The Years Between Us

by Stephanie Vercier

  “You two staying for breakfast?” he asks, his eyes remaining on me as Danielle weaves into the kitchen.

  “I think we’re heading out, Daddy,” she says, giving him a kiss on the cheek before she moves past him.

  “You sleep well, Claudia?” he asks me when Danielle is rooting through the fridge for something.

  God, he’s handsome. Closer to him, I notice the beginnings of a light beard on his masculine face, coming in a sandy blond color just like his hair, hair that is tousled a bit on the top, hair I can almost imagine running my fingers through.

  “Claudia?”

  “Yes… yes, Mr. Prescott. I slept really good.” In fact, I’d slumbered exceedingly well, only waking once after a dream that had involved Mr. Prescott, one in which I’d awoken with several of my fingers touching below my waist.

  “I’m glad. If you need anything, you’ll let us know, won’t you?” There is such kindness in his eyes, that mix of gentle and strong that I didn’t think actually existed in men in the real world.

  “She wants to get a job, Daddy,” Danielle says, carrying a jug of orange juice to the kitchen island.

  “Well, that’s enterprising.” Another smile, his eyes crinkling as he finishes cooking an omelet. “Any particular interest? Maybe something associated with your education major?”

  I take a seat on one of the chairs next to the counter. “Not necessarily. I just want something a few days a week for a sense of structure and some extra spending money.”

  “You won’t have a problem.” Danielle pours out three glasses of juice and pushes one over to me. “If that’s all you want, there will be tons of places hiring for the summer.”

  “We get a good influx of tourists up here,” Mr. Prescott says, sliding a spatula under the omelet and slipping it onto a plate. “You sure you both wouldn’t just prefer to eat here? The eggs come from Mrs. Baumgartner’s up the road, and I’d be happy to make something.”

  “The OJ is enough for now,” Danielle says, “and we should probably get going.” She looks at her phone, and I get an inkling she’s got some sort of schedule to keep.

  I take a few gulps of the juice, and if it wasn’t for Danielle wanting to leave, I’d be more than happy to sit here and eat whatever Mr. Prescott has to offer us. I enjoyed listening to him last night at the restaurant, talking about his home, his business and Echo Ridge, and what seems to be his most important topic, his daughter.

  “All right… don’t let your old dad get in the way of plans.” He says it teasingly, but I think there’s a part of him that wouldn’t mind spending a bit more time with her.

  “We won’t be gone forever,” she replies.

  “See you later, Mr. Prescott,” I say, begrudgingly getting up and following my friend out of their beautiful home.

  Luke. I’m supposed to call him Luke. But he doesn’t correct me. He just offers that smile of his again and waves us a farewell.

  “My dad can be kind of needy when I’m around,” Danielle says, parking her Rover along Echo Ridge’s main street.

  “Like from this morning? I didn’t really get a needy vibe from him.” I slip my seat belt off and open up my door when she does hers, meeting her out on the sidewalk.

  “Maybe that’s the wrong word,” she says, picking our conversation back up. “He’s just always trying to spend more time with me when I’m home, like he gets lonely.”

  “Well, isn’t that normal? Even if he gets out, he still lives in the woods and works from home.” I follow her down the sidewalk, not even asking where we’re going, just enjoying the warm summery morning and the quaint shop windows, the hanging floral baskets and the friendly nods from people passing us.

  “Yeah, you’re right. I guess I just feel kind of bad, like I really love my dad, but I feel like he needs a woman in his life. It’s sort of time.”

  I think my heart does a little gallop when she says that because, for two or three ticks, I imagine myself as that woman. It’s a silly thought, but I’m obviously attracted to him, more so than I’ve ever been to a guy in my entire life. Not that I’d act on it, all things considered, but still… it’s a nice fantasy.

  “Maybe he already has… found someone I mean. He seemed to know that Emily pretty well.” I don’t even like saying her name—stupid teenage jealousy.

  She makes a sound that denotes her displeasure. “No… definitely not her. I’ve never liked her, and I get this totally gross vibe from her, like she’s a gold digger or something, like she’d only be interested in my Dad’s money.”

  “And not his looks?” I ask this as she opens the door to a diner at the corner of the next block, one that looks like it could be at some truck stop in Texas just as well as it could be here in Echo Ridge.

  “His looks?” She stops to stare at me, as if I’d just said something so completely ridiculous.

  “You must realize that your dad is pretty attractive,” I tell her, feeling my face flush with warmth.

  She rolls her eyes, shakes her head and walks into the diner that smells of hash-browns and eggs, me following right after as a flurry of activity surrounds us. “Yeah, I suppose so, but I still don’t like Emily. There are plenty of women in this town who are ten times sweeter than her and don’t have an agenda.”

  I’m about to ask for more clarity regarding this agenda when she rushes up to a booth with orange vinyl over the seats and a table made to look like real wood when it so totally isn’t. Two men are sitting opposite one another, plain white mugs of coffee in front of them.

  “Carlos!” Danielle beams.

  “Baby!” One of the men, dark haired, tall and pretty damn cute, turns to her, then is on his feet and lifting Danielle up and off of the floor.

  “God, I’ve missed you,” she says after they lock lips for way too long.

  “Not as much as I’ve missed you, baby.”

  They’re about to kiss again when the other guy, about the same height as Carlos, with hair halfway between brown and black, stands up and clears his throat. “And who’s your friend?” he asks, stretching his neck around the couple to get a better look at me.

  I’ve been pretty much frozen in place, not wanting to stare at my friend and her on-again, off-again boyfriend making out but not really knowing where else I should move off to.

  “This is Claudia,” Danielle tells him. “We spent nine months together in a dorm without killing one another, so she’s officially my best friend in the entire world.”

  “Hey, Claudia,” Carlos says with a killer smile.

  “I’m David,” the other guy says, stepping around them and putting his hand out. “I’m Carlos’ best friend. Nice to meet you.”

  “You too,” I say, meeting his hand with my own and shaking. And while David isn’t half as good looking as Mr. Prescott, he has a decent smile, a good build, is probably the exact age that I am. I don’t doubt he has any trouble at all in girls liking him.

  “Come and join us,” David says, beckoning me toward the booth. “Except for coffee, we haven’t even ordered yet.”

  Breakfast does sound really good, so I slide in next to David while Danielle pretty much presses her body next to Carlos’. He’d apparently been the reason she wanted to leave the house when we did, though I’m not sure why she didn’t just mention it to her father who she’d said really likes Carlos—maybe she just didn’t want Mr. Prescott to feel bad she was ditching him so soon because of a guy.

  “So what are you doing in Echo Ridge?” David asks me as I peruse the menu. “Just visiting?”

  “Planning to stay for a couple of months,” I tell him, briefly glancing across the table to see that I’ve lost both Danielle and Carlos to their own private world of cuddling and making those kinds of noises that are only suitable for babies or people who are over the top in love. “I’m actually hoping to get a job while I’m here, nothing big, just something part time.”

  “Oh yeah? My mom’s looking for someone. She has a nut shop, sells candied almonds and cashe
ws, coffee too... that kind of stuff. I’m sure she’d hire you.”

  “Really? But you don’t even know me.” I’ve barely said more than a few words to the guy.

  “I can tell you’re good people,” he says, then points to my menu. “The blueberry pancakes here are my favorite. Best thing there is.”

  I was looking more forward to some super crispy hash-browns and a bowl of fruit, but since he’s practically offering me a job, I decide to go with his recommendation and order the pancakes with a side of strawberries.

  “They’re good, aren’t they?” David asks expectantly after the food comes, him digging into a double stack of pancakes while I work on the single one in front of me.

  “They aren’t bad,” I say, hoping I don’t sound like a snob. The truth is that we’re more of a crepes family, and I can’t actually remember the last time any of us have had pancakes.

  “I don’t know how you can shove all of that food in,” Danielle tells David from across the table, picking at her bowl of fruit, the only appetite she seems to have being the one for Carlos.

  “He’ll be hungry again by eleven,” Carlos says with a laugh, scooping a pile of eggs into his mouth.

  “I played football in high school,” David tells me, like he really wants me to know that, “and I work out pretty heavy now too, so what can I say, I’m a hungry man.” He shrugs it off and grins like a guy who knows he’s the shit and thinks everyone else will have the same opinion—at least that’s the feeling I’m getting from him.

  But he’s not really the shit to me. He’s just another boy, like the many other boys I’d gone to high school or college with who just seem more interested in themselves or getting laid than they actually do in the girls they’re trying to impress. He’s nothing at all like Mr. Prescott.

  Trying not to think about Danielle’s father in that way, trying not to compare him to the guy sitting next to me is difficult.

  “So, should we go over to your mom’s nut shop after this?” Carlos asks with amusement.

  “What have you got against nuts?” David rolls his eyes and then looks at me like I’m his sidekick in the proliferation of hard shelled food items.

  “I have nothing against nuts, just nut shops in general. Do you seriously need an entire shop just filled with nuts?”

  “She could pretty much murder someone with nut allergies just by them walking in,” Danielle pipes in.

  “Don’t let my mom catch you saying that,” David says. “She’ll seriously cut you.”

  “She sounds violent.” I’m teasing of course.

  “Yeah, all five foot five of her,” Carlos says with a dismissive laugh.

  “She’s actually really nice,” Danielle assures me. “You’ll just smell like nuts when you leave every day.”

  “Smell like nuts…” Carlos cracks up.

  “I like a girl who smells like nuts,” David says, smiling at me. “As long as they’re my nuts.”

  “God, you guys can be gross!” Danielle admonishes.

  I knew we’d end up discussing testicles at some point, hard to resist with the word “nuts” being bandied about, but I’d hoped David wouldn’t have gotten all gross about it. It’s what I hate about guys my age, that they’ll tell jokes that point toward their dicks or their balls or their skill with their tongues, like they’re trying to get you to put your guard down, think they’re just funny, harmless guys. But they aren’t harmless in the end, especially not when they get all drunk and horny. I’d dated my share of them and been to just enough high school and college parties to figure that out.

  When I don’t say anything, David nudges me. “I just meant they’d be mine because they’re from my family’s shop. I didn’t mean—”

  “It’s fine,” I tell him, even though he’s only saying this because he didn’t get the response he’d wanted.

  “You sure? Because it was just a joke.”

  “Really. It’s not a big deal.” And I smile to show him it isn’t. No need to get off on the wrong foot with a guy who I’ll probably be seeing more of this summer, especially if I get that job.

  When we leave the diner about a half an hour later, I’m completely full and weighed down. Pancakes are so not my thing. I’ve also had my fill of David. I was willing to look past the nut comment, but he took me telling him I wasn’t offended as an open invite to come on strong. He insisted on paying, even though I told him I’d prefer to pay for myself, and then he got all bothered when I gave him the cash for my portion of the meal. After that, he basically asked me out on a date, and I’ve just been trying to put him off. He may have been able to talk me into pancakes, but he’s not going to be able to talk me into going out with him, not yet at least, maybe not ever.

  The Nut Monger, a name that is both unique and weird, is the shop David’s mom owns, and we all head over there after breakfast. I’m almost considering telling David just to forget it, that I can’t imagine working in a nut shop because I don’t want to be beholden to him for anything, and I don’t particularly want to smell like nuts after every shift, even if I don’t actually know what that smell would be. But we’re already inside the small shop before I find a way to politely decline.

  “David!” An attractive woman with hair the same brownish-black of her son hustles out from behind the counter and reaches her arms up and around him. “You brought friends,” she says after their brief embrace. “When did you get back, Danielle?”

  “Just yesterday,” Danielle says, her hand firmly locked with Carlos’.

  “And who might this be?” she asks, turning to me.

  “Your new employee.” David offers me a cockeyed grin.

  “I’m Claudia Cartwright,” I say, extending my hand.

  “Cartwright?” She takes my hand in hers. “Not sure I’ve heard that name in Echo Ridge before. You new to town?”

  “She’s my friend from college,” Danielle says. “She’s staying with us for a couple of months.”

  “And you want to work in my shop?” David’s mother looks at me with a mix of disbelief and interest.

  “Only if you’re hiring, Mrs., um… I’m sorry, I don’t even know your last name.”

  “Baker. Or you can just call me Rhonda.”

  “Nice to meet you Mrs. Baker… I mean, Rhonda.” After spending the last year calling our professors by their last names, I’m finding it difficult to call anyone over thirty by their first name.

  “She’s just looking for a few days a week,” David tells her. “A girl pretty as her should boost your sales pretty quick, Mom.” Then he’s looking at me again, like he and I are somehow dating already, and it’s just too weird.

  “He’s such a flirt,” Rhonda tells me. “But just ignore him. No sense in mixing business with pleasure.”

  “I’m not a flirt,” David says with an edge of offense.

  “Yes you are!” Danielle contradicts, and Carlos just laughs.

  “You can start today if you’d like,” Rhonda tells me, ignoring her son. “Maybe just an hour or two to fill out some paperwork and give me a chance to show you around?”

  “I’d love it.” I hadn’t expected to get a job so easily or to be starting right away, but I’m ready to jump in and get things going.

  “Excellent! It’s been getting harder finding part-time workers the last few summers, so I’m really thankful.”

  “Do I get a finder’s fee?” David asks.

  “Your finder’s fee? How about we call it even with your dad and I paying for college and your health and car insurance and—”

  “Okay, I get it.” That shuts him down pretty quick, and I stifle a laugh. “Carlos, you going to hang out with Danielle all day, or are we going to do something?” he asks his friend.

  “We can all hang out together,” Carlos says, looking like he’d rather just spend the day with Danielle but likely not the type to ditch his buddy.

  “Fine… let’s go. Great meeting you, Claudia. Hope to see you again soon?” He lifts his brows in a s
ort of anticipation.

  “Sure,” I tell him, figuring I’ll be seeing plenty of him working at The Nut Monger.

  Danielle offers me a wave and asks me to call her when I’m done here. Then they all leave the shop together, a bell ringing at the door.

  “My son can be a little much,” Rhonda says, waving for me to follow her behind the counter where she hands me a black apron. “I can sense he has an eye for you, but if you don’t feel the same way, just let him down gently. He’s a good boy after all.”

  “Okay.” It’s the only thing I can think to say as I lift the apron over my head and tie it up behind my back.

  Rhonda spends the next hour showing me around the shop and listing off all the various nuts she offers. Almonds and cashews are the most prevalent with dozens of different flavored coatings, both sweet and savory. There are tins of ground coffee, all of them nut flavored, walnut, hazelnut and chestnut, just to name a few. In addition to those, she has an entire cooler devoted to vegan cheeses that are made from almonds and cashews, along with all sorts of crackers that are apparently perfect for spreading them on.

  I didn’t even realize there was such a thing as vegan cheese, so trying to learn the different varieties of those as well as the many different flavors coating the nuts is pretty overwhelming.

  She must see the look of pure terror on my face when she smiles and says, “You don’t have to memorize everything right away. I have cheat sheets full of all the offerings that you can look through if you need to. And I won’t leave you alone until you’ve learned the register and the other basics.”

  “Can you tell I’ve never had a real job before?” I ask. Part of why I’d been so excited about the now derailed summer job at the smoothie bar in Seattle was because I’d never actually worked, other than modeling when I was fourteen, which I don’t really count because it didn’t seem like something that would relate back to the real world unless I planned on modeling again, which I don’t. Mom and Dad didn’t seem to think I needed a job, that it was more important to focus on school and not wasting my time in customer service. But if I was going to be a teacher someday, then I’d need to get some practice interacting with people outside of a classroom, perhaps learn to deal with difficult customers like I’d have to deal with difficult parents and co-workers someday.