29. Jake
29
JAKE
I say goodbye to Grandpa and the rest of the group, grab my jacket, and follow her out into the bright October afternoon. The sun is warm on my back as I walk the two blocks to the diner where I’m meeting Daniel Pearson for lunch.
He’s waiting at a table near the front and waves enthusiastically as I approach. I think about Iris’s comment and the ramifications of me basing the foundation in Austin if and when I take over.
“I’m glad you asked to meet,” the program officer says as I slide into the chair across from him. “I love working for your grandpa, but I have a gut feeling you’re going to be good for the future.”
I smile as the waitress approaches and places a menu in front of me, even as doubt slices across my gut. What would Daniel think if he knew my plan to relocate the headquarters to Austin? What would my grandfather say?
A cold shiver runs through me at the thought. The foundation has been rooted in this community for decades—his life's work and legacy. The rational part of me knows this is the right business decision, but I can't help wondering if Grandpa will see it as a betrayal of everything he’s built.
The waitress taps her menu pad and grins. “We’ve got a real treat for you today. There’s a guest chef in the kitchen—kind of an on-the-job interview—which means a couple of amazing specials.”
“I’m all about amazing,” I tell her with a grin.
She winks. “I just bet you are, sugar. First up, we’ve got a meatloaf patty melt on toasted rye with caramelized onions and a tangy tomato aioli.” She taps the menu pad again. “It’s like fancy mayo. And if breakfast for lunch is more your style, we have homemade waffles with crispy chicken strips and a drizzle of hot honey.”
“They both sound delicious. Which is your favorite?”
“The meatloaf. You don’t want to miss it.”
“Then I’ll take that,” I tell her, “along with an iced tea—unsweet.”
“Same for me,” Daniel says as he hands the waitress his menu.
“Coming right up,” she promises.
Daniel holds up a hand, palm facing me, and I realize he’s looking for a high five. “Already we’re on the same page,” he says as I give him one.
My stomach lurches, and I remind myself change is inevitable. “How long have you been with the foundation?”
“Almost my entire career,” he answers with a sheepish smile. “I got my undergrad and master’s in nonprofit administration from UNM, so I worked in Albuquerque during the school year. But every summer, I came back and interned with your grandfather. When he offered me a full-time position after graduation, it was a no-brainer.”
“And no interest in trying something different?” I ask after the waitress delivers our drinks. “I understand the constraints of working for a family foundation. If you were with a community agency or a trust that operated with a bigger fund, you’d have more impact, more power.”
He glances down at the table. Is the man blushing?
“Having power isn’t my main motivator.”
“What is your main motivator?”
He thinks about it before answering. “My three sisters and I were raised by a single mom who relied on scholarships and community-funded activities. We didn’t have much, but she made sure we didn’t feel the lack, and your family helped with that. The foundation impacted my life, and now I’m dedicated to offering similar opportunities to people who wouldn’t otherwise have them.”
It’s a good answer. One I admire. “Would you consider moving away from Skylark?”
He frowns. “I can’t imagine not living here. It’s my home.”
“But you don’t have a family of your own,” I point out.
“Not yet, but I’d like to someday.” He clears his throat. “How was your date with Jodi? The two of you seemed to be having a good time at the rodeo.”
“Yeah, but we won’t be going out again.”
“Why not?” He sounds legitimately baffled. “She’s perfect.”
“We just didn’t have a connection.”
“But she’s perfect,” he insists.
“Why haven’t you asked her out?”
His head snaps back like the question is painful to consider. “Jodi and I are friends,” he says, his voice a little too casual. “I’m not going to take a chance on ruining that.”
“If you don’t take a chance, you’ll never know if it could be something more.”
“Friendship is enough.”
“Not always.”
The waitress brings our food, and there’s a pause in the conversation as we both dig in. Our server was right—this sandwich is the best thing I’ve tasted in a long time. The bread is toasted perfectly, thin slices of grilled meatloaf covered with Swiss cheese are balanced by the tangy sauce. I don’t know where that guest chef came from, but they’d be fools not to hire him for real.
“I think you have a shot with her,” I confide as I dunk a crispy fry in the ramekin of dipping sauce the waitress explained is a fancy mix of ranch dressing, ketchup, and the chef’s secret spices. “Sometimes love isn’t loud—it’s about being steady, showing up, and trying again.” That’s what I’d like to believe with Iris, anyway.
Daniel pushes his plate forward an inch like he’s suddenly lost his appetite. “Be real, Jake. I’m a geek through and through, and I realized it long before the first day of second grade when Logan Martin announced it to the class.” He taps a finger on the corner of his thick glasses—the kind that would make Clark Kent proud. “I’m okay with who I am, but I’ve seen the type of guys Jodi dates. Most of them look like you. Like they flip cars or bench press horses for fun.”
“Bench pressing a horse wouldn’t be fun,” I assure him with a laugh. “Don’t sell yourself short just because some asshole called you a stupid name or tried to make you believe something about yourself that doesn’t have to be true.”
He blinks and glances toward nearby tables. Yep, people are staring after my overzealous reaction to his geek comment. It’s a name I was never called, but I’ve heard and believed plenty of others, all to my detriment.
“Okay.” He nods again. “You’re persuasive, Jake. And passionate. The foundation would be lucky to have you at its helm. I hope your grandfather and the board see that.”
“They’re already lucky to have you,” I counter. “Jodi would be, too. You’re a hell of a catch, man.”
He laughs self-consciously. “No one has ever called me a catch.”
“Get used to it.” I grab the check the waitress left on the table when she delivered the food. “For the record, I don’t do hype talks if they aren’t warranted.”
“Thank you.” He stands and shakes my hand. “For the record, I wouldn’t back you as your grandpa’s successor if I didn’t think you could do the job.”
“That means a lot.” I hold his eyes for a minute, then he nods and heads for the door. He walks out of the diner, his shoulders a bit straighter than when he came in, while I pay at the cash register.
A tingling along my neck makes me glance over my shoulder, and I see a familiar face walking down the back hallway that leads to the alley behind the building.
“I should have known you made that sandwich,” I say as Nick turns to see who’s followed him out into the afternoon sunlight. “It was amazing, by the way.”
He takes a long swig from his water bottle. “Getting nothing but raves. Sometimes simple is best.”
“There’s nothing simple about you returning to Skylark.”
“I think the same could be said about you.” He lowers himself onto the wrought iron bench that faces toward the alley. There’s an ash bin sitting next to it for the restaurant employees who take their smoke breaks out here.
I gesture toward the can. “Do you smoke?”
“Of all the vices I’ve had, which you know better than most have been numerous, nicotine has never been one of them.”
I acknowledge his answer with a nod, then ask, “Why are you in the diner’s kitchen today?”
“The head cook’s looking to retire, and I’m pretty sure I nailed my interview to replace him.”
“You’re staying in Skylark?”
“Do you have a problem with that?”
I raise one brow. “I’ve said it before—only if you’re going to cause trouble for Iris.”
He shades his eyes as he glances up at me. “And I don’t care what bullshit line either of you gives me about dance partners, you’re together, which means she’s going to get hurt. It’s why I asked you to stay away from the start.”
My temper flares. “What makes you think I owe you that?”
“I don’t know.” He shrugs. “Friendship? Loyalty?”
“Loyalty like the way I let her believe for years that night was my fault?”
“Our mother perpetuated that lie.”
“You could have corrected that. Told her the truth.”
“The truth is she’s way too good for either of us.”
“One hundred percent.” I take a seat next to him. “But I promise she’s in control of what’s happening between us. If it makes you feel any better, I’m probably the one who’s going to end up a big, sad, brokenhearted pile of dookie at the end of it.”
He eyes me carefully. “Then why start?”
“She might be too good for me, but I won’t be the one to tell her. So, are you really thinking of settling down in Skylark?”
“It’s a small town,” he answers, “but there’s a lot of space here. It’s the kind of space that helps keep my head clear, so I’m going to give it my best shot. What about you?”
“Like I told Iris, once my grandfather decides about the foundation’s future, I’ll be heading back to Texas either way.”
“What about my sister?”
I manage a laugh. “She’s bound to realize I can’t make her happy the way she deserves to be.” I rub a hand over the back of my neck, already hating how the thought of leaving makes me feel. “I’m not going to stick around to watch her find the guy who does.” The truth of that feels like a knife against my throat.
“Well, if you do stick…” He knocks his fist against the brick wall of the building behind us. “You’ll know where to come for Skylark’s best sandwich.”
I stand up and shake his hand. “I like seeing you like this, Nick.”
“Me too,” he says. “Remember, man, sticking might be hard, but leaving isn’t any easier in the long run. Iris doesn’t need you to be perfect. But she does need you to show up.”
I head to my car while he returns to the restaurant, wondering if Nick Dixon actually has it figured out. I tried running—from mistakes and guilt and every person I let down. But maybe running is really just a different way of staying stuck.