Chapter 21
The library basement wasn’t far away from Frances’s spacious kitchen, just a short walk down the hill. But sitting there beneath the soil under fluorescent lights, it felt like another world. In less than a day, she had gone from the palace to the dungeon.
Keely knew that she should be grateful for her work at the library. It was a good, steady job, surrounded by books and people she enjoyed working with. But she hated – hated – being underground. And after the high of her second successful catering event, hours of tedious work in the library basement felt interminable.
It was worthy work, but her heart wasn’t in it. She didn’t want to work with books, not really. She wanted to feed people. It made her feel purposeful and accomplished and happy.
What if she could do that all the time? What if she could turn her calling into a career?
Was that even possible?
She had no idea what shape that might take. There were a million ways to make a living making food, but she had no idea how to run a business. And while most people might tell her that she had to pay her dues first, she had no desire to clock into some restaurant kitchen and take orders.
She didn’t want to make just any food. She wanted to craft her own recipes and create things that made her soul sing.
She sat cutting thin sheets of plastic to size and wrapping hardcover books, trapping the paper jackets beneath a smooth layer of clear plastic sheeting. It was a challenge to fold the edges over just right, and her fingers were covered with slices - like papercuts, but worse.
When her phone rang, she sighed with relief and set her book to one side. Any excuse to take a break from the tedious process of plastic-wrapping these books. They were books she didn’t even want to read, dystopian novels for teenagers and large-print detective series for old men.
“Hello?” she answered without checking to see who was calling.
“Keely,” Sunday exclaimed, “how are you?”
“I’m well, thank you.” She sat back in surprise. Could Sunday have another job for her already? “How are you?”
“I am well, we are well, thank you. I am calling because we have a proposition for you.”
“What’s that?”
“We are wondering if you would like to cook for Frances on a regular basis. If you would like to be her personal chef.”
Keely was stunned into silence.
“It would be occasional family gatherings for which we would pay extra, but mainly you would be cooking meals for Frances herself. Small portions, you understand. You would not need to be there for every meal, but perhaps two or three times a week you could visit her and make enough food to last her until your next visit?
“Guillermo worries, you see, that his mother does not eat enough. We have tried various delivery services, but she always dismisses them before long. Her housekeeper cooks for her from time to time, but she tires of this also. She enjoys visiting the farmers market and cooking for herself, but again we worry that doing so on her own could go badly.
“Perhaps you could visit the markets with her as well, and help her carry things? Then she could feel involved with the meal planning, and we would not worry so. We are often out of the country, you see, and there is no family left in Pelican Point to care for her. We have offered nurses and the like, but she took offense.”
“Does she want me cooking for her?” Keely asked.
“She was open to the idea, yes. She suggested a trial week.”
“That sounds perfect.”
“Oh, I am so happy to hear you say that. I will send you her phone number, and you can set a time to meet. Frances will pay for the groceries, and we will pay you for your time. Take this first week to determine how much time you will spend and what you will charge, yes?”
“Sure,” Keely said, floored. “Thank you.” She took a breath and drew some life back into her voice. “Thank you so much for the opportunity, Sunday, truly.”
“It is my pleasure, Keely. We would be happy to know that you are looking after Frances, and I very much look forward to eating your meals when we come to visit.”
They said their goodbyes, and then Keely sped through the rest of her work. She hardly noticed when the plastic bit into her fingers. Her mind was too busy with excitement and logistics. She wasn’t sure how she would fit this new job in around her hours at the library, but she would figure it out.
When she was finally done with the new books, she carried them upstairs and carted them around to their new homes on the library bookshelves.
Once that was done, she went into the break room for lunch. In addition to the sandwich she’d made for herself, she set out a whole host of treats for her coworkers, the remnants of all of the test batches she had made in preparation for Frances’s birthday party the day before.
“What are we celebrating?” Ingrid asked when she walked in for lunch.
“Another triumph in the world of catering,” Keely said with a laugh.
“It went well, then?” asked Maria.
“It went so well that they offered me a steady job. Nothing full-time,” she assured Ingrid, “just a personal chef kind of thing. They want me to cook for Frances, the lady who lives in that old house up on the hill.”
“We know Frances,” Maria said.
“Everyone in Pelican Point knows Frances,” Ingrid confirmed. “She was the axis of the community for decades, but she’s slowed down in recent years. Stepped back a bit. No wonder, at her age.”
“She seems lovely,” Keely said.
“She is.” Ingrid took a bite of one of the shortbread cookies that Keely had brought in. “If you need to rearrange your hours to accommodate her, or even cut back, you just let me know.”
“Really?”
“Anything for Miss Frances,” she said with a nod. “Anyway, it’s obvious that this is your calling. The food you make is phenomenal.”
“Thank you.” Bolstered by her encouragement, Keely voiced the question she had been too afraid to ask: “Could I just work upstairs?”
“Upstairs?” Ingrid looked puzzled.
“I really, really don’t like the basement.”
“Oh, I see. Yes, I don’t foresee a problem with that.”
“I’ll swap with you,” Maria offered. She was polishing off a jar of lemon curd.
“Really? You mean it?”
She nodded. “I love the basement.”
Keely looked at her incredulously, then let out a laugh. “You’re not serious.”
“I am! I would so much rather work in peace and listen to audiobooks than deal with people all day. You’re welcome to shelve books and work the front desk. I’ll take the grunt work downstairs.”
“That’s amazing.”
Maria shrugged. “I’m happy to. Especially if you keep bringing us food like this.”
She grinned. “You’ve got yourself a deal.”
Ingrid and Maria shifted into talking about an upcoming library event, but Keely wasn’t listening. Her mind spun with the possibilities that were opening up in front of her. With the extra money from her job as a personal chef – she knew that Sunday and Guillermo would be generous – she would be able to invest in more supplies and continue to experiment. She could do anything – cater more events or set up her own stand at the farmers market. The possibilities were endless.
Buzzing with excitement, she picked up her phone and opened the text thread that she shared with Nick and her parents.
Last night’s catering event was such a success that they offered me a steady job! I’ll be cooking for the sweet old lady whose birthday party I catered. My boss loves her, so she’s happy to shift my hours at the library if need be. And the extra money means I can save up and start my own baking business! Catering, market treats, I don’t know yet. But something! I’m so excited!
She sent the message, then copied it and sent the same to Michelle. Then, for good measure, she sent it to Travis. As an afterthought, she also sent it to the thread that Chloe had added her to, with Willa and Nat and Ali.
Her knees bounced with excitement as she started jotting down ideas for what she would make in her first week as Frances’s personal chef. Texts started coming in, her phone buzzing on the table.
Mom: I am so happy for you, sweetheart!
Dad: We’re proud of you, Princess.
Nick: Go Keely!
More messages came through, her friends and sponsor cheering her on. Keely felt enveloped by warmth and love.
Some corner of her mind wondered why Travis hadn’t replied, but when she checked their text thread, she saw that he hadn’t read her message yet. He was probably just busy with work.
She put her phone on silent and cleaned up her lunch, getting ready to go out and man the front desk.
“Hey, Keely?” Ali said. She stood in the doorway of the breakroom, which was empty except for the two of them. Her expression was strangely nervous, almost foreboding.
“What’s up?” Keely could hear the hesitation in her voice. She didn’t want to hear bad news, not right now. What could Ali possibly have to say that had her looking at her like that? Like she had run over her cat on the way in to work. But Mr. Frumples was safe in Rocky Hill at her parents’ house. So what was going on?
“I was in Half Moon Bay yesterday,” Ali said slowly. She walked across the break room like she was headed for the gallows. “I saw Travis.”
“And?”
Ali took a breath and held out her phone. On the screen was a photo of Travis sitting in a restaurant. Ali had taken the photo from outside, through the window. There was a girl sitting across from him – if she was out of high school, she hadn’t been for long – and they were holding hands across the table.
Keely’s stomach dropped, her turkey sandwich suddenly sitting in her belly like a lead weight.
“I’m sorry,” Ali said, wringing her hands together. “I didn’t know if I should say anything or not. But, well, it’s just… My boyfriend cheated on me in college, and I didn’t know for ages. After we broke up, I found out that pretty much everyone knew but me. Most of my friends had seen them together, but no one had ever said anything to me. It was devastating. I told myself that if I was ever in their position, I would be brave enough to say something.”
Keely nodded, numb, and thrust the phone back at Ali.
“I shouldn’t jump to conclusions,” Ali said nervously. “It might have been… work, or something? An interview?”
“In Half Moon Bay?” Keely protested.
Ali shrugged. “I don’t know.”
“Wow.” She slumped back into a chair, her mind spinning.
Who was that girl? No one they knew from Rocky Hill.
Why would Travis be meeting someone outside of town?
What possible reason could there be but a date?
How long had he been seeing her?
She took a breath, trying to calm the pounding of her heart.
They had only been on two dates. They weren’t in a relationship, and they hadn’t had any sort of conversation about exclusivity. But still… she was crazy about him.
And he was her brother’s best friend, for Pete’s sake. Did he really think that he could just casually date her and go on seeing other girls at the same time? Is that what this was?
She felt sick.
“I’m sorry,” Ali said miserably.
“It’s fine.” Keely stood up and walked toward the door.
She wanted to call him this instant, to ask who that girl was, but she wouldn’t. She had a few hours of work left, and she intended to get through them.
After that, it was straight to the Bottlenose.
She intended to get some answers.