Where My Heart Breaks (7 page)

“Hmm, I see your dilemma.” The banter was friendly and nice.
 

Patrice re-entered the room, and I stood up straighter. She pointed at the phone and mouthed “
Reed?”
I nodded before clearing my throat again.
 

“So like I was saying, the door to the bathroom in one of the guest rooms is sticking and we need you to come out right away.”

“Oh, so this wasn’t a social call. How unfortunate.” I wasn’t sure, but I thought I detected disappointment in his voice. “Tell Patrice I’ll be out around five. I’m backed up today, so that’s the soonest I can get there.”

“That’s fine,” I said hurriedly. “We’ll see you then.” I hung up the phone.

Patrice looked at me expectantly. “Well?”

“He’ll be here at five,” I said. “He’s backed up today.”

Judging by the glare of her face, I thought Patrice was going to call him back and give him a piece of her mind. “Fine, let’s hope it’s something easy to fix and that Mr. and Mrs. Neuman’s antique shopping keeps them occupied until dinner.”

I waited until Patrice left the room before sliding my cell phone out of my pocket. I programmed Reed’s number into it, and then I glanced furtively over my shoulder. I was still alone. I quickly typed in a text and sent it to him.

Sorry about that. Ornery aunt at three o’clock.

Less than thirty seconds later, I had a response.

We can’t have an ornery aunt.

That was a statement of the obvious. I wasn’t sure how to ask my next question. Reed opened the door though, and it was my chance to step through it.

Do you want to grab a coffee or something sometime?
 

Friendly coffee?

I blew out a breath of disgust. I sucked at friendships even worse than I sucked at relationships. How Millie and I were still friends was beyond me. Of course, she knew that I’d drop everything and rush to her side if she needed me, but regular communication and correspondence fell outside my comfort zone. Of course, my mother and Dr. Kreger slapped me with the label of “self-absorbed”. I just thought that most people didn’t really care if they spoke to me or not and often the feeling was mutual.

What other kind of coffee is there?

I’ll catch up with you later. Gotta go
.

Then he was gone. I wasn’t sure what to make of his abrupt exit to the conversation. It was possible that Reed was worse at friendships than I was, which was an interesting thought. If he and I were equally hopeless, then this was going to be the most intriguing friendship in history.

I was still thinking about Reed when Patrice strode by twenty minutes later.

“Patrice?” I thought hard how to appropriately phrase my question in a way that didn’t appear that I was trying to get out of working. Which, of course, I was. “We haven’t really talked about my work schedule.”

My aunt peered at me over the counter, and I dropped my shoulders in an attempt to appear as subservient to her will as possible. Patrice had the ability to make or break my pathetic excuse for summer in the palms of her hands.
 

“Schedule?”

“I thought that I’d do a little touring of the county and visit some of the other locations around Bleckerville that are in
Where My Heart Breaks
,” I said on the fly. “I know that was one thing I read in the manuals, the more you know about the grounds and the surrounding vicinity, the better resource you can be for the guests. I haven’t even had a chance to finish reading the book since I’ve been so busy.”

Patrice looked surprised. I was equally surprised at my reasonable and logical request. It made it sound as if I was actually interested in learning more about my summer prison. Just when I was sure that she smelled the bullshit, she said, “You can pick a day to take off during the week if you want it. Weekends are busy around here with small catering events, so I’ll need you around.”

That meant that I was working six days a week. I realized that I could have found better hours at my local Starbucks. “How about one weekday and alternating weekend nights?”
 

Patrice raised an eyebrow. It was obvious that she hadn’t expected me to negotiate. “I get to pick the weekend night as I see fit.”

“Done,” I said with a smile. “In that case, I’d like to take off tonight. Since it’s short notice, I’ll count today as a full day off even though I’ll work until dinnertime.”

“I can’t let you off tonight,” Patrice said.

I intended to ask Reed out for coffee that night before I chickened out. I had to find a way to get out of working, and there was no way in hell I was about to tell Patrice the real reason I was insisting on the time off. “I’ll clear the online reservation queue and finish reading the catering section, so I’m all geared up for this weekend before I go.”

She wanted to say no, but I think my burst of engaged interaction threw her off. “As long as you check in and make sure that Sam doesn’t need any help tonight, I guess that’s fine.”

Ugh. I had already taken note of Patrice’s overt attempts to get me interested in Sam and they were wearing thin. “Thanks, Patrice.”

Already deep in her own thoughts, she walked away without answering. I had won the battle but not the war. Sighing, I pulled out the manual on food preparation and catering. I had a lot of reading to do before dinnertime.

CHAPTER SEVEN

You would think that since I was well on my way to a college degree, the idea of figuring out food costs and ordering sufficient supplies of varying varieties of food for different themed events would have been a breeze. I must have missed that class in school though because even with taking notes, I had a hard time wrapping my brain around Patrice’s convoluted formulas. I didn’t think I’d done this much math since high school, and it was making my brain hurt.

Notebook paper scattered all over the registration desk, I dug underneath the nearest pile for my calculator again. I was ready to go through the sample budget calculation for the umpteenth time when I felt a tingling sensation creep across my skin. It was the eerie feeling that I was being watched.

I looked up and found Reed leaning against the open doorway with a toolbox in hand. He wore a grey button down shirt and white cargo shorts today that offset his sun kissed skin. A jaunty black curl slung down over his left eye. He offered up a small wave, and I forcibly reminded myself that we were just friends. In my opinion though, friends shouldn’t be allowed to look that damn good. It was unfair.

“You look busy,” he said as he strolled to the other side of the counter.

“Patrice wants to be sure I’m taking this whole assistant manager thing seriously,” I said, waving my hands at all the paper around me.

“Are you?”
 

I had an acidic reply locked and loaded in seconds, but caught it before it passed through my lips when I saw the twinkle in his eye. He was trying to get a rise out of me. “Book an event any weekend in July and you’ll find out,” I replied instead.

“I can’t afford even an hour in this place,” Reed said. “I’m lucky they let me in the door to work on it.”

I knew that he meant the words to be a joke, but there was a hint of truth underneath them. It tugged at me, how it felt like Reed didn’t feel worthy of a place like the Willoughby. I didn’t feel worthy of it either. In that moment, something snapped in my head. I had been acting like a selfish, spoiled brat. That type of person definitely wasn’t worthy of calling the Willoughby home.
 

I was going to take myself seriously. If I did that, maybe Patrice would take me seriously. Maybe my mother would take me seriously. It was a stretch, and I knew it. I had a long way to go, but it seemed like a waste not to get started right away. Maybe I could even talk Patrice into a weekend off for good behavior. If prisoners in jail could do it, why couldn’t I?

Digging in the file cabinet, I pulled out a document.
 
“Work Order” blazed across the top of the page, just like it said in the “Administration” portion of the training manual. I dutifully wrote down the issue on the first narrow line.

“Room 206. Bathroom doorway lock not working properly. What’s your hourly rate?” I quizzed, trying my best to look serious and professional.

“Sixty-five dollars an hour,” Reed said.

“How long do you estimate the repair will take?”
 

“Fifteen minutes, but I charge a full hour regardless,” Reed replied.

“I’m sure you have a friendlier rate in that case.” I smiled sweetly.

Reed’s eyebrows rose. “Perhaps, but usually there’s some kind of quid pro quo for that type of arrangement. What’s in it for me?”

It was my turn to be surprised. There was some serious undercurrent in Reed’s statement that made my body tingle all over. As my eyes slipped to his biceps again, several images ran through my mind of what I would willingly offer up in return. Reed cleared his throat, and I blinked. So far, my ability to keep my thoughts on the friendly side of the fence was failing miserably. I needed a new angle.

“As my friend, I am sure you’d love to help me impress my manager with my superior negotiation skills,” I said. “But if you insist, your coffee is on me tonight.”

“So we are going out tonight?” he asked. He leaned in, and I found that I wanted to lean across the desk and nibble on his lower lip.

I pushed back from the counter. “Yes. You can help me get up to speed on all the Bleckerville sights from Walter Moolen’s book since you seem to know it so well. I promised my aunt that if she gave me time off, I’d use it to study up on local lore. It just so happens that tonight is my first night off.”

“Well, aren’t you the studious employee,” Reed said in a mocking tone. He pulled the work order out from underneath my fingertips and swiped a pen from the container next to the register. He scribbled something on it and then slid it back to me. “Lucky for you, I am free tonight. I’ll be back down in fifteen minutes. You can clock it if you’d like.”

I purposely didn’t look up as he climbed the stairs even though I wanted to catch a look at his finely toned backside. Friends didn’t stare at their friend’s butts. As soon as I heard the steps on the floor above, I slid the work order over to my side of the counter to read his scribble.
 

Negotiated rate: $45

I grinned. I wouldn’t complain about a twenty-dollar friendly discount. Maybe I was starting to get the hang of this friendship thing. I put the work order in the receipt basket for Patrice to pay and file, and returned to the catering manual, although I did glance at the clock. I was curious if Reed’s assessment of his handyman skills were as accurate as he believed them to be.

Almost fifteen minutes later exactly, Reed reappeared at the bottom of the stairs. “Ms. Spivey, I am pleased to inform you that the issue in room 206 has been resolved.”

“Thank you, Mr. Black,” I said primly. “It appears that your services are exactly the caliber that I’ve heard them to be.”

He moved toward the desk with a slow grin. “That’s fascinating. I’d be very curious to know what you’ve heard about my
services
, Ms. Spivey.”

I caught his insinuation immediately and felt the flush roll up my cheeks. There was no way I’d be able to maintain the friendship façade that he said he wanted if he kept saying stuff like that. “Thank you for the discount. I’m sure my aunt will be pleased.”

Reed slid a small piece of paper across the desk. “I just want to make sure you are pleased, Ms. Spivey.”

I nodded my head. I didn’t trust my brain to form a complete sentence as I looked up into his intense stare. I was so lost in his eyes that I didn’t hear the telltale squeak that would indicate we were no longer alone. Reed’s eyes cut away from mine, and he frowned. As I turned and found my aunt staring at us, I slid the piece of paper into my pocket. I wondered how long she had been there and how much of the conversation she heard. Judging by her expression, probably too much.

“Hello, Patrice.”

“Reed.” My aunt’s greeting was colder than the air conditioning. “Is room 206 all taken care of?”

“Yes, ma’am,” he replied in his slow drawl. “You shouldn’t get any further complaints from your guests.”

“That’s good to hear,” Patrice said. “There are some shutters that are loose on the third story. Can you take care of that next week?”

“I’m sure I can fit it in,” Reed said. His stiff stance told me that his relationship with Patrice was nothing but business. That didn’t surprise me. From what I had seen so far, Patrice ran the Willoughby like a military camp.

“Excellent,” Patrice said. “I guess you’ll be on your way then.”

“Always a pleasure. Bye, Kate.” Reed turned and was out the front door before I could say anything else.

I realized that Patrice was staring at me, and I squirmed. I thumbed at the receipt basket. “I negotiated a better rate for his time,” I said. When her eyes narrowed, I knew that was probably the worst thing to say.

“Leave the negotiating to me,” she said. “Reed Black is a complicated man, Kate. Given your history, I’d take great care in thinking about whom you choose to spend your time with this summer.”

I bristled. “I suppose you’d like it if I spent time with somebody like Sam, I’d wager?”

“Sam is a decent, respectable boy,” Patrice said. “You’ve chosen far worse alternatives in the past based on what your mother has told me. Besides, you are here to help me this summer. I don’t need you to be distracted.”

Her biting words hit me square in the stomach. There was little question that Trevor was a worse choice by a factor of ten. There were a million scathing things that I wanted to say in my defense, but I knew that none of them would have gone over well. It grated that even though I had done nothing since arriving at the Willoughby to warrant Patrice’s warning, I was still being judged by my past.

“That’s what I am doing,” I said sullenly.
 

“If you expect to be off at dinnertime, I’d get moving,” Patrice said.
 

I didn’t need the reminder. For the next forty-five minutes, I made sure that I cleared the reservation queue and sent out confirmations. I finally figured out the sample catering equation and felt reasonably confident that I’d know what I was talking about if Patrice required me to do the ordering.