23. Chloe
twenty-three
Samuel hasn’t answered the text I sent him yesterday asking how he was doing, so I’m assuming he’s not coming in today. This means my Easy Monday pit stop will have to wait until after I swing by the restaurant and get the day started.
“Great minds think alike,” I tell Corine as a matter of greeting. She’s here earlier than usual as well, chopping herbs. Eric comes in right after me. “Your usual from Easy Monday? How about you, Eric?”
Corine looks up from the marinade she’s preparing, and blushes. “Um… there’s someone in your office.”
Why is she blushing? Could it be Justin? What would he be doing here? What am I going to do if it’s him? And what if Samuel comes in? I swing the door to the office open and find a police officer occupying the whole space with his mere presence. His dark eyes pin me in place, and his stature is intimidating in a good way. The way you’d want a man of the law to be intimidating. The way, I might add, any man should be, if he’s to be intimidating.
I get where Corine is coming from.
“Ms. Sullivan, I’m officer Declan Campbell.” He gestures to my seat, so I sit down. Like I said, intimidating. Not going to question him.
“What can you tell me about the incident involving Samuel Reynolds and Justin King?”
Oooh, I don’t like this. Don’t like it at all. Specifically, I don’t like the word incident associated with what I consider to be my restaurant, at least for now. I play stupid and frown. “What… incident?”
He smirks at me, tilting his head. “I thought you were smarter than that.”
Ouch. Tall, dark, and handsome men in a position of authority and not wearing a wedding band should not show women they’re seeing straight through their lies.
It’s just plain cruel.
Luckily, I’m not interested, so I just make a mental note to not mess around with Officer Campbell and answer, “Oh, that incident. What about it?”
He sits comfortably back in his chair and produces a notepad and a pen. “What can you tell me about it?”
I blow raspberries. Really, what is there to tell? One asshole hit another asshole. I lift my shoulders. “Boys will be boys.”
“Mmm, I see.” He scratches his head. “Were you ever in any danger?”
I poke my thumb at my chest. Me? “Nah.”
“Mr. King seems to believe that he went to rescue you from a potentially dangerous situation.”
I squint. Mmm. “Did Justin say that?”
“Were you? In a potentially dangerous situation?”
Well—Samuel was in my face, but he didn’t touch me. The only dangerous thing was if I were to fall because of a panic attack. “I suppose it’s a matter of perception.”
“Could Justin have believed you to be in danger?”
“Justin could have, yes,” I answer carefully, noticing he switched from Mr. King to Justin. “Potentially.”
“And why would Justin believe you to be in danger, and not your staff, who were right there?”
Shit. I can’t tell him about Boston. About our history. That’s not for me to tell. Declan Campbell might be an officer of the law, with rules around confidentiality and such, but he’s bound to talk to a girlfriend, a mother, a sister. He’ll put it in his report, which might be typed or printed or filed by someone other than him. Someone with looser confidentiality strings.
That stuff’s going to be all over Echoes if I say anything. There’s also the matter of Samuel. If I provide Justin with a valid reason for hitting him, I will lose my chef. Best if I stay out of this. “You know... Did you ask him?”
Declan’s face closes down, but we’re interrupted by a knock on the door. An impressive bouquet moves into the small office and is deposited on my desk. A man emerges from behind it, his eyes dart to Officer Campbell, and he quickly leaves.
Corine is closing the door, her eyes on the bouquet as wide as saucers. “There’s a card,” she whisper-cries.
Any flowers delivered to me would be fabulous, since that’s never happened to me, but these are truly fabulous. I didn’t think I’d ever be that woman, but the pink peonies, the blue delphiniums, the white lilies, all tied together exquisitely with airy little white thingies, spectacular greens twirling around, and a myriad of other flowers I don’t know the names of, make me blush and ooooh and aaaaah.
Officer Campbell clears his throat, but I have to know.
Who sent these to me? Aunt Dawn as a thank you for running the restaurant (she has no idea what I’m going through)? Mom as a sorry for being a bitch (a daughter can hope)? Hopefully not Fiona as a thank you for the plane tickets, because I’ll ream into her if that’s where she spends her/my money.
I pluck the card off and tear it open.
As I’m reading, I feel the heat creeping from my center to my torso, my legs, my head.
I quickly slide the note back in the envelope and the envelope into my handbag and try to steady my breathing as I blink my eyes back to Officer Campbell.
He shuts his notepad and stands. “Mr. Samuel Reynolds pressed charges against Mr. Justin King. I’ll just let Mr. King and his lawyer decide how many billable hours they want to expend on this.”
I hesitate. Should I tell him that Justin is the only one who knows about my claustrophobia?
But Officer Campbell is already out the door, and I’m left alone with the spectacular bouquet.
I shut the door, pull the note back out, and read it over.
Chloe,
I am truly, profoundly sorry to have hurt you and ashamed of how I talked to you. Please know that these words were merely a reflection of my dark soul.
I understand that nothing I do can ever erase how poorly your first day in Emerald Creek went, but I hope these flowers bring you joy today.
Justin
I lick my lips and smell the flowers. I read the note again before sliding it back into my handbag.
Then I think back to what Officer Campbell said. That Justin believed me to be in danger, and I have to suppress images of him cradling me in an elevator.
I need to clear my head with work and coffee, so I call Corine into my office.
While she wraps up in the kitchen, I decide to send Justin a quick thank-you email. Email is safe. You’d have to put some effort into showing emotions over email, and I’ll put effort on being businesslike. I can’t have him thinking I’m seeing anything else in this gesture. Surely for him it was a formality, a way to get us back to normal, and I’m grateful for that. But it’s nothing more, and I don’t want to make it awkward for him. He doesn’t want more. Never did, never will.
I open the email icon and see I already have two messages from Justin. My pulse quickens.
They’re dated yesterday. I should add my work emails to my phone, I think as I click it open.
Chloe
Rereading our emails, I realize I might have come off a bit cocky. Maybe even a lot cocky. And pushy.
I want you to know this was never my intention, and I’d do anything to start with a blank slate.
Justin
A blank slate.
Last night, Justin wanted to start with a blank slate.
This morning, he sent me gorgeous flowers and the most touching note—though I’m not sure what he meant with his dark soul comment. Why did he send flowers? Did he think I was ignoring him after his emails? Is that why he escalated the apology?
Or did someone from Game Night give him an earful?
Did Haley say something to him?
That has to be it. Maybe she even wrote the note! Who knows? Why else would he talk about his dark soul?
I’m so confused.
When I click on the icon for his other email, I’m even more confused:
Chloe
I owe you an apology.
I want you to know I am deeply sorry for the hurt I caused you, and I’m ashamed of myself. I passed judgment based on who your family is. I of all people know how wrong and hurtful this must have been to you. I would do anything to take these words back if I could.
How can I ever make it right by you, Chloe?
Justin
My family? What’s wrong with my family?
Well, lots of things, but as far as Justin is concerned…?
It can’t be about his friggin’ rent again, can it?
So confusing…
Also, so much for email not carrying any emotion.
Is it just me, or are his emails highly emotional?
Or am I highly emotional just because it’s Justin?
The one thing I’m not confused about, is that I need to protect my heart. No jumping to conclusions. I’m the only one who made a whole thing out of Boston. He didn’t. When I brought Moose back to him the other night and he was having his Community Dinner—to which he did not invite me—he was all like, ‘Is this about Boston?’ like what happened between us was the most trivial thing.
God, I was so embarrassed.
Moving on.
I’ll shoot him a thank you email so I can cross that off my to-do list. I need to keep on keeping on with my life.
It takes me the longest time to figure out what to write, though. As much as I should not care and just get it over with, I can’t bring myself to hit Send, knowing Justin will be reading my words.
I may not matter to him, but what he thinks of me matters to me.
Go figure.
When Corine comes in, I hit Send on the email (“Thank you for the gorgeous flowers. Definitely brought me joy today.” I know—how original) and gesture for her to sit down at my desk, moving the bouquet aside so she has space. “I don’t know when Chef will be back, so I’d like you to work on menu costing, please. It’s one of the first things I need in order to get the restaurant on the right track.”
She dips her nose in the flowers before sitting down. “Of course.”
“Do you have everything you need to do that?”
“Yep.”
“It’s going to take some time, but if you could get started now, that’d still be progress. Use my computer. I’m going to run to Easy Monday. It’s about time I get you and Eric your coffees,” I say, smiling. “You’re in charge while I’m gone!”
She looks a little panicked.
“I’ll be gone thirty minutes, tops. Just do whatever I’d do. You got this.”
Coffee and work. This is what I need to keep it together.
I return an hour later. It’s a gorgeous morning, Millie was in an even better mood than usual. She introduced me to the owner of the general store, and we started talking about ways to promote the restaurant to locals during the week.
Yes. The restaurant will be open seven days. The staff just doesn’t know it yet.
Oopsie.
To be fair, we’ll be hiring more people. The goal is to make a profit, which means a raise for all of them. Win win.
Then I bumped into Craig on the way out. We said a quick hello, but I didn’t get to chat with him seeing as he was on his phone.
It’s best he doesn’t know yet about my plans for the restaurant.
I bring Eric his iced latte with a double shot of espresso, get to my office, and plop in the chair where officer Campbell was earlier. Corine is squinting over the computer screen. “Here’s your iced chai, dirty. How’s it going?” I don’t expect her to be done. Just to have started.
She keeps her gaze on the computer and takes a long pull on her paper straw. “Um… I might have gotten sidetracked.”
“Sure. What’s up? Anything I can help with?”
Slurp. “Remember when you said I should do whatever you would do?”
Hmmm. “Un-hunh.”
“Well, I might have answered a message for you.”
Umm. What?! “That’s… fine. What was it?”
“And then I might have entered a chat…”
“M’kay…”
“And… Okay.” She makes buggy eyes at me. “Hear me out. It’s gonna be fine.”
“Sure.”
“I promise.”
“I trust you.” What else am I going to say? I like her, I need her, and I gave her unclear instructions.
She slurps her drink, toying with a little green thingy that springs out of the bouquet, looking all dreamy and stuff.
“I was creating all the columns in Excel, and that went well. And then I started on the rows, and that’s taking me a whole lotta time, ’cause there’s stuff on the menu that we don’t ever sell, but it’s there, so I have to price it, right?”
Oh. We’ll get to that later. “Un-hunh.”
“And your email thingy popped up.”
“Right.”
“And it was right in my face, so I read it.”
How bad can it be? A delivery pushed back? A provider cutting us off? Samuel resigning? She’ll find out anyway. “Okay.”
“Actually it was a chat, and you said I was in charge and to do whatever you would do.”
Right. But really?
Moving on.
“Right?” she insists.
“Sure.” Note to self: Corine takes things literally—act accordingly.
“And so I thought you’d want to answer right away… since it was a chat.” She dips over her chai so she doesn’t have to meet my glare. “And so I did.”
“Sure!” I chirp. “Wanna fill me in? What was it about?” I should have ordered a green tea with an extra shot of CBD.
“Maybe… maybe you should just read it yourself?” She grabs her drink and stands.
“Corine, its fine, I swear. Stay here and use the computer for your spreadsheet. Just tell me what’s up.”
“You’re meeting with Justin tomorrow.”
Whaaaat?I choke on the Road to Heaven, and she takes that for my answer. Rightfully.
“At your house. Nine in the morning.”
My ears are ringing with the sudden upsurge of blood. That’s… that’s just not possible. Not gonna happen. I take a deep breath to keep my voice steady and kind. Kiiiiind. “Lemme—lemme take a peak at the chat.”
She scurries up so I can see the screen. “Technically, I signed C, so you could say it was me. If you wanted to… you know… get out of it.” She slurps again. “I wouldn’t, if I were you. But I’m…”
I must be giving angry vibes now, because she doesn’t finish her sentence. I am so stopping at 420 today.
Justin
I’m glad you liked the flowers.
Chloe
They are gorgeous. And they smell so good.
C
Justin
Now that we’ve cleared the air, can we revisit working together on the dish for the fair? Cassandra has been busting my balls about it, and Alex (Have you met Alex yet?) wants to take photos and videos of us making it together.
J
Chloe
Of course! I’d love to.
Your place or mine?
C
Seriously, Corine? Your place or mine? God, I’m pretty sure that’s the title of one the romances they were talking about at Easy Monday the other day.
Justin
I’ll be at the cottage tomorrow morning. Nine okay?
Chloe
Perfect! Happy emoji>
C
And the happy emoji? I don’t know if I’m more embarrassed by the content of the messages or by the fact that “I” have so easily accepted to meet with Justin.
You know what? It doesn’t matter. It doesn’t matter that my heartbeat picks up when I look at the flowers he sent. It doesn’t matter that my palms are sweaty when I think about him coming to my place tomorrow. It doesn’t matter that I’m already thinking about what I should be wearing for our meeting.
I doesn’t matter because that’s not what he’s after.
And so I can just relax and focus on work.
We’re just two business owners doing the right thing for our small town.
I should focus on the dishes I want to propose. I should start a shopping list and actually go shopping so I can show him that I can hold my ground when it comes to food. Even though I’m a numbers person, I know a thing or two about food and I intend to show him.
I’m so wound up by the end of the day, I definitely stop by 420 for gummies, or else I won’t sleep. And this girl needs her beauty sleep.