10. Chapter 10
“I got this, boss. Go!” Eric nudged Nelie aside as she pulled the basket from the fryer.
“Unless you cloned yourself, you don’t. I can’t afford to have you back here at the fryer. I need your pretty face out front.” Nelie didn’t budge.
“I called Dakota. He should be here in about five minutes. Kid’s been practicing.
He can handle it.” Eric sprinkled salt on the fries.
Nelie frowned. She didn’t like throwing people into the deep end, especially with the fryer.
It was old and cantankerous, a bit like Gus, which was probably why she hadn’t replaced it yet.
Pete, a senior in high school, had been doing a fine job during weekend lunches, but to handle a Saturday night?
That was a trial by fire. The only saving grace in this was that her regular fry-guy had made it to the bathroom before spilling his guts.
If she’d hustled in the shower, she would have been out the door and Eric would have had to deal with the crisis. “We’ve got this,” he told her.
“Fine.” Nelie carefully slipped the apron over her head, tossing it in the dirty laundry bin. She slid her arms into her wool coat and grabbed the tiny purse next to it.
“Hey, Nelie.” She turned back to him. “You clean up good, but you might want to lose the hairnet,” Eric pointed at his head.
His laughter followed her out the back door as she carefully removed the cursed net, stuffing it in her pocket.
She’d spent a lot of time, and hairspray, convincing her straight, fine hair that an up-do was just a fancy ponytail.
She sprinted toward her car. So far, the evening had been a disaster.
Stupid men , she thought as she pulled out of the parking lot.
If not for Chet and his, But could you? plea, she could have stayed.
If Pete didn’t show, or he wasn’t ready for the task, they’d need to shut down the fryer.
She’d lose revenue and disappoint customers.
She hated that. And if her regular guy had called in to say he wasn’t feeling well—which was her policy—she could have found a qualified replacement.
Eric’s off-hand comment that she cleaned up good had only awakened the butterflies in her stomach.
It was several blocks to the Hart Hotel, and she would have walked if she wasn’t wearing heels.
She loved walking Main Street and peeking into the storefronts.
The antique store always featured something classy and expensive that would clash with the comfortable mish-mash of furniture in her apartment.
The resale clothing store changed displays often depending on the owner’s mood.
Nelie never knew what that candy store had in its windows—she was always too focused on buying a stash of gummi coke bottles and Jordan almonds.
There was a small hardware store and a pharmacy.
A few smaller restaurants. Further up the street, past the Hart Hotel, was Ruthie’s Retreat and then the main marina.
The only major business on the riverside of Main Street was the Hart Hotel flanked by its rose garden and the town park with its playground, picnic tables, and a few boat launches.
The sidewalks were empty now, but by summer it would be elbow-to-elbow with tourists.
Nelie cursed as she hit another red light. Breathe. You won’t be that late . She’d splurge on valet parking and hope Chet wasn’t one of the earlier bachelors to be paraded in front of the women.
Nelie handed her keys to the attendant and hurried into the Hart.
She raced down the halls, following the signs to the event as she unbuttoned her coat.
Nelie handed it to the girl at the coat check but then backtracked when she realized she hadn’t grabbed her coat’s tag.
She slipped it into her purse and snagged a glass of champagne from a passing waiter.
The auction had started, and Nelie hoped she wasn’t too late.
For the umpteenth time since the ice castle, she wished she’d answered Chet’s question.
Instead, she’d walked away, grabbing the girls and leading them toward the ice maze, tossing, Are you coming?
over her shoulder. Nelie had been torn, unsure of what to say.
She wanted to bid on him and give them a second chance, but what if she wasn’t careful?
What if he overheard another conversation?
Nelie didn’t want to risk her friendships, but darn it, she deserved a slice of happiness, too.
Which is why she stood in the crowded ballroom feeling hot and sweaty and like she was about to throw up, but that could have been the too-tight shapeware. She was also cranky and tired thanks to the fryer incident and sleepless nights.
She was scared. Scared that she might let something slip and he’d investigate.
Scared that he’d ask questions, making her question her life.
Scared that Ava and Piper already had a permanent place in her heart.
Scared that she’d need to choose. Scared that saying yes to them meant saying no to something else, even though she had no idea what that would be.
Scared that she felt so happy around him, when he wasn’t annoying her.
Scared that if she didn’t try again, losing Chet would be the biggest regret of her life.
Nelie didn’t want regrets. She wanted Chet.
Eager women packed the ornate ballroom, with its rich burgundy, navy, and gold carpet, and the gold-painted cornices.
It was standing room only. Nelie half-listened as the master of ceremonies reminded the women that the money raised would support the hospital and youth programs. Tonight was all about charity and fun.
The next bachelor strutted on stage and the women went wild.
CJ Mack was a former Super Bowl champion and the sales director at Alex Preston Athletic Wear for Elite Athletes, or APAWEA, a local athletic wear company that manufactured its products at the old mill.
Alex Preston, the owner and creator of the fabric, was CJ’s brother and her friend, London’s, fiancé.
From what Nelie heard, the business was more successful than they’d thought it would be, and Alex was looking to expand the mill since they’d run out of room on the sewing floor.
A good problem to have , Nelie thought as the bids climbed higher for the handsome, charismatic, former football player.
She recognized several of the other men who came next, but no one matched the winning bid for CJ. His was even higher than the year Wren had been in a bidding war with Michelle Swanson for a date with Miller. Wren had won and now she and Miller had an adorable toddler, Robyn.
“And now our final bachelor of the evening,” the master of ceremonies said, and Nelie’s heart sank when her mail carrier stepped through the curtains.
I missed him , she thought as she worked her way through the crowd.
My feet are killing me, my eyes itch, I’m a stuffed sausage in this dress, and it’s all for nothing.
Nelie swallowed around the lump in her throat, grateful she’d only had one glass of champagne.
She needed to leave. Now. Some lucky woman would spend the night dancing in Chet’s arms and making plans for their later date. She couldn’t watch.
She blinked furiously as she wove her way toward the coat check. A few people waved or called her name, but she kept moving. She’d blown it and she had no one to blame but herself. She sniffled as she dug in her purse, feeling for her coat tag.
“Oof,” she grunted, bumping into something solid. Two warm hands wrapped around her upper arms, steading her. She glanced up and cringed. Chet. Of course. Why won’t the universe give me a break?