by Sara Celi
I stared at her for a few seconds, my thoughts spinning as I processed what Nancy had just outlined. Here it was, finally, a break in all the sadness, and it felt even better than I’d imagined it would. Fifty thousand wasn’t going to make me rich by any means, but the steady salary and accompanying benefits would go far in making it feel like I wasn’t sinking into an abyss. I can probably get my dad on my health insurance too. And pay off a bunch of bills . . . Plus, I’d be doing what I loved. Dance would be part of my life. Not in the way that I envisioned, no, but still in some way.
That was a blessing. Dad is going to be so excited about this.
“I know we’ll need to work out some details,” I managed. “But I like what I’m hearing. This sounds like a fantastic opportunity.”
“Does that mean you’ll accept the job?”
I nodded. “With pleasure.”
“Excellent.” She slapped the table and laughed once. “Perfect indeed. This is great news, and I feel like we should get out the champagne.”
“Maybe so.” I took a deep breath and my shoulders relaxed a bit more. I walked into Nancy’s studio one way, but I would walk out another. Everything had changed. Everything. “That might be nice.”
She studied me. “I knew Seth Sampson was onto something when he called. He always has good intuition.”
“Excuse me?” I cocked my head at the sound of Seth’s name. Those were two of the last words I’d expected to come out of her mouth. What in the world does Seth Sampson have to do with any of this? “What did you say?”
EIGHT
SETH
“How was the rest of your weekend?” I asked Kyle when I arrived at Watch Hill Pizza on Tuesday afternoon. After a few days away, he looked refreshed and well-rested for the first time since I’d started helping with the place. He was in the kitchen making a large pizza for one of the lunch orders. I hadn’t planned to work that day until the dinner rush, but he’d called me about a half hour before and begged me to come in early.
“Great? Yours?”
“It was nice.” I bit back my glee. “Simple.”
“Sometimes that’s the best kind.”
I left my jacket on the row of hooks in the office and tied a fresh apron around my waist. “Let me take care of those,” I said as I approached the sink near the prep station. I ran my hands under the faucet and scrubbed my fingers with the industrial grade soap on the ledge. “Then you can take care of the front.”
“Thanks, man.” Kyle finished placing pepperoni slices atop the sauce that covered the dough. “Did you see Tyler staining the wood outside? We’re almost done.”
“The patio looks fantastic. I think a lot of people will come to the opening.”
“I hope so. You should be proud; we got it done because of you.”
I held up my drying hands in mock protest. “I’m just the ideas guy.”
“Everyone needs somebody like that.”
I crossed the kitchen and took the pizza pan handle. “Does this one need any other toppings?”
“No.”
I slid it into the nearby stove. “On its way then.”
“Thanks.” Kyle took a few steps toward the main dining room but turned around when he reached the doorway. “Remember how Ashley told me she saw Kendra at the food drive?”
“Yeah, I do.” I sighed. “Sad.”
He crossed his arms. “Was she also one of the FoodSwap drivers that showed up to help over the weekend, when I was gone?”
I nodded.
“Figures. Kendra isn’t that common of a name.”
“Working for FoodSwap is better than not working at all.” I looked down for a moment as my thoughts turned to Nancy and the conversation we’d had the day after she got my text. “But I think she’s going to be all right. Just needs a stroke of luck.”
And someone to help that along . . .
“That’s what she needs.”
Kyle tapped the doorframe twice, a sort of signal that the conversation was over, and moved into the public part of the restaurant. I set my mind to making the pizzas as fast as I could, something that made me proud. Over the last few months, I’d become the fastest pizza maker on staff. Add that unexpected skill to the list of things I’d learned since the beginning of the pandemic.
I was on my tenth order when Kyle rushed back into the kitchen.
“You should come out here,” he said, his eyes wide, his expression tight. “Right now.”
“But I’m in the middle of this.”
“I’ll take care of it.” He crossed closer to the preparation station. “Just go on out there.”
“Okay. Whatever you say.”
Confused, I ran my hands under the water at the sink, wiped them on a paper towel, and wandered into the dining room. Kendra stood at the far end of it, her arms crossed over her chest as she glared at me.
“Hi.”
“Hi.”
“Is something wrong?” Everything about her body language told me that something was, but I asked the question anyway. “You look upset.”
Kendra took a deep breath. “I am.”
I glanced at my watch. It was already after two. The pizza orders had kept me so busy that the hour or so I’d been at work passed quickly. Still, if it was after two . . . “Your interview with Nancy must be over.”
“Yep. It’s over.”
“How did it go?”
“Fine.” Her tone of voice told me that no, it wasn’t fine at all. I’d been around enough women to hear the telltale edge in her voice. “It was fine.”
“Why don’t you tell me what’s upsetting you, then?”
“Nothing’s upsetting me.”
“You’ve got anger written all over your face.”
She sighed. “Why did you do that?”
I threw up a hand, feigning ignorance. I could guess what she was talking about, and part of me was surprised she seemed so angry. Did the meeting with Nancy go badly? “Do what?”
“Call her. Talk to her.” Kendra shifted her weight. “Tell Nancy that she should hire me.”
“Because she could use someone like you. Would there be any other reason?”
Kendra tightened her shoulders, her body language growing more stressed instead of less. “She said you reached out to her and gave her the idea. That you approached her about me.”
“Not really.” I cocked my head. “We keep in touch because I think it’s a good thing to have a vast network. That’s it.”
“I don’t need charity.” She practically spat the words. “I don’t need a job from someone who feels sorry for me.”
“Was that what she said it was?”
“No, but—”
“Then what’s the problem? I’d think working for Nancy would be a huge opportunity for you. She’s an enormously powerful woman in this community, and her dance company is very well respected around here. Besides, you . . .” I broke off instead of adding the words on the tip of my tongue, need the money. She knew what I was talking about. Kendra was a smart woman. She could guess.
“I’m working as a delivery driver instead of pursuing my dream. I know.” She pulled a chair from one of the remaining tables in the dining room and sank into it. “But I don’t want this. Not this way, at least.”
“Why not?” Seeing my opening, I crossed to the open chair opposite hers and pulled it close to her. “I know Nancy pretty well. She wouldn’t have asked you to do this if she didn’t think the idea fit with what she wanted to do for the dance company. That’s not how she operates.”
“I wanted this to be something that I earned. Not something that someone gave to me because they felt bad.”
“Trust me, you did earn it.”
“Did I? There wasn’t a job to apply for, there wasn’t a competition to enter.
You . . . you pulled strings. You forced it.”
“That’s not what I did at all.”
“What did you do?”
“I simply told someone that you were available,
and they put it together. They figured it out.”
Kendra stared at me for a few breaths. “I just . . . I can’t.”
“What do you mean?”
She backed away from me. “I don’t . . . I don’t want a handout, Seth. I don’t want a job because someone felt bad about what’s happened to me over the last few months. I want something I’ve earned. There’s a difference.”
“You did earn this. You were about to be a principal with American Dance Company for God’s sake.” I thew up a hand, not understanding at all. Wasn’t that what she wanted? What she needed? Why wouldn’t she accept that? “Anyone would be happy to have you on staff.”
Instead of agreeing with me, Kendra shook her head. “I’m sorry. But . . . I can’t . . .” She shoved her hands in her jacket pockets and focused on the asphalt. “I’ve gotta go, Seth.” Kendra gave me a small shrug, turned on her heel, and got in her car.
Within another breath, she was gone, out of my life again. Will someone explain what the hell just happened?
NINE
KENDRA
The next few days passed in a blur.
I delivered as many orders as I could for FoodSwap, took my dad to a few medical appointments, paid the monthly bills, and tried to push through the rhythm of life, holding things together each day. By the time Friday afternoon arrived, I was bone tired.
“I’m going to take a nap,” I told Dad that afternoon as I started the dishwasher. “I really need one.”
“You seem tired.” He sat at the kitchen table with pieces of the local newspaper spread out in front of him. We could have cut the subscription to save money, but he loved to read it every day, saying it was one of the ways he relaxed. I didn’t have the heart to take that away from him too. “In fact, you’ve been down the last few days.”
“I know.” I washed my hands under the kitchen faucet, wiped them on a nearby towel, and joined him at the table. “I’ve got a lot on my mind right now.”
“Do you want to talk about it?”
I hesitated.
“Come on,” he insisted. “I’m your dad. If you can’t talk to me, who can you talk to?”
“Good point.” I sucked in a deep breath. “Remember the meeting I had with Nancy?”
He nodded. “You were so excited about it, but you didn’t tell me much about what she wanted.”
“She offered me a job with her dance company.”
Dad cocked his head, and his jaw slackened in surprise. “Really? That’s amazing. Honey, this is great news and—”
“No.” I held up a hand to stop him. “It’s not what you think.”
“How?” He straightened in his chair and placed his elbows on the table as he gave me his full attention. “I can’t imagine this being a bad thing.”
I gulped, my tongue going dry as my throat tightened. “Remember how I used to work at The Frosted Heart sometimes?” He nodded. “Well, the owner is a guy named Seth, and he’s the one that got me the job. He talked to Nancy first.”
Dad spread his calloused hand, one covered in liver spots. “So, what’s the problem?”
“You can’t tell?”
He shook his head.
“It’s charity. It’s fake. I didn’t get this because I deserved it. I got it because someone felt sorry for me.”
He blanched. “Honey, I’m not following you.”
“I don’t want a job because someone wants to give me a handout.” I laughed without humor. “I want a job I earn.”
Dad studied me from behind his world-weary eyes. The last few years had been hard on him, and it showed in the lines on his face. I suspected my own features also showed the stress of our reality. “From what I know about Nancy, she doesn’t just offer jobs to anyone. Remember when you auditioned for her dance company a few years back? She was tough.”
I grimaced. “She was.”
“And yet, you took that rejection in your stride, and you grew from it. Worked harder. Got better. And then you were . . . you got that job with ADC in New York.” His shoulders slumped. “While I know it was a huge disappointment that the company had to shut down due to this blasted virus, the fact is, you were there. You’re that talented.”
“That isn’t worth very much now.”
The corners of Dad’s eyes softened. “It still means something. It still has value.”
“I don’t want to be a charity case.”
“You’re not. You never were.” He smiled. “It sounds to me like this Seth fellow is a pretty decent guy. Really kind of him to help you connect with Nancy.”
“She said she wanted me to help start the new modern dance division for her company, and now that we’re all reopening, there’s a chance to expand and invest in something that she’d wanted to do for years.” I thought about the conversation we’d had in the rehearsal hall a few days before, and how excited I’d been to hear about her vision. “I really wanted to do it.”
“Then what are you waiting for?”
I recoiled.
“It seems to me, if you want the job, there’s no reason to not do it.”
A simple statement, a simple truth. And yet . . .
“She said she’d send paperwork to me by the end of today.” I glanced at the kitchen clock. “Probably by now, in fact.”
“Have you checked?”
I shrugged.
Dad leaned backward in his chair. “I know you, and I know what you’re thinking. I can almost read your mind, and I know you’re letting your stubbornness get the best of you.”
He had a point. “Maybe . . .”
“Have you checked your phone to see if she’s contacted you?” My father jerked his head in the direction of my phone, which I’d placed on the counter before doing the dishes. “Worth a look.”
Following his orders, I stood and retrieved the device from the fading Formica. Once back at the table, I took a deep breath before I unlocked it. Several email messages filled my inbox, and I scrolled though deleting them until I arrived at Nancy’s email. I turned my attention to my dad.
“She sent it over,” I said. “She’s really serious about this. Attachments, an employee contract, everything.”
His mouth broke into a wide grin, and for the fist time in forever, I saw real joy behind his eyes. “Kendra, that’s great news. This is what you’ve waited for.”
“I know, but—”
“But what?”
“What if . . . what if I’m not ready for this? What if things don’t turn out the way I want them to?”
“They will.” Still smiling at me, he shook his head. “Don’t let this moment pass you by, honey. Don’t let this be something you regret.”
I locked my phone and put it on the table. Leave it to Dad. “Seth is a good guy,” I admitted. “He . . . he probably wouldn’t have done this in sympathy. He’s not like that.” And I should have seen that from the beginning. Seth always knew when I was back from New York and asked me every time to work at his nightclub. He was a businessman looking for something . . . someone to make his business better. He was the person to know in the entertainment industry too. God.
“He connected you with someone, and they decided you’d be a good fit for their company. Their vision,” Dad said. “I don’t see the problem with it.”
“You’re right. You’re absolutely right.”
Dad leaned in. “So what are you gong to do about it?”
Now it was my time to smile. “I have an idea,” I said.
TEN
SETH
Watch Hill Pizza looked like it came out of a magazine. As I walked toward the new outdoor patio, I marveled at that fact. There was a certain charm in the way the pergola, Italian string lights, reclaimed-wood fire pit, and wrought iron furniture set off the Tudor façade of the original restaurant.
We did good. Real good.
Best of all, patrons occupied every table, and it was only a few minutes after six. Kyle was going to have a big night, and my friend deserved it.
�
�Congratulations,” I said when I reached Kyle’s side at the freestanding bar set up on the far side of the patio. From there, people could order a variety of cold beers and the specialty cocktail of the night, the Watch Hill Spritzer. I held out my elbow. “This is awesome.”
Kyle bumped his arm to mine. “Damn right about that.”
“How many pizza breads have you sold?”
He chuckled. “Too many to count. Tyler’s inside hustling away on those orders.”
“The price of success.”
“Something like that.” Kyle eyed me. “You know, you’ve been a huge help to me over the last few months. I can’t imagine not having you around permanently.”
“Thanks man.”
“You want to stick around? Maybe see what we can do if we stay in business together?”
I regarded him. Before the pandemic, I wouldn’t have even considered that. But he was right. We did have potential as a team. So did this place. “You know what? I think I do.”
“Just what I wanted to hear. Let’s celebrate.” Kyle opened the large cooler beside the bar. “What are you drinking?”
“Oh, I don’t know.” I held up both my hands. “I probably shouldn’t—”
“You’re not working, it’s not a big deal.” He took an ale from the top and handed the cold can to me. “On the house. Least I can do for a guy who helped me get through one of the weirdest periods in my life.”
“Hey man, you helped me too.” I popped the top of the can but didn’t drink any. “I don’t think you realize how much.”
“I know you never expected to find yourself working at a pizza joint in Watch Hill, but hey, life is funny like that sometimes.”
“Sure is.”
Kyle smiled. “Especially when it comes to twists like Kendra.”
I frowned. “Kendra?”
“Yeah, man, she’s inside.”
“What?” I turned toward the restaurant entrance, then back to my friend. “What are you talking about?”
