Chapter 11 - Chelsea
“Chelsea!”
I think it’s the first time the cook has gotten my name right since I started here. He’s called me Chrissy, Caitlyn and Cassie, in addition to the original Cathy. I don’t know if it was his idea of a joke, or some sort of strange hazing. Maybe a bit of both? Whatever it was, I’m glad it’s over.
There is no time to thank him though. Two people didn’t show up for work today. Gayle did not seem overly concerned, or even surprised. But we are swamped.
Once the breakfast rush clears up and the lingerers—that’s what Gayle calls the people who sit with one cup of coffee using the free Wi-Fi—take over, I get a short break and check my phone. Scott texted me.
Can we get the ring on Tuesday?
Sure,I text back, swallowing my disappointment.
We had so much fun at the house, at least I did. But I have to stop thinking about this. Just because I’ve been dreaming about having my own renovation show—complete with my own dreamy husband/business partner—for about a decade, doesn’t mean this is it.
After work I grab my shopping bag and head to the supermarket. One of the great things about New York is that you can just stop by the market and grab the one or two things you need on your way home. Mom always made a big list for her weekly supermarket shop, based on the dinner plans she had made for the week.
“Do you want chicken on Thursday?” she’d ask my dad. “It’s on sale.”
“It’s Monday. How do I know what I’ll want on Thursday?”
Thinking about them affectionately teasing each other makes my chest tighten up.
Think positive, I order myself. The show could happen. And I get to look at jewelry tomorrow, which should be interesting. I wonder what Scott told his friend about us.
Mom’s system is actually pretty useful. Using the store’s sales circular to guide my choices, I came up with a menu plan for the week. Then I made the shopping list. I just don’t buy everything at once like we do back home.
When I turn down Remsen Street, I realize I’m expecting to see Scott, but there is no sign of him. I tell myself to ignore my disappointment. The guy does have a job, after all. While I put my groceries away, I listen carefully, but I don’t hear any noise up above me.
It’s a gorgeous day so I decide to go for a walk. I change into shorts and a tank top. After I lock up, I call my mom, who answers on the first ring.
“Is everything all right?”
“Yes, Mom, fine. I just missed you.”
“Oh, okay.”
We spend a few minutes talking about the farm. Apparently, my dad is really pissed off about a part for the irrigation system that he’s having trouble getting. Right now, he’s about two hours away picking it up from someone for, as my mom said he put it, highway robbery.
“So how is your job?”
Terrible, miserable, drudgery,I think. I can’t say that. She’ll remind me she told me not to go to New York until classes were ready to start.
“The tips are amazing,” I say truthfully.
“Oh, good, honey.”
Should I tell her? I mean about the meeting with the network, not the…other part.
“I do have some news,” I say slowly.
“What?”
“Well, Myles’s landlord, he’s a contractor.” He’s more than that, but I don’t need to give her every last detail. “He’s pitching a show to a network. A renovation show.”
“Oh, that’s exciting.”
I’ve made it to the Promenade, and I sit down on the first available bench. Immediately some pigeons come as close as they dare, to check me out. I don’t have any food, but, as usual, they seem eternally hopeful.
“That’s not the best part.” I pause. “He asked me to be the designer on the show. We meet with them on Thursday.”
“Oh, my god, honey, that’s fantastic. Wait, I have to call your father.”
“Mom, you’re on the phone with me.”
“Oh, right. Let me text him. Can I text while I’m on the phone with you?”
Theoretically? Yes. Realistically? Probably not.
“It’s okay, Mom.” I stand up and decide to walk the length of the Promenade and back before going back to my apartment. “You can call him.”
“Well, call me on Thursday and tell me what happens.”
“I will, love you.”
“Love you too.”
I walk all the way up the Promenade and back. I can see the Staten Island ferry chugging along. I stare at the Statue of Liberty for a bit. When we came here when I was twelve, we did go over there, and to Ellis Island as well. I should probably go again though, see it from an adult perspective. I wonder if Scott—
Stop,I order myself. He’s a born and bred New Yorker. Probably the last thing he wants to do is go to the Statue of Liberty.
The fresh air and the walk is invigorating. I’m really excited to get back to work on the design for the pitch on Thursday. It’s so nice out, I don’t want to be inside. The basement apartment really is like a cave. Instead, when I get home, I take my laptop out to the stoop. I look at my presentation and practice the words I’ve memorized to go along with each slide.
“Hey!”
I recognize his voice immediately and look up. I’m way too happy to see him. He’s just my landlord and, um, business partner. He’s carrying a large box and I focus on that.
“Did you get…”
He had said he’d get samples of the flooring, cabinets, etc.
“Yep. I was hoping you’d be home. I got most of them.”
“Great,” I say with hopefully enough enthusiasm to be convincing.
I can’t help wishing that he’d be that happy just to see me.
“You want to come up and we’ll go through them?”
“Sure.”
I tuck my laptop under my arm. I offer to take the box from him so he can unlock the door, but he shakes his head and puts it down.
“I was just working on the presentation.”
“Great. Go on in.” He picks up the box. “We can go out back.” He frowns. “Why didn’t you go out back? Can’t be easy to work on the stoop.”
“Oh, I just wanted to be outside.”
I lead the way and open the back door for him, then follow him out onto the deck.
“Thanks.” He puts the box down on his large dining table. “The backyard is outside, you know.”
True, and I have a door to it in my living room. It opens up under the deck. I’ve only been out there to put out the trash and recycling.
“Myles said…”
“What?”
“That I couldn’t use the backyard.”
“Oh, that,” Scott says, frowning, just for a second. “I did tell him that. I was imagining a college student throwing parties. You’re fine.”
Fine? What does that mean? I can be wild. Or at least fun.
“I can party.”
Ugh, that sounds so weak. I am lame.
“I’m sure you can,” he says, barely suppressing his grin.
Like I’m cute or something. Double ugh. I don’t want to be cute. Or, more accurately, I don’t want Scott to think I’m cute. He taps my shoulder in a way I can only describe as brotherly. Triple ugh.
“Be right back.”
When he disappears into the house, I test the weight of the box. It’s definitely heavy. I can lift it but carrying it home on the subway would not be any fun.
I take a piece out and inspect it carefully before laying it on the table. When Scott comes back, I’ve got it all organized, by unit and room.
“Wow,” he says, handing me a seltzer. “Got right to it, huh?”
“I’m impressed you could get everything so fast.”
“I know—”
“A guy, right?”
He laughs.
“In this case several.”
“I guess you didn’t have time to pick up the subway tile.” He doesn’t say anything. I look at him and he’s making a face I haven’t seen before. “It’s okay, sorry, I didn’t mean to criticize. I have all the links in the presentation. I just double checked them. Anything we don’t have, I can still show the network people.”
“Uh, huh.”
I put down the cabinet handle I’ve been scrutinizing and look right at him.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
“Seems like there is something.”
“Okay, it’s just, can’t you pick something else instead of subway tile?”
“Why?” He doesn’t say anything. “I thought I get to make all the design choices.”
“You do, but…”
“But?”
“I didn’t want to say anything. The designs are great, and I didn’t want to hurt your feelings.”
So he thinks I’m cute and oversensitive. I sigh loudly.
“What’s wrong with subway tile?”
“It reminds me of the subway. I mean, there are some stations where there are amazing mosaics, but the plain white rectangular tile, it’s…”
“Classic?”
“Never mind, I shouldn’t have said anything. You are the designer.”
“Okay, thank you.”
“Yep,” he says. “I was thinking of getting a pizza tonight. You want to walk down to Fascati’s with me?’
“No, thanks.” I start putting everything back in the box. “I already have plans for dinner.”
I don’t, but I think I just have to cut back on the non-work-based socializing. It’s distracting. The presentation is on Thursday, I need to focus. I head to the stairs.
“Hey, my key works on the back door too, right?” I ask.
“It should.”
“Kay, thanks.”
“Chels.” I turn back. “We’re going tomorrow afternoon to get the ring?”
Right. The fake engagement ring for our fake engagement for our business deal.
“Of course.”