Chapter 17
Chapter 17
I’ll admit it. Sitting at the dinner table with my entire family for a Mandatory McCarthy Meal is not at the top of my list of favorite things to do on a Saturday night. Particularly when my decision not to take an internship at either McCarthy & McCarthy Solicitors or Baby-ness is still a big, fat, juicy bone of contention for my well-meaning siblings.
Did I say “well-meaning?” I meant overbearing, all up in my business, go ruin someone else’s life siblings.
My bad.
All I can say is I am totally indebted to Jason for offering to come with me to face the wolves. Of course, he assures me his attendance at this Mandatory McCarthy Meal has everything to do with the fact that he adores Mum’s homemade bread pudding, but I don’t care. Tonight, the first meal since my announcement that I wasn’t taking either of the internships, I need as many people in my corner as I can get.
We’ve managed to get through the entire dinner of lamb stew and mashed potatoes (for a change), and are almost on the home stretch over Mum’s carb-tastic bread pudding when Dad innocently asks, “Sophie? How’s this brilliant new job of yours working out?”
I love my dad, really I do, but why did he have to go ask that?
I steel myself for the inevitable internship comments and try my best to push from mind the fact that High Tea, and consequently my new job, is in financial straits. “It’s awesome, Dad. High Tea is great, being the weekend manager is great, and it’s all, well . . . just great.”
Dad beams at me. “That’s so wonderful, love.”
“It is wonderful. Thanks, Dad. I made the right decision to take this new and exciting job, and I love being the manager.” I look pointedly across the table at Sean and Fiona.
“ Weekend manager,” Sean adds helpfully.
“That’s right. The weekends are High Tea’s busiest time of the week and represent most of the profits,” I reply, trying not to sound too defensive but guessing I probably do.
“She’s really very good at what she does, you know,” Jason says to Sean. “You should drop in and see for yourself.”
I beam at Jason before I turn back to Sean and add, “Although you really should book. We get very busy.”
“Oh, good for you, dote ,” Mum says. “Your dad and I knew you’d make a real success of whatever you put your mind to. And you’re still working at the café during the week?”
“I am. I get Mondays and Tuesdays off. The way I see it, I get the best of both worlds: High Tea and the Cozy Cottage.” I look across the table at Sean, the ringleader, and challenge him to say anything negative about my job in the face of such glowing parental approval.
Sean swallows a mouthful and places his fork on his now empty plate. “Tell me something, Sophie. What’s your career path? Where do see yourself in, I don’t know, two years, three?”
All eyes at the table turn to me, even baby Lola’s and baby Simon’s, although I suspect that’s mainly because their moms are watching me and not because they’re ganging up on me, too.
It’s a good question. With Paige back after the babies are born, where do I see myself in two years? Although it’s suited me just fine so far, I’m not sure I see myself as being a barista when I’m pushing twenty-eight. I chew on my lip as I work out how to answer. After a moment, I begin, “Well, as I said, I really love working at High Tea, so I’d like to still be there. I’ve got a big opportunity right now. Huge, in fact.”
“Doing what?” Fiona asks.
“To show my bosses my worth by improving the customer numbers. I want to make High Tea the best offering of its kind in Auckland city.”
Until this moment, I hadn’t even worked out that was what I wanted. But suddenly, it all seems so clear: I want to do what I love to do. And I love managing Cozy Cottage High Tea.
I lean back in my seat, confident in my new-found direction in life. It feels good. It feels right. Full-time manager of Cozy Cottage High Tea. I like the sound of that.
I’ve just got to make it happen.
Caitlin crinkles her brow. “What do you mean ‘improve the customer numbers?’”
“Is the business in trouble?” Fiona asks.
“Methink’st this is something to be concerned about,” Sean adds.
Uh-oh. It would have been best not to have mentioned to my family that High Tea is in trouble.
I was almost home free.
All I can do now is try to gloss over it. “It’s no big deal. Really, it’s not. Bailey told me the numbers are a little down, that’s all.”
Try a lot down. Like needs open-heart surgery down. And I know. As gut-wrenching as it is, I saw it with my own two eyes. I poured over Bailey’s spreadsheet during my breaks today, and let’s just say that where High Tea was financially when it first opened and where it is now are two totally different places. Totally different continents .
And I’ve been wracking my brain on how to fix it.
“What’s ‘a little down?’” Caitlin asks. “No more mashies, sweetie. You’ve had enough and we don’t want sickie baby, do we?” That part is directed at Lola, not me, I’m pretty sure.
“Nothing much. Just a handful less customers than, say, this time last year. I’ve been looking at solutions, though.”
“Really? Like what?” Sean’s gaze is intense, and my heart thuds in my ears.
This is not how I saw this conversation going.
“Oh, like, err—” My eyes dart desperately around the faces at the table until they land on Jason’s. I know the hopeful, positive look on his face is willing me to come up with the goods, to dazzle my siblings into taking me seriously as a woman of business. But under pressure, I ain’t got a whole lot right now.
“I think what Sophie is trying to say is that she’s working on some promising ideas, but they’re in the embryonic stages right now. Right, Soph?” Jason raises his eyebrows and gives me a small encouraging nod.
“Embryonic. That’s right.” I nod vehemently, although I’ve never used such a blatantly medical term in my life. I tap the side of my head. “Still working on it. Comin’ up with the goods. I could tell you, but I might have to shoot you all.” My forced laugh is brittle.
“You know, Sophie’s smart,” Jason begins. “She’s blessed with a strong McCarthy head on her shoulders. Just like all of you have been, too. Successful lawyers,” he gestures at Fiona and Sean, who both sit up a little straighter in their chairs. “A successful marketing manager,” he nods at Abigail who smiles back at him. “Successful business owner.” This time it’s Caitlin’s turn. “And lest I forget the two best parents anyone could hope to have, Mama and Poppa McCarthy.” My parents puff their chests out and beam at him down the table.
My mouth drops open. This guy could charm John Wayne off his horse!
I look around the table at a family transformed. They fell for Jason’s charms the moment he stepped into their lives, and he’s weaved his magic with them once more tonight. I am so grateful.
I beam at him across the table. “Thank you,” I mouth and am rewarded with a raise of the eyebrows.
“Have faith in her. Just as you have faith in yourselves.” Jason looks directly into my eyes and adds, “I know I do.”
As I look back at him, something new and unexpected moves in my chest. I’m alarmed when a lump begins to form in my throat and tears sting my eyes. What is happening to me? Why is Jason suddenly having an effect on me?
I find myself gazing at Jason as though he’s . . . he’s . . . what? Someone I have feelings for? Feelings like . . . love?
Wait, what?!
That’s ridiculous. Jason is Jason, pure and simple. He’s my roommate, my friend. That’s all he’s ever been—and that’s a whole lot.
I can’t go having romantic feelings about him. That’s insane! Insane and weird and wrong and dangerous and oh-so many things.
I blink back my unexpected tears and force myself to look elsewhere. I train my eyes on my family instead. Until I can work out what the heck is happening here, it’s a much, much safer option not to look anywhere near Jason.
“You know, with speeches like that, you should consider running for office one day, Jason,” I say with a laugh.
It doesn’t take Einstein to work out I’m making light to ward off the new, surprising emotions churning inside me. When really, what I want to do is pull him close to me and thank him for his undying support. Tell him how much he means to me, from the very bottom of my heart.
Crap crappity crap! What has gotten into me?
That would be crazy. Not to mention send my already heightened sense of vulnerability into orbit.
He smiles. “Maybe one day, Soph.”
“You know what? You’re right, Jason. We should have more faith in Sophie,” Abigail says, almost making me fall off my chair in shock.
“I agree,” Caitlin says. “And Lola does, too. Don’t you, Lolie?” The one-year-old simply gurgles as some salivary mashed potato dribbles out of her mouth. “Just because she chose not to take one of those internships doesn’t mean we shouldn’t support her. Well done, Sophie. I have faith in you, too.”
“Yes. I have faith in you, Sophie.” This from Fiona.
“Well, you know what I think of you, love. I’m very proud of you,” Dad says with a wink and a smile.
“See? We believe in you, mo stoirín ,” Mum adds.
I blink at them all as I take it in. “Th-thanks, everyone,” I manage, as my throat aches from trying not to cry.
All eyes at the table turn to the only silent member of the family. Sean is sitting with his arms crossed, his face stern, his body rigid. Of all the nuts to crack, Sean has always been the toughest. Sometimes I wonder if it’s just habit or something he thinks he’s got to do. Whatever the reason behind it, he’s now backed into a corner, and he doesn’t look happy about it.
Mum’s the one to give the prod. “What do you have to say to our Sophie, love?”
He grinds his teeth. Like actually grinds them, as though he’s a grumpy cartoon character. “What I have to say is that I hope it all works out the way she wants it to.”
“And that you have faith in her,” Dad prompts.
When Sean doesn’t say anything further, Mum glares at him and says “Love” in the “you’d better do what you’re told or else” tone we all knew so well growing up in the McCarthy family household.
“And I have faith in Sophie,” Sean pronounces, although his tone and body language tell another story entirely.
I shoot him a triumphant smile.
Sophie: one. Sean: negative three trillion and four.
Lola begins to grizzle, and Caitlin tries to distract her with her keys, which promptly get dispensed to the floor. Before long, she’s begun to wail, and Simon joins in.
“Mandatory McCarthy Meals are just not practical for us in the evenings anymore, Mum. Lola’s dinnertime is five o’clock, and she needs to be in bed at seven. All this stimulation is going to have her totally wired, and you know what that means.” Caitlin shoots us all a meaningful look.
I glance around the table. No one responds. I come up with a few potential outcomes of my own, such as a full-scale toddler revolution, planet Earth spinning off its axis, perhaps the end of humankind as we know it? But I keep schtum. No need to poke the Caitlin-shaped beast over her daughter, especially after all the nice things everyone’s said about me tonight.
“She’ll be up at four tomorrow morning and be overtired all day,” Caitlin finishes for us.
“Oh, we don’t want that, a stór ,” Mum coos, as Sean says, “Total disaster for all concerned.”
Thankfully, the eardrum-saving decision to go home is made.
As Jason drives us back to our apartment, I grip onto the sides of my seat as I wrestle with these new, shocking feelings I seem to have for him.
I struggle to reason with myself. I probably just read far too much into it all. He was simply being the usual nice and supportive friend he is. Emphasis on the word “friend.” I’ve been having a bad run in the date department, so I got things twisted.
That’s all. Nothing more.
Jason’s voice punctuates my thoughts, bringing me back to Earth. “Tell me something, McCarthy. What is up with Sean and those weird Shakespearean expressions of his?”
“He likes to think of himself as very learned.”
“I’ve got news: it makes him sound like a dick.”
Laugh bubbles up inside me. This. This is what we’re good at. Laughing, having fun. Not feeling all romantic and mushy about him having faith in me.
“Err, Jas?” I bite my lip. “Thanks for stepping in back there. You really helped me out.”
He shrugs, not taking his eyes from the road. “You seemed like you needed help, McCarthy. I love your family, but sometimes they can really get on your case. Especially Sean.”
“Tell me about it. Dad’s all relaxed and chill, and Sean’s like the family patriarch. King Sean, right?”
“All hail King Sean.”
“All you minions, do as I say!”
“Maybe he’s the Dark Lord, He Who Shall Not Be Named? Or he could be Darth Vader.”
I laugh. “Darth’s got nothing on Sean.”
We fall into silence once more, although this time it feels more like the old Sophie and Jason.
After a couple of blocks, I pluck up the courage to ask, “So, did you just say that thing to help me out?”
“What thing?”
“You know, that thing you said at dinner.”
He’s going to make me say it, I just know it.
“About how you like bread pudding?”
“Exactly that.” My voice drips with sarcasm. “I want to know whether you really meant that you think I like bread pudding. Which, by the way, you already know I do.”
“I needed it reconfirmed. It’s a big deal to me, you know. I don’t think I could be roommates with someone who didn’t like Mammy McCarthy’s bread pudding.”
“You’re right. It is a crucial aspect of someone’s character.”
As we zip through the quiet suburban streets, I go for another shot. “You know, what you said about you having faith in me. Did you mean it?” I hold my breath.
His eyes flash briefly to mine before he returns them to the road. “I meant it.”
I can’t explain why, but hearing him say those words makes my heart soar. I press my lips together to stop a goofy grin from busting out across my face as I turn to look out the passenger window. “Okay. Well, thanks for that.” I aim for an “I’m taking this all in stride” tone but probably hit over-excited Minnie Mouse.
Jason has faith in me, and all is right with the world.