Chapter Fourteen - Danny
Normally, I don’t like people talking while I’m cooking. Even during the rush, I prefer the tempo of music or the murmur of distant conversations from the dining room. Focusing on too much at once—my creations in the kitchen and the demands of someone else’s questions, someone else’s time—makes me feel like I’m splitting my attention too much and giving it to nothing, in the end. But amazingly, I don’t mind it at all when it’s Charlotte. Listening to her talk about the older woman who had made such an impact on her is actually the perfect complement to stirring up the sauce for her dinner, somehow. It feels like something I could get used to, and for a second I think about what it would it be like to have this all the time, in the kitchen at my apartment and not the one at the Dock’s End, or maybe even the kitchen of some little place we shared together.
I know it’s a dangerous train of thought, more so given that Charlotte has said she just wants my friendship, but I can’t help myself. I like having her around. When she’d shown up tonight, looking like her heart was broken, I’d wanted to fix it, to help her. I don’t remember ever feeling like that about anyone else, ever feeling so drawn to someone the way I am to Charlotte.
Hearing her talk now just amplifies the feeling. The way she’s talking about Catherine, her patient, gives off such a warmth. She’s so compassionate and cares so much about her patients and her work, and it makes me want to be better for her, makes me want to be someone who can match that kind of caring and empathy and return it to her for all she does.
“It sounds like she had a fascinating life,” I say, straining pasta as Charlotte finishes a story about Catherine’s teenage years.
“Inspiring,” Charlotte says, nodding with a faraway look in her eyes. “She really made me think about the kind of person I’d like to be one day.”
“It’s great that you got to know her,” I say, turning around to face Charlotte again. She nods slowly like she’s thinking. Her eyes look less puffy now, and I think she’s starting to feel better just talking about it all. “Yeah, I’m really glad,” Charlotte says, smiling sadly. I want to touch her again, to pull her into a hug and kiss her forehead, maybe, but I’m trying to keep all my touches friendly since that’s what she wants.
“It seems like it was good,” I say, grating more cheese for the top of Charlotte’s late dinner.
“I feel like I was meant to know her,” Charlotte says, then shakes her head. “Maybe that’s silly, but something in me keeps saying that I was supposed to meet her, to hear her story, you know?”
“Maybe you were,” I say. I don’t know if I believe in anything like that – If I think fate is any more real than you make it out to be – but I can tell this woman was important to Charlotte, so maybe it does mean something, somehow.
“I don’t know,” Charlotte says, sighing and running a hand through the top of her hair. I put her finished pasta dish in a bowl and put it beside her.
“I hear food helps,” I say, smiling and putting a hand on her shoulder again, just for a second.
“It can’t hurt, and this smells amazing,” Charlotte enthuses, smiling back at me, a little more real this time, “thank you. Really.”
“Anytime,” I say, and I mean it. I watch her take her first bite, not really able to pull my eyes away. She swallows and makes a pleased face around her fork.
“Okay, you are a genius in the kitchen,” she says, and I let out a breath I hadn’t realized I was holding.
“Eh, it’s just pasta. Pretty basic stuff,” I say, and Charlotte shakes her head rapidly.
“I once dated a man who couldn’t even turn his oven on. Trust me, this is brilliant,” Charlotte says, eating more.
“Are you still up for trying the Naval Ball menu?” I ask, changing the subject just a little, swallowing down the flicker of jealousy I feel.
“Oh! Right!” Charlotte says, eyes widening. “Is that what you asked me to meet you?”
“It’s actually not,” I say, putting the pots from Charlotte’s meal in the sink.
“What’s going on, then?” Charlotte asks. I walk back over, frowning. I’ve decided I do need to tell to Charlotte about the Dock’s End’s troubles, but part of me still isn’t sure it’s the best idea.
“It’s the Dock’s End and your dad,” I say, not knowing where else to start.
“I heard you two fighting the other day.” Charlotte surprises me. “Is everything okay?”
“Not really,” I say, caught off guard at the revelation that Charlotte had overheard Hank and me fighting.
“I don’t understand—I thought this place was doing really well,” Charlotte says, frowning into her pasta.
“It is,” I say, “but we’ve also got, or I think we’ve also got, a thief to contend with. We’ve had thousands of dollars go missing, and there’s food from the pantry gone, too, and to top it all off, we’ve got this surprise inspection coming up, right before the Naval Ball.”
“Oh my God,” Charlotte gasps, “thousands of dollars?”
“Yeah, and things have been getting worse for months. I want to call the police or investigate it further myself, but Hank—your dad—keeps telling me it’s nothing, that it’s not a big deal,” I say, frustrated just thinking about it.
“Are you suspecting it’s someone who works here?” Charlotte asks, looking worried.
“I have no idea, honestly. I do know that a few months back, we fired this asshole, Anthony, and he wasn’t happy about it. He works a few blocks away now, but he still has friends on our staff,” I say. Anthony is still my number one suspect, and not just because I’ve never trusted or liked him at all.
“Wait, you think this is all his revenge?” Charlotte asks like she’s putting together the same pieces I am.
“That’s exactly what I think,” I confirm. Charlotte twirls noodles around on her fork thoughtfully.
“What does my dad think?” Charlotte asks, “and why haven’t either of you told me until now?”
“I wanted to. Your dad didn’t, though, because he didn’t want to worry you. He’s convinced it’s all internal error – like we’re doing our numbers wrong. Honestly, I think he’s so caught up in our success and in wanting us to open a second location that he doesn’t want to consider the idea that anything is seriously wrong.” I say.
“Dad does get like that,” Charlotte sighs. “Once he has an idea in his head, it’s almost impossible to derail him, even with all the evidence in the world piled up against it.”
“Oh, believe me, I know,” I say, watching her.
“Why’d you decide to tell me, anyway?” Charlotte asks, studying me.
“I wanted your help,” I admit, “I thought you could talk to him.”
“How about I help you investigate first?” Charlotte says. “That way, we can find proof this is a real issue and we can bring him that.”
“That could work,” I say, thinking. I’d been putting off doing any sort of real investigation, but maybe with Charlotte working with me, it was time to really look into this.
“Great, and I won’t tell him I know until then,” Charlotte says, giving me a smile that reminds me of all the other secrets the two of us have from Hank right now.
“Thank you,” I say.
“I owe you for dinner,” Charlotte says, “and for the conversation.”
“Like I said, anytime,” I say, making her smile warmly again. It makes the air in the kitchen feel warmer than normal, makes everything feel a little brighter.