I arrived at work fifteen minutes early the next morning. My schedule for Tuesday was much like my schedule for Monday. I had five places to visit—all saltwater aquariums where I would check on the fish, make sure the water was balanced, and most likely do partial water changes. I normally spent an hour or two at each location. Every once in a while, Lance would add a job to my day or change things up, but I had looked at my schedule the day before and found that it was the same as usual.
I knew where I was heading, but Tori still had my itinerary printed out for me. She reached out with a small stack of papers and placed it on the edge of the desk when she saw me come in.
"Hey Abigail," she said.
"Hey," I returned.
"How'd it go yesterday?" she asked.
Normally, she was still here when I finished my day and brought back my company truck, but I had been running late last night and had missed her.
"Good. Fine," I said, glancing at my papers.
"How'd the pond go?"
I felt instantly anxious at the mention of it, but I faked nonchalance. "Oh, that went fine," I said, like I barely remembered. "It just made me later on everything else."
"Lance wanted to talk to you about it," she said.
I glanced at her curiously, and she gave me a wide-eyed shrug. "He just told me to have you stop by his office before you head out."
"Okay," I said.
I took the stack of papers off of her desk, and headed past her, down the hallway that led to Lance's office. The door was cracked when I got there, and I peeked inside. Lance was sitting at his desk and didn't see me, so I reached out and tapped the door a few times with my knuckles. He glanced up and gestured for me to come in. I entered cautiously but he waved again, smiling when he did, which made me feel a little better.
"How'd it go yesterday?" he asked.
"Good. Fine." I said, repeating what I had said to Tori.
Lance motioned for me to sit in the chair across from his desk. He really never did this. He almost never sat behind his desk, much less had me sit across from him. Aside from my first interview, I had only been in this position one or two times in all the years I'd worked for him. He was rarely even in his office.
He smiled at me as his eyebrows rose. "Mandy Foster called yesterday asking if we could take over servicing that location on Bayshore Drive."
"She did? Why?" I asked.
My reluctance must have been evident because Lance tilted his head at me and wore a look of confusion. "That's a good thing," he clarified.
"I know, but I thought they had a guy."
"They do, but she wants us to do it now. She called yesterday saying what a great job you did. She asked if we could take care of that property and one other in the future. I think the other one's smaller with a few small Koi and some goldfish, but still."
"What about the other guy?" I asked.
"She said he's back from his trip, but he's got a lot going on with their properties in West Palm. He's not just a fish guy. He does other maintenance. She said this would free him up some—save him the trip down here."
"I thought that guy lived here," I said.
Lance shrugged. "I thought so too, but I guess not. It doesn't really matter. All I know is that Mandy was impressed with the job you did, and now we have a new client because of it—two new locations. Good job." He stared at me like I should think this was exciting news.
"That's awesome," I said.
"She's got a housecleaning service who takes care of the properties for her. They're there every day. They make sure the tenants feed the fish and call her if there's any problems, but she asked if we can go by once a week. That's what her guy was doing."
I nodded. "Nick or Alex can take care of it. The fish were healthy, and it was really straightforward."
"I already told Nick he was going to service the one with the goldfish," Lance said. "But I wanted you to continue with that one from yesterday. I already told Tori to get it on your schedule. She said the end of your week was pretty open—Thursday maybe."
"Why me?"
"Because Mrs. Foster specifically asked for you. She said what a good job you did."
"She wasn't even there," I said with a casual wave of my hand. "Plus, she won't notice if someone else does it. It's definitely something Nick could handle."
Lance gave me a curious glance. "Is there some reason you don't want to do it?" he asked, looking confused. "From what Mandy was saying, that cellist really liked you. She said you two hit it off—that he called her, talking about how friendly and knowledgeable you were and asking if you could come back. If it's about you not wanting to get grimy, we can schedule it at the end of your day."
My heart was in my throat. "Who called her?" I asked. "What are you talking about?"
"The cellist who's renting the house," Lance said. "Mandy said he talked to you for a long time, and he was amazed by how much you knew about fish. He said you sat there and told him the varieties and everything—let him feed the fish by hand."
"I did talk to someone for a long time, but it was a guy."
"I know," Lance said nodding stiffly with wide eyes.
"I didn't talk to the cellist."
"The cellist is a man, Abigail."
"You told me it was a girl."
He shrugged. "I assumed it was a woman because his name is Ashley, but it's a man. My mom even knew of him. I mentioned his name last night, and she went ballistic, asking if I could arrange for her to meet him."
I heard the words Lance was saying, but I was too busy paying attention to the way my heart was pounding.
Ashley.
Ash.
Ash.
Ashley?
"I thought the cellist's name was Amanda," I said.
Lance's expression was completely perplexed as he stared at me. "Amanda's the owner" he said. "Mandy Foster. Is that what you were thinking?"
"No. I thought you said the cellist was Amand—never mind."
Lance shook his head at me. "Did you not meet Ashley Winters yesterday? Mandy was under the impression that you two had a whole long conversation."
I could barely breathe.
Again, I remembered flashes of the conversation I had with Ash. I had definitely told him there was going to be a cellist living in the house, and I most certainly referred to said cellist as a 'her'. Why hadn't he corrected me? What else had I said?
"What's wrong?" Lance asked, noticing that I was stunned and speechless.
"I had no idea that guy was the cellist. He had on a t-shirt and baseball cap. He didn't look at all like a cellist. He was young, and he had a five o'clock shadow and muscles. He looked like someone I'd see at the gym, working out."
"Cellists can go to gyms, too," Lance said, with an amused smile.
I sighed and let my shoulders slump, making a grumpy face. "I didn't know he was the cellist. I had no idea. I called him a Pokémon character, and told him I didn't care for classical music."
This made Lance laugh. "Well, you must not have hurt his feelings too bad because he called Mandy who called me. That's all I know."
"What'd he say?"
"Just what I told you. That he was impressed with how knowledgeable you were. He asked her if you could be the one to take care of the fish. That's why I called you in here… so I can tell you you're adding that pond to your route. I didn't think you'd mind."
"I don't," I said. "I don't mind at all."
"I figured you wouldn't," Lance said, lifting his eyebrows.
"What's that supposed to mean?"
He smiled. "My mom said he was a hunk."
"A hunk?" I said, laughing and shaking my head as I turned to walk out of his office.
"A hunk," Lance said. "No kidding, that's the word she used. A hunky cellist. I told her there was no such thing."
I wrinkled my nose at him on my way out.
"I can see by the way you're blushing that I was wrong!" he called.
I was blushing. The realization that I had been talking to the cellist and not the cellist's husband had me reeling.
"I can put Nick on the job if you don't want to do it!" Lance yelled, still teasing me even though I was almost in the hallway by that point.
"I'll do it!" I yelled back.
I glanced over my shoulder as I walked out of his office and could see that he was smiling and shaking his head at me.
Suddenly, I didn't want to go service my beautiful saltwater tanks anymore.
Suddenly, I wanted to specialize in ponds.
One specific pond.
I wanted to go back to the house on Bayshore Drive immediately. I wanted to see Ash and rectify all my shortcomings from our first encounter. I wanted to make a better first impression, one where I wasn't covered in sweat and nastiness and didn't mistake him for someone else or put my foot in my mouth.
I would have definitely stopped myself from saying I didn't care for classical music. I would have maybe even done a little research on it if I would have known Ash Winters looked like a… I wasn't even sure what he looked like. He was gorgeous, that was all I knew. I could see him playing professional soccer or lacrosse, or some other cool sport like that. A cellist? I honestly couldn't imagine what Ash would look like sitting behind a cello.
I tried to picture it, but I just couldn't. When we met, him being the cellist was the furthest thing from my mind. It was hard for me to see him as that, even though I now knew it was the truth. It made so much sense, though, with how intelligent and sharp he was. I remembered having the distinct thought that he retained more information in that hour we spent together then a lot of the new guys at work retained in weeks.
I was blown away. It took all morning for me to get over the fact that Ash was the cellist, and even then, I wasn't really over it. Thoughts of my encounter with him ran through my mind all day, and I was still thinking about him later that evening.
"What are you doing?" Kristen asked when she got home from work and found me sitting on the front porch.
"Filing my nails," I said. I looked up to find that Kristen was staring at me like I was a stranger who had taken over her best friend's body.
"What?" I said. "I've been known to file my nails."
She looked me up and down, inspecting me and the array of items I had sitting on the table next to me. "Lotion?" she asked sardonically. "Tweezers?"
I rolled my eyes at her. "I can use lotion," I said.
"Yeah, but not on the same day that you file your nails and shape your eyebrows." She still had her keys in her hand as she reached out and ran the back of her fingers up my shin, squinting suspiciously at me.
"What? I can shave and use lotion on the same day. That makes total sense. I used lotion because I shaved. It dries me out."
She raised her eyebrows at me. "And the nails?"
I shrugged. "I just wanted to file them a little bit. They were getting long."
Kristen reached out and touched the back of her hand to my forehead as if checking my temperature.
"I'm not sick," I said.
"Okay then, who is he?"
"Nobody."
"Don't lie."
"It's just a client. It's really noting."
"At a restaurant?" she asked. "It better not be Jake."
"It's not Jake," I said, not that she was being serious.
She sat down next to me, placing her purse and keys on the table and looking way too eager to hear the details. "Is he from one of your restaurants?"
"No."
"A hotel?"
"A house," I said. "It's an Airbnb."
"A tourist?" she asked, looking a little confused.
"Kind of. I think he's staying in town a while, though. He's a musician, and he's playing here."
"Is he famous?"
I nodded. "Kind of," I said. "Not like a rock star or anything, but he's a little famous in certain circles, I guess. Lance's parents knew about him." I had searched him on the internet that day, and I knew he was well-known in the classical music world.
"Who is it?" she asked.
"You wouldn't know him. He plays classical music."
"Classical?" she asked. "Is he old?"
"No. He's young. He reminds me a little of David Beckham."
"Who is that?"
"That soccer player."
"Since when do you watch soccer?"
"I don't. My brother does, but even if he didn't, I'd know David Beckham. He's famous. He's married to that Spice Girl." She still looked confused, and I shook my head and sighed. "It doesn't even matter. He doesn't even really look like him. He just doesn't look like a cellist."
"A cellist?" Kristen rubbed her palms together like she was in the mood for some juicy gossip. "What's his name—this mysterious, cello-playing, soccer-looking hottie?"
"Ash," I said. "Ash Winters."
"Ashley Winters?" she asked with a look of total shock.
"How do you know him?" I asked, looking equally amazed.
"Is that who it is? Ashley Winters? Seriously?"
"Yes. How do you know him?"
"Because I played the flute in the symphonic band in high school. We all knew him. He was famous, even back then. Everybody who knows anything about classical music knows of him. He was some kind of prodigy. He studied with Yo-Yo Ma. They're friends, I think. He went to Juilliard. Like every single girl in the band wanted to go to Juilliard because of him. Did you see him? Is he in Miami?"