The next morning was rough. It took Kyle a long time to wake up. The first time he tried, his eyelids grated like sandpaper, and his gut burned in a way that said it didn’t want to be disturbed. He gave in and drifted off.
The second time he woke up, the burning was gone, but his head swam like he’d been on the merry-go-round at the park with Caroline for too long. The room was dim. Early still. He turned his head and saw the pinstripe jacket in a heap on the floor.
He didn’t want to think about the jacket. He closed his eyes and let himself go back to sleep.
The third time he woke up, his room was fully bright, and it made his head hurt. His mouth tasted like Caroline’s white craft glue, and his spit had about the same consistency. He fumbled for his phone and checked the time. Nine forty-five. Kyle gasped and leapt out of bed. The room tilted as he dashed to the closet and grabbed a pair of sweatpants off the shelf. He got dressed, then hopped down the hall.
“Jelly Bean! Jelly Bean, wake up, we slept in!” He opened the door to her room and found it empty. The bed was made, and there was no child in it. “Jelly Bean?”
“I already took her to school,” his father’s voice answered from downstairs. Kyle stopped short, and the sudden change in his momentum made the hall spin. He groaned and leaned back against the wall. He thought he heard his dad chuckle.
If he didn’t have to worry about getting Caroline out the door, he might as well get to work. He found his phone and scrolled through it to see what had come in overnight. There were five new emails from Shannon, six from Eva, including two marked URGENT, ten from addresses he didn’t recognize but that had subject lines like Dietary Restrictions and Custom Menu, so they were most likely from the restaurants in Vegas he’d emailed. A number had attachments, which he couldn’t read well on his screen. His laptop would be easier to work with, but it wasn’t where he usually kept it by the bedroom door. As he tried to piece together the last twelve or so hours of his life, he went to his text messages and typed in Adam’s name.
did I have my laptop with me when you dropped me off?
As soon as he’d hit Send, he realized the text was a stupid idea. Adam was working and probably wouldn’t check his phone until lunchtime. But then the phone vibrated in his hand.
Don’t think so.
You only had your jacket at Morrison’s.
Maybe it’s still in your van?
Damn. That was where it was. When he’d pulled into Morrison’s for his pity party, he hadn’t been thinking about the laptop or how he’d get home later. He’d only wanted to scrub the humiliating memory of the café out of his brain. He sent a message back to Adam.
thanks
sorry about last night
thanks for getting me home safe
Within a minute, a reply popped up.
It’s the least I could do.
Kyle considered. He was embarrassed at how badly he had overreacted at the café, and afterwards.
can I swear you to secrecy on anything I said last night?
Another pause while he waited for a reply. This one lasted longer. He’d stripped off his shirt to go take a shower when the phone buzzed.
You’re a great dad, Kyle, you shouldn’t doubt that.
Embarrassment still burned under his skin, and a sick feeling stirred in his stomach, although that was probably the hangover. But beneath all that, he felt a warm sense of pride.
you’re gonna make me blush Mr. Hathaway
“Can you give me a lift?” Kyle asked his dad when he came downstairs. He poured himself a mug of coffee. “I left my van downtown.”
His father was stacking dishes by the sink. “Good morning to you too. What’s your hurry?”
“I left my computer in the van. I need it for work.”
“For work? I take it things went well, then?” His dad said. Kyle grimaced. “Or not?”
“There was a misunderstanding. It’s not going to lead to anything.”
“But you got home so late. I assumed . . .” His father’s brow wrinkled.
“Yeah, I went out for a ‘better luck next time’ drink with Mr. Hathaway after.”
“Mr. Hathaway? What does Caroline’s teacher have to do with your business meeting last night?”
“Everything.” The laugh felt sour in Kyle’s throat. “And nothing, since there’s no business. But it turns out that Rebecca at the coffee shop is Adam’s sister.”
“You went to a business meeting with Rebecca at the café?” His father’s eyes widened.
“You know Rebecca?”
“Everyone knows Rebecca.”
“Well, not everyone, apparently.”
“The café is famous; their cupcakes were on TV. You had one here the other night. Isn’t that where you got it from?”
Kyle remembered the pastry box Adam had brought with him when he’d come for dinner. “My sister sent them over.” Kyle hadn’t picked up on that at all.
“Can we go, please? I have a lot to do before I pick up Caroline, and I’m getting a late start as it is.”
“So the meeting didn’t go well?” his father pressed.
Kyle coughed out a laugh that made his head hurt. “I’m pretty sure the door on that opportunity is shut, nailed down, and bricked over.”
They drove to Morrison’s in silence. Kyle watched Red Creek go by out the window. It seemed impossible that he had made the same drive the night before, dressed and polished, brain bursting with ideas despite the fact he wasn’t sure what Rebecca had wanted him to do.
“I’ve been here five years,” she’d said when he’d arrived at the café, “and for a while we were the best game in town. But the chains are moving in now, and people don’t mind paying them six bucks for a prefabricated macchiato, but they grumble when I try to charge three dollars for a cupcake. So I need it to be big.”
Kyle had scribbled notes. “What did you have in mind exactly?”
“We’ll call it an anniversary party, but I really want it to go beyond that. I want it to be about branding the café and the downtown as home, somewhere you can always come back to and get to know again. We care, we take care of our customers. We look after our own.”
Kyle had kept writing. If she was interested in branding the downtown, the campaign might be more involved than a single party. Maybe he could approach other businesses on the street to see if there was interest in a larger initiative.
“It’s going to be a lot of work,” Rebecca had said. He’d nodded and kept writing, his excitement growing. “I’m sure you’ll need some help.” He almost hadn’t heard the bell over the door chime as someone had come in. It was Rebecca who had drawn his attention as she got up from the table where he was loading his portfolio on the computer. She’d walked away, and he’d had to turn to see who had come in.
It had been Adam.
“We look after our own.” Rebecca’s words had repeated themselves in his head. “You’ll need help.” And the reality of the whole situation had come crashing down around Kyle in one horrible moment. This wasn’t about planning a party. It wasn’t a job. It was Adam and Rebecca talking over a Sunday dinner. Poor Kyle. If only we could help him.
Except it had appeared that Adam had been as confused as Kyle had. But by the time he’d realized that, it didn’t matter. Pride and humiliation had overwhelmed everything, and all he had been able to do was get out of the café.
“Dad? After Mom left . . .” Kyle hesitated. They didn’t have these types of conversations very often. “How long after Mom left did people stop trying to help you?”
“I don’t understand.”
“How long before they stopped offering to bring over food, or pick me up after school?”
“I’m not really sure.”
“Was it months? Years? By the time I was eleven, you were letting me take the bus home from school, and I’d watch TV until you came home. So it must have stopped. But when?”
“I really don’t remember.”
Kyle sighed and sank back in his seat. “Never mind.”
“Is this about last night?”
“Yes. No. I don’t know. I just . . .” Kyle made an annoyed sound. They pulled into the parking lot at Morrison’s, next to the van, but Kyle didn’t get out. “I left to go to school. And I came home in the summer and for Christmas and sometimes for a long weekend. And then there was Olivia, and Caroline.”
“Okay.” His dad sounded unsure.
“It was the three of us. In a city, you sink or swim on your own. You work hard for what you have, and the city doesn’t give you anything else.”
“Kyle, if this is about money, you know I would have—”
Kyle waved his father’s protest away. “I know. It’s not about you. It’s not really about money either.” He shook his head. “Anyway. My point is we had no net to catch us, and we built a life without it. And when I couldn’t do it anymore, I came here, because you said you’d help me. But I didn’t expect everyone else to try to help me too.”
“It’s called community, Kyle.”
“Right. Community. But, Dad, I didn’t have one of those for years. I know how to do things on my own. I had a family, and I was able to keep a roof over our heads. Here, everyone wants to help, but they don’t know me anymore. They don’t know what I need.”
“They want to be helpful.”
Kyle huffed out an exasperated breath. “You’re in too deep; you can’t see how Stepford it all is.”
“Stepford?”
Kyle sighed again. There was no way he could explain what had happened the previous night without coming off as ungrateful. “Nothing. Don’t worry about it. I overreacted to someone who was trying to offer me a spot in the community. I forgot that’s what you do here.”
Laptop and van recovered, Kyle spent the afternoon at home answering emails, sending another batch of inquiries to Vegas, and getting details sorted. At two thirty, Shannon emailed to say that one of her friends wanted to stay somewhere with a saltwater pool, and Shannon wanted a daily private hot-yoga class, which set off another round of hotel searches and inquiries. He was so busy that he nearly didn’t hear his phone when it buzzed with a text message.
Mr. Fenton, we’ve talked about the importance of picking your daughter up on time.
Kyle checked the clock on the wall. Half past three.
Damn it!
coming!
“Dad, why didn’t you tell me to go get Caroline?” he called. The house echoed, but there was no response. When he checked out the front window, his dad’s car wasn’t in the driveway.
“Where the hell is that helpful community when I need it?”
Adam and Caroline weren’t out front of the school, like the last time Kyle had been late, so he parked and hurried inside. The halls were empty, and he had to dig through his own ancient history to find his way through the school, until he reached his old first-grade classroom at the end of a hallway, beyond the gym.
“Daddy!” Caroline hopped up from her desk as soon as she saw him. Kyle knelt down, and she ran into his arms.
“Sorry, Bean,” he whispered. He owed Adam an apology as well. Kyle glanced across the room toward where he was sitting at his desk. Adam wore a red and blue checked shirt and black framed glasses, and Kyle suddenly understood Olivia’s fascination with the academic look.
“You should wear those glasses more; they suit you,” Kyle blurted. What he’d meant to say was I got held up with work. Adam squinted at him, and then pulled the glasses off. Kyle was sorry to see them go.
“I only need them for reading,” Adam said.
“Grandpa wears glasses,” Caroline said. “Mommy did too. But Daddy doesn’t need them, and neither do I!”
Leave it to a six-year-old to dig him out of an awkward situation.
“Nope,” he said, “because we eat our carrots, like rabbits. Right?”
“Right!” Caroline said.
“Go get your stuff, Bean. It’s time to go home.” He set her down. She ran back to her desk to pack up the crayons and coloring book she’d been playing with.
“Sorry, Mr. Hathaway.” Kyle suppressed a smile. “It was a . . . slow morning. And work took me longer than I expected. But that’s no excuse. I know you warned me, and I was supposed to at least call if I was going to be late, but I didn’t see the clock until I got your text, and then I came—”
“Kyle.” Adam flashed him a grin that would have incinerated weaker mortals. Mr. Hathaway definitely fell into the devilishly handsome category. “Stop. I knew how to reach you, and I had things to do before I left. No problem.”
“Still, you did a lot.” Kyle dropped his voice so Caroline wouldn’t hear. “I appreciate you—”
“It’s no problem,” Adam repeated. “Besides, I was hoping to talk to you in person anyway.”
Kyle tensed, and followed Adam’s gaze as he glanced over to where Caroline zipped up her backpack.
“Go put your coat on, Bean. I’ll be there in a minute.”
Caroline slung her backpack over one shoulder and trotted out of the room. Kyle turned back to Adam.
“Rebecca is embarrassed about what happened yesterday,” Adam said. “She didn’t expect you to think that she was offering a handout.”
“Adam, listen—” Kyle tried to interrupt, but Adam held up his hand.
“She was serious about the party, and she knows a few people on the town council who would be interested in talking to you about some of the other things she mentioned, although I’m not totally clear on what those were. So if you wanted to, she’d be happy to sit down with you and try to get the ball rolling. Anytime that’s good for you. She’s at the café most days, but she said to give you her number and you can call her whenever it suits you.”
“Thanks, I’ll do that.” Kyle wasn’t sure he would. He still felt uncomfortable about everything that had happened the night before.
“She wants to make it up to you, even if you aren’t interested in the party job. She’s having a barbecue two Saturdays from now, and she would like you and Caroline to come. I’m going, and Ben and Kirsten will be there too, if that makes a difference? Ben works with my brother-in-law at the dealership.”
“When?”
“I just told you, two weeks from Saturday.”
“No,” Kyle said, “when, between the time that you dropped me off at my house after eleven last night, and the time that you left for school this morning at, what, seven thirty?”
“Six,” Adam said. “I went to the gym first.”
“Of course you did,” Kyle said. “So when in the seven hours between eleven and six did your sister have time to relay all this conciliatory information to you, which—” he took a breath “—I’m still thinking about how to answer.”
“Did you not learn anything about my sister last night?” Adam said. “She sent it in about a million text messages.” He turned the phone toward Kyle, scrolling down. There were entire screens of messages from Rebecca. About midway through the stream, there were the few that Kyle had sent earlier in the morning, but then it flipped back to Rebecca going all the way to the night before.
“Jesus,” Kyle said.
“I know. You don’t have to commit to the work thing. But come to the barbecue. She does it every year. Ben and Kirsten bring the girls, there’s always too much food, usually the weather’s nice. It’s fun. Caroline will have a great time.”
“Low blow, using my own kid against me, Mr. Hathaway.”
“I didn’t mean—” Adam started, but Kyle broke into a smile.
“Lighten up, Adam, jeez.” Kyle waved him off. “Okay, we’ll come.”
“Daddy!” Caroline called from the doorway.
“Gotta go,” he said. “The princess awaits!”