36. Chloe
thirty-six
“Idon’t know about this guy,” Fiona mumbles. Her eyes dart right and left on the screen like she’s looking for inspiration or support from her rocker posse. “He was supposed to be a rebound, and now you’re practically living together.”
She’s right about one thing, wrong about the other.
I never wanted Justin to be just a rebound.
But as far as living together goes, since I slept over at his apartment two weeks ago, we’ve been spending nights together.
All the nights.
All night long.
His place, my place. Last week he stuffed a pair of jeans, T-shirts, and underwear in one of my drawers. I bought him a toothbrush and at that, he said, “Yours worked just fine.”
“Oh.”
“Babe, my mouth’s been in your pussy and my tongue licked your butthole. That what you’re worried about?”
I giggled and that was that. I use his toothbrush at his place, he uses mine at the cottage. However, I now have a double of everything else, lotion, makeup, hairbrush, and some clothes at his place.
Also, we both got tested, and we ditched the condoms.
So much better.
So much more sex that can happen on a whim. In the car, in the shower, in his office.
I sigh. “I just… I just feel so good with him. It feels right.”
“I dunno. The guy’s clearly afraid of commitment.”
I shouldn’t have told her I was his first real relationship.“So?”
“So you need someone who places you above everyone else, who’s not going to bail when things aren’t so rosy anymore. You need someone who worships the ground you walk on.”
I roll my eyes, something she sees since we’re on video.
She sighs heavily. “Look, I don’t want to tell you what to do.”
That’s my cue to brace myself for her telling me what to do. Out of sisterly love, of course.
“But I’m not feeling this guy. Something’s off.”
“Um—you haven’t met him.”
“He’s closed off. Cagey.”
So he has stuff he’s working on. Okay. But he’s loving and tender, and he can’t be next to me without holding me, touching me, kissing me, even in public. Especially in public. He’s constantly praising the changes I’m making at the restaurant. He’s helping me catch Samuel in the act of stealing so I can move forward. He once mentioned taking me on a trip to Montreal once the season is over. That means he’s making plans. ‘I think I’m gonna like you in my life.’ That’s not someone closed off.
“He’s taking me to his parents’ as his girlfriend tonight,” I counter. So far I’ve been at the Kings’ once, but more as the new person in town slash Haley’s new friend. Never as Justin’s girlfriend.
Fiona lifts her eyebrows. “A’right, girl,” and a slow smile spreads across her face. “I get full credit.”
“Full credit for what?”
“You guys.”
I laugh. She thinks I ended up sleeping with Justin in Boston because of what she told me on the phone that night. “You and faulty earbuds,” I say.
“Mmm. Nope. I planted the seed and watched it grow.”
She might be right about that. “Why does it always have to be about you?”
“You know I’m right.”
“You are so wrong. But I’ll concede, if that gets you off my back.”
She chuckles. “How’s the restaurant going?”
“Good. Aunt Dawn is getting ready to put it up for sale. We have new staff being trained. We’re open seven days now—”
“Wow, I thought your chef was some asshole diva. How’d he take that?”
“Weirdly, better than I expected. I upped his days, he takes only two days off, relies on the sous on Mondays and Tuesdays, but he sometimes still comes around to check things out. The two sous chefs are doing awesome, and I think that sort of tickled his pride.” I don’t tell her that the only reason he’s doing that is that he’s stealing from me. We’ll catch him any day now, and I can share the news with Fiona (and Aunt Dawn and Brendan) once it’s done. Or else I’ll never hear the end of it.
“Good. You want to keep him on his toes.”
I’ve been monitoring inventory, and saffron has been disappearing although we haven’t served the lamb tajine in over two weeks, and that entree is the only one using saffron. I’m sure there’s other inconsistencies, and if we had the proper software, it’d be easy to track, but at this point good old sleuthing and deducing is all I need.
Samuel is stealing, I just need to catch him. I could just let him go, but I need closure. I want to catch him in the act, to shut his mouth and also show Aunt Dawn and Brendan what a piece of shit he is. That it wasn’t Justin’s fault Uncle Kevin had a heart attack. That the restaurant’s problems can all be traced back to Samuel. And with Justin’s help, that part is going to be a piece of cake.
And if I’m totally honest, I’m still hurting that Aunt Dawn and Brendan put his word before mine. Even if on a certain level, I understand that they were misled, I want Samuel to pay for turning my family against me. Firing him won’t be enough.
But I’m not telling my sister that. She’d freak out. “Yup,” I simply say. There’s so much more I want to share with her, like the new midweek menu and a local’s pass I’m working on, but I can tell from her fidgeting that she has to hang up.
I also finally have a meeting with my new CPA, and she just walked in. It’s been a month since I contacted her, but she’s been booked solid since. I feel special that she’s squeezing me in.
“Emma,” I call from my office door and meet her in the dining room. “Gotta run, Fi. Talk later.”
Emma gives me a quick smile and throws her long, straight blond hair behind her shoulder.
“Let’s meet in the office.”
While we exchange pleasantries, David brings us new mocktails he’s added to the bar list at my request. It’s too early for food, but he knows to bring tapas for us should we go beyond two hours. I’ve been told Emma works with pretty much all the businesses in town, and I want to impress her.
She seems guarded, and I can’t blame her. She has to know we’re behind on rent, since she does the books for Justin.
“You might want to pull the plug sooner than later,” she informs me right at the start of the meeting. I sent her our financials via email, and this is to be our onboarding meeting. What is she talking about, pulling the plug? “You’re bleeding money. Your creditors have to be unhappy. Once Samuel leaves, you’ll be left with nothing but debt.”
I let her comment about Samuel slide. I don’t even ask her where she heard that—it’s irrelevant.
Screw that. Because the truth is, all this place needs is new blood. A fresh menu, tuned in to local production. A different attitude.
And I have a plan for all that to happen. I just needed someone like her to bounce the financials off. Confirm or adjust my projections. Brainstorm.
She sifts through a printout of our PL. “The owners still aren’t in a position to put in more money?”
So she doesn’t know about the plan to sell. Interesting. “No, but I—”
“Look. Can I be honest with you?”
“Please.”
She shifts on her seat. “I’m not comfortable taking you on as a client.”
What?! “Why?” I’m trying to fix what’s broken. I need her.
“How do I say this. This is a small town. Your… the restaurant’s situation is affecting some of my clients significantly.”
Yes, like Justin. ‘I trust you, Chloe.’“I hear you. That’s one of the reasons I need you.”
She leaves my financial statements on my desk and sets her briefcase on her lap. “Uhhh… the thing is, I don’t think you can even afford me at this juncture. I wouldn’t advise you to add to your expenses.”
“But I’m working on that. We’re revamping the menu, we’re open all week—”
“Adding to your staffing costs,” she interrupts.
Well, that’s an oversimplification. With the added staff comes added revenue from being open seven days. But I can tell she’s not here to discuss things. And, yup, she stands and extends her hand. “Keep using whoever Kevin Murphy had, and don’t delay making the tough decisions. That’s my advice.”
I want Emma on my team. She knows everyone in town and in the county. She’s a hard-as-nails woman, raises her daughter on her own, built her business on her own. This is the type of person I want to build a working relationship with. And not to mention, I’ve run into her more than once, at Game Nights, Justin’s pub, or The Growler. I also want to be friends with her. Her opinion of me means something. “What would it take for you to change your mind?” I say as I shake her hand.
She gives me a tight-lipped smile. “A miracle.”
I walk her out. “By when?”
She turns around, the sun shining on her golden hair. “Sorry?”
“By when do you need a miracle?”
Her smile dips. “Yesterday.”
“Gotcha.” Once she’s gone, I close the door and lean on it for a brief moment, ideas coming to life.
Then I start working on a miracle.
Step One is a post in Echoes. It’s cute, it’s to the point, salesy but not too much. I hit Splash. Whoever built this app went heavy on the water references. Splash means everyone on Emerald Creek’s social media gets a notification.
Step Two is in my hands, neat little flyers I’ve been working on, tweaking, revising, now printed and ready to be distributed.
Step Three involves Alex and a crazy, last-ditch, throw-everything-at-it effort.
I text her, get her overenthusiastic response followed by a ‘be right there,’ and while I wait for her, I text Justin that something came up and I won’t be able to make it to dinner at his parents’ tonight. He’s out of town today, checking out a venue he’ll be catering, and that means we won’t see each other until tomorrow morning. He’ll be disappointed, maybe upset.
I’ll miss him for sure.
But this needed to happen yesterday. And I’m the one doing it.
Tonight.
Alone.