“It’s a lot of money to just be spoiled lettuce,” I say. I hate to contradict Hank about business. I have to remind myself that if not for him, I’d probably be living in the same sort of rundown house I grew up in, living paycheck to paycheck, quitting jobs or getting fired from them after a few months, unhealthy and unhappy, a drink and a cigarette in hand at all times. I’d have grown up to be a man like my own father. Hank’s friendship turned my life around, and I’ll always feel a bit like I owe him, even if we’ve long been equal partners.
“Depends on how much lettuce it was,” Hank says, frowning even though he’s making a joke.
“I just think we should investigate it before we make any other plans,” I say. Something is wrong here, and it’s more than Hank is making it out to be. I’m certain of it. Money doesn’t just disappear, and we’ve recently let an employee go: my former assistant chef, Anthony, who had been incredibly angry about how everything went down. I don’t know if it’s connected, but it’s certainly possible, and so that’s enough to make me uneasy.
“We’ll keep an eye on it,” Hank says, “but I’m sure it’s nothing.”
“I know, but let’s not make any decisions until we have our answer,” I say.
“Okay,” Hank says, somewhat reluctantly. He turns, but then pauses and looks back over his shoulder. “Don’t mention it to Charlotte when she gets in, all right? She’s been worried enough about me as it is.”
“I won’t,” I agree, nodding. I hadn’t even thought of mentioning it to Charlotte. I haven’t really thought much about her coming back into town at all, to be honest. Last time I saw Hank’s daughter, she was a skinny kid with glasses and braces, bent over homework. We’d never had much reason to interact, and I don’t really think of her when Hank isn’t telling me about her apartment in the city or her nursing job. Still, I do think having her around will do Hank some good. His wife, Lana, and I had never really gotten along, and their marriage hadn’t been happy in all the years I’d known Hank. I know how much he loves his daughter and her being closer seems like a positive thing.
Chapter Three - Charlotte
My new apartment is beautiful. It’s bigger than anything I’ve ever been able to afford before, with bright, open lighting and windows I can see boats dance in the water from. There’s a sparkling kitchen, cozy living room, pastel-painted bedroom, and bathroom with amazing water pressure in the shower. It’s perfect, and it makes me so glad to be home. For a while, I push one of my chairs over by the windows and watch the boats, bright colors and sharp shapes on the open water. It’s comforting, relaxing – like it’s pulling the tension right from my shoulders and stomach that I didn’t even know I was carrying around with me.
I think I’ll have to buy a bench for this exact spot, so I can sit here and read, drink tea, and think. The movers have placed all my furniture in the appropriate rooms for me, so I don’t have to do any lifting. I unpack all the important things from my boxes, leaving decorations and out-of-season clothes for a later time. I’m meeting Dad at the restaurant in an hour, and I want to walk through town first to get myself reacquainted.
I’m delighted with how close I am to town with this apartment. There’s a quaint coffee shop down the block from me that I can’t wait to try, and a little market next to it selling food and housewares. A few blocks past that – not even a five-minute walk – puts me in the heart of the downtown business district. I’m suddenly surrounded by a lively crowd of people, talking happily, many with bags filled with holiday shopping in their hands. There are restaurants older than I am, and bars that are brand new. There are antique stores and shops displaying cell phones and electronics; there are boutiques with brand names and locally-produced clothes on the racks right next to each other.
The boutique where I bought all my favorite clothes in high school is still open, and I smile, remembering hours spent in its racks, convinced everything they sold was the coolest, the prettiest, the trendiest. It has a Christmas display in its windows now: mannequins in dresses and scarfs or jeans and sweaters pass wrapped gifts to each other, surrounded by large red and green glitter pieces. Three teenage girls push through the boutique’s doors, giggling and whispering as they do, making me think maybe not much has changed around here at all.
The whole town feels like that—new teenagers, some new stores, but the atmosphere holds the same easy content feeling it always has. I keep walking, passing three different families with ice cream, a new music store, and the small diner where I had my first kiss. Then I reach Dad’s restaurant and gasp. I’ve seen pictures, but I’m blown away by how great the space is. The navy and gold lettering stands against the brick front of the building, making the words, Dock’s End Bistro, popping in a dramatic way. The front windows are wide and inviting, with glimpses of tables and patrons visible from the street. I’m so excited to see the rest of the space that I almost run through the front door.
The inside is just as stunning as the outside had been: tables that seem intimate even though space is huge, high ceilings and dramatic lighting, splashes of color from curated photographs taken around town on the walls. It’s perfect. I can see touches I know must have been my Dad’s—the colors of the table linens, the font on the specials cards, the light, upbeat music piping throughout the space. I’ve seen it all before, in videos taken on Dad’s phone and in dozens of newspaper pictures, but none of them did it justice.
“Wow,” I breathe, shaking my head slowly.
“Charlotte?” a deep, surprised-sounding voice says. I turn my head and—
“Danny?” I ask, sure the surprise in my own voice is obvious. I’d be embarrassed if I could stop staring at him to notice it. Danny looks so different. He’s tall and his shoulders are broad, his features are sharp and his eyes are bright, his hair is carefully styled, and the shirt he’s wearing clings to his well-defined muscles. He looks so good. I’ve never thought about Danny looking good or bad or like anything but Dad’s friend Danny even once before in my life. I’ve always thought of Danny as so much older since he’s my Dad’s best friend – my Dad’s peer, not mine. Except now, seeing him again after so much time, he doesn’t look old at all. Maybe it’s that I’m a lot older myself, not a kid anymore, but I can’t help but let myself think that he looks better than anyone I’ve dated lately. It’s odd to think, but he’s hot in a head-turning way. In a way where if he’d been a stranger I’d seen across a room, I still would have noticed him – remembered him long after.
“Your Dad said you were back today,” Danny says, stepping in toward me, smiling broadly.
“Well, here I am,” I say, and then regret the awkward turn of words. Danny doesn’t seem to notice much as he pulls me into a quick, friendly hug. He smells good, like a combination of whatever he’s been cooking in the kitchen and a musky sort of smell that’s probably soap or cologne. I try to put it together in my mind, how to reconcile that this handsome man is the same Danny who once wore a constant scowl and a new girl on his arm every week. The same Danny who had always smelled of cigarettes and motorcycle exhaust fumes close up.
“What do you think?” Danny says, letting me go and gesturing around the restaurant. “This is your first time at the Dock’s End, right?”
“It looks incredible,” I say, “so much better than all the pictures I’ve seen. I hear your food is the real star here, though.”
“You should try some,” Danny says, smiling at me again, looking like my comment about his food pleased him. I smile back, thinking about changes—to Danny, to this town, to my life as a whole of late—and can’t help but feel optimistic about all the good vibes in the air.
Chapter Four - Danny
Charlotte is beautiful. She’s absolutely stunning, and I can’t stop staring at her. She’s poised and confident, her laugh is charming, and her smile lights up all the features on her pretty face. Her sweater shows off her slender curves and makes her skin, makes all of her look so soft. Dare I say touchable?
I know
I shouldn’t be thinking about Hank’s daughter like this, but from the first moment she turns to look at me, I’m captivated.
“Dad promised a taste of the whole menu,” Charlotte says, smiling at me.
“He mentioned that,” I say, laughing, “but I’d recommend you spread it out a little because he won’t let me or the kitchen make you small portions.”
“Sometimes I’m convinced he thinks I didn’t feed myself at all in Philadelphia,” Charlotte says, laughing a little.
“Hank doesn’t like to think about anyone eating when it’s not at his restaurant. It’s not just you,” I say, making her laugh again.
“He really doesn’t,” she says, shaking her head, “and don’t get him started on food delivery services.”
“Did you know we have one here now?” I ask, nodding in agreement. Hank sticks to all of his convictions at all times. It goes with his big ideas and giant visions, I think.
“A food delivery service?” Charlotte asks, raising her eyebrows like it surprises her to learn.
“Bay Runner Delivery,” I say, “they came here and asked if we wanted to be a participating restaurant.”
“And Dad threw them out?” Charlotte guesses. I smirk, nodding.
“He threw them out,” I confirm, then lower my voice. “But I’ve used them every once in a while in a pinch, though. I can give you one of their magnets, but only if you promise to keep it a secret.”
“I think I can do that,” Charlotte says, laughing again. Every time I make her laugh, I’m more pleased than I should be. I can’t believe this beautiful woman in front of me is Charlotte, who I remember as nothing more than the skinny, awkward kid who used to hum to herself while doing homework in back booths at the old pizza parlor. I can’t believe Hank’s daughter looks like the kind of woman I’d love to buy a drink for, take out to dinner, even bring back home with me if the night went well.
“You do have to eat when you’re not here,” I say, nodding. “And I don’t know about you, but every nurse I’ve ever known is busy all the time.”
“I was barely in my old apartment long enough in the day to sleep, let alone cook meals,” Charlotte agrees, tucking a strand of hair behind her ears, “but I should have at least a little more time now.”
“You’re working for one of the hospices, right?” I ask, remembering Hank talking excitedly about her coming home.
“I am! I start in two days, actually,” Charlotte says.
“Are you looking forward to it?” I ask. I want to keep Charlotte talking, want to extend this conversation as long as I can.
“It’s a huge change for me,” Charlotte says, playing with her hair again. “I’m used to working long hours and overnights, to everything being so busy and urgent all the time. I did two years in the emergency room and three in the ICU before I settled in cardiac for a while. Hospice is like a different world.”
“It sounds like it,” I say.
“I mean, you went from a ship to a kitchen, right? That’s a bigger change,” Charlotte offers. I nod. I want, so badly, to ask her if she’d like to talk about it all over drinks. I want to invite her to dinner with me, to hear every detail about her life and career. If she was any other woman, I would. But I don’t. I can’t. She’s not any other woman—she’s Hank’s daughter.
I don’t know if Hank would be too thrilled at the idea of me dating his daughter. At the idea of me even thinking about wanting to. Not just because we’ve been friends for so long, but because he’s seen relationships of mine go very wrong. He’s seen what I was like before the Navy – when I ran into a new woman each week. Has seen how, even lately, I’ve never exactly settled. Hank has teased me about my way with women in the past, good-natured ribbing, but I have a feeling it wouldn’t be so good-natured if Charlotte was involved.
“I’ve got Hank to thank for that,” I say, mostly to remind myself.
“Is he here? I’m surprised he hasn’t noticed me yet,” Charlotte says, glancing around.
“He was taking a phone call. He might still be on it. I’ll walk you back to his office,” I say like I probably should have to start with.
“Thanks,” Charlotte says, “and then you have an entire menu to cook me, don’t you?”
“Highlights, anyway,” I say, nodding. Charlotte laughs again as we start to walk through the Dock’s End, past the bar, and toward Hank’s office.
“I’ll be here enough to eat the rest over time. I told Dad I’d help when I’m not working,” Charlotte says, eyes sweeping around the space, taking in details. I swallow, both delighted by and dreading the idea of her being around a lot all at once.
“Good, we could use the extra hands,” I say, and it’s true. With the Naval Academy Ball, general holiday rush, and whatever is going on with our finances, having another trusted person around will be a huge help.
“Whatever I can do,” Charlotte says, eyes on me again as we reach Hank’s office door. I can think of several things I could have her do, but I swallow those thoughts down. I grin at her instead and knock once on Hank’s door to let him know I’m coming in before pushing it open, a system we worked out years ago.
“Delivery,” I say. Hank hangs up the phone on whoever he’s talking to and jumps up to hug his daughter. I step back, not wanting to intrude, and head back to the kitchen. I think about Charlotte being here all the time and I shake my head. I tell myself it’s ridiculous. Just because a beautiful, clever woman is going to be around all the time doesn’t mean I have to do anything about it. It doesn’t mean I can’t just treat her like she’s a casual friend, doesn’t mean I can’t control myself.
And then I hear her laughter ringing from Hank’s office all the way in the kitchen, and I know I’m wrong. I’m fucked. She’s not something I’m going to be able to forget about.
Chapter Five - Charlotte
I can hardly believe my new job is considered work, let alone work in the same field. The tour and orientation paperwork are a blur, names and rooms and numbers of vacation days. The nursing station is bright and crisp, somehow both warmer and more modern than what I’m used to. The patient loads on each nurse are much smaller than I’ve ever seen, even in the ICU. No one is running, and even the call bells sound in a calm, low-pitched tone. An aide at the nursing station answers them from a phone and heads off to assist patients.
The hospice has inpatient and outpatient services. Downstairs, I meet a team of people setting up services in nursing facilities and people’s homes. I’d consider working on the in-home side, traveling to work with patients all over town, but decided I’d rather not drive around all day. I’ve never been a huge fan of being in cars for extended periods of time, and I’d prefer to show up somewhere in the morning and stay until I’m done. I’m glad I’ve chosen the inpatient unit, even more now that I’m spending time in its warm atmosphere.
A pleasant older nurse named Kristen shows me around. I’m supposed to be shadowing her for a week before I’m given my own assignment, but she promises that with all my experience, I’ll get the hang of things really fast. Kristen talks fast and she talks a lot, making my morning fly by. Everyone I meet is chatty in a way that doesn’t seem gossipy, and it makes me feel at home quickly.
Around lunchtime, it comes up in conversation that Dad owns the Dock’s End Bistro, and several of my new coworkers excitedly start to praise Dad and Danny. Kristen’s husband had his last birthday dinner there and it was amazing. Another nurse says she went for her nursing school graduation dinner, and an aide says it’s a date night must, and a social worker chimes in that every time he goes, it feels new and fresh. Everyone has nothing but good things to say about the space and the food, and I feel warm hearing it.
After having eaten some of Danny’s food a few days ago, and after having spent time in the restaurant, I agree with them. Danny is an amazingly talented chef, skilled and creative. His food is flavorful – both comforting and exciting at once. Everything about him is comforting and exciting all at once, really.
I haven’t been able to get him or his kind, handsome face out of my head.
In the early afternoon, Kristen introduces me to an elderly woman who’d been asleep earlier. She’s tiny and bright-eyed, sitting up in bed and smiling despite her condition.
“Charlotte, this is Catherine. She’s a real veteran around here,” Kristen says, smiling warmly at the frail women, who laughs.
“I’ve been dying for a long time now,” she says, laughing a thin, raspy sort of laugh at her own joke. I laugh too. Over the years, I’ve heard patients deal with illness in all sorts of ways. Humor, even if it’s dark, always seems like it’s helping a lot more than lashing out in anger or withdrawing in depression.
“You can really help me get to know things here, then,” I say, smiling and extending a hand to shake Catherine’s.
“Sweetheart, I can tell you every secret this place has,” Catherine says with a wink and another raspy laugh.
“I’m looking forward to it,” I say, instantly liking Catherine immensely.
“I’ve been told I’m a great storyteller,” Catherine says.
“That you are,” Kristen says. “I keep saying we should hold a story hour, starring you.”
“I like that sound of that,” Catherine says, coughing into her hands, eyes still sparkling even as she does.
“I’m going to let you two get to know each other. I’ll be right back,” Kristen says, excusing herself with a quick nod to me. I nod back. I’ve trained people and had them shadow me for weeks on end at the hospital, and I know how sometimes it makes it feel impossible to get daily tasks done. I don’t mind being left on my own for a bit.
“Before I tell you anything, I want to know about you,” Catherine says, smiling broadly at me and pointing to a chair by her bedside. “How long have you been a nurse?”
Hot Boss: An Office Romance Page 21