Chapter 11
Chapter Eleven
Delaney
Iknow I haven’t been on a proper date in years, and I don’t really have any friends left, but spending my Saturday night elbow-deep in chicken drippings is something I never imagined would happen.
Still, I’m grateful the temp agency found me a fill-in spot with this caterer.
They pay well, and if the people who hired us give a tip at the end, it’s split between everybody.
So, even though I’m the dishwasher, I still get a share—and I think I’ve earned it.
When I told myself last week that I’d work my fingers to the bone to make sure Mom could stay at the new nursing facility, I didn’t think it would literally happen.
Scrubbing the bottom of this pan, now I’m not so sure.
Still, I scrub feverishly, throwing everything I’ve got at this damn stubborn little burn stain on the bottom of the serving tray.
It’s the last dish I have out of everything brought to me, and I refuse to be defeated by it.
A minute later, I’ve won. Delaney-one, serving pan-zero. I rinse, dry, and then find the pan’s designated location and put it away. I’ve washed all the dishes that made it back to the dishwashing area so far, but I know there are a few left out front.
I turn to Phyllis, the supervisor of our crew. She’s a little spit of a thing, but she runs a tight ship. One would be a fool to take off their hair net before she gives the all-clear.
“Phyllis, is it okay if I go out and get the remaining dishes? I know the servers are busy with desserts and clearing the last of the dinnerware.”
“Sure, honey, you go right ahead. I gotta say, you’re the most eager dishwasher I’ve had. If you’re interested, I think there might be more events in your future.”
“Yes, ma’am. Thank you very much. I really appreciate it.”
I walk out to the area where the last remaining trays from the buffet line are waiting.
I’m pretty sure it’s just mashed potatoes and mixed vegetables—shouldn’t be too bad.
After I stack the three trays, I take a second to glance at the bride and groom as they dance.
They’re a very attractive couple, but it’s the way they’re looking at each other that strikes me.
That’s what’s beautiful. There’s no doubt in my mind that this couple loves each other deeply.
Maybe my next romance read should include a wedding. A sigh escapes me at the thought. I love a good, sappy love story.
I turn on my heel. and I’m just about to walk back into the kitchen when an adorable little girl in a fluffy, blush-colored dress races up to me and skids to a stop. She’s panting, a sheen of sweat on her forehead.
“‘Scuse me, ma’am,” she says, “I’ve been dancing, and I’m thirsty. Can you help me get some water?”
I smile down at her. She couldn’t look any cuter as she blows a stray blonde ringlet out of her eyes.
“Sure, there are water bottles right over there. I can help you open one if you need.”
She looks in the direction I’m pointing and bites her lower lip. She doesn’t respond immediately, but then the hint of a grin forms on her face.
“I don’t like bottled water. Could you get me some from the sink?”
“Of course, I can do that. Do you want ice in it?”
“Is it the big ice cubes or the little ones? You know, like in a snow cone?”
Damn, this kid is adorable.
I can picture her with blue stains around her mouth after indulging in one of the cold treats.
“They’re a little bigger than snow cone ice, but not the big ones you might have at home.”
“Okay. A little ice would be good. Like, maybe this much.” She cups her tiny hand to show me how much ice to put in it, then sits on a nearby chair and swings her feet back and forth. “I’ll wait right here.”
“All right. Give me just a minute. I’ll go put these pans away and send someone out with some water for you.”
“No! It has to be you.”
“Oh, well, I’m just a dishwasher. But do you see those sweet ladies over there? They can bring you a—”
“No. I want it to be from you. Trust me on this, ‘kay?”
Persistent little thing.
“Okay, I’ll do that. Let me drop these off”—I gesture to the pans I’m holding—“then, I’ll get your water and let my boss know I’m bringing it out to you.”
“If she yells at you, send her to me. Tell her I’m the flower girl. Is she old? Old people love me. If you don’t believe me, you can ask my friends Lester and Ruthie. Oh! And Sally—I almost forgot Sally. That’s silly. She was my nanny.”
I chuckle and smile at her. She’s a ray of light if I’ve ever met one.
“Sure thing, if she gives me any trouble, I’ll send her out here to you. I’ll be right back.”
I return to the kitchen and place the dirty metal trays on my work area, then wash my hands.
“Phyllis, there’s a little girl out there who wants a glass of water from the tap and insists that I bring it to her. Is that okay?”
“Sure, Delaney. Whatever the customers want, within reason, of course.” She winks at me.
“Thanks.”
I prepare the water exactly to the child’s specifications and walk back out.
“Here you go. Get some water in you, and you can be back on the dance floor in no time. It was very nice to meet you.”
“Thank you, ma’am. Wait—you’re not leaving, are you?”
“I’m just going back into the kitchen. I have to get back to work.”
She pauses, then takes a drink, downing half the glass in one gulp.
“Could you stay for a minute? ‘Cause what if I need more?”
Who could say no to that face?
“I can wait just a minute and see if you need a refill. How about that?”
She nods and sips at her water.
“My name is Layla. What’s yours?”
“I’m Delaney.”
“Delaney. That’s a pretty name. Never heard that one.”
“Layla is also a beautiful name.”
“Thanks. I like it. My sister’s name is Lena, but she’s kind of a baby, so she can’t dance by herself.”
“I saw you dancing, and you’re an excellent dancer.”
“Yeah, I know. But I had to take a break.” I love her confidence.
“Well, then it’s a good thing to get some water in you. Dancing is like exercise.”
“Delaney?”
“Yes?”
“Are you married?”
A snort-laugh escapes me. Damn it. My cheeks heat.
“Hey, you just did a snort and a laugh at the same time! I do that sometimes.” She’s grinning like it’s the best thing in the world, and it eases my embarrassment.
“You do? Well, that makes me feel better. I thought I was the only one.” I smile at her. “Do you wanna know what I call it?”
“A snort?”
“Nope. I call it a snuckle—a snort and a chuckle. Did you know chuckle is another way to say laugh?”
Her eyes widen.
“I didn’t, but now I do—and I like snuckle.” She stands up and swipes the hair off her cheek with her little hand. “I bet that’s easier to write in a story, and I have to write stories sometimes for school. I think I’m gonna use that word. None of the other kids will know it yet.”
“Okay, but if you do, make sure your teacher knows it’s a word you made up and not a spelling mistake.”
“Oh, she wouldn’t think I made a spelling’ mistake. I’m real smart. I think I get that from my daddy.” She pauses and furrows her little brow. “My first mom wasn’t so smart, I don’t think, ‘cause she left me and Lena and my daddy. And he’s a good catch. You can’t be smart if you left us three.”
She still looks happy, but something in me aches for her. I’m trying to think of the right words to say back, but I don’t get a chance.
“But it’s okay, ‘cause my mommy—my real mommy who picked me—she’s super smart. She does number stuff. That’s her out there. She married my dad today. Isn’t she pretty?”
I grin at the little girl. “She’s very pretty. So are you.”
“Thanks, Delaney. You are, too. So, are you married?”
Boy, she is not to be deterred, is she?
“Nope. Not married. Before I get back to work, do you need a refill on your water?”
“I don’t know yet. Can you wait a few more minutes?”
I smile. “Sure.”
“So, you aren’t married. Do you have a boyfriend?”
I can’t help but laugh out loud.
“I do not have a boyfriend. Do you have a boyfriend?”
“No, but there’s this boy at school who always draws me pictures, and I think he likes me like a boyfriend. But I don’t like him like that. He’s just my friend. I don’t have time for that.” She flaps her hand out in front of her dismissively, and I hold back a laugh.
She finishes her water and glances to the right before quickly turning her eyes back to me.
“You’re my new friend.”
“Well, thank you. That’s a nice thing to say.”
Before I realize what’s happening, she grabs my hand in her tiny one and starts to pull me as she walks away.
“I gotta show you something real fast, and then I’ll let you get back to work. Okay?”
“I really should get back to work now,” I tell her—yet I still follow. Plus, she’s actually kind of strong for someone her size. Something tells me this little girl is going to get her way, and doing what she wants is probably the fastest way to get back to work.
“Where are we going?” I ask.
“It’s kind of a surprise. But I promise we’re almost there.”
“Is it a good surprise or a bad surprise?”
“It’s a great one. You’re gonna love it. I got a boyfriend for you.”
“Oh no.” I slow down but don’t pull away. “I don’t need a boyfriend.”
“I think you need this one. Plus, he really needs a girlfriend.”
My God. How do I get away from this little girl without hurting her feelings? Maybe I should just let her do a quick introduction and then excuse myself to get back to work. But this is going to be humiliating.
I’ve reached a new low. My love life is so bad that a grade-schooler is trying to fix me up. I’ve got a gravy stain on my shirt and a cheap hairnet on. No woman wants to meet a man—or anyone—for the first time like this.
“He’s right here.”
I look up—and my stomach drops. My breath stutters in my chest, and I gasp.
I dig my heels in and pull my arm away from the little girl as gently as I can.
Just feet away from me sits the man I had my first—and only—one-night stand with. Al.
God, he looks drool-worthy in a tux with a five o’clock shadow on his jaw. Those eyes, too. Bedroom eyes.
Stop it, Delaney.
He stands when he sees me. His jaw drops, and his eyes widen.
“What’s wrong?” the little girl asks. Her eyes dart between Al and me.
I freeze in place for a few seconds—then I turn and run back to the kitchen. I swear I hear “Betty!” called from behind me.
When I get into the kitchen, I race past Phyllis, and I frantically look around.
There’s a small storage closet where clean linens and extra supplies are kept.
I fly over to it, swing the door open, and throw myself inside.
As I reach for the door to pull it closed, Phyllis turns to look at me—speechless.
My heart pounds in my chest.
This can’t be happening. It cannot. It’s impossible. I cannot be running into Al here. He was only supposed to be a conference hookup—one time. No strings. I cried in front of him after sex, for God’s sake.
Speaking of God… Please, God, don’t let him find me.
I wait for what feels like an eternity, but it’s probably only a minute or two. It strikes me that I likely looked like a wild woman running in here and hiding, yet Phyllis just let me be. Interesting.
When I think it’s been long enough that I’m probably safe to come out, I reach for the door handle, and at that exact moment, I hear his deep voice through the cheap, hollow door.
“Hi… I’m looking for a girl.”
Time stands still. Is Phyllis going to rat me out?
“Well, young man, last I checked, an event hall kitchen isn’t really the ideal place to meet a young lady,” she says dryly. “But since you’re so handsome… I’m single.”
Silence.
Then, after about fifteen seconds, Phyllis chuckles.
“Don’t worry, I’m just messing with you. Sorry—as you can see, I’m the only one in here.”
I release the breath I’d been holding, grateful that—for now—Phyllis hasn’t outed me.
“She just ran through here. Pretty. Green eyes. Blonde hair. She works here. She was wearing a uniform,” he explains.
“Oh, sorry, young man. Two of the girls just finished their shift and left.”
“Damn it,” I hear him mutter. “Sorry. It’s just—I swear I know the girl from somewhere. I just wanted to say hello. Is there any chance you could give me the names of the two girls who left? Maybe I can connect with her.”
“Okay, I gotta stop you there. That’s a hard no. I’m not giving out the girls’ names to someone we don’t know. That would be unprofessional.” Her voice is firm, motherly.
“But I’m with the bride and groom—in the wedding party. They can vouch for me.”
“I’m going to have to say no to that, and I have to ask you to leave the kitchen. We really can’t let non-catering staff back here. It’s against insurance rules.”
I hear him sigh, clearly frustrated. About thirty seconds later, the pantry door creaks open. Phyllis steps inside and shuts it behind her.
Shit.
I’m afraid I’m going to get fired now—and I really need this money.
“Young lady,” she says quietly, “I don’t know why you’re running from that man—God knows most women would run toward him—but clearly something’s going on there.”
“It’s nothing bad,” I whisper. “I promise. And thank you. For not telling him I was in here.”
She eyes me for a few seconds.
“All right. Sounds like there’s a story there. And if you’re ever ready to tell it”—she winks—“I love me a good, salacious, love story.”
“Oh no, it’s not like that.”
“I don’t know, Delaney.” Her voice turns playful again. “The look on that man’s face? That looked like something to me.”
My face flushes hot with embarrassment.
She can’t be right.
I look ridiculous. No makeup. Hairnet. Gravy on my shirt.
Plus, I ran out on the guy. Twice, now.