The Husband Maker Boxed Set

by White, Karey

“I’m starving. I ate a bowl of soup at around four. You’d think working in a restaurant that you’d get immune to the smells, but so far I haven’t. They were serving this seared scallop dish tonight that looked incredible, but they ran out of scallops around nine. Check out this cheesecake. I sliced the strawberries for it myself.”

  I glanced up at Angus and was surprised to see him smiling. Had I seen his smile since I arrived in town?

  “What?”

  He shook his head. “You can stop talking. I’m not going to kick you out.”

  “Really?”

  “Now that my mouth is watering, there’s no way I’m letting you go eat it alone.”

  I smiled. “Hopefully it tastes as good as it smells.”

  We divided up the food and carried our plates to the living room. A medical journal was open on the couch, so I sat in a chair across from him.

  “Reading anything good?”

  “Just studying up on treatments for a patient.”

  “Ooh. That sounds so doctorly. What kind of patient?”

  For the next hour, we talked about our jobs. Angus told me about a six-year-old boy who had been assigned to him. He had an unusual condition in his hip that Angus had correctly diagnosed. I told him about the restaurant and how tonight had been the night I finally mastered parmesan curls.

  I thought the story was amusing, but when I finished telling him about my work in the pantry, he looked serious.

  “Chuck, you shouldn’t be doing this.”

  I pushed around a piece of graham cracker crust with my fork. “Doing what?”

  “Working at a restaurant.”

  “It’s not so bad. I’m sure I’d feel differently if I were the one who’d been assigned to wash dishes, but the pantry’s all right. Besides, I’ve got to pay the bills and I’ve got to eat. Kills two birds with one job. And where else could I work that lets me eat like this?”

  The room was quiet and tense. We had spent a pleasant hour together, and I didn’t want it spoiled with talk of me going back to San Francisco.

  Angus sighed. “It’s just . . .”

  “Listen,” I interrupted him, scooting to the edge of my chair and stacking my dessert plate onto my dinner plate. “I’m really tired. I’m going to head home.”

  Angus gathered his plates and followed me to the kitchen. “I’ll take care of those.”

  I didn’t argue with him. I wanted to leave before our discussion turned into a debate. If I left now, I could think about the pleasant conversation and Angus smiling and even laughing.

  “Thanks. I guess I’ll see you around.”

  Angus shoved his feet into a pair of shoes by the front door. “What are you doing?” I asked.

  “I’m walking you home.”

  “You don’t have to do that. My apartment is just on the other side of that building.”

  “I know.”

  “I can make it alone.”

  “I’m sure you can. Let’s go.”

  Angus shoved his hands in his pockets and we walked to my door. “Thanks for dinner, Charlie,” Angus said as I unlocked my door.

  “You’re very welcome.”

  I went to the bedroom window and watched Angus walk back to his apartment. He glanced across the courtyard at my window and I took a step farther into the shadows. I felt a little jolt of excitement that he had figured out which apartment was mine.

  Charlotte

  Boyd didn’t mind if I saved my meal until the end of the shift and then took it home with me. He always made sure I took home a generous portion, including dessert. I wanted to duplicate the comfortable evening Angus and I had shared over molasses and walnut chicken, but for four nights in a row, his car was gone and his windows were dark. I took the food home with me and ate alone.

  On the fifth night, Angus’s car was there. Since it was a weeknight, the restaurant closed at nine. Even though it was earlier, I lacked the bravado that had spurred me on before. I almost talked myself out of knocking on Angus’s door. In fact, I went home and changed my clothes before I rallied enough courage to walk to his apartment.

  I held up the bag like a peace offering when I saw him. “Butter crusted sea bass and carrot cake?”

  “You don’t have to share with me, you know. You could get two meals out of it if you just took it home with you.”

  I smiled. “I know. But that wouldn’t be much fun.”

  “Come in.”

  “They served a chocolate and macadamia nut pie the other night that I thought you’d like, but you weren’t home to share it, so of course I finished it myself. Sorry.”

  “It sounds good, but you’re the one who loves the chocolate and nut pie, remember?”

  “You like it too.”

  “Not like you do. I’d have felt guilty if I took any of that from you.”

  “It was good. Maybe they’ll have it again before the job ends.”

  “Carrot cake sounds just as good to me. How much longer are you working there?”

  “Only two more days. I’m going to miss this food.”

  Angus licked the serving spoon and put it in the sink. “Yeah, me too. This has been a nice perk.”

  “And it’s saved me money on groceries.”

  “It could have saved you even more if you didn’t bring it over here.”

  I ignored him. “I’m not looking forward to going back to my own cooking.”

  “At least you’re a better cook than me.”

  “It depends on if we’re talking real, edible food or video game food.” I couldn’t even count the number of times Angus had beat me at Cooking Mama.

  “True.”

  “But even my best cooking isn’t like this.”

  We were mostly quiet while we ate, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. When the food was gone, I gathered our plates and took them to the kitchen. Angus opened his laptop.

  “You probably haven’t seen your email tonight, have you?”

  “No.”

  “We got an email from McKayla.”

  “We got an email? What do you mean we?”

  “She sent it to both of us. Come see.”

  I sat on the couch, leaving several inches between us. I didn’t want to scare him and break this tenuous thread I hoped we were spinning. Angus leaned a little toward me, holding the laptop so we could both see the screen.

  I wanted to concentrate on the email McKayla had sent—it was full of news and had several pictures of Simon—but it was hard to think about anything when Angus’s arm was a hair’s breadth away from my own.

  He started reading aloud.

  Hey guys. How’s the Midwest? I’ve been watching the temperatures, and it’s way colder there than it is here. No thank you. I’ll just stay right here. And don’t expect me to visit you until the spring thaw. You know how much I hate being cold.

  Great news! Connor got the promotion. He’ll now have two guys reporting to him. He’ll have to travel once in a while, which I’m not thrilled about, but they said it would only be a few times per year. It’s not a huge raise, but hey, a raise is a raise, right?

  Simon is pretty cute. He smiles all the time and he’s a little chubster, as you can see from the pics. We were joking the other night that if he keeps going like this, we’re going to have to put him on a diet. Just kidding, but check out those cheeks. Have you ever seen more kissable cheeks?

  I know it’s ridiculous because McKayla was talking about a baby’s cheeks, but hearing Angus read about kissing while he was sitting so close made my mind wander a little. Okay, a lot.

  I wondered if Angus’s mind wandered, but he seemed unfazed and kept reading.

  You both need to do a better job of keeping us posted. Mom said you got a job with some creative place, Charlie, but I have no idea what that means. Details, sister. Details.

  Angus gave me a quizzical look.

  “The temp company is called Creative Resource Solutions,” I explained. “I didn’t tell them it was a temp agency.”

  Angus
shook his head a little and continued.

  Angus, give us an update on doctoring and hips and stuff. I know you guys have some news. Stop being so stingy.

  Anyway, here are some pictures of Simon for your enjoyment. I know I’m a little biased, but can you believe how adorable he is? Next time I’ll send you a video of him laughing. It’s about the cutest thing in the world. We love you both. McKayla, Connor and Simon Says.

  There were three pictures of Simon. He was a chubby, adorable baby. “He’s so cute.”

  There must have been a wistful note in my voice because Angus sat up straight, closed the laptop, and looked at me. “You should be with your family.”

  “Let’s not do this, okay?”

  “They don’t even know where you’re working. If you’re having to mislead your family, it should be a clue that you’re doing the wrong thing.”

  I shook my head. “I don’t want them to worry.”

  “And what about Simon and Emily? You should be there. You’re missing out on important things.”

  “I said I don’t want to do this.”

  “What are you going to do after next week? When this job ends?”

  “They can send me out on something else.”

  “Charles, stop being so stubborn.”

  “I’m not the only one being stubborn.” I folded my arms, but when I realized I was looking like a pouting child, I unfolded them and stood to leave. “Look, we’re both tired. I’m going to bed.”

  Angus followed me to the door. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to jump on you. I just want you to be happy.” He followed me out his front door and I could tell he planned to walk me home again. I appreciated the gesture, but I wanted this topic of conversation to end.

  Angus had other ideas. “Look, Charlotte, I don’t want to be the reason you miss out on so much.”

  The air was cold and I shivered. “I decided to come here. You didn’t ask me to, so you can stop feeling guilty about it.”

  “What if you don’t find a job you like?”

  I shrugged. “Then I’ll do something I don’t like.”

  Angus stopped walking. “Charlotte, I’m not kidding.” He didn’t have to tell me. I could tell by his tone he was serious.

  I kept walking. “Neither am I.”

  Boyd asked me to stay for two more days, which I happily agreed to. It meant two more good meals, crème brulee, and chocolate hazelnut cake. Angus wasn’t home to share them with me, and after our last conversation, I wasn’t sure he would have let me in anyway.

  Mark at Creative Resource Solutions sent me to a construction equipment company where I answered phones for two days. It was boring work that left me more tired than eight hours at Escape. I was glad it was only a two day job.

  I had no work for three days after that. I called on a few job prospects, bought a few inexpensive groceries, and tried to read a book. I had read the same page four times when Hallmark called.

  Angus

  “Knock knock.” I walked into Braxton’s hospital room. I could tell the mood was tense before anyone answered.

  “Hi, Dr. Barclay.” Mrs. Chandler stood and shook my hand. Braxton lifted his hand off the blanket in a lukewarm wave.

  “How ya doing there, champ?” I ruffled his pale hair, but his large, gray eyes never left the television. I checked the position and weight on the traction apparatus then perched myself on the edge of the bed. Braxton still didn’t look at me.

  I glanced at the television on the wall behind me. “The Flintstones? I didn’t even know they were on anymore. This is probably my favorite cartoon of all time.”

  “It’s okay.” Braxton’s mood was sullen.

  “Have you seen the one where Fred becomes a movie star?”

  “No.”

  “That one’s my favorite. Let me know if it comes on. Maybe I can come watch it with you.” His eyes didn’t leave the television.

  “You getting used to this thing?”

  Braxton shrugged. He had been in traction for four days, and the progression of his emotions had gone from fear to curiosity to boredom. Today he seemed despondent.

  “I know it’s not much fun to stay in bed like this, but even though it seems like you’re not doing anything but watching television, some really cool things are happening inside your body. Want me to tell you about them?”

  Braxton shrugged again, but said, “Sure.”

  “Your hip has been sore for a long time, hasn’t it?”

  He nodded.

  “That’s because of this big bone here.” I touched his thigh. “It’s called the femur. The top of it is shaped like a ball, and it fits in the hip socket like this.” I made a fist with my left hand and put it in the curved palm of my right hand. Braxton tore his gaze away from Fred and Wilma to look. “The part that looks like a ball got sick, so it quit working right. Then everything around it felt sorry for it, so they jumped in to help.”

  “How did they help?”

  “All those little tissues inside thought they could make it feel better by swelling up and filling up the space around your hip. Kinda like a bunch of pillows trying to make it a more comfortable place. They were trying to give your bone a chance to get better.”

  “Why didn’t it work?”

  “Well, they thought they were doing a good thing, but actually, it made it harder for your bone to fit in the right place. It has to fit in there or it can’t get better, so we’re helping it. This is pulling on your leg just enough so all the stuff that swelled up and tried to help can calm down and get some rest and go back to the right size. When that happens, your bone will be able to fit back in the place where it’s supposed to be.”

  “When can we take it off?”

  “We’re not sure yet. Usually it takes about a week for the swelling to go down. Sometimes, if the tissues are trying to be extra helpful and don’t want to give up, it takes a little longer.”

  “How much longer?” Now it was Mrs. Chandler asking, and I detected a note of desperation in her voice.

  “I think two weeks would be the absolute longest.” She blew out a little breath. “But that’s unusual. I’d guess a week to ten days would be more like it.”

  Braxton let out a long raspberry sigh. “Ten whole days? I’m gonna go crazy.”

  Mrs. Chandler and I laughed, and the heavy mood in the room lightened a little.

  She squeezed Braxton’s hand. “He’s not the only one.”

  “I know it’s rough to be in here, but remember what’s happening in there. We want to get you all better so you can run and play and do all the things you haven’t been able to.”

  “Will it hurt to walk after that?” Braxton asked.

  “Probably a little. But tomorrow someone’s going to come in and measure you for a brace. It’s this cool thing that will hold your hip in the right place so it won’t hurt and so your bone can get completely better.”

  Braxton nodded and turned back to The Flintstones.

  I patted his leg and started for the door. Mrs. Chandler followed me into the hall.

  “Thanks for explaining that to him.”

  “Of course. It’s hard for a six-year-old to be tied down like this. I’d have gone crazy myself.”

  “You missed his fit this morning. He was in a horrible mood and threw his breakfast onto the floor. I guess I need to find him something to occupy his time. Hopefully it’s only for a week.”

  I gave her a sympathetic smile and hoped right along with her.

  I’ve always considered myself a nice guy. Maybe that’s why my interactions with Charlotte were bothering me. I didn’t like the way things had gone and even though I thought Charles should be in San Francisco, I had to admit, it was pretty nice having her close. But I couldn’t make this about what was convenient and pleasant for me. I needed to think about her. How long would it be before she resented me for being the reason she left her great job? How long before she wondered if it had been worth it to leave her family, especially her niece and nephew, to
sit around lonely while I worked long hours? I was surprised she’d lasted this long.

  But Charles was stubborn and five weeks later, she was still here. I could have continued to wait her out, but Thanksgiving was two days away, and I had no idea what Charlotte would be doing. Sometimes her car was in the lot and sometimes it wasn’t, so I was pretty sure she hadn’t gone home for the holiday. How could I let her spend it alone?

  Neither of us had ever been away from home on Thanksgiving. This would be a first for both of us. Logic would say we should spend it together. After all, we’re friends, right? But still I hesitated. I didn’t want to give her another reason to stay away from her real home.

  But I didn’t want an enemy either. Sitting beside Charlotte while we read McKayla’s email had been a light bulb moment for me. I didn’t want to lose my friendship with the Emersons, Charlotte included. They were like family to me. But they were an actual family to each other, and if I didn’t salvage my friendship with Charlotte, I’d probably lose them all.

  My last conversation with Charlotte kept running through my mind, and every time it did, I felt like a bigger jerk. Chuck had generously shared food from her job and she’d been pleasant and cheerful. She hadn’t been pushy at all. In fact, it had started to feel almost like the old days. Maybe that was the problem. How was I supposed to get her to move back home if we grew too comfortable here?

  But this was Thanksgiving, and the thought of her spending it alone ate at me. I knew I would hate myself if I let that happen. Maybe I could set aside my worries and give in just this once.

  ME: ARE YOU GOING HOME FOR THANKSGIVING?

  CHARLOTTE: NO.

  ME: YOUR FAMILY MUST BE BUMMED.

  CHARLOTTE: PROBABLY.

  ME: HAVE YOU CHECKED ON FLIGHTS? THERE STILL MIGHT BE TIME.

  CHARLOTTE: I’M NOT GOING.

  I’ve never been great at reading people’s moods through texts, but Charlotte sounded a little snippy. Part of that was probably my fault. Maybe all of it. Further evidence that I had probably hurt her. I felt terrible.

  ME: I’M NOT GOING HOME EITHER. MOM WAS DISAPPOINTED.