4
“How did I somehow end up packing your bathroom for you? And all your clothes, for that matter? By the way, I think it’s time for a wardrobe refresh. Some of these tops need to go. I almost put them in the donation pile.” Tam picked up a dingy, frayed, olive-green waffle knit L.L. Bean shirt that had clearly seen better days. I may have had it since college.
“You wanted to move in this week,” I replied, taking the glass baking dish of bubbly chicken enchiladas out of the oven. “And I love that shirt. It’s perfectly worn in. But I am eternally grateful for your help. I now have enough food for David Anders to last a week until I can get back here.” I wasn’t sure how I was going to handle the three enormous cooler bags I was bringing him that afternoon. Tam had to go to work, and I couldn’t afford to pay anyone to help me like I used to do with big jobs like this. Until I got my first Rockwood check, I was puttering along on fumes.
“And it’ll be October before you know it, and you’ll have some breaks from him when the season gets underway. This is always a tough stretch for you,” she said. I swore Tam knew me and my life better than I knew myself sometimes. “How are you feeling about everything?”
“Sweaty and gross after making a huge batch of cookies and all these enchiladas in late August. Oh, you mean about Rockwood? Totally fucking perplexed. I was all set to take the plunge. I mean, it’s a weird job for me, completely different from anything I’ve ever done, you name it. Still, I looked at it as a one-year opportunity to make some money, have very few expenses, and figure out the next stage of my life. But, Kyle Holling on campus? And recently divorced? A huge monkey wrench in the whole damn thing.”
“And Oasis on the car radio as soon as you turned it on. You said you listened to it with him on that fateful night. It’s got to be some kind of sign. I’m channeling a major Sleepless in Seattle vibe here.” Tam could truly tie a movie into almost any scenario.
“But a sign of what? The guy ghosted me. I tried to get in touch with him every which way, and nothing. And obviously, he wasn’t pining away for me. The dude got married. He has a kid, for God’s sake. And I’ve been here, living some sort of arrested development.”
“You have not,” she insisted. “You’re only thirty-five. We’re only thirty-five. If you are, then I am, too.” She looked around the studio condo. “I’m excited to move in here. I’m covering so many stories at the State House these days, and I’ll be practically next door.”
“And closer to Professor Plum.” Tam’s date had gone well, and they were going out again that night.
“Yes, that’s true. Cambridge is just across the river. But you know me, I’m sure I’ll get bored soon.” She examined a pair of wind pants that were riddled with holes and tossed them in the recycling pile without even consulting me. “What about Bentley? Have you heard from him?”
“Nothing,” I muttered. “I mean, I don’t know if I should expect to. It was a bad scene. And Julianna’s Instagram is just pictures of her doing volunteer work all over town. Feeding people at homeless shelters, wrapping gifts for children, that sort of thing.”
“Saint Julianna,” said Tam with a nod.
“I guess she’s trying to put an angelic image out there. In contrast to me.” I sighed, scooping up the donation pile into a trash bag. “Where was any of that going, anyway? Decent romps and secret ice cream dates? Fun for a while, but I’m starting to need more, I think.” I need more. It was a significant revelation for me.
“You do deserve more, Dev,” agreed Tam. “Now, I get a cookie before you leave, right?”
...
“‘Sup, Dev?” said David Anders as I opened the door to his Seaport condo. I was one of only four people, including his mother, housekeeper, and trainer, who had a key. One of the doormen had graciously offered to help me as I unloaded the huge cooler bags from my Jeep at the valet stand. David’s building was the epitome of luxury in a city where people like me thought they had made it big time when they were able to buy a seven-hundred-square-foot condo in a good neighborhood with a dishwasher and street parking. Even three years into our arrangement, I still was in a bit of awe every time I came over.
“How’s my favorite Celtic?” I asked while dropping the bags onto the enormous marble kitchen island and going back into the living room, where David was intensely gaming on his PlayStation.
“Stressed, Dev. My shooting sucks, and I keep getting these groin muscle strains. Sorry for the TMI, but you know how it goes.” I did. He told me almost everything.
“Okay, so here’s the deal, kiddo,” I said, sitting down next to him on the big leather sofa. “I need to talk to you. Can you pause this, whatever it is?”
“PGA Tour 2K21. See, I’m playing on a course in Scottsdale here.”
“You don’t play golf.”
“A man can dream, right?” he drawled. David always worried me. He hardly ever left his condo unless he had a game or practice. I couldn’t imagine him spending four hours on a golf course, especially with other people. “So, what’s the deal? Don’t worry about the whole ‘Dev in the news thing.’ They just don’t have much to talk about until we start our new season and dominate the news cycle with our brilliance.” He put down the controller and gave me a high five. I knew he didn’t act this relaxed with anyone else. David Anders, on the bench and on the court, was quiet, focused, and extremely shy. I liked being a person he was comfortable with, but it felt heavy sometimes.
“You know it. Can’t wait to watch you guys. No, I’m putting the whole mess behind me.” I took a breath. “Which is why I’ve taken a job running the dining services at a boarding school near Portsmouth. It’s a nice place. Pretty campus. I’m just looking at doing this for a year. You know, so I can get my shit together again.”
He nodded slowly, digesting the information. “What about me?” he asked with a shakiness in his voice.
I patted him on the knee. “You are part of the deal. I’ll still come down once a week with a bunch of food for you. My new boss knows. I made sure I could still do this before I said yes. I’m going to call your mom and let her know after I leave, but I wanted to talk to you first.”
He stood up and walked to the kitchen. “Good,” he called back at me. “Because no one makes a cookie like this,” he said, opening the bags until he found what he was looking for. And with that, I had David Anders’ blessing.
...
Despite the two air conditioning units whirling from both sides of the fourth floor of Wentworth House, the ice in my extra-large iced coffee had melted, and the drink was growing lukewarm too quickly for my liking. I turned on the icemaker in my new freezer, but I knew it would be a while until it yielded anything. Somehow, I doubted I could get an iced coffee delivery to campus. I wasn’t in Boston anymore. And even if I could, it would most certainly be melted by the time it reached me. And I’d have to climb all those stairs yet again. Those were going to take some getting used to.
It had felt so strange to load up the Jeep and the rented U-Haul trailer and just drive away from Boston with Tam waving goodbye from outside my condo building. I had lived in Boston for the thirteen years since I graduated from Norwell. My whole adult life. Was I making the right decision? I didn’t feel like I had a better option. Word had spread about the scandal to the point where reporters were following me down the street, asking me questions that I tried to ignore. I finally told someone who claimed to be from The Raucous Bostonian , an online paper I had never heard of before, to shut the fuck up. For someone who represented a supposedly unhinged news source, he didn’t take it well at all and included my outburst in his story. It was probably a good idea for me to leave town for a while.
The Rockwood maintenance staff hauled things up to the fourth floor with me, just as Andrea had promised. Still, the whole thing was overwhelming. I really had no idea how to start the job. Considering I had seen big stacks of cardboard meal boxes and takeout bags strewn outside the trash barrels when I pulled up to campus, the sooner I got going with everything, the better.
“Yoo-hoo! You’re here! I’m so glad!” proclaimed Andrea in her brimming-with-positivity way. I wanted to bottle some of that and inject it into my veins. I wondered if she was on some sort of drug. It really was something.
“Hey there,” I said, slurping more of my tepid coffee. “Want a cookie?” I asked, pointing to the Rubbermaid bin on the counter.
“Absolutely!” She gobbled one down in about five seconds. Yes, some kind of mood-altering substance was possible. Andrea might have had the munchies. “Oh my! What are in these? They are amazing!”
“Semisweet chocolate chips, white chocolate chips, and dried cherries. I chill the dough before baking, too. And I use organic sugars, which seem to make a difference in the consistency. Glad you like them. They’ll be around a lot.”
“Well, I think you’ll win everyone over quickly with these. Yum,” she said. “Can I get you anything?”
I finally poured the rest of the coffee down the sink. I couldn’t take it anymore. “What’s the coffee situation on campus?”
“Oh, I can’t believe I didn’t tell you on our little tour. So unlike me! We have a student-run coffee shop next door in Hartley House. It’ll open tomorrow for the school year. Hours aren’t probably what you’re used to in the city, but it’s open before and after classes, plus after dinner during study hours for breaks and some special events. You’ll see me there a lot.”
“Big coffee drinker?” I asked.
“I average eight cups a day.” So, there it was—caffeine-fueled energy and optimism, with a penchant for gossip.
“Excellent. I usually only have one, but it’s a big one.”
“Well, I won’t keep you, but I do have a favor. I know I said I didn’t need you to start work until Monday, but we have an apple-picking event tomorrow afternoon. Many of the students will be with their parents here on campus, moving in, etc., but for the students who come early or are alone because they live far away, we like to offer an activity. I’m short on chaperones. One of the teachers I was counting on has food poisoning. She’s blaming it on the boxed lunches. I think it might be because she drank multiple margaritas at Las Noches in Portsmouth last night, but I don’t have any proof. I guess I need to take her word for it.”
“How do you know she was drinking margaritas?” I asked, opening my new oven to inspect it. It was at least one-and-a-half times bigger than my Beacon Hill one. I’d be able to get David’s food made so much quicker here.
“A bunch of us were out last night,” Andrea said, shaking her head. “I probably shouldn’t go to these gatherings anymore. It’s a tough transition from colleague to boss. I’m seeing things I shouldn’t be seeing. Two of the new teachers started making out at the table,” she declared with a mix of unease and fascination.
“Yikes. I bet that was awkward,” I replied, stashing my coffee mugs in the cabinet. “So, you’re asking me to chaperone, I take it. If the staff member who bailed is only hungover, won’t she be okay by tomorrow? I mean, just hypothesizing, given my vast experiences with hangovers. I did work in restaurants for many years. They are vicious but often short-lived.”
“I agree, but she’s sticking to this food poisoning story, so I’m a bit stuck. Yes, I really could use your help. How about it?”
Early New England apples were some of my favorites. The Jonamacs were great for snacks, and the Ginger Golds were surprisingly good for baking. It would also give me a chance to talk “food” with some students informally. But I had a nagging feeling deep in my gut. Would Kyle be there?
“Will there be a lot of, um, people there?”
“Not too many. I planned on two minibuses. Don’t worry; you don’t have to drive. I have that covered. It’ll be a great opportunity for you to ease into the community. Also, I really need some help. Pretty please? I’ll buy you a doughnut!”
“Do they make apple cider doughnuts there?” I felt like she was breaking me down. It didn’t take much. I was a sucker for cider doughnuts.
“The best ones I’ve ever had. How about it?”
There was really no way I could decline on my almost first day on the job. “As long as we can bring back apples for the dining hall. I have a favorite apple crostata I’d love to make if that’s okay.”
Andrea clapped her hands together and beamed with anticipation. I was going apple picking.