So Into You

Chapter 5

“You didn’t have to take me to lunch today, Mr. Pickett.” Daniel opened the Grimaldi’s menu as the tangy scents of tomato

sauce, oregano, and pizza dough surrounded them.

“It’s my pleasure.” He rolled up the sleeves of his white shirt, one that probably cost as much as Daniel’s biweekly paycheck.

“Lila won’t allow a sliver of pizza past her lips, so any time I get a chance to eat a good pie, I’m going to take it.”

Daniel smiled and perused the menu. When his boss had suggested they go to lunch after his quarterly Saturday morning investor

meeting, he was surprised. After being in Arthur Pickett’s employ for almost nine months now, he was coming to expect the

man to throw him a few curve balls occasionally. Unlike his wife, Mr. Pickett didn’t mind the occasional change in schedule.

“Have you been here before?” his boss asked.

“More than I can count. The food is excellent.”

“Any recommendations?”

“Do you like pineapple on your pizza?”

Mr. Pickett gave him a pinched look. “That’s unnatural, Daniel.”

Daniel chuckled. “It’s definitely controversial. I suggest getting the make-your-own. You can pick your crust, sauce, and

toppings.”

“Done.”

The waitress came over and placed glasses of water in front of them, the diamond stud in her nose twinkling. “Can I take your order?”

Letting his boss go first, Daniel looked around the crowded restaurant. Grimaldi’s was always packed on a Saturday, and today

was no different. Although their main attraction was pizza, the restaurant also served several authentic Italian dishes and

desserts. Grimaldi’s wasn’t fancy, but it wasn’t a hole-in-the-wall pizza parlor either.

“And you, sir?”

“A personal pan Hawaiian and sweet iced tea.”

She jotted it down, picked up their menus, and left to put in their orders.

Daniel took a drink of water. This was the first time he and Mr. Pickett had shared a meal together, and he didn’t know what

to talk about. Other than being his chauffeur, their worlds didn’t intersect. Well, that wasn’t exactly true. When Daniel

had been in legal trouble seven years ago, Mr. Pickett took him on as part of his ongoing commitment to have a percentage

of his case load be pro bono, and he managed to get Daniel a reduced sentence and parole.

That was Daniel’s wake-up call, and he’d been on a clean and sober journey ever since. No one was more surprised than he when

Mr. Pickett reached out and asked him if he wanted a job. When he was hired, he didn’t dare ask why.

Mr. Pickett glanced around the restaurant. “I like it here. Nice décor, not too swanky, reasonable prices. No Perrier, though.

Club soda will have to do.” He folded his hands on the table. “You’re probably wondering why I suggested lunch today.”

Although it seemed far-fetched that Mr. Pickett would fire him over pizza and breadsticks, Daniel couldn’t stop the dread from surfacing. He mentally searched for what he could have done wrong. He was never late, always kept the cars washed and detailed, the engines running at top capacity, and had even worked late several times, almost always at Lila’s insistence. “It had crossed my mind, Mr. Pickett.”

“Please. Call me Arthur.”

Daniel rubbed his hands over his legs underneath the table. “Sure. Arthur.”

His boss sat back, his gaze serious. “How are you liking your job?”

“I really enjoy it,” he said, telling the truth. “I’ve always liked driving and working on cars. I see this as the best of

both worlds.”

“Glad to hear it. You’re the best chauffeur I’ve ever had. I want to make sure you’re happy. Consider today a celebration.”

“For what?”

“Your 30 percent raise.” Arthur grinned.

Daniel’s jaw dropped. “Seriously?”

“I’m always serious about money. You’ll also be getting paid vacation time.”

He fell back in his chair. This was more than he’d ever hoped for. With his record, job opportunities were limited. Not only

did Mr. Pickett—Arthur—pay well, he also provided health insurance coverage. That had been enough. Now he was offering a raise

and paid vacations too? Daniel’s hand shot out. “Thank you, Arthur. Thank you so much.”

Arthur shook it as the waitress brought their drinks. “Your pizzas will be right up,” she said, giving them a smile.

Arthur took a sip of the club soda. “Excellent”—he peered at her name tag—“Stormi. Excellent club soda.”

She beamed. “We aim to please.”

As Arthur continued to butter up the waitress, Daniel was still processing. He’d only done what was expected of him, with a little extra due to Lila Pickett being quite demanding when it came to punctuality, scheduling, and keeping the cars in spotless, pristine condition. But even during those times, she was fine to deal with and always pleasant to him. Just as he didn’t understand why Arthur had hired him, he was clueless why he was getting such a hike in pay.

The waitress left, and Arthur turned to him. “You look puzzled, Daniel.”

“I am.” He hesitated, not wanting to ruin a good thing if his next question upset Arthur. But he had to know the answer. “Why

did you take a chance on me?”

Arthur stared at the bubbles in his glass for a moment. “After more than thirty years of practicing criminal law, I’ve developed

a level of discernment. Some of my clients are not only true criminals, they also relish their criminality. Others are sorry

for what they’ve done but refuse to change their ways. Then I get a few, like you, who learn their lesson and transform their

lives for the better.” He shrugged and looked at Daniel. “You can call it a gut feeling too. After I fired my last driver,

you came to mind. To be honest, I was sure you weren’t going to take the position.”

“Why?”

“It’s not exactly a glamorous job. And I know Lila can be a bit much sometimes. But I’m impressed with how you handle the

position, and my wife. I believe good work should be rewarded.”

Daniel grinned. “Thank you, Arthur. That means a lot. I’ll stay on as long as you want me to.”

“That’s good to hear.” He grew serious again. “I wish more people would make the effort to turn things around.”

He said the last sentence in a voice so low Daniel could barely hear him.

The waitress showed up with their pizzas and they dug in. From Arthur’s muffled sounds of approval as they ate, Daniel could tell he’d made the right recommendation. They chatted during the meal, mostly about the investor meeting, with Daniel saying few words and nodding at appropriate times. He’d learned a while ago that sometimes all Arthur wanted was a sounding board.

As he was about to finish off the last bite of pineapple-laden pizza, he looked up at the entrance. He froze at what he saw—Brittany

and Amy walking into the dining area.

Arthur turned around to see what he was looking at. “Friends of yours?”

He was tempted to drop his pizza and run over to them. But he held back, and fortunately neither of them spotted him as they

were seated at a table on the other side of the restaurant. He exhaled. If Brittany had been alone, he wouldn’t have hesitated

to go to her. But he couldn’t, not with Amy there. It wasn’t time, not yet. Hopefully soon...

“Everything all right?” Arthur asked.

Collecting himself, Daniel said, “Yes.” His boss didn’t know anything about his family life. At the time of his conviction,

he wanted to leave Brittany and Amy out of it. He hadn’t even told Brittany his boss’s name. “I just thought I saw someone

I know.” Disappointment filled him. “My mistake.”

***

Britt gripped the edge of the red-and-white checkered tablecloth as her mother perused the menu. The trunk of Mom’s car was half-full of packages from their morning shopping spree. The stores hadn’t been too crowded for the first two hours, and she was able to relax a little. But after more shoppers appeared, she started getting anxious, and then she got annoyed with herself because she was anxious.

Her nerves were heightened even now, since Grimaldi’s was jam-packed with people. They were lucky they’d gotten a table. At

this point Britt would have been happy to go home and have a PB&J, but she couldn’t keep running away and avoiding everything

that made her uncomfortable. This was good practice for Savannah’s wedding.

“Everything always looks so delicious.” Mom smiled and kept reading. “I always have a hard time choosing what to get.”

Britt didn’t. She always got the same thing.

“Okay,” she finally announced, “I’m getting the fried tortellini with clam sauce.” She shut the menu. “YOLO. Isn’t that what

all you cool kids say?”

“Yeah,” Britt said, laughing. “Ten years ago.” But her mother’s attempt at being cool made her smile. Both her parents could

be such dorks sometimes. It was cute.

A waiter came over, his face flushed, glasses of water balancing in his hands. “Sorry for the wait,” he said, giving them

the drinks. “Today has been crazy.” He shoved back his blond bangs and pulled out a pad from the black apron around his waist.

“Have you decided?”

Mom gave her order, along with a Diet Coke with lemon to drink. “Clearly I’m counting calories,” she said with a grin.

The waiter smiled and turned to Britt.

“Hawaiian,” she said.

He leaned forward. “Sorry, I didn’t hear you.”

She gulped and spoke louder. “Hawaiian. Personal pan.”

“Ah, got it. Anything to drink?”

Britt shook her head. Water was fine. As he walked away, she looked at her mother, noticing she wasn’t smiling as much. “Is something wrong?”

“No.” She quickly arranged her silverware, not looking up. “I’ve never understood why you and your... why you like pineapple

on pizza.”

“I don’t know. I’ve just always liked it.”

Mom went to pick up her cloth napkin and it slipped through her fingers and dropped on the floor. She reached down to get

it at the same time a man passed by, bumping into her.

“Oh,” he said, stopping as she sat up. “I’m sorry.” Then he paused. “Mrs. Branch?”

Her brow furrowed slightly.

“Arthur Pickett.” He held out his hand. “You had my youngest son in algebra class.”

“Ah, right.” Mom shook it and smiled. “I remember now. That’s been, what, fifteen years ago?”

“Fourteen.”

Britt watched the exchange. He was handsome for an old man, with almost totally gray hair and deep wrinkles at the corners

of his blue eyes as he smiled. His white dress shirt was rolled up at the sleeves, and she liked the casual look.

“I can’t believe you remembered me,” Mom said. “That was so long ago.”

Arthur tapped his temple with his finger. “I’ve been blessed with a steel trap.” He turned to Britt. “Hello.”

“This is my daughter, Brittany.” Mom gestured to her. “We’re just out shopping and decided to break for lunch.”

“It’s a great day for it,” he said. “But just wait, the real heat is coming.” He grinned, giving Britt the impression that

he knew exactly how to work a room. “Lovely to meet you, Brittany. And good to see you again, Mrs. Branch. If you’ll excuse

me.”

After he was gone, Mom looked at Britt. “That was a surprise,” she said, leaning forward. “Don’t tell anyone, but I can’t remember his son’s first name.”

“You’ve had a lot of students over the years.”

“The names run together, that’s for sure. But I do remember him.” She frowned. “Handsome kid, popular with the girls. Liked

sports but rarely paid attention in class. He was suspended for smoking pot in the boy’s bathroom right before Christmas and

didn’t return. Later I found out he transferred to another school.” Her frown deepened. “Oh, this is bugging me. I hate when

I can’t remember a student’s name. Hudson? Hayden? It will come to me later.”

Britt relaxed her grip on the tablecloth. It didn’t matter if she remembered or not since they wouldn’t run into Mr. Pickett

in the future. Considering how many people lived in the Dallas metro area, it was a miracle they had today.

“Is there anywhere else you want to go?” Mom asked.

“I might stop by K&Bs later,” she said. After Hunter had mentioned it, she realized she hadn’t been there in a couple of weeks.

She was overdue for a visit.

“We can go together.”

“That’s okay.” Britt laid her napkin neatly on her lap. “You know I like to browse around. I don’t want you to get bored.”

Mom nodded. “I wish I could get as enthusiastic about colored pencils as you do, but alas, I can’t. Just like I can’t get

you to understand the bliss of a perfect equation.”

Britt chuckled, relaxing a little more. Being with Mom always made things easier. Over the years her mother had been willing

to do whatever was necessary to help Britt’s anxiety. She always had her back.

Soon their drinks and food arrived, and they dove in. There were so many people going back and forth from the restroom that neither of them saw Mr. Pickett return, and when they finished and paid for their meal, he was nowhere to be seen.

“Do you mind if we stop at that new shoe store at Willow Bend?” Mom asked as they headed to the car. “I can’t remember the

name of that either.” She frowned and unlocked the door. “Guess I still have school-year brain drain.”

Britt got in the car and pulled out her phone while her mom cranked up the AC. A few swipes and she found the shop. “Barker’s

Shoes,” she said, clicking on the address.

“Wonder if that’s a pun?” Mom put the car in drive. “You know. When your feet hurt, they bark?”

Britt blinked at her.

“Never mind.” Mom chuckled and they drove off. “After we finish there, we’ll go home. Just let me know when you leave for

K&Bs, okay? And since I’m forgetting everything today, make sure to tell Maude and X I said hi.”

“I will.” Britt settled in the seat. After a fairly stressful but ultimately enjoyable day, she was looking forward to spending

some time at K&Bs. Nothing unexpected ever happened there.

***

Hunter pulled his motorcycle into one of the spaces in front of a short strip mall in Plano, then removed his helmet and stuck

it in the saddlebag, locked it, and looked at his watch. He had a few hours before he had to be at work. He shielded his eyes

from the setting sun behind the storefronts.

Normally he would still be asleep, but ever since he’d been playing Britt’s videos at night, he slept better than he had in months. Her voice soothed him for some reason. Or maybe he was overtired from his long spell of insomnia. Didn’t matter. He felt better, and that’s what counted. He looked straight ahead at the K&B store in front of him.

Armed with Britt’s list, he walked inside and was immediately hit with a riot of color. Different types of art covered the

wood-slatted walls—modern, classical, mixed media, and stuff he didn’t recognize. There were shelves, bins, baskets, and other

containers filled with different art supplies. He scratched his head. He had no idea where to begin.

“You look lost.”

He turned to see a woman about his parents’ age, dressed straight out of Woodstock. Her long, gray hair was pulled into a

ponytail, and she wore a crazy-colored, long, flowy dress over her plump figure. Red square glasses covered in rhinestones

perched on her nose, a beaded chain dangling from either side of the lenses. She took off the spectacles—yes, they were a

spectacle—and smiled. “That’s what most people look like the first time they visit us. I’m Maude. Can I help you find anything?”

“Uh, yes.” He pulled out his phone and showed her the list. “A... friend of mine recommended I get my supplies here.”

“Wonderful. Word of mouth is the best publicity.” She put her glasses back on and peered at the list. “This is fairly simple.

The paper’s over there,” she said, pointing to the back of the store. “The pastels are here behind me, and you’ll find charcoal

pencils and erasers on the other side. If you need help finding anything, just give me or my husband a holler. He’s in the

back. Just call out for X.”

Hunter nodded, at a loss for words. He was still trying to comprehend her outfit, never mind her chaotic store. “Thanks,”

he finally said, then went on his quest to find the supplies.

As he made his way through the store, he started to see some rhyme and reason to the layout. He was impressed with all the different offerings. The paper section was almost overwhelming, and he was glad Britt had been specific about what he should purchase. When he found the right type of paper, he hunted down the rest of the supplies. He even grabbed one of the canvas reusable shopping bags with the K&B logo on the front. Surprisingly, it was in black on wheat-colored canvas. Staid, compared to the rest of the store.

When Hunter reached the checkout, Maude was nowhere in sight. Instead, an extremely tall, extremely thin man with a bald pate

and a ring of longish gray hair around the nape stood behind a register. “Find everything?” he asked as Hunter placed his

items on the counter.

“I did.” He glanced around. “This sure is an interesting place.”

“Thank you. It’s a labor of love.” He tapped on the number keys. “Did you have a chance to look at the art? We like to support

local artists. Every piece on the walls is for sale.”

“I didn’t, but I’ll take a look.” He had some extra time before he had to leave. “I take it you’re X.”

He grinned. “You’ve met my wife then. Xavier Cornelius Von Poffenberger, at your service.”

Hunter gave him a slow nod. No wonder the man went by X. “Ah, yes. She was very helpful.”

“That’s my job,” Maude said, coming up behind Hunter. Her glasses were hanging around her neck again. “I meant to ask you—who

can we thank for recommending us?”

He opened his mouth to speak as the bell above the store rang and a woman walked through the door.

“Oh my goodness!” Maude rushed over to her and pulled her into a huge bear hug. “X, looks who’s here!”

Hunter’s jaw dropped . Britt.