Club Abbott: The Deal (Club Abbott Series, #2)

by Hazel Kelly

  He shook his head and swallowed the bite he was chewing. “You spoil me, you know that?”

  “I was able to get you a library card.”

  His eyes grew wide. “Did you really?”

  I nodded, feeling cheered by the fact that I’d solved at least one problem, even if it wasn’t one of my own.

  “I don’t know how to thank you, Carrie. That is the nicest thing anyone has ever done for me.”

  “I hope that’s not true,” I said, covering my mouth while the sweet chocolate glaze melted on my tongue. “But it was no trouble at all.”

  “I promise I’ll always return the books on time.”

  “I know you will,” I said. “Especially cause if you don’t, they might start to wonder if you look like a Carrie.”

  His face grew serious. “Yeah. Best to keep a low profile.”

  “Can I ask you something?” I popped the last bite of my donut in my mouth.

  “Do I need to use calculus to give you an answer?”

  I licked my teeth. “No, but I don’t want you to take it the wrong way. I’m asking for myself.”

  “Shoot,” he said, taking a sip of coffee.

  I scrunched my face. “Do you ever feel sorry for yourself?”

  “Of course.”

  I nodded and crumpled the donut bag in one hand so I could hold it along with the tray.

  Woody took the trash to the garbage can beside the bus stop and weaved through the commuters to get back to where I was standing again.

  I cocked my head. “And what do you do when you feel like that?”

  He shrugged. “I think about the words of one of my favorite poets.”

  “And that helps, does it?”

  He nodded.

  I wrapped both hands around my coffee and felt the warmth seep into my skin. “Can I ask what poet?”

  “Taylor Swift.”

  I smiled. “Is that your way of telling me you shake it off?”

  “It’s gotta be done,” he said, turning his back to the brick building beside us. “Sure, I give myself a few minutes to wallow in my own self-pity, but then I get on with it cause God’s got no time for whiners.”

  “Mmm.”

  “Like most people.”

  “True.”

  “And if things get really bad-” He held his coffee to his chest.

  I raised my eyebrows.

  “I try to do something for someone who’s worse off than me.”

  “Really?”

  He shrugged. “I know it’s terrible, but that always makes me feel better.”

  “I don’t think that’s terrible at all.”

  He cocked his head to the side. “Maybe. But I’d like to be the kind of person that helps others because it’s the right thing to do, not cause it makes me feel better.”

  “I wouldn’t worry about it,” I said. “I think it’s the help that counts, not the motive.”

  “Perhaps,” he said. “Anyway, if you’re looking for a pick me up, I just found this great homeless shelter where you could volunteer. It’s not too far from here, and the lady who runs it is always looking for help.” He reached in his pocket and handed me a card.

  “The Nest?”

  He nodded. “It’s pretty decent. Like the chicken noodle soup actually has chicken in it.”

  “Do you need this card or?”

  He shook his head. “No. I got a whole bunch to hand out.”

  “Oh, okay.”

  “It’s what I’m giving everyone for Christmas this year.”

  I smiled. “Free food?”

  He shrugged. “What can I say? I’m a nice guy like that.”

  “Yes you are,” I said, patting him on the back. “I certainly think so anyway.” I handed my coffee to Woody for a second so I could reach in my purse for the little plastic card. “Ta da,” I said, trading it for my coffee.

  He looked at it like it was a hundred dollar bill, but I suppose it was probably worth even more.

  “You can take out up to six things at a time,” I said. “And your friend was right. It is nice and cozy in there.”

  “Thanks, Carrie,” he said, little creases springing from his eyes. “You’ve really made my day.”

  “You’re welcome, Woody. It’s the least I could do for how often you make mine.”

  Chapter 8: Ben

  “Ben!” Ella’s face lit up when I walked in. “I’m so glad you could make it.”

  I met her halfway between the door and the hot stove she’d been standing over.

  “Congratulations,” I said, giving her a big hug.

  “Thanks.”

  I couldn’t tell if she was glowing from being in the warm kitchen or if the thrill of the engagement was the reason she seemed so sparkly.

  I looked at her hand.

  She caught me and lifted her wrist between us so I could see the ring.

  “Beautiful,” I said. “It suits you.”

  Her eyes sprang into little crescents. “Don’t you think so?” she asked, admiring it. “I was always worried he’d get something too big and gaudy cause he’s such a show off, but he did so well.”

  I smiled. “It’s nice to see you so happy.”

  “Are there many people here yet?” she asked, pointing towards the door that led to the large cafeteria and buffet station.

  “Only a few,” I said. “And they’re playing cards.”

  Her lips fell apart.

  “Don’t worry. They’re not gambling. I checked.”

  “Okay, good,” she said, rubbing her hands together. “Cause I’m in charge tonight, and I don’t want to let my mom down.”

  I furrowed my brow. “Where is she?”

  “Some fundraising thing in the Upper West Side.”

  “Sounds lucrative.”

  She raised her eyebrows. “Hopefully it will be.” She walked back over to the jumbo sized pot she’d been stirring when I walked in. “Anyway, she told me to tell you your sweater is in the closet- whatever that’s about.”

  “Great,” I said, smiling at a few of the other regulars who were all getting stuck in with different jobs. “What can I do?”

  “See those rolls,” she said, nodding towards a gigantic plastic bag in the corner.

  I laughed. “They’d be hard to miss.”

  “Start buttering them.”

  “Sure thing.” I went to the sink and washed my hands. Then I returned to her side and pulled the first roll out of the bag. “Wouldn’t it be easier to let the guests butter their own rolls?” I asked. “Not that I’m complaining.”

  She nodded. “It probably would be,” she said, tasting the chili she was stirring with a spoon. “But we’d go through the butter too fast then.”

  “I see.”

  “And we’d be supplying the homeless people of New York with dull knives and that’s not really the business we’re in.”

  I nodded. “Right. Of course.”

  She raised her hands in the air and ground some pepper over the pot.

  “How about that sign in Times Square?”

  She rolled her eyes. “Still haven’t lived it down.”

  I laughed.

  “But it’s sweet that he was excited,” she said, looking over her shoulder to keep an eye on the other volunteers. “And I was genuinely surprised, which was fun cause he’s not exactly the best at keeping secrets.”

  I thought of my mom again and felt a bad taste creep up my throat. “I think he’s alright with secrets when you’re not involved, but it seems your face makes him turn to mush.”

  She smiled and pushed some stray wisps of brown hair out of her face before stirring the pot again. “I don’t know. He’s not as big of a pushover as I’d like him to be sometimes.”

  I cut another roll open. “You wouldn’t like him if he was a pushover.”

  She shrugged. “Maybe not.”

  “He’s certainly hesitant to give me my way, that’s for sure.”

  “He told me about the club,” she said. ”Good
for you. That sounds really cool.”

  “Thanks.” I raised my eyebrows. “Did he mention he won’t let me call it Club Abbott?”

  She nodded. “He did, yeah.”

  “Maybe you could put in a good word for me, Mom.”

  She pointed at me. “Don’t be a creep.”

  I smiled. “Seriously, though. All the other names I’ve come up with are shit, and I really have my heart set on it.”

  She sighed. “I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but he didn’t exactly seem like he was thinking about it when he mentioned it to me.”

  My heart sank. Why couldn’t he just have a little faith in me? I’d never asked him for anything.

  “Speaking of bad news, how did your mom handle the news of the engagement?”

  “Fine,” I said. “Not too bad, though I don’t know why you even care about inviting her.” I certainly didn’t want to fucking see her anytime soon.

  Ella shrugged. “It’s just easier. She’s family. She’s your mom. She still works with the company. Plus, I’m not insecure about Will’s feelings for me.”

  “So it’s a gesture of goodwill?”

  She nodded. “I don’t want to be the nasty other woman.”

  “I’m pretty sure she’s got that position covered.”

  “You know what I mean.”

  “I suppose,” I said. “But don’t invite her on my account.”

  Her eyes turned down at the corners. “Will told me what happened the other day.”

  “Oh?” I asked, turning back to the roll I was buttering. “What did he say?”

  “That you were upset. That you didn’t know.”

  “You probably knew before I did.”

  She kept quiet.

  “Oh come on,” I said, looking at her. “Don’t you have some positive spin you can put on the situation?”

  She shook her head. “Not really. I mean, I know it was a long time ago, but I think you have every right to be angry.”

  I nodded. “That’s what I thought.”

  “On a lighter note, he told me you were seeing someone.”

  I tossed another buttered roll in the bowl in front of me. “Is there anything he doesn’t tell you?”

  She smiled. “Not when it comes to you.”

  “Jesus.”

  “You’re his son. What do you expect?”

  “I don’t know.” I craned my neck back and realized I was starting to feel the heat in the kitchen. “The occasional man to man conversation that doesn’t turn into an excuse to drag out pillow talk with you?”

  She bobbed her head to the side. “Would you rather I pretend we didn’t talk about you?”

  “No.”

  “So tell me about her,” she said. “It’s Carrie, right?”

  Fuck.

  Suddenly, one of the oldest volunteers appeared beside Ella with her arms full of bowls. “The line is getting long now, Ella. I think we better start serving the chili.”

  “Thanks for letting me know.” She looked over her shoulder at me. “Ben, do you think you and Carl can carry this out?”

  “Sure,” I said, finishing the roll in my hand and waiting by the pot for the only other male volunteer.

  We each took a handle and carried the chili around the corner, setting it down beside Margaret who was ready to start spooning it into bowls.

  I went back into the kitchen and brought out the rolls I’d already done. Then I hurried back to get some more so I could start buttering like my life depended on it.

  And even though it was hard work, I absolutely loved it because it was so different from the hands off stuff I usually did.

  Plus, there was no waiting for the gratification of a job well done. Our efforts were instantly rewarded by the grateful faces of hungry men and women who were happy to have a hot meal.

  I was handing out rolls when a familiar face stepped up in front of me. “Woody?”

  “Bert!”

  “It’s Ben, actually. I have your sweater.”

  “Oh great stuff,” he said, looking around like he was expecting it to be on the wall behind me.

  “Have a seat, and I’ll bring it over to you.”

  “Perfect,” he said, pointing to a far corner of the room. “I’ll be over there somewhere.”

  “Sounds good,” I said. “Bon appétit.”

  He lifted his bowl and smiled at me. “Thanks.”

  And even though I hadn’t been helping out at The Nest for very long, I was pleased to know that at least one extra person was likely to have a full belly this Christmas.

  All because of Bert Abbott.

  Chapter 9: Carrie

  I knew it was around there somewhere.

  I pulled the collar of my jacket up around my neck and reached in my pocket for the card Woody gave me so I could double check the address.

  I read it again and looked around. It was already dark out, but as usual, the bright city lights made it feel like night never came.

  Suddenly, two scruffy looking men turned down an alley across the street, and the sign for The Nest caught my eye.

  I looked both ways while I slid the card in my purse, tucking it right at the bottom alongside Simon’s dead iPod, which I’d been carrying around like a crown of thorns.

  I didn’t know what else to do with it.

  I obviously wasn’t going to give it back, and charging it seemed too sad.

  But something about having it comforted me… and made me feel like shit all at the same time.

  Pathetic.

  I jaywalked across the street and hurried down the alley, avoiding the odd pothole while trying to look like a badass, which was what I did anytime I found myself walking somewhere unfamiliar.

  As I approached the double doors on the right side, a hearty smell filled the air and my mouth started to water.

  A moment later, my stomach growled.

  Shit.

  Who shows up at a homeless shelter feeling hungry when they aren’t homeless?! How awkward was I?!

  Oh well.

  I’d just have to grab something after cause I’d come all the way across town, and if I went to get something now, I’d lose my nerve.

  As I pushed the door open, friendly chatter erupted around me, spilling into the night with a few men on their way out. I was expecting a few long faces and the lonely sound of spoons scraping bowls, but the place was absolutely packed.

  I moved away from the door to keep the heavy heat from escaping.

  “Carrie!”

  I looked around, thinking I’d imagined my name being called, but when I saw Woody stand up at the end of the long table in front of me, I smiled.

  “Did you just get here?” he asked when I walked up to him.

  “Yeah,” I said, glancing at his chili and trying not to covet it. “I thought I’d see what the fuss was about.”

  He spread his arms wide like he owned the place and looked around. “This is pretty much it,” he said, sinking back down in his seat.

  “It’s nice.”

  “I’d introduce you to the lady that runs it, but I haven’t seen her today.”

  “That’s alright,” I said, my eyes traveling along the line of people serving food. For the most part, they were older than I was, except for one strikingly attractive brunette. “I’m sure I can figure out a way to make myself useful-”

  “Carrie?”

  I looked up into Ben’s handsome face, my eyes dropping to his lips for a second as I remembered our last meeting. “Hi.” My body felt so confused, like it was both excited to see him and set on hiding how inappropriate my level of excitement was.

  And then I realized he was holding a dry cleaning bag containing a sweater that looked just like the one I got Simon for his birthday. My face dropped.

  “What are you doing here?” he asked.

  “I just stopped by to check the place out. Woody told me about it and-”

  “You two know each other?” Ben asked, looking between us.

  I nodde
d. “Yeah. For years.”

  Woody reached a hand up and patted my arm. “Carrie’s my guardian angel.”

  I blushed and cast my eyes down. “I think that’s an exaggeration.”

  “If you say so,” Woody said. “But for my money, you’re the prettiest girl in New York, inside and out.”

  I swallowed.

  Ben squinted at me like he’d never seen me before and then turned his attention towards Woody. “Here,” he said, handing the sweater to him.

  “Thanks,” Woody said, pulling it off the hanger and laying it across his lap.

  Ben stuck his hands in the pockets of his jeans. “Sorry again about the inconvenience.”

  “Not at all,” Woody said. “I’m grateful for it.” He wiggled the hanger out of the plastic wrap and handed the clear wrapping back to Ben. “Can I leave this with you?” he asked. “Don’t have much use for it.”

  I furrowed my brow. “You want the hanger?”

  Woody raised a spoonful of chili. “I want to add a few notches to one of my belts.”

  I nodded. “I see.”

  “Woody,” Ben said. “Do you mind if I steal Carrie away for a few minutes so I can show her around?”

  Woody waved his hand in the air. “Go on then.”

  I squeezed Woody’s shoulder once before following Ben over to the side of the room.

  “What’s going on?” he asked.

  I pushed some hair out of my face. “I was going to ask you the same question.”

  He furrowed his brow. “Are you following me? First the grocery store and now-”

  “Of course not.”

  “Because if you came here tonight for another kiss-”

  “I didn’t,” I said, crossing my arms. “I came to volunteer, not that I see why I have to explain myself.”

  “You don’t. I just-”

  “What were you doing with that sweater?”

  He shrugged. “I spilled coffee all over it the other day so I offered to get it cleaned.”

  “Oh.”

  “What do you care? You his keeper or something?”

  I squinted at him. His blue eyes were too bright. They made me feel like the ground wasn’t solid under my feet. “No. He doesn’t need a keeper. He looks after himself just fine.”

  Ben leaned against the wall, dwarfing me with his shoulders. “So why did he call you his angel?”