Chapter Seven Shake Up the Status Quo
Chapter Seven
Shake Up the Status Quo
Frankie
When I complained about Hayes, Charles assured me he wasn’t so bad once you got to know him.
So, I make an effort. I learn a few things.
For instance, he’s twenty-nine, he has washboard abs, and he writes in perfect cursive.
Oh, and he eats obscenely healthily. He’s also fairly nice to Charles. I still hate him, though.
Pretending to like liverwurst just to watch his face contort was almost worth it. It tasted like a rusty nail dipped in old pennies.
In addition to playing Wordle together, Charles and I add a few other things to our daily routine.
In the mornings, we chat over mugs of steaming coffee, and he usually gives me some type of life advice. We’ve gotten into playing Scrabble, and we went fly-fishing yesterday, which was more fun than I expected. But Charles did get tired out pretty quickly.
After dinner at 4:30 p.m. we watch Jeopardy!
I’m getting quite good at it. Yesterday I got four right but missed the final Jeopardy!
question. Charles got eight correct. He’s best at the U.S.
history questions. Any useless facts or anything pop culture related, I’m your girl.
All of that to say, we’ve found our rhythm.
And in even better news, Hayes flew home.
By the start of our second week in Montana, I’m beginning to wonder how long we’ll be staying here.
I might need to look into joining a yoga class or something.
I’ve already discovered the library, the best bakery, and the local farmers’ market, but I need something more to do.
Maybe I’ll even look into the local dating scene.
Living in the mountains feels very isolating. I’m not sure it’s for me.
But the same morning I’m thinking about all of these things, I head to the breakfast nook where Charles is reading a magazine called Cigar Aficionado.
“Morning,” I say.
Like every morning, he’s already made the coffee and I help myself to a cup.
“How’d you sleep?” I ask, settling into a chair across the table from him. Our game of Scrabble is still spread out on the table; he gave me a thorough beating.
“Just fine.”
“I’m still getting used to the dry mountain air. I still can’t believe I’m here, honestly . . .” I take a sip of my coffee. “I’m still waiting for my life to settle down, instead of feeling like I’m on a roller coaster designed by a lunatic.” I grin over my mug of steaming coffee.
Charles chuckles, his eyes twinkling. “I’ve been on this ride long enough to know it’s full of unexpected loops.”
I grin again. “So, what’s your secret to not losing your lunch on the way?”
He leans forward. “The trick is to stop trying to drive the damn thing. Just throw your hands up and scream with the rest of us.”
I laugh, shaking my head.
He smirks. “When I was your age, I had a five-year plan. You know what happened? Life had other ideas. It gave me the middle finger and sent me on some tough detours—ones I never saw coming.”
I know he’s talking about losing Betsey so early into their marriage.
He wraps his hands around his coffee mug and leans back. “But you know what I’ve learned? Even in the toughest moments, there’s room to grow, to find strength you didn’t know you had. And sometimes, those detours lead you to places you never thought you’d go.”
I sip my coffee and give him a serious look. “So, even when it’s hard, there’s still something to take from it?”
“Exactly,” he says, his smile returning. “Life’s messy, unpredictable, and yeah, sometimes painful. But those detours—no matter how rough—can also show you just how resilient you are.”
I’m reminded of a time Mom’s phone had died and we were lost in the middle of nowhere with no GPS. She reassured me and said surprise pit stops were where you find the best roadside diners and the weirdest souvenirs. And it turned out, she was right.
I’m starting to wonder if I’ll look back on my time working for him as one of my best detours.
“So, I should just embrace the scenic route?”
“Bingo!” he says. “Embrace the chaos, dance in the rain, and if you end up covered in mud, well, that’s just a free spa treatment.”
I chuckle. “So what’s on the docket today?” I need to run into town and pick up more laundry detergent, and some more snacks . . .
“I’m thinking it might be time to move things along. I already called my assistant to make some flight reservations for us tomorrow.”
“Oh. Okay.” I blink at him. “Where are we headed?”
“Hawaii.”
“Really?” My voice betrays my excitement. If he’s tricking me, I’m gonna sucker punch him.
“It’s one of my favorite places.”
Another detour . . . but this one, I’m excited about.
Still, I can’t help wondering—is this what life is like now? Just picking up and flying somewhere on a whim?
Before this trip, I couldn’t make it through a Tuesday without tripping over my own shoelaces or setting off a fire alarm. But ever since I got on the plane with Charles . . . nothing. No disasters.
No spills. No flaming embarrassment.
Maybe he’s my good luck charm.
Or maybe being absurdly rich just cushions you from chaos. Either way, I’m not complaining.