Выбрать главу

His pocket vibrated and he answered without checking. “Al speaking.”

“Hey,” said a soft voice. He closed his eyes and sat in his chair, using his free hand to grab fistfuls of hair.

“Hello.” He made his voice sound as upbeat as possible, but it sounded more like that of a choirboy sucking helium. He cleared his throat and tried again.

“Hello, Lou.”

“You seemed a little off this morning. I wanted to make sure I haven’t offended in some way.”

“No, no—God, no. You are lovely in every way. I just caught myself off guard, and now I have a lot of catch-up on my end.”

“You sure?”

“Quite. Worry not. I’ll call you when I get back, right?”

“Okay, talk to you then. Have a good trip.”

“Thanks.”

Al closed the phone and set it carefully on his desk, as if it might explode. He didn’t know what to do. His head clearly knew he should forget her and get out of Milwaukee as soon as possible, just as he originally planned. But his heart acknowledged she’d freed a side of him he didn’t realize he had, a side he still didn’t understand but wanted to know more about. With Lou, he just fit. And she was worried she had done something. Bollocks.

“You okay?” John asked from behind. “How’d the barbecue go?” Al looked at John and realized he needed to talk to someone, realized John had become his someone. He sighed with relief, knowing he had a friend who cared enough to notice.

“Not really. I need to chat. Can I buy you a coffee?”

John looked shocked, then cleared his face. “Heavy on the cream and sugar.”

• • • • •

“Dude, this sucks,” John said. Al had just finished telling John everything that happened the night before and this morning. Well, not everything. He was a gentleman, after all. The coffee shop was sparsely populated as the morning rush had finished, leaving the place slightly trashed. The staff worked to tidy it up and get ready for those patrons requiring an afternoon pick-me-up.

John and Al bought their drinks and retreated to the outside tables. John slid on his mirrored sunglasses as Al sipped an Earl Grey tea, too distracted to be bothered with the bright sunshine. Tea normally calmed frazzled nerves, but today it seemed sour on his tongue. Relief would not be found through leaves and hot water.

“Thank you for your astute observation, John. But what do I do?”

“You can’t tell her.”

“How clever.”

“But you could help her. Do another review?”

“Hannah won’t publish it—I asked. I have to make this right. It’s not fair to her.” Al ran his hands through his hair again. He had come straight to the office from Lou’s; the combination of a showerless morning and regular mussing had his hair resembling a hedgehog’s back.

“What about getting another local critic to do it?”

“I don’t think they like me much.”

“Yeah, I guess. You’ve been kind of a douche canoe.”

“Again, thanks for the helpful observations. I need advice, not summaries on how much of an arse I’ve been.”

“Are you going to keep seeing her?”

“I shouldn’t. It’s just not professional, right? The reviewer shouldn’t date the reviewee. This can’t end well.”

“So, you’re just going to ignore her. That’s cold, but probably the safest.”

Al didn’t like that idea. Not at all. There was something about Lou, about her kindness, her generosity, her quiet resiliency; he felt drawn to her. He wanted to help her, protect her, show her she had nothing to feel insecure about.

“I don’t want to do that.”

Under all the scruff, surprise managed to show on John’s face. “Well, maybe it’s not as bad as we think. Let me make a call.”

John pulled out his phone and turned slightly away from Al.

“Hey, Rob, it’s John. What do you know about Luella’s restaurant. The one on St. Paul.”

Pause. Al tapped his foot on the table leg.

“You sure? Okay.”

Pause. Al chewed a fingernail.

“That’s what I’ve heard elsewhere. . . . Thanks, Rob. Bye.”

John set the phone down and turned to Al. Al could see his reflection in John’s glasses. His eyes resembled a meth addict’s coming off a high, praying for the next dose but not knowing where it would come from.

“Well?” Al asked.

“Not good. Her vendor orders have decreased—a lot. Most of the staff have left for better jobs. Rumor is she told them to look for new jobs because the restaurant wouldn’t make it past the new year.”

Al’s body slumped with the news.

“Thanks for checking, John. But that doesn’t change how I feel.”

“I’m not sure you have a choice. How does it end? You like her, right?”

“Of course. That’s the bloody problem, isn’t it?”

“So, if you continue to let things progress naturally, you’ll get to know her better.”

“Yes.”

“And she’ll eventually want to know, maybe even read, the stuff you write.”

“I have other things to show her. I do actually write more than reviews. I do freelance work to afford my condo.”

“Okay, so you continue seeing her, to what end? Marriage? Are you going to keep all your paychecks from the paper a secret? That sounds like the perfect way to start a marriage. What are you going to tell her when you eat out five nights a week?”

Al looked out at the street, seeing each problem as a brick stacking up quickly between him and Lou. Even Lou’s good heart couldn’t forgive him for what he did. He cost her her dream.

Al closed his eyes and nodded, then stood up. “Let’s go back.”

John looked up at his friend, taking in his slumped shoulders and blank eyes. John stood and headed toward the office while Al watched him go, realizing back wasn’t where he wanted to go. He wanted to go forward.

• • • • •

Al had been on his work trip for nine days. Lou had counted.

“Can someone call my phone? I don’t think it’s working,” Lou said over the kitchen noise.

“It’s working fine. We checked it yesterday, remember?” Sue said, irritation edging into her tone.

“But it’s not ringing.”

“That’s because no one is calling you. Now will you please finish filleting the sole so you can start grilling the chops?”

Lou set the phone on the counter where she could see it, propping it up against the salt pig. She resisted the siren’s call of her phone until the fish was done, her hand twitching toward the phone only four times. After putting the fish in the cooler for that night’s service, she pulled the chops and hurried back to the grill. She scooped up her phone to check if she’d missed a message in the minute she was gone, but her hand slipped and the phone flew onto the grill.

Lou screamed and grabbed it off, the back of the case melted in neat grill marks. She checked, breath heavy, making sure the phone still worked. With a gasp of relief, she discovered the phone unlocked as normal. Her relief quickly turned to disappointment when she saw that no phone calls or e-mails had arrived from Al.

A firm hand curved around the still-warm phone and pulled it from her hands, setting it on a shelf between the kosher salt and aged balsamic vinegar.

“Hey!” Lou scowled at Sue.

“iPhone is not on our menu. Come on.” She pulled Lou away from the grills. “Harley, we’re leaving for a little while. You okay?”

“Yep, get her out of here.”

With a wave of Harley’s hand, Sue whisked her out of the kitchen and away from her phone.

• • • • •

The fall farmers’ market buzzed with wasps swarming the apples stacked high on the wooden plank counters. Children pulled their suburban parents through the crowd while old women scrutinized bunches of spinach like jewelers studying gems. The air hinted of burning leaves with a gentle slap of chill, an overture to the upcoming winter. Shoppers wore sweaters recently pulled from winter storage, and knitted animal hats bobbed atop toddler heads or peeked out from cozy strollers.