“Oh.”
“I'm sorry,” says Ross. “Let me introduce myself.” So introductions are made, and I tell Ross what a great chef Will is and that he works at Terrazzo de Giordano.
“That's a great restaurant,” says Ross. “I've eaten there a couple of times.”
“Will took over my apartment when I moved to Black Bear,” I continue, as if this all needs explaining, which I realize it doesn't, but I keep going anyway. “I haven't seen him since October.”
“Now what about that knee?” asks Ross. “Do you think it's serious?”
“I think it seriously hurts,” I say.
“How about if you get out of that costume?” says Ross. “I'll get Marge to send one of the medics up with some ice.”
“Let me help you,” offers Will as Ross leaves my office. He gently helps me unzip and peel myself out of the smelly bear skin, until it hangs around my ankles like a dead thing.
“Whew,” I say as I sit back down and fan myself with my hands. “That's an improvement.”
“How about those ski boots?” asks Will as he stoops down and releases the tension.
“Thanks,” I tell him.
He gently eases them off, then removes the deflated bear, laying it across my desk almost reverently. And I lean back and let out a sigh of relief. “I feel better already.”
Ross quickly returns with the medic in tow, and after a quick examination, which reveals the embarrassing fact that my legs need a shave, he tells me I might ve pulled some ligaments. “But nothing appears to be broken,” he says as he snugly wraps my knee in an elastic brace. “You'll still want to make an appointment with your doctor and get an x-ray. In the meantime, stay off of it, and keep it wrapped and on ice.” He hands me a sample package of Advil. “And this might help too.”
Ross hands me the water bottle from my desk. “So you're going to be okay, Black Bear?”
“I think so, but I guess I'll have to retire now”
“Well, Marge said Brandon called this afternoon, and he's feeling better. He thinks it was just a twenty-four-hour bug. He should be back tomorrow.”
“Good.”
“You take care now, Cassie,” says the medic as he picks up his case and heads for the door.
I thank him. Then he and Ross both leave, so that it's just Will and me in here. I feel awkward and self-conscious.
“So…,” I say as I unzip my L. L. Bean polar fleece jacket to let some cool air in, “what brings you to Black Bear?”
Now Will looks uncomfortable, and I feel bad for putting him on the spot like this. “I mean, it's great to see you and everything,” I say quickly. “I'm just so surprised.”
“Well, as I mentioned on the phone, uh, before we were disconnected.” He chuckles as if he's recalling the whole unfortunate scene of the tumbling, bumbling bear tearing it up on the bunny hill. “I got your Christmas card, and I thought, hey, I've got a couple of days off, why don't I head on up here to see you.” He grins. “So I did.”
“Cool.”
“I almost called you a few weeks ago,” he says. “Mr. Snyder said you'd been by. But I figured you were just checking to make sure I hadn't made a mess of your place.”
“Oh no,” I say, “that wasn't it at all. I happened to be in town for some meetings and thought I'd pop in and say hi. How's the job?”
“It's been good. And they really seem to like me. But I'm starting to dream bigger now. I think I might start a place of my own… someday.”
“Good for you.”
“And you like your job? You finally found what you wanted to be when you grew up?”
“Sort of. I mean it's a fantastic job. And I love almost everything about it…”
“But not everything?” He studies me closely. I'm not sure.
He laughs. “Look at us. We've come such a long way in such a short time. And yet we're still not totally happy with it.”
“We're just a couple of whiners, aren't we?” I tease.
“Guess we should just grow up and count our blessings.”
I glance at my watch now. “Looks like my workday is finished.”
“Do you have any plans for dinner?”
“Not really.” If Will wasn't here, I wouldn't be surprised if Ross asked me to get a bite. I glance toward Ross's office and see that his lights are off. I doubt he's gone home this early, but he's definitely checked out of his office.
“Want to join me?”
I smile at Will. “I'd love to.”
“I borrowed a car to come up here. I've thought about getting one, but it's so easy to ride my bike to work, and parking is such a pain in the city.”
“I've got my car up here too,” I say. “It's just an old beater, but it gets me back and forth okay.”
“Do you think you can drive with that knee?”
I rub my left knee. “Yeah. It's the right leg that I need.”
“Want me to help you down to your car?”
“That's a good idea.” Then I point to the closet. “I've got some Uggs in there. Would you mind getting them?” I realize he might see anything in that closet, since that's where I keep spare clothes and other possibly embarrassing necessities. But under the circumstances, I don't even care.
I slip on the Uggs, remove the ice pack, and carefully stand. Testing my weight on my knee, I'm surprised that it's not too bad. “I think I'll be okay. But there's also a black Kate Spade bag in that closet. Do you mind getting it for me?”
He looks in the closet, finally holding up the bag. “This it?”
“Yep. Thanks.” I attempt to hobble toward my desk.
“Remember the medic said to stay off it,” he reminds me as he loops the strap of my bag over his shoulder, then puts his other arm around my waist. “You can lean on me.”
“Nice look with the bag,” I point out. “You're a real metro-sexual male.”
He laughs. “I hope that's a compliment.” Then he helps me pack my laptop, and we're ready to get out of here. I feel like a clumsy participant in a three-legged race as we slowly make our way out to the elevator, then awkwardly proceed to the parking lot.
“I'm glad it's not icy today,” I say as we head for my car. Will helps me in and puts my briefcase and other things in the back.
“Where shall we meet?”
I look down at my ski clothes. “I could go home and change,” I say, suddenly feeling tired and hungry. “Or we could just go to the brewery—you know, keep it casual.”
“I vote for the brewery.”
I grin. “Me too.”
So I give him brief directions. Black Bear isn't exactly a metropolis. Then I take off, driving carefully but quickly down the mountain. I hope I can get to the brewery just a few minutes ahead of him. This might give me time to do some damage control. I realize I probably look a fright after wearing that sweaty bear costume all day. And I'm sure I don't smell too great either. I just hope I remembered to put my Burberry Brit back in my bag.
'm somewhat back to a presentable normal by the time Will arrives at the brewery—hair in place, mascara smudges removed, and fresh lip gloss applied. Fortunately, my perfume was in my bag, and I smell a bit better. I come out of the bathroom, still limping, and nearly run smack into Will.
“Good timing,” he says as he hooks his hand beneath my arm. “Let me help you.”
“Thanks,” I tell him. “Its actually feeling a lot better.”
“Hopefully it's nothing serious.”
“Cassie!” calls out Gary Frye. He's waving from a table where several of my old friends, including Bridget and Penny, are seated.
“Come and join us,” calls Bridget. She's eying Will and probably wondering what I'm doing with this guy when Ross and I have something going on. I haven't told her—or anyone for that matter—about Will. I mean, what is there to tell?
“These are some old high-school friends.” I explain about Friday-night happy hour. “I'll just say a quick hello.”
He nods. “Cool.”
&n
bsp; So I introduce Will as an old friend from the city, and he smiles and greets everyone politely.
“Keeping this guy a secret, are you?” teases Penny as she winks at Will. I'm thinking Penny's had a little too much to drink already, but I just smile at her.
“Wills not a secret,” I say, “but we would like to catch up.” I nod toward a table in the corner. “So if you'll excuse us.”
They complain, but Will and I depart just the same. I don't want them to start grilling us about our relationship. Not that we have a relationship. But I want to know more about why Will came here today. Was it really because of my Christmas card? What did I say in it anyway?
“You really have a life,” says Will as we sit down.
“Yeah, I guess so.”
“And you've changed.”
“Changed?”
He nods. “Your hair's different, and you look, well, great. But you've changed on the inside too.”
I frown slighdy. “Is that bad?”
He shakes his head. “No, that's good.”
I smile. “Really?”
“Definitely. It's like you're more confident, more sure of yourself. Like you really know who you are now. You weren't like that before.”
“Well, it hasn't been exacdy easy. And it didn't happen overnight.” I tell him a litde about my mom and her shocking transformation and that she's been dating a guy my age. I go on and on, even telling him about my mall encounter with Eric and how glad I was to be over him. Will is a great listener.
“But enough about me,” I say, feeling silly for being so self-absorbed. “How's it going with you? Have you seen Monica?” What I really want to know is whether he's got another girlfriend. But no way am I asking that.
“I've really been getting a lot of hours at work,” he begins after the waiter brings our drinks and takes our orders. “In fact, this is the first time I've had a Friday off, but I sort of put my foot down and demanded it. I have to be back at work for tomorrow night, but I insisted on some time off during Christmas.”
“Good for you.”
“Yeah. And the manager was fairly decent about it. I guess I've proven myself, and they actually want to keep me around.”
“Well, of course.”
“I've already worked my way up to head chef,” he says proudly
“Congratulations!”
He nods and takes a sip of his Black Bear Porter. “Yeah, it's pretty cool.” Then he looks at me. “I feel like I have you to thank for it, Cassie.”
I wave my hand. “No. You're a great cook, Will. I had nothing—
“You encouraged me. When I was totally bummed and ready to give up, you reached out to me.” He shakes his head. “It still amazes me, because you were hurting pretty bad yourself.”
I nod. “Yeah. But what you might not realize is that you helped me a lot too. That one night when I was so depressed—it seems unbelievable now—but I was actually considering taking some kind of pills or something.” I sort of laugh. “But I didn't have much in the medicine cabinet, and I didn't think an overdose of laxatives would exactly do the trick.”
He makes a face. “Yuck.”
“Yeah, whatta way to go.”
“I'm glad you didn't.”
“Me too. Anyway, you were a real godsend to me, Will. I mean that. And I guess I've wanted to thank you too. I suppose that's why I sent the Christmas card.”
Now there's a long silence. We both sip our beers, and I wonder if that's it. Nothing more to say.
“Oh, you asked about Monica…” He stops.
Suddenly I think, Oh, no, they re back together. I so don't want to hear this. I mean, sure, if they're back together, fine. I just don't want to know.
“Well, I got to thinking about what she did, using your credit card like that. And I decided to see if I could track her down through some of her old friends. I tried and tried, but all I came up with was dead ends. A couple of people think she's in Los Angeles, trying to get discovered and make it big.”
“That sounds like Monica.”
“Anyway, I've still got some people looking for her, and if I hear anything, I'll let you know. She needs to pay you back, Cassie.”
I nod. “You're right. But I've pretty much kissed that money good-bye. And in a way, I'm glad.”
“Huh?”
“Well, it was kind of a last straw for me. It forced me to move back home. And even though it was a little rough for a while, I'm happier here.” I consider my next line, not sure that I want to toss it out, but then I figure it's simply the truth. “Not only that…it kind of connected me to you. I mean, crazy as it sounds, if Monica hadn't pulled a fast one on us, well, we never would've gotten to know each other. I'd still be thinking of you as that good-for-nothing loser who was sponging off poor Monica.”
His brows lift. “That's what you thought?”
“Sorry.” I shake my head. “Didn't mean to say that.”
But he just laughs. “No, it's okay. Your character assessment wasn't far from the truth.”
“Except I know now that Monica was the one who sponged off you. And me too. So anyway, for that reason, I don't really care about it anymore. There's a verse in the Bible that says all things work together for good if you love the Lord—or something to that effect. And I feel like maybe that's happening with me.”
“Speaking of the Bible, and you're probably not going to believe this, but after you said you'd be praying for me, well, it got me thinking about my mom. She's pretty religious. I hadn't spoken to my parents since they got mad at me for dropping out of culinary school, which was after I dropped out of college. They pretty much cut me off when I hooked up with Monica. They thought it was sinful for us to be living together.” He shakes his head. “But I hon-esdy think it would ve been a worse sin to marry her. She might've been good looking, but she was a mistake from the get-go.”
“Kind of like Eric for me.”
“Yeah. Anyway, after hearing some things you said, I decided maybe it was time to give up my little rebellion against my parents, and I gave my mom a call. We had a nice long talk. Then she sent me my old Bible, and I've actually been reading it.”
“Seriously?”
He nods. “I know it probably seems pretty weird. Will Sor-ensen reading the Bible.”
“I think it's pretty cool.”
His expression turns sad. “The downside of getting in touch with my parents is that I found out my dad is dying.” I'm sorry.
“Me too.” He sighs. “But at least I've been able to talk to him, to mend bridges. I even offered to move back home and help out, but my parents are so glad that I have a good job and am getting back on my feet that they said to stick with it. But I promised to come home for a few days at Christmas.”
“Will, I'm so happy for you,” I say. “Your life is really on track.”
“Thanks to you.”
“Maybe God used me,” I admit, “the same way he used you. But you've been making some great choices too. You'd better take some of the credit.”
The waiter sets our food on the table. “So I just felt like I needed to come and say thanks,” Will says. “It seemed like I owed you that much.”
“You don't owe me a thing.”
He starts to chuckle as he picks up a french fry.
“Something funny about your food?” I ask. “I'm sure it's nothing like what you're used to at Terrazzo de Giordano.”
“No, that's not it.” He grins. “I was just replaying that scene of Black Bear cartwheeling down the mountain.
“I did not cartwheel,” I point out.
He laughs. “Well, whatever it was, I hope someone got it on film.”
I laugh. “You know, that would be great to have on our Web site. Maybe I can talk Brandon, our regular bear, into reenacting it for me tomorrow.”
“How's your knee?”
“Not too bad. I think it'll be fine if I give it some rest.”
“You should probably still get it checked.”
“Yeah. I'll make an appointment, maybe on Monday.”
Will points another fry toward the entry. “Hey, isn't that Ross, the dude from the ski lodge?”
I look up and am surprised to see Ross coming into the brewery. Then I feel bad to see that he's by himself, because I know he doesn't like to eat alone. I wave to him, and he comes over to our table to say hello.
“Hows the knee?” he asks with concern.
“I was just telling Will that I think it's going to be okay. Want to join us?”
He looks a little uncomfortable as he glances from me to Will, then shakes his head. “No, that's okay.” He holds up a newspaper. “I thought I'd catch up on the latest.”
“If you're sure.”
“I'm sure.” He smiles at Will. “You kids have fun.” Then he goes to the other side of the room and slides into a booth.
“So what does Ross do?” asks Will.
“Ross, owns Black Bear Butte,” I tell him. “Well, he and his family own it. But he pretty much runs the place, and that makes him my boss.”
Will nods. “I think he likes you.”
“What do you mean?” I study Will.
He smiles. “I mean I think your boss thinks you're hot, Cassie.”
I laugh nervously. “What on earth makes you think that?”
“I could tell by the way he looked at you just now and by the way he spoke to you. Trust me. I might be a guy, but I pick up on these things.” His eyes twinkle. “It's my artistic and sensitive nature.”
“Well, that's just—just—silly.”
“Is Ross single?”
“Well, yes. But that doesn't mean anything. Probably what you picked up on is the fact that Ross and I are good friends. We often get a bite to eat together, and we do things together sometimes but just as friends. Co-workers, you know. Ross even made sure that I clearly understood that right from the beginning.” “Maybe he's the one who doesn't understand.” “Oh, Will.” I wave my hand in dismissal. “Really, we're just friends.” Then I change the subject by telling him about my mom going out with Ross. She thought there was something going bn between the two of them, I explain, but Ross made it clear that he wasn't ready for anything serious yet. “I think it's sweet that his wife's memory means that much to him. I can't even imagine being loved like that.”
These Boots Weren't Made for Walking Page 18
