CHAPTER NINE #2
“Okay. I don’t cook, but I have some connections.
Follow me.” I lock up my bike near the stairs to my apartment and back entrance to Harolds.
The shop is closed already, and I’m guessing at nearly eight o’clock at night, Gary and Stan have long since gone home.
I walk to the back door and fumble my keys until I get the correct one into the lock.
Nick is behind me, and he isn’t crowding my space, but I can still feel his presence there, making my spine shiver with nerves that he keeps reminding me are very much alive.
“Wow, you must really pull some weight in this town if you have the keys to Harolds.” He muses.
“It’s a privilege, but as you might guess, it comes with its responsibilities.” I give him a smile and am feeling more confident that I was able to put one sentence together without tripping over my tongue.
“Oh really? Such as?” We step inside and start to walk down the long back hallway toward the shop.
“Well, I get to help clean whenever that’s needed, I can jump in at a moment’s notice to play server, and sometimes even manager when Gary and Stan need a few days away.” I explain.
“Well, that does seem worth the privilege. And your apartment is upstairs?” He asks.
“Yes, but you won’t get to see that today.” I blush a little, trying to quell it as soon as I feel the heat. Hopefully he doesn’t notice from the back of my neck.
“Another day for that then.” A statement, not a question.
As he passes by me and gives me a smirk over his shoulder.
Now my heart is thumping, blush not successfully wiped off my face.
Can confirm, he is flirting, that’s not in my head.
However, if Annie’s sources are right and Nick wants a fling, I am not yet convinced I have that in me.
One way to find out.
“Yes, perhaps.” I say to him with as much confidence as I can muster and giving him my own over the shoulder smile.
I then turn immediately toward the counter of the shop and flick on a couple lights so I can see what I am doing.
It’s quiet, and without the clammer of people and the low lighting so that we don’t draw too much attention from the street, it feels a touch too intimate.
I focus on making us sandwiches and heating some soup.
Nick takes it upon himself to set a table for us toward the back of the restaurant and then comes to help me carry our dinner over.
“This might be the best perk to a friendship I can think of.” He says after taking a huge bite of his sandwich.
“I didn’t realize we were friends, I’m pretty sure this is a dinner meeting.” I clarify.
“That’s fair,” he raises his fountain soda, so I do too. “Cheers to eventually being friends, Marcy. And thank you for this.” He smiles and sips his soda in a somewhat boyish manner.
“You’re welcome. I hate to be a buzzkill, but do you mind if I run some of my ideas by you now?” I know this isn’t flirtatious, but my nerves start to take over with the intimacy of the meal and I can’t help but disrupt the romantic tension. Workplace platonic is my baseline.
“Of course, that’s how you lured me here, if I remember correctly.
” He says, clearing his throat and putting on a mock serious face.
I glare back at him and grab a small notebook out of my work bag, opening it to my list of ongoing thoughts.
“A notebook and everything? You really were ready to meet with me. What would you have done if I never offered to drive you home?”
I roll my eyes and ignore his mockery. “Okay, so I was thinking about a few community relationships that we can develop that would add value to our social services at the hospital but not cost a fortune. Obviously, the primary goal in any of these relationships for us would be improving patient care and experience.”
“Yes, that should be the primary goal.” He confirms. He sips his drink and his lips on the straw are distracting but I persevere.
“Right, but it would also add value to some of the community members as well, so keep that in mind while I explain.”
He smiles and nods his head for me to begin. “Shoot.” He carries on eating while I start to talk.
“Okay, so we have a robust community of senior citizens in North River. There is a thriving senior center, and plenty of informal gatherings that you may have noticed.”
“Noticed? You can’t get a table at a coffee shop in this town after 8 am because of the hordes, and it is a scone desert by nine.”
“It’s true!” His observation making me giggle.
“So anyway, there are incredibly high rates of volunteerism within this group. Our community service options within town often have waitlists because so many seniors are trying to volunteer. So, I propose we add ourselves to that list. One major challenge we face is that patients get discharged with a plan for follow-up that they can’t handle, and then they are back in the emergency department.
Usually, it’s because they don’t have access to a car or can’t drive themselves anymore, and we know public transit out here is null.
Let’s get a volunteer ride system going, asking those who can still drive to volunteer their time to take patients to and from appointments.
People could also sign up for companion hours.
Offer some company for our patients that end up in the ED looking for that company? ”
“Like Frank? That guy needs a hug.”
“Yes! You met Frank? He would be the perfect candidate for this type of program, and there are so many others like him.” I can’t believe this guy has been so attentive and engaging with patients.
That fact that he knows Frank, pulls at my heartstrings.
His genuine engagement with these people is far outside the requirements of his position.
I can’t help but wonder why he cares so much.
He smiles ear to ear, the hint of dimples peeking out from under his beard. Blue eyes framed by the fine lines around his eyes. “That sounds like a brilliant way to reduce re-admissions, Marcy.”
“Thanks, and I have a similar idea with our town college students. There must be education, psychology, and social service majors looking for some resume building activities. We could ask for volunteers to babysit for a couple hours each week so that we can offer more mental health or addiction support groups. Childcare is often a barrier to attendance when we have tried to run groups before. I also think it would be helpful to get some social work interns on sight. I am happy to supervise them, and they would be a huge asset for creating group opportunities and assisting with assessments and discharge plans. This would be a solid way to improve patient experience and opportunities without spending a dime.”
He is staring at me, thoughtful and calm.
I still feel like I can’t read him unless he has that huge grin.
So many different smiles on this man. “These thoughts are outside the box, and I love them. The whole town wins, not just the hospital. So creative, Marcy. I’ll talk with the board about it, but ultimately, I want you presenting these ideas to the leadership and staff, people should know these came from you. ”
“Thank you, Nick. That means a lot.” I pause, appreciating the pride I am feeling from sharing my ideas without a stammer. Feeling heard. “Can I be frank with you?”
“I would prefer that.”
“There hasn’t felt like much interest in trying new things up until you came along, so I’m hoping that your reaction to my ideas is genuine.” I can’t help but seek the reassurance.
“It is genuine, and I know it is inappropriate right now, but one day when we have become friends, I’m going to hug you as a delayed display of my excitement in this moment.” He tips his drink my direction in a motion to cheers.
It was my turn to smile wide, and I mimic his motion. Our sodas tapping lightly to one another. “Well, one day then.” And we held eyes for a moment longer than is comfortable. “I think we need cookies.” I finally say, because obviously that’s sexy.
“You must have been reading my mind.”
I grab us two chocolate chip cookies from the counter.
We sit and make small talk about the quirks of North River, music and movies, nothing that would have been considered consequential.
It’s easy, it flows. I don’t ramble, and he keeps that earnest way about him that has me intrigued.
He’s seeming so nonchalant; it is easy to see how he gets so many women to fall under his spell and so many employees to follow his lead. He emanates ‘I’ve got this’ energy.
“Where are you from originally?” I eventually ask him after hearing all about his college escapades at some small liberal arts school in Vermont.
He describes having a lot of friends and a healthy balance of partying and studying, the kind of experience that people like me only saw in movies.
No loans hanging over his head and multiple jobs just to get by.
“I am from here, Minnesota. My parents don’t live too far away from here actually, and the town I grew up in is just north of Saint Paul.”
“Must be nice to be back for a few months then, see your parents.” I wonder what that feeling is like.
“I get to check-in on them a bit usually, not that they need it or even want it. They are still quite independent and don’t appreciate interference.
” I picture Nick growing up in a town like North River, two loving parents, encouraged to go to college across the country and chase dreams. Meanwhile, I was just hoping that my mom remembered I existed half the time.
“And siblings?” I ask.