18. Chapter Eighteen
Ipush my cart down the grocery aisle like a mindless zombie trying to find something that sounds even remotely appetizing for dinner. It’s been three days since I last talked to Henry, and I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t a little heartbroken. The least he could do is be honest instead of avoiding me.
My phone vibrates from the bottom of my purse, and I feel the hairs on my neck stand up at full attention. Once again, it’s not Henry’s name lighting up the screen when I scramble to answer. The number calling has a 213 area code.
“Hello?” I answer, trying to mask my disappointment with a more cheerful tone.
“Rose, darling? It’s Chanel from Los Angeles. Is this a good time? I heard what’s going on with your firm, and I’m just devastated. How are you holding up?“ Chanel Harper’s voice is like slipping into a pair of silk pajamas after a long, hot bubble bath. I met Chanel years back at a conference Jace and I were attending in San Diego, and she and I have remained close ever since. She owns Elite Encounters Los Angeles, another successful matchmaking firm with many of the same core values and practices we use in Dallas.
“I’ve been better,” I admit, steering my cart to a halt next to an endcap filled with blocks of Velveeta cheese and cans of Rotel. “But I’m sure you already knew that.”
“Oh, Sweetie, I can only imagine. I’m so sorry about this whole mess with Jace. I know how hard you worked to get your business up and running, and it’s not fair any of this is happening to you.”
“Thanks, Chanel. It’s been rough, but hearing a friendly voice is helpful.” I sigh, glancing at the frozen pizza and three-liter bottle of Diet Pepsi staring back at me from the bottom of my cart.
“Listen, Rose, you know I’ve always admired how you work with your clients. It’s so personal, so... genuine. And frankly, with everything going on, I was hoping you might consider helping me with a new business venture. You know… something to help take your mind off of things.”
“A business venture?” While I’m not sure what kind of work she could offer, the idea of generating income sounds nice right now. I may have been fortunate enough to work remotely the past few months, but ever since the state launched its investigation, we’ve lost over two-thirds of our client base, and the number is climbing daily—along with the number of unpaid bills.
“Look, I know it’s sudden, but I have a proposal for you. How would you feel about coming to LA for a week? I’ve been looking to open a few more offices in the area, but I need someone I can trust to help train a new batch of consultants.”
“And… you want me to train them? That’s it?“ I ask, puzzled.
“You’re exceptional at what you do, Rose. I can’t think of a better person for the job.” She pauses a moment as if for effect. “Given the circumstances, I’d be willing to pay generously for your time and expertise.” Chanel’s offer rolls out like a red carpet, inviting and full of promise.
“Okay. Let’s say I was interested. How soon would you need me?”
“Can you be here by Friday?” Her question hangs in the air as a wave of intrigue rises from the pit of my stomach.
“Oh, gosh, Chanel. That’s two days from now? I’d have to think about it.”
“Take your time, Rose, but don’t take too long. This is a one-time offer, but if things work out, I’d be willing to offer you a permanent position as our regional trainer. We’re expanding, and I could use someone with your passion for the business.” The excitement in her voice is infectious. “I’ll give you until the end of the day tomorrow to decide. Let me know?”
The weight of her offer settles over me as thick and sweet as honey. I know I’d only be committing to one week, but the chance to dust off my bruised heart and start fresh somewhere clear across the country tugs at me despite Henry’s unreadable silence, which threatens to hold me back like an invisible string.
“I’ll let you know soon. Thanks, Chanel.”
“Okay, take care, Rose,” Chanel says before the line goes dead.
I let out a breath I didn’t realize I was holding. My heart is a hummingbird in my chest, flapping wings of excitement at the thought of taking on LA mixed with a pang of sadness over what—and who—I might leave behind.
“Come on, Henry,” I say, staring at the silent phone. Part of me yearns for his familiar drawl to break through the silence and tell me what to do. But there’s nothing—just my reflection staring back from a cold, dark screen.
I give the contents of my cart one last look before returning my eyes to the endcap. Maybe tonight’s not the best night for grocery store pizza in my pajamas while I cry over the latest Hallmark movie streaming on my Roku. Feeling determined, I swipe to unlock my phone.
“Mom?” I dial the number to my parents’ landline, hoping they haven’t settled into one of their marathon bridge games yet. “Hey, it’s me. I was thinking... Do you and Dad want to meet at San Juan’s for dinner?”
“Rose? Is everything okay?” I hear her voice muffle as she says something to my dad.
“Uh, yeah. Yeah, everything’s fine. There’s just something I need to talk to you both about. It’s important.”
“We’ll meet you there, but only if we’re buying,” Dad chimes in the background.
“Thanks, Dad.” A grateful smile tugs at my lips. “How soon can y’all meet me?”
“Rose wants to know what time we want to meet her,” she says, followed by more muffled sounds on the other end of the line. “Your father says he can have us there in twenty minutes.”
“Great. Tell him I’ll have a bottomless order of chips and salsa waiting. See you soon.”
I hang up and take my pizza back to the freezer section, then leave my bottle of Diet Pepsi on a shelf with the boxed wines.
The drive to San Juan’s is short, but it gives me enough time to practice the speech I’ll give my parents.
“LA, huh?” I can already hear Dad’s pragmatic tone.
“Will you be happy there, sweetie?” Mom will ask with her hand over mine, concern knitting her brows together.
And then, there’s Henry. Would he even miss me if I left Sugar Plum?
The scent of sizzling fajitas and tangy lime assaults my senses as I push through the rustic wooden doors of San Juan’s. Much to my surprise, my parents are already seated in a cozy booth, waving cheerfully as I approach.
“Rosie!” Mom envelopes me in a hug that smells like home—apple butter and comfort. “Your father was so excited you called us that he couldn’t wait to get here.”
“Glad you were able to make it on such short notice,” I reply, sliding into the booth across from them, where a basket of chips and a bowl of warm salsa are already waiting.
Dad gives me a firm nod, his eyes crinkling with a smile. “So, tell us what’s on your mind. You’ve got some big news, your mom says.”
I take a deep breath, reaching for a chip to buy time. “Well, I got an offer.” I glance up to see their curious expressions.
“What kind of offer?” Dad’s interest is piqued.
“It’s a job offer. From Chanel Harper. She’s a friend of mine from LA.” I take a moment to read their faces before I continue.
“Los Angeles?” Mom mouths the words, and her hand flutters to her chest.
“She owns a firm similar to ours and wants me to fly out for a week to train her consultants. And if it works out...” I trail off, still trying to gauge their reactions.
“Go on,” Dad says, leaning forward.
“She wants to offer me a permanent position.”
“Wow, Rosie.” Mom’s eyes sparkle with pride, and while I’m not sure what I expected, it definitely wasn’t this. “Sounds like all that hard work you put in didn’t go unnoticed.”
“Yeah, I guess so,” I say thoughtfully, sliding back in my seat when the waiter appears with our tray of food.
“What does Henry think about all of this? He knows you just as well as anyone,” Dad says after a beat.
My fork hovers over the steaming plate of rice, beans, and beef enchiladas the waiter places on the table in front of me, using it as an opportunity to avoid eye contact. “I haven’t... I mean, we haven’t really talked. Not since Sunday when he came by with the milk.”
“No?” Dad raises an eyebrow, a hint of amusement playing on his lips. “I thought you two talked about everything.”
“Long story,” I say, suddenly very interested in the pattern of chili sauce drizzled over the top of my food.
“Is everything alright between you two?” Mom presses gently.
“Things are… complicated right now,” I admit. “After the reunion, Henry told me he had feelings for me. And not just from now, but old feelings—ones that were there even before Camille.”
“Well, that’s great, honey!” Mom chirps.
I look at her like she’s gone mad. “How is that great? I’m a married woman, remember?”
“Well, of course, but we all see how that’s working out for you. But Henry… He’s one of the good ones. And you’ve always had a crush on him.”
“Mom—!”I protest, my cheeks suddenly feeling like they’re on fire.
“It’s okay, Rosebud,” Dad chuckles. “You can’t be mad at your mom on this one. We both saw it coming. Ever since the first time he walked you home from school, we knew the two of you would be an inseparable force.”
“That was a long time ago. I moved on. Henry—moved on.“ Or… at least I thought we did.
“That may be so, but that doesn’t mean life can’t bring you back together. Heck, if I’d have stopped chasing your mother every time someone new looked her way, you might not be here.”
“Ugh,” I groan at the thought. “Thanks, Dad.”
Mom reaches across the table and squeezes my hand. “I think what your father is trying to say is that you should never give up hope. If you want to go to Los Angeles, go. Do what makes you happy. We’ll support you no matter what you decide, but just don’t run away because you’re scared.”
“Thanks, guys.” I manage a small smile, my heart heavy with the decision ahead. “I just wish I knew what to do.”
“Take your time, Rosie,” Dad says, patting my other hand. “These things have a way of working themselves out.”
“Right,” I say, though I’m not entirely convinced. Because what if they don’t work out?
What if by chasing one dream, I lose another?
After dinner, I see my parents to their car, and I’m halfway to my own when I spot a familiar glossy red SUV sliding into a space across the parking lot. It’s Nancy Wade, all lipstick and judgment, stepping out of her car like she owns the pavement beneath her heels.
“Rose!” Nancy says with a tone that could curdle milk. “Fancy seeing you here.”
“Hi, Nancy,” I reply cautiously, sensing trouble in the way her lips twist into a smirk.
“Here to pick up dinner for one?” she says, eyeing me with poorly concealed pity. “What a shame about your husband.”
Her words sting, and I feel my cheeks flush with embarrassment. It seems everyone has an opinion on my life these days.
“Actually, I just had dinner with my parents.” I try to keep my voice steady.
“Ah, family support must be so crucial for you right now. I mean, it can’t be easy ... parading around town with a widower who’s still mourning the loss of his wife while your own marriage is falling apart at the seams,” Nancy says, her voice dripping with condescension.
I clench my fists, trying to rein in my frustration. “Henry’s a friend, Nancy. And he’s not—“
“Oh, no need to put on an act in front of little old me. Why, I remember how green-eyed you were when he started going steady with your new friend Camille like it was yesterday. But honestly, Rose, chasing after him now? It’s simply disrespectful,” Nancy says, landing a punch right where it hurts most.
The accusation hangs heavy between us, and I grapple for the right words to defend myself. But mentioning Henry’s feelings might only add fuel to the gossip fire Nancy loves to stoke.
“Camille was my friend, Nancy. You know that,“ I manage, feeling my resolve waver.
“And what? Do you think it’s appropriate behavior, coming back to Sugar Plum and trying to lure him in to get back at your husband now that she’s gone? Seriously, Rose. Do better.”
“With all due respect, you have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“If you say so,” Nancy snaps back before turning on her heel and striding toward the restaurant entrance.
“Have a good evening, Nancy,” I say, but she doesn’t look back.
Left alone under the glow of the streetlamps, I let out a shaky breath. Tears prick at the corners of my eyes, and I can’t hold them back. They spill over, tracing hot paths down my cheeks.
“Rose, what did she say to you?” a voice calls out from behind me.
But it’s not Henry’s voice—it’s just the echo of my own thoughts, wishing he were here to wrap me in one of his bear hugs and tell me everything will be okay.
“Nothing worth repeating,” I whisper to no one.
Pulling out my phone, I type a message with trembling fingers.
Hey Chanel. I’ve decided to take you up on your offer. See you Friday!