Page 51 of Win Some Love Some
“Speaking fluent French to guests is great, if they also speak fluent French. Not so great when they don’t understand a word you say.”
“I suppose all the broken plates didn’t help either.”
Turned out I was a bit of a klutz in Petite III’s tight spaces.
“It wasn’t the plates so much as Mrs. Piedmont’s toe the other night when you dropped the bottle of wine on her foot. And Sunny’s pinky finger last week when you walked out through the wrong door. I’m really sorry, Nora. You know I adore you and so do the patrons…when you’re not confusing them or hurting them.”
I nodded and bit down on my bottom lip so hard, to try and hold back the tears, but they came anyway.
“I’m so lost,” I whispered. “I can’t actuallydoanything. All I can do is talk into my phone.”
Jolie dropped the towel and pulled me into her arms. She smelled like rosemary and lemons. “You know that’s not true. You’re finding your way, which is something every young woman should be doing. This didn’t work out, but you’ll find something that will fit you like a glove.”
She pulled a tissue from her chef’s apron. Jolie was always prepared.
“You know this breaks my heart more than it does yours, right?” she asked me.
I nodded. Jolie was too nice to take any pleasure in firing my ass despite the disruption I’d caused in her business these last few weeks.
“I really am sorry about Mrs. Piedmont’s toe and Sunny’s finger and…everything.” It had been a disaster.
“I know you are,” she handed me an envelope which contained my last wages and cashed out tips. “Now go, and treat yourself to something decadent that will make you feel better.”
I shoved both the tissue and the envelope of cash in my jeans’ pocket. On the plus side, I’d earned enough money that I could buy a new dress, (as long as it was on sale or consignment) and a reasonable gift for my friend Terry’s wedding in a few weeks.
Dad was right. It was about sharing the day with an old friend. If the gift wasn’t as extravagant as I was used to giving to my friends, in my life before as an influencer, well at least it was earned through hard work.
And a few broken bones.
A lot of broken plates.
And one tiny fire.
Leaving the restaurant, I decided to take the long way around the town square. It was an overcast day, with a bit of drizzle that would make my hair frizzy, but it wasn’t enough to deter me from taking in some fresh air.
I didn’t plan it. I didn’t even realize where I was going. But I felt shitty, and in Calico Cove when I felt shitty – I was like a homing pigeon to one person.
Nick.
This isn’t good for you, I told myself. You’re supposed to be staying away from him. For your mental health. For your heart. Weeks ago, I’d said we’d go back to normal, but I didn’t mean it. I would pretend to go back to normal. But if I did this…if I went and cried on his shoulder and let him take me out for chili fries, this wouldn’t be pretending.
Then what? How long after not pretending and actually being normal would it take for me to start loving him again? Like a fool.
Haven’t you been embarrassed enough, I told myself, trying to turn my feet in the other direction. But my feet were not listening. My feet were on a mission.
To Nick.
Fine. But this is a one-time thing. This is not something we’re doing again. This is not something we can get used to.
By the time I got to Nick’s shop, I was damp, resolved to my fate as a failed waitress, and ready for my something decadent. Which I was hoping was going to be chili fries at Pappas.
One of the garage doors was open, but I didn’t see Nick. A car was up on flats, but he wasn’t underneath it.
“Nick?” I called and made my way back to his office. It was also empty. He must have run out for something. Sometimes he would make house calls, if a car didn’t start in someone’s driveway.
I shook my head at the chaos in his office. You couldn’t even see the desk. It was just mountains of invoices and mail. Stacks of them had fallen on the floor. Nothing was organized. I picked up a few receipts that had fallen on the floor and sat in his roll out chair. He had a land line, (covered in invoices) but nobody in this town used it anymore.
If you needed Nick, you called his cell.
