Marrying the Wrong Man (9 page)

You can’t talk to people like that.
Morgan’s words from earlier rattled around in his brain.

So maybe asking Alice what the hell she was thinking wasn’t the smartest thing to do. Instead, he would casually walk up and warn her to treat wait staff—all of them—with respect or leave.

Alice’s eyes were wide and blazing blue. “What is
she
doing here?”

“Working.” He lowered his voice, hoping she would follow his lead. “I figured you would’ve heard already.”

“No, I hadn’t heard.” She glared at Justin.

He held up both hands. “I had no idea, either.”

“She has to go, Charlie.” Alice’s voice rose. “This is a recipe for disaster.”

Charlie shushed her. It was better than telling her to calm the hell down. “Please … ” he gritted his teeth, “lower your voice. You’re upsetting my staff and customers.”

She rolled her eyes. “Oh, for crying out loud. When have you ever worried about something like that? You shouldn’t be worried about me and my mouth. You should be worried about that lying, cheating woman in your kitchen. Why in the world did you hire her?”

“I didn’t.” He flashed a shitty grin at Justin. “Margaret did.”

Alice took a noisy breath through her open mouth. “That is ridiculous. Justin, you need to talk to your mother right now. Or I will.” She was shouting.

Charlie hit a fist on the table, and the silverware clanged. “Enough. I want you to leave. I can’t afford to lose any more waitresses—or sea bass.”

“You have got to be kidding.”

Justin stood, holding a hand open to Alice. “Let’s go. I’ve suddenly lost my appetite.”

“This is not okay.” She said it again as Justin led her out the door.

No, it wasn’t okay, but it was his reality. He had to deal with it somehow.

He waited until they were on the sidewalk before he turned and asked the table beside him, “How’s your meal?”

The couple just gaped at him, but the group at the next table raved about his tomato saffron broth and grilled polenta fries. That was good. He rubbed a crick from his neck as the compliments soaked in. Thank God, somebody was happy.

Corbin looked oddly happy, too. “I stirred the sauce, so the bottom didn’t burn.”

The kid was thrilled to be in the kitchen. If things ever calmed down around here
maybe
Charlie would loosen the reins. He nodded his thanks. “Is she still in the bathroom?”

“Yep.”

“See if you can coax her out.” He didn’t want to get dragged into a conversation about what he’d done and why he’d done it.

With no time to spare, he got back to work, preparing the “make up” dishes. But he didn’t stay locked in the kitchen. He found himself wandering in and out of the dining room when there was a lull in cooking, asking diners about their meals. If he kept a higher profile, people might focus more on him and the food and back off his wait staff.

Bruce Carter flagged him over. “Charlie, your polenta is better than my mother’s, but don’t you dare tell her I said that.” The man had a genuine laugh, but his wife was distracted.

Charlie followed her cold stare to Morgan.

“How is
your
meal, Mrs. Carter?”

“Good now that it’s here.” She turned up her nose. “The service, on the other hand, is terribly lacking.”

Charlie puffed out his chest. At least she was complaining to him and not Morgan or Corbin. He
could take it without walking out. “We’re just working out the kinks. Hopefully, you’ll cut us some slack. Otherwise, you can stay home and serve yourself something barely edible.” Charlie patted Bruce on the shoulder. “Thanks again for coming in.”

He had a feeling that fell into the category of
you can’t talk like that to people
, but he didn’t give a rat’s ass.

As he passed Morgan, who was balancing three plates, he noticed her biting the hell out of her bottom lip. He refused to acknowledge the hiccup in his heartbeat, but he did stop in the doorway to the kitchen and turn around to make sure she made it without dropping anything.

Of course, he was just worried about his sea bass.

After she settled the plates, she smiled at a child, whose parents he didn’t recognize. The little girl lifted a polenta fry off her plate and raised it near Morgan’s mouth. Despite the animated conversation she seemed to be having with the adults she was serving, she bent closer to the little girl and pretended to gobble the fry. The child cackled and Charlie felt a sharp pang.

He needed to see
his
little girl.

• • •

Morgan grabbed the opposite end of the table and lifted. With Corbin’s help, the dining room was returned to its pristine, pre-dinner condition, and her mood was better than she expected it to be—especially after spilling the sea bass and hearing that Charlie had kicked Justin and Alice out.

When they’d tallied the receipts and closed up the register, Corbin slid a short stack of bills topped with some change toward her.

“What’s this?” she asked.

“Tips. I’m splitting mine with you, because I noticed you didn’t get your fair share. People are mean, and we peons need to stick together.”

Morgan shook her head. “I can’t take that. I didn’t earn it.”

“You earned twice this when you dropped the sea bass. It was like slapstick dinner theater.” He laughed. “I’m sorry. Is it too soon?”

Morgan chuckled. “No, you’re good. Thank you.” She pushed the money toward him. “I never would’ve survived these last two nights without you.”

“Tomorrow will be better.”

“I hope so.”

“I know so.” He pushed the money toward her again. “I’ll be here to make sure of it, unless my ship comes in and it’s towing my very own bistro behind it. Then, you’re on your own.”

“Why don’t you tell Charlie you want to cook more?”

“Because … ” his voice grew louder at the end until he was almost shouting, “Charlie’s a bastard, who chases everyone away, and
somebody
has to wait tables.”

Charlie appeared in the doorway, wearing a half-smile. “If that’s true, then why are you still here?”

Corbin rolled his eyes. “I’m here, because you’d be lost without me, silly. I’m the glue to this joint.”

Charlie shot a dishtowel slingshot style at Corbin. “You’re delusional.”

Corbin laughed as he bent to retrieve the towel, leaving Morgan smiling at Charlie. He didn’t drop the expression or look away. It was their first real connection all night.

The dishtowel hit Charlie square in the chest as Corbin waltzed by him and into the kitchen. “Whatever. See ya both tomorrow.”

And then there were two. Morgan’s palms grew clammy. Being completely alone with Charlie for the first time in three years was … unsettling.

She turned toward the counter and gathered up the money Corbin had left.

“I’d like to see Charlotte again.”

She nodded and glanced at his reflection in the dining room window. “You were invited to come by earlier today. You didn’t show.”

“I know. I was … working through some things.”

Like staying sober? God, she hoped not, but it was a real possibility. She wanted to believe his sobriety was unshakable, but his track record where she was concerned wasn’t good. And if tonight proved anything it was that she wreaked havoc whenever she was around. He had to be stressed out by her return. Why wouldn’t he be tempted to drink?

“Maybe I could come by tomorrow,” he said.

Coordinating visitation hadn’t been part of her plan when she’d headed to Harmony Falls from Connecticut. Her plan had been easy. Get the money, drop the bomb, and go—because surely he wouldn’t want anything to do with them. She still wasn’t convinced he knew what he wanted as far as Charlotte was concerned.

“She deserves more than maybes, Charlie. You have to be sure you want to be a part of her life even after we leave Harmony Falls. Phone calls, birthday cards, emails. If you’re not sure you can handle that, then don’t do this. She’s young enough to forget.”

His face contorted, and she felt horrible for saying it. “But if you are sure, then why don’t you come to dinner on Sunday when the restaurant is closed?”

She didn’t think it possible, but his face twisted even more.

“I’ll think about it,” he said.

Hopefully a stiff drink wasn’t needed to help him make up his mind.

“Fish sticks go with macaroni and cheese,” Aunt Phyllis sat crossed legged on the kitchen floor hand feeding a cat.

“I’m not going to serve a chef frozen fish sticks. It’s bad enough I’m making him mac and cheese, but at least this is homemade.”

“I thought he was coming to spend time with Charlotte.”

“He is.”

“Then why are you trying to impress him?”

Morgan set the slotted spoon on top of a folded paper towel and faced Aunt Phyllis. “I am not trying to impress him. Believe me, after everything I’ve done, there aren’t enough tricks in the book to make Charlie see me as anything other than the woman who drove him to drink.”

“Well, that’s a shame. Charlie Cramer is a good catch.”

Morgan laughed as she stirred the macaroni again, mostly because not too long ago she was considered “the catch,” while her parents raged on about Charlie being the wrong man. “What do you know about good catches?”

Aunt Phyllis lifted the cat and cuddled it against her cheek. “I suppose not enough to catch one for myself.”

Morgan’s stomach turned. What a careless thing to say to a woman who’d spent her adult life alone. Hadn’t she just lectured Charlie about the way he talked to people? “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it like that.”

“Sure you did.” She stood. “It’s no secret I’m a loner, but I haven’t always been, and I like having you and baby girl here. I’m not a complete kook.”

“Of course you’re not.”

Morgan wished she knew more about Aunt Phyllis’s life. She’d never been afforded many opportunities to be around her … until she had nowhere else to turn. Well she could make up for lost time now.

“So, if you weren’t always a loner, tell me about him. What was his name?”

The metal colander Aunt Phyllis had been holding clattered into the sink.

Charlotte leapt to her feet and threw her arms around Morgan’s leg.

“He was nobody,” Aunt Phyllis said, her head shaking wildly. “He ended up not being a very good man.”

How sad! And then suddenly the sadness gave way to an eeriness that had Morgan’s neck hairs standing on end. Why did she have the feeling she knew the man? Probably because it was Harmony Falls, and everyone knew everybody. She shook off the weirdness by lifting Charlotte into her arms. “So he wasn’t a good catch, huh?”

“Not at all.” Aunt Phyllis wiggled a clean wooden spoon at Charlotte’s belly. “Now, a man in cowboy boots who knows his way around a kitchen is a good catch, and don’t you forget it.”

Morgan laughed, but the tinny sound of the doorbell ringing had her clamming up fast.
Charlie.
There was still a part of her that expected him to bail at the last minute.

“I’ll get it.” Aunt Phyllis winked as she left the kitchen.

Morgan slicked a hand over her tied-back hair and smoothed her T-shirt, then kissed Charlotte’s forehead. “Your daddy’s here.”

She headed to the living room with as much poise as she could muster.

Charlie stood beside Aunt Phyllis. A floppy teddy bear dangled from his right hand.

Sweet.
She smiled. He was really going to make a go of this.

Charlotte buried her face in Morgan’s neck.

“Hey,” she said, trying her damnedest not to give into the urge to sneak a peek at those boots.

“Hey.” He shoved his free hand into his pocket and smiled back.

“I’ll go stir the macaroni,” Aunt Phyllis said.

“Come on in.”

She walked to the couch, and Charlotte’s grip tightened.

“It’s okay, baby,” she whispered in her ear.

And it would be okay, just not easy.

When she sat, Charlie sat, too.

“I brought her something better than medicine this time.” He switched the bear to his other hand and rubbed his palm on his jeans.

The show of nervousness might have been even sweeter than the teddy bear.

“Charlotte, did you see this bear?” Morgan asked.

She shook her head.

“Well, look at it, silly.” Morgan nudged her with a shoulder, hoping she would sit up and face him. “Charlie … I mean … your daddy brought it for you.” Morgan’s voice cracked when she made eye contact with Charlie, who looked like he was feeling equally unsure.

Maybe there was another way they should be handling this.

Charlotte shook her head again.

Charlie leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, dangling the stuffed animal in his hands, and then he looked back at them. “That’s okay, kiddo. You came as a surprise to me, too. It’s just going to take a while for us to get used to each other.”

Morgan offered an encouraging smile as she turned Charlotte around in her arms to face Charlie. “You like teddy bears, don’t you? Look at this one. He has a blue ribbon.”

Morgan reached for the bear, brushing Charlie’s hand with her fingertips. Heat pricked a path up her arm. It had been three years since she’d touched him. One little sweep shouldn’t matter … but it did. And that scared her. This wasn’t a game. There was no room for any more mistakes. Charlotte’s welfare came first.

Squeezing the bear harder than necessary, Morgan bounced the toy on Charlotte’s thigh. “We can call him Mac for mac and cheese. How ‘bout that?”

“Mac and cheese,” Charlotte repeated, her little nose scrunching. She giggled when the bear’s nose tickled the crook of her neck.

“Mac and cheese is Charlotte’s favorite food.” When Morgan looked up, Charlie’s eyes were shiny. Tears.
Shoot.
Maybe the mistake had already been made. Maybe he wasn’t ready for this. Maybe none of them were. She should have thought of that before she rushed into town.

She passed the bear to Charlotte, and swallowed her own surge of tears.

Oblivious to the heavy emotion, Charlotte bounced the bear off Morgan’s face. “Mac eats you.”

That brought the smile back to Charlie’s face. “Hey, Charly,” he said, smoothing his index finger down the inside of Charlotte’s leg. “Do you like that bear? What’s his name? Mac?”