Chapter 8 If You Give A Nan A Cookie
“He bought you dinner and accompanied you home, but it wasn’t a date?”
Nan is looking at me as if I just told her I blew up Henrietta’s cat—the news of my not kissing my boss after he took me home following dinner was, somehow, a more horrifying update.
“No, Nan. It wasn’t a date. There will be no dates between me and Noah Graves.”
“You sound awfully certain for someone who doesn’t like him.”
“And leaving myself open to the possibility would be more believable?”
“It certainly would. Who are you trying to convince?”
“You! I don’t need convincing. I am sure of it. There will be no dates.”
Nan lets out an exasperated sigh and takes another cookie from the tin on the table between us.
Her gray locks are pinned at the base of her neck, and her light pink nails tell me she’s been to the salon this week.
Rather than complimenting them and running the risk of her bringing up Naomi as another example of my clear need for her matchmaking, I try to change the subject.
“On a related note,” I start, “I’m sorry I wasn’t able to come the other night. Did Bud behave himself?”
Nan chuckles. “Kara kept him distracted while Henrietta, Babs and I swept the table.”
Snorting a laugh, I too grab another cookie. “Glad to hear it.”
Before I’m able to take a bite, Nan’s warm, weathered hand is on mine. “I’m worried about you.”
I raise an eyebrow. “Because I didn’t seduce my boss?”
“Yes. Well, yes and no.”
“Nan!”
“Charlotte Wren. I’ve known you since you were seven years old, and watching you grow into the beautiful woman you are has been an absolute delight—minus that awful blue hair phase.”
My stomach drops remembering the dark age of mine and Nan’s relationship.
A year of my life I won’t ever get back, and one of the biggest reasons I’m working as hard as I am to see her dream alive again.
I owe her everything, always have, but especially after Axel and the blue hair phase.
Nan lifts her hand and swats at the air as if she’s shooing a pesky bug.
“Never mind that, where was I?”
“You were showering me with compliments,” I tease.
She gives a withering look, but continues. “I’ve watched you overcome the worst this world has to offer, and for what? For you to spend all your time with men and women you have no intention of actually dating.”
For a moment, I’m worried Kara shared more than just my meeting Noah at the bar, but Nan continues before I can confirm it.
“You should be finding someone who can help you build the life you want to live—not spending your time working for someone else, or being someone else’s cheap thrill.”
I sit back in my chair, folding my arms, and wait for her to finish.
“All I’m saying”—she pauses to brush her hands on the floral apron tied around her waist—“is that you have so much to offer and I want to see you taken care of. Happy with someone who understands you.”
“Is this you telling me I can get blue hair again? I think I have a coupon for the beauty supply store floating around the bottom of my bag.”
“It wasn’t your color, dear. Drop it.”
“Nan!”
She chuckles and I reach out to touch her arm.
“I’m happy. Most of that is due to you and the way you opened your home to that hungry little girl, and then again when I was a stubborn nineteen year old with blue hair.
I don’t want you worrying about me like you worried about her.
She’s all grown up now. My job is to worry about you. ”
She seems to take this as the end of the conversation, and stands to take our empty coffee cups to the sink.
This kitchen is the first place I remember feeling safe, and the image of Nan washing dishes at the sunbathed sink surrounded by pale yellow walls is as familiar as anything in my life.
She gave me a second chance, and returning the favor for her run-down diner is the least I can do.
I don’t need the security of a relationship like she thinks I do.
Besides, if my judgment is to be trusted, security is the last thing a relationship will bring.
A knock at the door and my phone ringing in my bag pull us each in separate directions.
Henrietta’s voice fills the entryway with a greeting as I look down to Noah’s name on the screen.
Shit. I definitely don’t need the two matrons in the other room to find out Noah is calling me on a Saturday afternoon.
Checking to make sure they aren’t watching, I slip out of the back door and onto the small patio.
“Hello?”
“Charlotte?”
“Yes.”
“It’s Noah.”
“What do you need?”
My question comes out brisker than I intend, and I make to clarify my elderly friends might be watching me, and it’s putting me on edge, but Noah speaks first—saving me the awkwardness of an overshare.
“Sorry to call you on the weekend, it’s not my style. I like to let people live their lives without interference outside of the office.”
“It’s fine. What’s up?”
My foot taps against the patio, my impatience too much to contain.
“Right,” he says. He sounds flustered. Why would he be flustered and calling me?
My stomach turns in knots as Nan’s words echo.
You shouldn’t be wasting your time with men you have no intention of dating.
He wouldn’t be trying to blur lines—there’s no way.
Despite my denial, my mouth is dry as I speak.
“Is it something with the Scented Acres account?”
“Well, no. But also yes.”
What is with people and that damn answer today? It’s either yes or no.
“What happened?”
“I emailed the apology we wrote together, and Tom asked for a personal call this afternoon.”
“And the phone call didn’t go well?”
“Oh, it went fine. At first anyway.”
“But . . .” My patience with leading this conversation is growing thin.
A heavy sigh is the only answer on the other end of the line, and my heartrate kicks up.
What could be stressing him out this much?
I run over the apology in my head. It was damn near perfect—heartfelt without groveling, and while it might have been clear it wasn’t written by Brad, separating him from this was the right call. I’m certain.
Pacing the patio is little more than two steps in either direction, so I sink into one of the outdoor chairs and balance my elbows on my knees.
“Noah, just tell me what happened.”
“They invited us to come out for a face to face meeting. Tom wants to meet us.”
I frown. I don’t know why this would be as problematic as Noah is making it sound. A little unconventional, sure, but worth all this worry? Unlikely. He takes my silence as reason to continue.
“I know travel wasn’t part of our agreement, but I will make sure you are paid, time and a half even, if you want it, for every hour we spend preparing for or being on this trip.”
Oh. Tom invited us. Together. Me and Noah. On a business trip. Overnight and out of state. Now the nervousness makes sense.
“He invited us to visit next weekend, and into the following week. Something about an annual festival he and his wife host. I think I spoke about us so much as a team that he assumed you would accompany me, and after he extended the invitation to stay at the farm, I didn’t know how to turn him down.
I can if you’re totally against it, or I’ll find an appropriate way to decline your half of the invitation.
In fact, I’m sorry I even bothered you with the call, never mind.
I’ll take care of it. Have a good rest of your weekend, Charlotte. ”
His voice is so rattled, his words rapid fire, and I just need a second.
“Wait.”
What am I doing? He’s quiet as I tick through all the reasons why what I’m about to say is a terrible idea, none of them feeling like enough to stop me.
“Charlotte?”
I shake my head, sitting up a little. He sounds concerned, and I fight the swirl of nerves cresting at the notion he might be concerned about me. I don’t need his concern, and I should be mad, not flattered by it.
“You’re panicking because you’re afraid I won’t want to go on a business trip?”
“Well, I suppose . . . yes. But like I said, I shouldn’t have. I’ll let them know I would love to come alone. I’m sure they’ll understand the need for someone to stay behind to look after the store launch.”
“Don’t. Just wait. Give me a minute to think.”
He doesn’t, his question hitting me square in the chest.
“Do you want to go?”
I shouldn’t want to go, but I do. I choose my words carefully.
“For the brand’s sake, it would probably be best to present a unified front. And if they invited us both, we probably shouldn’t decline that. You said it yourself, this relationship is important, and if this is how Tom does business, then we need to make sure it’s sound.”
Noah is quiet for a moment, before his earnest curiosity starts a new fire of nerves.
“You’re saying yes?”
“Do I have some time to think about it?” Looking in through the patio door, I wave at Nan and Henrietta who are now sitting at the kitchen table with curious grins. “I do have some responsibilities here that I will need to make sure are covered.”
“Of course. Take all the time you need.”
“Oh, and Noah?”
“Yes?”
“Next time you call me this panicked, I expect someone to be dead.”
He chuckles. “Thank you, Charlotte.”
“I haven’t agreed to anything yet, but you’re welcome. I’ll see you next week.”
“Until Monday, then.”
I tap the screen to end the call and take a deep breath before stepping back into the dining room. Nan and Henrietta both look up expectantly.
“Everything alright?” Nan’s eyes sparkle with mischief and I know she isn’t going to let me slide by with a non-answer, so I opt for honesty.
“That was Noah. He needed to know if I would accompany him on a business trip to visit this brand we are trying to partner with for the launch of that new line of sleep aids.”
The two ladies at the table share a look, and Henrietta folds a napkin into her lap while pursing her lips against a smile. Nan turns back to me.
“When do you leave?”
“I didn’t say I would go.”
She frowns. “Why wouldn’t you?”
“Aside from travel not being on the list of my job requirements, it’s almost an entire week away from you. Not to mention, I agreed to help Kara with her next pottery launch for her online store.”
I add the last piece as an extra justification knowing full well Kara won’t mind in the slightest if I bail. Unfortunately for me, Nan knows Kara almost as well as I do. She clicks her tongue.
“Nonsense. I love you, but I can manage without you for a week. Besides, Henrietta was just telling me about how she video calls her grandkids—if you would really miss me that much, we can figure out how to do that while you’re gone. And Kara needs you less than I do.”
Nan and I both know our visits have less to do with our conversations, and more to do with my helping her with tasks she’s unable to manage anymore.
Her mobility has taken a sharp downturn in the last year, so I make it over a few times a week to help clean or tote laundry to and from the machines in her basement.
“What if Lofty Heights calls while I’m gone? We’re supposed to hear about you getting into that apartment any day now.”
Nan makes a face. “I think I can handle a phone call without you. I’m old, not useless.”
“I know that.”
“Sometimes I wonder,” Nan needles.
“I don’t know if I want to go.”
“Don’t you lie to me, Charlotte Wren.”
Nan taking her stern tone doesn’t surprise me, but it does give me pause. I narrow my eyes at her. “Why do you want me to go so badly? You can’t seriously think there’s that much potential here.”
“He’s the most eligible and handsome man you’ve ever met.”
“So? What does him being single and handsome have to do with anything?” I tease. “Surely you see me as more than someone to be married off.”
Nan never did marry, and often talks about that being the reason she’s lived so long. Which is one reason her push for me to find someone is so surprising.
“Of course I do,” she snaps. “But I do want to see you happy, and I’m afraid you’re closing yourself off from this potential happiness all for the sake of being independent and right. You don’t have to marry the man to let him make you happy—even if it is for a short time.”
“Are you suggesting I take him out for a spin just to see?”
“What’s the harm in that?” Henrietta pipes up. “He is handsome.”
“You are all putting far too much stock in Kara’s description.”
“She showed us!” Nan cries, with a chuckle.
“She what?”
“She showed us! She pulled up his profile on whatever that website is that Patty is always blabbering on about. Face market or whatever.”
I drop my face into my hands and groan. I’m going to kill Kara for this.
“I cannot believe you two. He’s my boss.”
Kara is the only one who knows of my plans to jump ship and refurbish Nan’s old diner, which means neither one of these ladies should be encouraging me to endanger my employment.
For all they know, making a move on Noah could plant me on the wrong side of an HR complaint and unemployment.
Seems what we should be doing isn’t aligning for anyone right now.
Nan shrugs. “I’m saying leave yourself open to the possibility. I still expect him to pull his weight. No sense in throwing yourself at him if you want him to think you're worth more than a quick ride.”
“Nan!” I screech. “I cannot handle you right now. Besides, at our business dinner, Noah made it clear all we have is a working relationship. So even if there was interest on this side—which I’m not saying there is—there is clearly no interest on his side of things.”
“Then there is no harm in going on this trip,” she responds. “Take the trip, bank the experience, and build your resume.”
Her logic is starting to sink in, though while it might sound like she’s at least taking my refusal to date my boss seriously, I would bet good money—even against Bud the card shark—she’s still counting on more than she’s saying. I narrow my eyes.
“I will go on this trip, mostly to prove my point, if and only if Kara agrees to come over and check on you while I’m gone, and if she’s okay with my bailing on her store launch.”
Nan clenches her fists triumphantly and beams. “Tell Kara we’ll be happy to help package orders for her. We owe her one for taking on Bud the other night.”
I roll my eyes, my stomach sinking into a fit of nerves.
It’s been one thing to avoid the thoughts I’ve been having about Noah when we’ve been on home turf, and in the office.
But traveling across state lines, spending late nights together and having fancy dinners with potential clients might complicate things.
I’m reminded again of the way Noah held me against the wall outside of Time For Thai and wonder, not for the first time, what would have happened if our situation was even the slightest bit different.