by Ellen Joy
“I’m afraid so.” Frank handed over a coffee cup. “You need to stock up on batteries, being up there above the restaurant!”
Frank mumbled something about retiring in Florida just as Katie walked in the door. Her eyes immediately sought his. She twisted her auburn curls and looked even more amazing.
“Well, hello!” Frank sang out.
Katie greeted Frank like a long lost friend.
From underneath the counter, Frank pulled out a basket of goodies. Matt shouldn’t have been surprised that his uncles included pastries in their plans.
“A wicker basket?”
“What?” Frank asked, handing a set of keys to Matt. “The van’s packed and ready to go. You two should be careful, and leave the city before the storm comes in.”
She looked inside the bag. “These smell delicious.”
Frank handed her a to-go cup. “Now grab some coffee before you leave.”
KATE COULDN’T STABLE her breath as Matt’s green eyes locked onto hers. Maybe it was seeing him in his element the day before, or maybe it was because his aftershave smelled so good, but she felt herself blush. He looked good. Real good.
He dressed casual, with a winter vest over a wool sweater and a pair of jeans just worn enough to fit him perfectly. But it wasn’t what he was wearing that drew her in. It was the way he looked at her when she walked through the doors, as though she was the only person in the whole universe.
The room quickly warmed around her as he moved closer and said, “Good morning.” His voice sounded like velvet.
“Good morning.” The butterflies in her stomach made her quickly look away. She hoped he hadn’t noticed the reddening of her face. She took a drink from her cup full of breakfast blend, and scorched the roof of her mouth.
Now she was creating fantasies with her old teenage crush, who was clearly just a nice guy. He didn’t ask her to go to Quincy Market. It was a set-up. Her desperation must be palpable.
“Your eyes match your coat,” he teased.
She looked down at her purple parka. “Well, I was finally able to breathe a little out of my nose this morning, which is a huge improvement.” She had almost forgotten about her black eyes. She had put on concealer, but washed it off again. It had just made her look ill, instead of like she’d been knocked out by a bunny hill. She opted for only a little blush and mascara. “There’s a big storm coming.”
Matt nodded as he checked the weather on his phone. “We should be able to spend most of the day in the city before it’s supposed to start coming down.”
“Did you order all this breakfast?” She lifted the basket up into the air, feeling the weight of its contents.
“That’s just what my uncles do.” Matt put his phone in his front jeans pocket. “I wanted to text you not to eat, but realized I didn’t have your number.”
She knew she would have to explain what happened to her phone, but she didn’t want to have to tell why it was floating with the lobsters. “I got rid of it.”
He slanted his head and squinted his eyes. “You’re one interesting woman, Katie O’Neil.”
Her shoulders immediately relaxed when he didn’t pursue it further. Instead, he led her out of the shop to the white van that was parked along the sidewalk. She immediately recognized the Vivaldi font on the sliding doors that read La Patisserie. She would have gone with Bickham Script Pro instead, it was more Frank and David’s style.
He opened the passenger door for her, then jogged around to the driver’s side. Once she buckled her seat belt, she said, “You fish for lobsters, tow out stranded drivers, and deliver pastries. What don’t you do?”
Matt turned the keys in the ignition. “I don’t fly.”
“At all? Or you just don’t like to fly?”
“Both.”
“I guess that’s why you never came out to Minnesota.”
“Well, not exactly.” He looked as though he was going to say something else, but stopped himself. The mood immediately shifted, and she wished she hadn’t said anything. She didn’t want to rehash the past, because she knew she was the one who had been the scoundrel. Instead, she wanted to go to the city and live in the present.
He reached over to the radio and turned it up. The slow introduction to Sweet Caroline began playing. “You ready for Boston?”
She looked out the windshield at the road before them, and while taking in Neil Diamond’s voice on the radio, she nodded. “Yes, I am.”
“Let’s go!”
They traveled along Route 1, wandering through small seaside villages until they hit New Hampshire, passing over Portsmouth’s brick skyline covered in snow. The highway became crowded once they passed over the Massachusetts border. She leaned forward in her seat to see landmarks she remembered as a kid. Bunker Hill stood over triple-deckers, tree-lined neighborhoods edged the city’s tallest buildings, and the harbor’s docks were filled with ships and barges that ran along the edge of city. She swiveled around to get a good look at Zakim Bridge floating through the Boston.
The highway soon dipped underground, and the screech of wheels and brakes filled a dingy tunnel. Matt turned off onto an exit and the van climbed toward light. Soon the city embraced them. They were in the heart of Boston. Historic brick-and-mortar buildings sat in between tall, sleek skyscrapers.
Matt drove through the city’s narrow streets, going down one-ways and taking sharp turns with ease. With one shot, he parallel parked next to a long brick building. “We just have to deliver to a few vendors, and then we’ll hit up all the tourist spots.”
He jumped out and opened the back doors, pulling out a cart. He began filling it with white boxes with La Patisserie written on top. She noticed the bakery’s logo was in a different font than what was on the van, and both were different from their website’s logo. This was only the kind of detail a designer would notice, she guessed, but it made their brand inconsistent. To advertise and market their business, they needed consistency, especially a small company that needed as much recognition as possible. An inconsistent brand could potentially confuse the buyer. Unfortunately, it didn’t surprise her, either. Even with their professionalism and clear style, Frank and David couldn’t afford a marketing team like the big corporations she designed for. You spent the money where you could.
Matt moved efficiently, and she knew he wouldn’t accept it, but she asked anyway. “Do you need help?”
“Nah,” he smiled at her. “After we finish the deliveries, you just tell me where you’d like to go.”
“I have a craving for some Italian,” she said, thinking of some of the North End restaurants she had looked up online last night.
That was when she’d taken a peek at Frank and David’s website. They used a simple design, but if they were her clients, she’d showcase what she loved most about them—their unique take on a French patisserie. Their website felt flat, the pictures dull, and none of it showed Frank or David’s personalities.
“There are plenty of places just up the road.” Matt pointed to a long rectangular building the size of the whole block, with a gold dome in the middle. Four granite pillars flanked the entrance, with steps the width of the building. The gray granite building stood like a Bostonian Parthenon. Christmas garland wrapped the stone pillars. A decorated tree twinkled out on the cobblestone courtyard. It was a Christmas wonderland. “We’ll hit Quincy Market first, and then Faneuil Hall.”
Matt pushed the cart along the sidewalk, snow packed between the cobblestones. Snowbanks were piled everywhere, but even in the cold, vendors set up shop outside the marketplace.
They entered a glass structure, that reminded her of a greenhouse, warm and bright, but instead of plants and flowers, it was filled with bull carts selling touristy stuff like t-shirts, small trinkets and souvenirs. Matt led her up the ramp into the interior of the market. A quiet buzz filled the long hallway of food stalls ran down the middle of the building. Steam rose from behind glass walls. People stood in long lines waiting for every type of
food imaginable: seafood, Italian, Indian, Asian, Middle-Eastern, coffee, ice cream, and more delicacies than she could count.
“This place used to be a fish and meat market.” He pointed to the mammoth wooden signs against a brick wall. Standing tables filled the room, crammed with people enjoying the food. Up above, a circular railing opened to a second floor. She peered through the large rotunda, at least a few stories tall. The rotunda’s space was massive, yet it felt warm and inviting with the light coming in and hitting the red brick walls, casting a warm glow throughout the space. The dome had been painted a creamy New England yellow with a pale blue railing opening up the second floor. Birds swooped from one side to the other. As they walked down the long hall of vendors, businessmen and women stood in line with college students and tourists for food. The energy of the space hummed off the walls.
“Let me stop at a couple vendors while you check the place out,” Matt said, already starting down the hall. “Tell Mario at The Brew that your cappuccino is on me.”
“Where should I meet you?” She didn’t want to make him wait, or worse, get lost in the city.
“Don’t worry. I’ll find you.” Matt waved as he took off down the corridor, disappearing into the crowd.
The space bustled around her. People weaved in and out of the lines in front the various vendors. The movement created an energy she enjoyed, but she didn’t follow suit. Instead, she meandered along, checking out each stall. The scents melded into one. Spices melted into savory blending into sweet. She stopped for a cappuccino and thanked Mario with a very generous tip, then followed the long, tiled, passage.
She spotted Matt up ahead. He shook hands with a man and a woman, and they all talked with ease. A sudden pride grew inside her chest as she watched him pass over boxes of pastries. David and Frank had really created an amazing product. With David’s mastery of pastries and Frank’s chic style, they really had something that she felt would thrive, even beyond New England.
Then it hit her. She could help them. She could create a new, more modern website for La Patisserie. All she had to do was take some photos of David baking, with Frank’s style showcased, and create a website that reflected their personalities. Then she could find the right market for their advertising to drum up more business. David would need to update anyways, as he was starting his new cooking classes. It could also be her way of thanking them.
She walked over to Matt and the vendors and asked, “Do you mind if I take some pictures of you for Frank and David?”
“Not at all.”
As Matt delivered pastries, Kate took photos from different angles, hoping to capture the energy in the market and restaurants. The fluorescent lights weren’t optimal, but she was able to catch enough backlight to show texture in the photos. Once Matt finished all the deliveries, they returned to the van with the empty cart and stowed it in the back. When he shut the doors, he grabbed her hand and started pulling her down the street. “Come on, we’re going on a trolley ride.”
“What?” She followed after him as he headed down the sidewalk.
“The duck ride would be too cold this time of year.”
Every once in a while, he’d place his hand on the small of her back as they walked down the street. Each time, his touch sent an electrical current pulsating through her. When they reached the trolley, he waited until she boarded before climbing in. She picked a seat in front, next to the window. He sat down and leaned close. The leathery musk of his aftershave infused the air around her. As he looked out the window, pointing out landmarks before the tour guide did, he moved closer, his leg resting against hers. And suddenly, she wanted him to move even closer.
She wondered if her broken heart was twisting Matt’s genuine kindness into something it was not. He had that natural ability to put everyone at ease when talking to him. She tried to ignore his touch on her leg.
After the tour through the city and a late lunch in the North End, the snow began to fall as they made their way back to the van.
“We should probably head back,” Matt said as they walked along the cobblestone sidewalk.
She nodded, but secretly wished they could stay in the city forever. The day had been perfect, and she didn’t want it to come to an end.
“I heard there’s this bar where everyone knows your name.” He said it so casually, she wasn’t sure if he was serious or being silly.
“I hear people are always glad you came.” As she spoke, his smile grew.
“I hear Boston’s really something in a snowstorm.”
“Yes, I’ve only heard, never been able to actually experience it.”
He pulled out his phone and put it up to his ear. “Yes, hello,” he said into it. He walked away, so she couldn’t hear what he was saying.
Then he swung back around, stuffing his phone into his pocket. “You wouldn’t believe it, but two rooms just happened to be available at the Harbor Hotel.”
He was right. She couldn’t believe it. “That sounds perfect.”
They parked the van and walked around the city as the snow fell down around them. The whole time, they talked. They talked about everything. She told him about her parents’ divorce, and he told her about his. She told him about her father’s family, and about living at home during college. He told her about fishing, and cooking at the restaurant, and finally getting his own boat.
Then, she confessed the one secret that she had told no one. She told him about Kate O’Neil Designs. And like a faucet opening up, all of her ideas spilled out. Her ideas for Frank and David’s website, the different ways she wanted to showcase not only David’s work, but also their brand and style. She had told Matt things she had told no one. Dreams she hadn’t had in a long time.
And suddenly, her lungs opened up, like wings on a butterfly, and she could breathe long and vibrant breaths. She told him everything. Her plans for when she returned to Minnesota. How pathetic she felt, having to live back at home and sleep in her childhood bed. How she wanted to travel more, and take charge of her career, her life, and her future.
Matt just listened. He’d give his thoughts once in a while, but he never interrupted the flow of her narrative. When they finally finished their dinner in the North End, she felt alive.
As they walked back toward the hotel through the falling snow he said, “You know, I know some people who would benefit from the same thing you want to do for my uncles. You could probably pick up some business if I spread the word.”
“Of course! I would definitely be able to help with logos or branding.”
A tiny spark of excitement ignited inside her. She could create designs the way she wanted and create a brand of her own. Kate O’Neil Designs would no longer be just a dream.
“You know what an entrepreneur does when they get their first client?” Matt asked her as they reached the corner. “They celebrate.”
“Client?”
“Maybe you could help out a lobster guy?” he said. “I bet even people in Minnesota would want some of Maine’s fresh lobster.”
She covered her mouth with her hands as she realized what he was saying, then wrapped her arms around his neck, hugging him.
His arms squeezed her, then let go as he said, “This calls for a drink on me,” Matt said. “I know just the spot.”
“You’re my client, which means I should be the one buying the first round.”
“Alright, but I get to pick the drink.”
There was no mistaking the look he was giving her.
A warm wave from her belly rushed to her chest. “That sounds perfect.”
Ten
“Here you go.” Matt placed a tall glass of a local IPA in front of Katie. “You’re going to love this one.”
She reached for the foggy glass and took a slow sip. The froth covered her upper lip. She closed her eyes as she swallowed, then set the glass back on the table. “That is good.”
Matt took a long drink from his own glass. It was exactly how he wanted to finish his day. There
was no other place he wanted to be as the snow pounded down outside.
“Does it always snow this much?” she asked.
Matt looked out the window of the small pub, tucked into a side street in the north end. Thick flakes fell in a steady stream. “Not always, but this system looks like it’s going to stick around for a while.”
“What a day!” She slapped the table with her hand.
“To Kate O’Neil Designs!” Matt lifted his glass and tapped it against hers.
“To being a world-wide commercial lobsterman.” She picked up her glass again and they toasted each other.
She let out a big belly laugh as their glasses touched. “It’s funny how a lot of my best days have been with you.”
Matt held his tongue. He didn’t tell her how she was the best love of his life. Instead, he focused on the Christmas lights sparkling in her eyes.
“Do you remember when we drove through the White Mountains?” The trip down the Kancamagus highway flooded his head.
“You pretended you knew where you were going.”
“And I had to drive my mom’s minivan.”
“Ugh, minivans are the worst.” Her expression serious. “I will never own a minivan.”
“Aw, they’re not that bad.” Matt thought of his mom’s van, filled with four kids strapped in the back.
“You wouldn’t admit we were lost. We passed the same exit three times before you asked someone for directions.”
“I wanted to look cool!” Matt defended his teenage self. “If I remember correctly though, it ended up being a pretty cool day.”
“A very cool day.” Her head tilted, making her hair slide over her shoulders, the light shining off it. “We ended up at that swimming spot.”
“Diana’s Bath.”
“And we drove up that Mountain.”
“Mount Washington.”
Her eyes crinkled, but glowed at the same time.
“I killed my mom’s brakes.”
