Chapter Twenty-Seven
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
NATALIE
T he sun broke through the clouds, illuminating the city. In the last hour, it felt like summer had found Portland as we glided across the river. With the fundraiser on Friday night and all the work the rest of the week would require leading up to it, Jill called for a fun, relaxing
Monday of team building by kayaking through the city on the Willamette. Only Luca had been excited by this decision; the rest of us had voted for a nice lunch at a rooftop terrace restaurant, followed by taking the rest of the day off. Still, Jill persisted in her vision of a day of bonding. That was how we found ourselves bunched up like baby ducklings following their mama from our starting point at George Rogers Park in the neighboring suburb of Lake Oswego and paddling northward to Kelley Point Park in the northwest corner of the city.
We started slowly, taking in the sights and sounds of the city from a different perspective. With the preferable weather, the city came alive and the walking paths were busy. People sauntered along, some walked dogs, others rollerbladed, skateboarded, or ran. Lots of cyclists were out as well. The traffic’s noise bounced off the buildings and echoed across the water. By the time we passed Oak’s Amusement Park, we started to pick up the pace and races broke out between employees. I hung back, knowing if we finished too quickly, Jill would find some other means for us to continue bonding.
Approaching Ross Island, we split. Some of the group headed to the east side of the island, some of us took the wider west side.
As we floated under the I-5 overpass with the Oregon Museum of Science and Industry on one side and one of Dane’s favorite weekend dinner haunts on the other, my stomach growled.
There were so many Saturdays we had gone down to eat on the waterfront property; he would get calamari and king crab, I would rotate between a few dishes. He had a favorite table outside for the warm weather months and a preferred spot inside that he always managed to get for us, no matter how busy a place was. A month ago, my life had been so different. I was used to our routine and had you told me a few weeks later I would be craving fish tacos from a little place called Bob’s, I would have told you I could sell you some magic beans and unicorn dust.
“You know, you don’t paddle very well, Reddington!” Luca called, bringing me back to the present as he sailed by, his strokes full of power and haughtiness. He looked every part the has-been-frat-boy-turned-poster-boy for The North Face. He was decked out head to toe in their latest summer line, and I had a hunch their water bottle he kept nursing was filled with something stronger.
I pushed my hat out of my eyes and squared my shoulders. “Thank you for your assessment of my skills. I’ve recently been made aware of this.”
Kate paddled up alongside me. “I thought you and Dane had kayaked on the weekends.”
“We did,” I reminded her. “However, it’s come to my attention he did most of the heavy paddling and let me think I was athletic.” She laughed. “That’s so cute you thought you were athletic. How did you find out you weren’t?”
“My kayaking guide in Hawaii crushed my confidence real fast.” I smiled.
“Was he cute?” another voice asked.
I turned to see Jill had paddled up on the other side of me.
“Who?”
She gave me the look that told me she was onto me and playing dumb wasn’t her favorite of my traits. “Your kayaking guide.”
“I never said my guide was a guy,” I pointed out.
She and Kate shared a glance. “You’ve been distracted since you’ve been back from your trip. Something happened in Hawaii. Spill.”
With everybody else out of earshot, and knowing these two wouldn’t back down, I paddled downstream, telling them the simple need-to-know details of my week with Joel. The happy parts. They gave all the expected responses to my tale and asked the questions I would have asked if they were in the hot seat.
When they asked how things ended and I replied ‘not great,’ they pressed for specifics. I reluctantly shared my last encounter with Joel and my revelation after seeing Dane.
“And you haven’t heard from him despite reaching out?” Kate asked. “Did you apologize?”
I shook my head and stared down river. “I wanted to, but I wanted to at least do it over the phone and not on his voicemail.”
We paddled under the Morrison Bridge, and the roar of cars above us ended any further conversation. At the next bend, Kate pulled ahead a few yards, then stopped her kayak and whipped out her phone. “Stop for a minute!” she instructed. “Sit up straight and adjust your coat a bit. Good, now set your oar across your lap and smile.”
Following her command, I situated myself and offset my kayak from a steam-powered tugboat that was permanently moored on the river. Kate took a few shots and messed around on her phone a moment longer before I felt my vest buzz. A perfectly cropped and edited photo of me against the backdrop of the Maritime Museum stared back. My smile looked wrong, at least to me, but otherwise, I looked pretty good.
“That’s a great photo. Send it to him!” she called and then headed after the rest of the group who had gone ahead.
My fingers hovered over the keyboard as I decided what to say to him. Attaching the photo, I added a simple message below it.
You were much more fun to kayak with than my co-workers. Wish you were here.
Locally, it was just about noon. Joel would be well into his morning route visiting clinics. Maybe he wouldn’t even see my message until his lunchtime. I went to tuck my phone away when it vibrated with an incoming text. From Joel. I tried not to get my hopes up. He could be telling me to leave him alone, warning me to expect a restraining order.
I can’t believe they trusted you to maneuver your own watercraft. Is that even safe?
Three dots appeared and a second text of emoticon came through: a smiley face.
While simple in his reply, it gave me hope that we would figure things out eventually. Putting away my phone, I channeled all my recently learned kayaking know-how to catch up to everybody, who at this point were around the bend, out of sight.
“You’ve been back almost two weeks and you haven’t called?” Carlie’s tone hinted at playful frustration.
I had pocket-answered her FaceTime call and now was roped into at least ten minutes.
“I’m sorry. I got back and had to jump right into work.” I tried to look sympathetic. “Oh! Is that my cute nephew? Liam, buddy! Helloooooo!” I waved at the toddling child who came onto my screen. He stopped and looked for the voice, giving me a big grin before his attention focused on something else and he was out of view.
“Work,” she miffed. “You always blame your lack of communication on work. But, dear sister, you were in Hawaii— and last I heard, kissing some random guy—and had all the time in the world to call me, yet didn’t. So, how did that all go? Are you hopelessly in love?”
I took a deep breath and exhaled loudly as I looked away. “Can I call you later? I am on my way to do a dry run of our event tomorrow night.”
“No!” she barked. “You can spare one minute for your somewhat lonely stay-at-home sister who works while her child is napping and socializes by chatting too long with her barista.”
This drew a smile from me. “How is your business going? Design anything cool lately? Some great book covers or something?”
She waved away my question. “You. We are focused on you , if you have such limited time to chat. Spill.”
My shoulders slumped, and I fidgeted way too much while I decided how much to tell her. “It was fun. We did a lot of that kissing you encouraged me to engage in and then I left. Two days early.”
She grimaced. “I’m guessing things didn’t end on a happy note.”
“Not quite. I messed up. I have to fix it,” I told her.
Her smile was that of the ever-supportive older sister who knew when I needed somebody in my corner. “Because he’s your foxhole guy.”
“Yep.” I nodded. “I really do have to go, but I’ll fill you in this weekend. I’m sorry. Kiss Liam for me!”
I checked my appearance once more in the hallway mirror before running out the door. It was showtime: Our final walk through with everybody who would be participating the following evening to make sure everything would go off without a hitch. This was going to be my first time in the spotlight directing vendors and prepping the help. I wanted to make sure I looked the part. Opting for high-waisted tweed pants with a dark blue, tucked in, button up short sleeve blouse. I had pulled my hair into a bun at the nape of my neck and put on ballet flats, easy shoes to do a lot of walking around in as opposed to my usual heels. I looked like the promotion should just be handed over to me without a second thought.
The nice weather had continued all week, and we were looking at sunny and seventy-two degrees. That would definitely draw a large crowd, and I couldn’t be more pleased. I pulled up to the grounds outside our office, finding a flurry of chaos. Food cart vendors staked out their positions, grounds crew unloaded long picnic tables, a modest stage was erected at one end of the venue.
Mr. Banks had hit the jackpot when he had bought the building twenty years ago in a part of town that has since experienced a vibrant renewal of interest and energy. His lot was triple the space any other business had and it sat waterfront, so his event was always backdropped by the river and city lights.
Jill found me a few minutes later with an iPad tucked under one arm while furiously flipping through a clipboard of paperwork.
“Everything okay?” she asked.
I looked up. “Yeah. I’m just checking for our liquor license. I know somebody will be wanting to see it as soon as The Booze Truck and Tim’s pulls up tomorrow. I can’t believe I’m going to say this, but for once, I’m grateful to Luca and his random connections. Rumor has it, Tim’s has the best craft brews.”
“Didn’t they pull out?”
“No. I mean, well, yes, his first recommendation pulled out on us, but he seems to know just about every food cart owner in the greater Portland area. So he made a few calls and was able to get us another one.”
She raised her brow. “This one is called Tim’s? That’s truly the name of the craft truck? Most of them have such fancy names. Kind of funny it’s only one word.”
A small pit sat in my stomach at the plainness of the name Tim’s. I shook the feeling and reminded myself to focus. I couldn’t be distracted right now, or worse, wallow. Since returning home, there had been three times I’d given in and had a good bout of female melancholy, complete with an assortment of necessitated carbs and sad music. Tonight would not be another one of those nights. Energy and excitement flowed at seeing all my hard work pay off. If I was being completely honest, I was excited to see Mr. Banks’ reaction to some of the changes implemented in this year’s fundraiser and show him I was equal to the task of taking over Jill’s position at the end of the summer.
We walked to the two dozen food carts and introduced ourselves to the owners, thanking them for their time and effort, answering any questions they had, and sampling their specialties. After my fourth truck, I was sold on never eating at another established restaurant ever again. The menus varied widely from pub burgers and gourmet mac and cheese, to vegan offerings, beautiful salads, kabobs of all kinds, local seafood, and samplings from around the world. Then there were the dessert carts, and I was impatient to get to those. But more than the food, something else stood out to me.
All the owners were so happy and friendly and supportive of one another, even if they were also business rivals. There was a camaraderie between them that went beyond their trucks, and I appreciated that. They seemed relaxed and happy, and it made me jealous.
Those two things were something I hadn’t been in nearly two weeks. On the surface, sure, but it was all for show. Deep down in my gut, I was stressed. I was juggling too many hats at once, and I was working extremely long hours that a promotion would only require me to continue.
I finished the rounds—making a mental note to go back to the Giggles and Gelato and Millions of Macaroons the next evening to stuff myself silly—and checked off our last-minute list. Kate helped me put out a few fires, and Luca even seemed more available than usual to help out. Jill largely stayed back in the shadows as she let me run the prep, smiling often and taking notes on her iPad.
I climbed up onto the stage and tapped a microphone to get everybody’s attention. With old-Natalie confidence in my voice, I said, “I’m going to keep this short and sweet because we are all exhausted and the fun hasn’t even started. Thank you so much for coming out tonight and helping with our test run. This event is going to be the best we have had yet, and it’s because of your willingness to share your time, talents, and products with us. Can’t wait to work together tomorrow and help raise money for the children’s hospital!”
After people started to disperse, Kate came up on the stage. “Want to come grab a late dinner with a few of us? I think we are going to go to that sushi place you like.”
“I think I tried something from most of the carts at least twice, but thanks. There’s actually somebody I need to go talk to before I leave, but I’ll see you bright and early.”
She waved goodbye, and I turned on my heel, heading back to the crepe cart tucked neatly in the midst of the dessert trucks.
“Hi, um, June?” I said, approaching the woman closing up the service window on her truck.
She looked to be just a little older than me and wore a bandana to hold back her strawberry blond hair which flowed freely down toward her elbows. “Yes! Hi, you’re running everything.” She dusted off her hands and extended one to me. “I’m so sorry, Natalie, is it?”
“Yes.” I set down my clipboard and iPad on her counter and shook her hand. “I was wondering if I could ask you about three hundred questions.”
She laughed and quickly obliged. We spoke until we were the last ones in the parking lot and the city quieted to a hum around us. I didn’t even realize it had gotten so late until my phone chimed. Apologizing, I pulled it from my back pocket, and my stomach did a flip flop seeing the sender.
Hey. I know it’s late for you. It’s been a long day here, but I wanted to say I hope you break a leg tomorrow. Not literally. That would set you back on your promising kayaking career.
Before I could reply, I saw Joel was typing away again.
Full disclosure: I’m still hurt.
But at this point I don’t know if it’s from the way we left things or from missing you. Just so you know.
The smile that instantly lit up my face was going to get stuck permanently. I just knew it. I thanked June for her time and ran to my car, driving as fast as I could back to my apartment.