Chapter Nineteen - Charlotte

Catherine’s daughter comes by to get the last of her mother’s belongings and fill out a few last forms. She’s sitting with a social worker, but she flags me down as she’s leaving.

“Hey,” she says, “you’re Charlotte, right? I know Mom was really fond of you in her last days.”

“Your mother was a fantastic woman,” I say. “I didn’t know her for long, but she really made an impression on me.”

“Mom was that way,” she says, smiling fondly with a little sadness in her voice. “Always had a story. It was a gift she had – that she could talk so often about the dreams she used to have, but somehow she never made me feel like she blamed me for those things not happening,” Catherine’s daughter says.

“She was very proud of you and your daughter,” I say, thinking of the day I’d met Catherine and of her stories of how hard it had been to have a baby so young. When she was just a kid.

And as soon as I think it, I feel something click in my brain.

She was just a kid—like that scared busboy, who had sounded so desperate. It’s a wild hunch, a completely out-there theory, but all of a sudden, I think I might have figured out our restaurant mystery.

“She told me all the time,” Catherine’s daughter says, smiling. “Thank you for taking care of her.”

“Meeting her was a blessing,” I say. Catherine’s daughter pulls me into a quick hug and I hug her back, thinking about both Catherine and my theory all at once. I want to text Danny right away, but I decide to wait to tell him in person.

Last night had been incredible, the most romantic evening of my life. I keep thinking about it, remembering Danny’s words and how it had felt when we kissed. I keep thinking about what my mom would say if she knew—but then about what Catherine would say if she could hear about it. I’m more and more convinced by the minute that Danny is a good man, that maybe I shouldn’t let him get away.

Catherine’s daughter leaves, and I think again about what I’d said to Danny the other night, about meeting Catherine for a reason, like maybe I’d needed her wisdom in my life right now in more ways than one. After my shift ends, I head to the Dock’s End, still thinking about Danny, about Dad, about Catherine, about everything going on right now. It all feels connected, like something is coming together.

In the side parking lot, I see Michael, that same busboy, talking to a very heavily pregnant teenage girl, and I immediately feel a sureness wash over me. The girl looks frantic and upset, and he’s kissing her and holding her hands like he’s trying to calm her down.

I head in and find Danny right away, pulling him aside.

“Danny,” I say, urgently. He’s smiling at me, that smile that makes want to do nothing but kiss him, but I don’t, not right now, because this is far too important.

“What’s going on?” he asks.

“I have a real theory,” I say, pacing. “Michael’s girlfriend. It all makes sense now. And what Catherine said, and—”

“Slow down,” Danny says, grabbing my hand.

“She’s pregnant,” I tell him, starting over. “Michael, our busboy—his girlfriend is pregnant. I just saw them together out in the parking lot. And before she passed away, my patient, Catherine, told me about her own teenage pregnancy, and I know we’ve got nothing to prove anything, but I think they might just be desperate and scared enough to steal money.”

“That sort of thing would certainly make a kid scared enough for action,” Danny says, nodding like everything I’m saying makes sense.

“Exactly,” I say. “It’s not proof, but it would make sense.”

“Yeah, yeah, it would,” Danny says. He pulls his notebook out and glances at it. “It looks like he’s on shift tonight.”

“Now what?” I ask. I feel certain I’m right, but I don’t know quite what to do about it. It’s not like I can accuse a teenager of theft simply based on hearing a phone call and a conversation in the parking lot.

“Well, he needs to be around cash if they’re desperate. He might be bold enough to take it on the spot,” Danny says.

“Can you have him clear a table of someone who pays with cash, or leaves a big tip on it, so there is cash out?” I ask, thinking of times when I’ve gone out to eat and been in a hurry, just leaving enough cash for the bill and a tip without waiting for a receipt.

“That’s a really good idea,” Danny says, giving me an impressed smile. “Whitney always makes huge tips, normally in cash. I can talk to her.”

“And then just watch him?” I ask.

“Like a hawk,” Danny says, shaking his head. Then he smiles at me again. “Thanks, Charlotte.”

“I promised I’d help,” I say, feeling that now-familiar quickening of my pulse under his gaze. I know I should go since Danny has to work and catch a thief, but part of me wants to stay right here, maybe pull him into a corner and kiss him for hours, feel his hands on me again.

It still all feels connected, like maybe out there somewhere, somehow, Catherine is still talking to me, helping me catch a thief and follow my heart all at the same time.