wonderful.
“I’ve got to buy my plane tickets,” she told him, already reaching for her computer. She also had to prepare for the grand opening of Stars & Stripes. She called Stephen to see the response to all the positive press.
“We might get more customers than we can handle.”
“A good problem to have,” she said.
“Not if we can’t serve them efficiently or make the food good or fast enough.”
“Keep a positive vibe, Stephen. I’ll be there to help.”
And she was. Tuesday at 5 pm she was at the restaurant, the red, whites and blues gleaming from the sign outside. The stainless steel and chrome of the bar stools shone, and the red and white striped leather booths were enticing and comfortable, the red table tops straight out of a fifties drive-in.
“Listen to this,” Stephen said, touching a wall pad. Suddenly the whole restaurant was filled with the sound of dance music, startling the wait staff. Tonight, it was a hip-hop mixture, with Beyoncé pumping through the room. A line had already formed outside and it was a half-hour before opening.
Danielle went to the kitchen, hoping to say hello to Lani. It was a scene of orchestrated precision, with Lani as the master chef, her sous chefs and other workers quietly and efficiently preparing their dishes. Words were spoken clearly, quietly and with focus, none more so than Lani, who had seemed to rise to the occasion.
“Lani,” she whispered, waiting only until her friend looked up to wave and smile, and then Danielle retreated back to the main floor.
“Hello,” said a familiar voice. She’d practically run into Andre who was standing before her.
“I’m so sorry,” she stammered. “I…”
“I’m leaving soon,” he said brusquely. “I just wanted to show my support.”
“Me too. I mean, I wasn’t going to stay long either.” Danielle was flustered. She hadn’t expected to see him there, but it made sense that he would come. “Well, thanks for all your help with the press. It’s been really great.”
“Yes. It has,” he replied, turning away but not for the door. She walked back to the kitchen, biting her lip and forcing her hands to remain open, not clenched, as she walked to Stephen. No way in hell was she going to stay here a moment longer.
“Stephen, it looks wonderful and I wish I could stay but can’t.” He held her eyes for a moment, words unnecessary. Then he gave her a hug and opened the door.
Two weeks, she thought on the walk home. Two weeks until she left this place for the safety and comfort of her home town.
Not that it will change a thing when I return, but perhaps my emotions won’t be so raw after that. I’ll move through my rejected-anger phase and into a more positive, healthy, I-don’t-care-phase.
With that in mind, Danielle promised herself to work more, think less and spend her time teaching others to sailboard, right up until the time she left for vacation. As much as she wanted to drop in at the restaurant, she didn’t want to endure another scene like the one she just experienced until she was mentally and emotionally stronger.
Or at least as strong as Andre seemed to be.
CHAPTER 29
With one week and two days before she left for home, Danielle was sitting at her desk when an email from her father’s doctor came through. A regular update she thought. Acting more out of duty than real worry, she clicked on it. Her father had missed his latest check-ups, and the test results from the previous month were not good. She got up to shut the door then kept calling until he answered the phone.
“You are not taking care of yourself as you promised,” she began, skipping the pleasantries. “And the lab results prove it. You know, there are much more pleasant ways for me to resign than to say my father is dying.”
“Hon, don’t be overdramatic---”
“According to the doctor, any moment you could have rapid deterioration of your kidneys that is not reversible. Do you
understand what that means? Because I do.”
She was furious with herself. She’d been so caught up in her own life that she’d done little more than gauge his energy level during phone conversations, relying upon the doctor to alert her if his health was further compromised. He’d been coughing more than usual, yet that could have been a chest cold, a minor issue. But this…
“The doctor has exaggerated…” he began and she cut him off.
“Facts don’t exaggerate Dad,” her tone cold and hard.
“True, but they don’t reveal the story about my attitude,” he replied calmly.
Danielle let out a sigh of exasperation. “You’d better start focusing on this Dad, because I will have no hesitation to walking out the front doors of this firm and not coming back. In fact, I only have nine days until I get on a plane anyway.”
Concentrating was out of the question, so it was a good thing the markets had closed and the office had cleared out once she was off the phone. She was so focused on getting out of the building that she exited her office without a glance to her left and literally ran right into Lars as he walked by, his own briefcase in hand. He fell off balance, grabbing her arm as they tried to right themselves.
“I’m so sorry,” she stammered, shocked and embarrassed. To her utter amazement, Lars started laughing, holding her elbow as she straightened her dress.
“Whatever you do, you do with vigor,” he said, releasing her.
Danielle apologized again, ignoring the tingling that had now crossed up and over her shoulder and down her right arm.
“Danielle,” saying her name firmly. It demanded attention, and she was like the wolf in a pack, raising its head to the leader even when the instinct was to keep it low. She gave him the briefest of glances, just shy of being completely rude. “You’re not ok.”
She took a quick breath, conscious of maintaining control. Control was one thing she needed when around this man, particularly now that her defenses were down and her insecurities up.