Chapter 13
I shifted and turned. Why was I so uncomfortable? My forehead leaned against something soft, and I began to drift away when a groan made me shoot straight up and blink at the now bright room. “I’m awake.” My eyes squinted some as I scanned my surroundings. The sheers on the windows blocked hardly any of the outside light whatsoever so no one needed to turn on a lamp to see.
Liz was lying flat on her back with her hands over her face. “I’m never drinking again.”
I rose and grabbed the glass of water I’d had on the ready since she woke at two in the morning when she’d dragged herself out of bed and stumbled to the bathroom. All I’d been able to do was make sure she didn’t fall flat on her face, then wait until she finished. I’d ensured she drank a glass of water before I tucked her back in bed. She’d given me a puzzled look, and I was more than convinced she’d kick me out of the house, but after a shake of her head, like she was clearing it, she drifted back to sleep.
“Sit up and drink this water,” I said softly.
“If I move, I’m going to puke.”
“We’ll go slow. Eventually, you’re going to have to get up. You can’t stay like that forever.”
“Why not?” I grinned at her petulant tone. She was cute when she was grumpy. “My bed is comfortable, and the pillows are like clouds. Atticus will cuddle with me. Why should I do anything else?” The aforementioned cat approached and plopped down above her head, his rumbling purr louder than I’d ever imagined possible for a feline. He sniffed her forehead then dragged his paw over his face. He must not have liked how she smelled.
“Don’t you have a bakery to run?”
“Shit!” She sat straight up, swayed, and grabbed her head. Meanwhile, Atticus fled the room as though struck by lightning.
Within seconds of being upright, Liz’s complexion turned green, and I grabbed the bucket, shoving it under her face. While she retched into the red plastic, I did my best to hold her hair out of the mess. I didn’t look—I couldn’t. That would be all I’d need to make me sick too. Poor Mrs. Hill wouldn’t know what hit her.
“Oh, dear,” said Mrs. Hill as she hurried in. “Let me grab the bin from the bathroom.”
During a short reprieve, we swapped out the bucket for the trash can, and Mrs. Hill took the nastiness into the bathroom.
Liz shook her head while still sat hunched over the clean receptacle. “This is mortifying.” She blinked and frowned up at me. “I had a dream you tucked me in last night, but I guess it wasn’t a dream. I have a vague memory of leaving Annie’s with you but nothing after. Why are you here?”
“Char made me promise not to leave you alone. She was worried about you.” Not that I’d have left her alone to sleep it off anyway.
With a groan, Liz rested her head on the rim. “When Char was twenty, she had a friend who got drunk and asphyxiated because he was left alone to sleep off a night of heavy drinking. She’s a bit fanatical about making sure she doesn’t lose anyone else that way.”
“You can’t blame her.” He and his friends in college would swap out during the night if one of them was passed out. Too often people didn’t take severe intoxication seriously, yet they’d heard more than one rumor of similar happenings during those years.
“No, I don’t blame her. I do understand.”
I handed her the water. “Try to drink this.”
She swished and spit into the bin before swallowing down the remainder. “What time is it?”
I glanced at the clock. “Eight-fourteen.”
Liz shoved the trash can into my hands and pushed at the mattress to stand. “I have to get downstairs. Char will kill me for not showing up this morning.”
My palm pressed to her shoulder forced her to stay where she was. “I’m sure she expected it after your condition last night. I can always go check on things if you need me to.”
With one arm, she cradled the pail while she grabbed a lanyard from the side table to hold out. “Would you? Mrs. Hill will help me. Please make sure everything is okay. If they need me, I’ll come down as soon as I can.”
I took the card and tucked in my shirt as I headed down the hall. Retracing my steps through the maze of backrooms in Novel Books was a challenge, but after a manager enquired as to why I was in the stockrooms, I showed her the lanyard along with my explanation, leaving out why Liz was sick of course. The employee made a quick phone call then escorted me to the exit nearest the entrance to the café, but not without a sideways glance at my rumpled shirt.
“I’ll let everyone know so you can return upstairs without being stopped,” she said. “If you need someone to help you find your way back to the elevator, please don’t hesitate to ask.”
“Thank you.”
The swarm of customers in Novel Books made me gape for a few minutes. While I owned bookstores—an entire chain of them—it’d been years since I set foot in one on the day after Thanksgiving. Had Black Friday always been this busy? My insides wanted to curl into a ball and huddle in a corner at the sheer number of people packing the lines to the registers.
I steeled myself. Liz had asked for my help, and I wouldn’t let her down. As I wove through the crowd to the Beanery, I did all I could not to bump into every Tom, Dick, and Harry who’d intentionally left their house in this insanity.
Upon reaching the doorway to the café, I halted to gape some more. Yes, the bookstore was flooded with customers but considering its much smaller size, so was the bakery. Liz hadn’t been exaggerating. The long line of patrons who stood waiting to reach the main counter extended out of the front door, every register operated by an employee ready to serve. A table with what I could only describe as a small display freezer/refrigerator was set up in one corner. A portable chalkboard reading, “The Beanery’s Bestest pie dough,” was erected by a table with another register. The line there stretched to the door to the courtyard and crossed the main line. Only a couple of tables were occupied inside the store, but the outdoor tables, where heaters had been set up to ward off the chill of the morning, were packed.
Employees stocked boxes and rushed here and there behind the counter when I made it to the side entrance. The girl who’d taken my order when I’d been here before was behind the counter. She shook her head. “Employees only!”
“Mia, right?”
“Yeah, but that doesn’t get you back here.” Her head had shaken while she spoke, but she’d never stopped moving and working.
“Lizzy’s sick this morning and sent me down to see how things were going. Can I help somehow?” I held up the lanyard.
Mia leaned closer to get a good look at the card. “Char is in the kitchens. You’ll need to ask her. Come on through.” She lifted the counter and closed it when I squeezed behind those working and slipped into the back.
“Is Lizzy okay?” Char practically jumped on me with her question when I stepped through.
“She’s puking her guts up, but Mrs. Hill is taking care of her. I promised to check on things down here to keep her from coming down herself.”
“Thank you for that,” said Char. Like Mia in the front, she’d never stopped moving while she spoke.
“Can I help you in some way? Make up for her absence?” I’d never so much as measured a cup of flour, but maybe there was something they needed that wouldn’t require me burning down their kitchen.
For the first time, Char paused. “Go to the back. In Lizzy’s office is a shelf of shirts. Once you’ve put one on, grab an apron. If you don’t mind, you can stock the displays in the front.”
“I’m not exactly artistic.”
“They’re going too fast to worry about that. The biggest issue we’ve had is the person who usually stocks for us on busy days is Lizzy or Jonathan over there, and he’s filling in making pie dough since Lizzy isn’t here.”
The shirts were easy to find, and luckily, they had multiple colors, so I could choose which I preferred. Once I had on a lighter slate blue like what was in the café, I grabbed an apron off the wall and hurried to the front.
Char pointed at the sink. “Wash your hands, put on gloves, then take that tray of pumpkin cheesecake brioche doughnuts to the front. Swap the trays out and if there’s any still on the old tray, put them to the back of the new one. Okay?”
So the tray wasn’t knocked from my hands, I lifted it over my head when I exited the kitchen. A perk of being over six feet was the tray was out of everyone’s way up there.
The display cases had their contents labeled on the outside, so it didn’t take long to find the right door. I slid it open. The old tray was empty, so I removed it and slid the new one into place.
“Thank God!” said Mia. “I’ve had two orders for a dozen of those. I’ve been waiting for five minutes for them to come out. If there’s more, don’t hesitate to bring them. If we can get some of the people waiting out of here, the front won’t be so crowded.”
“What else do you need?”
“Bagels of any variety, maple scones, and anything you see that’s low.”
“Got it,” I said.
I relayed the information when I got to the back. The bagels were ready to go, much to the relief of those in the front. For the next eight hours, I didn’t stop running. Once the breakfast rush had lessened, we prepped for lunch, which lasted until two. When I wasn’t needed to stock the displays anymore, I chipped in on wiping down tables.
When they were able to let the first shift leave for the day, Char hugged me. “I can’t thank you enough for this. We were struggling until you showed up.”
“My feet have never ached so badly in my life,” I said with a laugh.
She looked down and laughed. “Well, Italian leather shoes aren’t exactly made for standing for long periods. If you ever help us again, you’ll need to wear some with better support and cushion.” She pointed down to her clunky Dr. Martens. “We all have our favorite go-to so our feet don’t hurt.
I changed back into my shirt in Liz’s office and threw the apron and shirt in the hamper filled with the other aprons. Liz’s lanyard was around my neck, as safe a place as any while I’d helped out, and I made my way back through the stockrooms to the elevator. When I stepped off, Mrs. Hill was coming down the stairs.
“How’s she doing?”
“I gave her some acetaminophen after you left, and more water. She fell asleep holding a clean bucket I’d found. I kept an eye on her until she woke about a half-hour ago. She’s showered and changed, but she’s quiet. I’m not sure what’s going on in that head of hers, but I’ll warn you now, if she feels she let Charlotte or the bakery down, she’ll be way too hard on herself.”
“Thanks for the heads up.” Do you mind if I go up? I left my phone in the bedroom when I went to the bakery.”
She patted my forearm. “I noticed that. I plugged it in on Lizzy’s bedside table while you were gone.”
“Thank you,” I said as I continued toward the stairs.
The door was open when I reached Liz’s bedroom, but I still knocked. When she called for me to enter, I stepped inside. Her voice had been muted some and the room was empty, so she must’ve been in the bathroom.
I hadn’t had an opportunity to see the room much last night or this morning. The space was large with paneled walls that were painted a muted blue—a lot like the color in the café—with a grey upholstered headboard, a pale grey comforter so light it was almost white, and a pale blue knitted throw over the foot of the mattress. The wood floors had an area rug that ran under the bed and contained the different colors from the room. Most of her dressers and side tables were whitewashed wood and glass. The effect was a light and airy space that fit Liz well.
When she entered, she still had dark circles under her eyes, but even so, I couldn’t imagine anyone more lovely. “How are you feeling?”
“A little better. I should thank you for getting me home. You didn’t have to stay, but I do appreciate that you did. What happened when you left? You never came back after going to check on the bakery.”
“You were right about the crowd. When I got down there, the bookstore as well as the café were slammed. Charlotte asked if you were okay—”
“And you didn’t come tell me. Char needed me. How dare you make that decision for me?”
Even with Mrs. Hill’s warning, I balked at her hard tone. “Char was glad I’d kept you from going in to work. What good would you have done while dry heaving every five or so minutes in the closest trash can? Mrs. Hill said you slept, which was probably the best thing you could’ve done.
“They were cleaning up when I left five minutes ago. The day was massively busy and when you do the figures for the day, I’m sure you’ll be pleased. I don’t know how you wouldn’t be.”
I scratched the back of my neck. “Look; I’d like to take you out to dinner.”
“Now?”
I balked. “No, not necessarily today. Before you say no, I know we’re very different, and you’re upset that I’d wanted to buy out your uncle’s bookstore—that I was waiting to see if the business would falter after his death. I mean, it didn’t, but I also didn’t know that you knew anything about running a bookstore when I crafted that plan. You run a bakery, after all.” I kind of chuckled while she stood, her mouth slightly open. “That said, I can’t say I’m a fan of your family—I met them a few months ago at a party Charles Bingley gave. Your sister Jane makes me nervous. I’m afraid she’ll eat me or anyone else alive if given the chance. That company your father runs seems barely solvent, and your mother’s obsession with Jane marrying for wealth is obvious. I warned Charles away from dating Jane, but he didn’t listen.” I shrugged. The one time Charles had shown any sort of backbone, and it was to make Jane his girlfriend. Maybe that meant something. He wasn’t exactly an angel either.
I shook myself. “Anyway, what do you think? Would you go out with me?” Why did I suddenly feel like I was eighteen again and stumbling madly over my own tongue?
She stiffened. “What was it you said at the gala? It wasn’t like I was beautiful?”
Flinching, I started to speak but she took a step closer.
“I believe that was exactly what you said. I also came to you in the hopes of protecting Gigi, and your solution did nothing to show her where she was vulnerable—to help her become more self-sufficient. You ensured Wickham left, but she remains susceptible to the next shit-for-brains that approaches her.”
She crossed her arms over her chest. “As for my family, there’s a reason I don’t have anything to do with any of them—except Mary, although I’m sure you didn’t meet her. My parents prefer to pretend she doesn’t exist, but you wouldn’t know that since you don’t know much about me. You’ve just stared at me whenever we’re in the same room. For some reason, I thought you disapproved of me or were gawking at whatever you found unattractive.”
“You aren’t unattractive,” I managed to blurt.
“You’re the one who said I wasn’t beautiful. Those were your words. Then there was last night! When I woke up this morning, I couldn’t understand why you’d bring me home. When I went to the bathroom in the middle of the night and you handed me that glass of water, I really did think it was a dream. No way would the William Darcy I’ve known still be here, much less be giving me water.
“But you were still here in the morning and willing to check on the café for me. I’d planned to go down if Char needed me, but you never returned. Of course, I’d fallen asleep so I’d no idea until it was too late. Then you return and tell me they were overwhelmed, and you didn’t tell me! You disappeared for eight hours. What’d you do? Laugh that they were in the weeds then went to check on your own profits for the day?”
A sharp slice tore through my insides. According to Liz, I was heartless. I could defend myself, but what was the point? She’d already made up her mind. Anything I said right now would fall on deaf ears.
“Since you aren’t arguing, I can assume I’m correct,” she said. “Get out! I don’t know how someone as sweet as Gigi was partially raised by you.”
I didn’t need to hear anymore. I strode over to the side table and retrieved my phone and jacket before walking out of the room.
When I stepped into the hall, Char was leaning against the wall. By her tightly pressed lips, she’d at least heard part of what was said, if not all. “Why didn’t you tell—?” Her voice was soft.
“Because she won’t listen.” I kept my own equally low. “Don’t worry about it.”
I had to get out of here. With a hand lifted, I waved at Char. She shook her head, but I didn’t stay. Everything in me was about to collapse, and I needed to be at home—alone—when that happened.