Aimee (A Time for Love Book 3)

by Phelps, Brandi

  Charlene made a note. “What do you dislike?”

  “The menu’s limited. The budget’s always tight. I can’t try new recipes. The job’s just not very exciting. And the pay is abysmal.”

  Charlene continued the interrogation, asking about her education, cooking experience, and preferences. When she’d covered several pages with notes, she looked up at Aimee. “One more question, but it’s an important one: what type of job do you want?”

  Aimee thought for a moment. “I’ve always wanted to open my own business, something to do with food, but in this economic climate, it’s very risky. If I got married and my husband had a good job, maybe I could risk it.”

  “We should probably make a plan that doesn’t include a husband, in the short term anyway,” Charlene said.

  “But Frank and I…” Aimee trailed off, wishing she hadn’t spoken.

  “You think you and Frank are getting serious?” Charlene raised an eyebrow. “Then maybe you need to discuss your next step with him.” She gathered her notes and stuffed them back in the briefcase. “I’ll do some research on the current job market. Do you have a copy of your résumé?”

  “Somewhere. I can email it to you.”

  After Charlene said good night, Aimee was left wondering why her friend had departed so abruptly. Had she said something wrong? Was it the mention of Frank? She’d ask Charlene the next time she saw her. In the meantime, she should dig out her old résumé and update it.

  As she scanned through the files on her computer, she found old documents detailing the business plan for the catering service she and Tom had run. Not much help now. A collection of her own recipes she’d started, with the idea she might someday author a cookbook. Emails from Tom that she’d saved. She started to delete them and hesitated. Maybe she wasn’t quite ready yet. She would concentrate on the information she needed for Charlene and decide later if she was prepared to sweep the last remnants of Tom out of her life.

  After she sent the résumé to Charlene, she grabbed a sheet of paper to jot down ideas for her date with Frank. What would be fun, allow them some time alone, and not cost too much, now that she would need to watch her finances even more closely? She couldn’t think of a single idea and finally shoved aside the paper in frustration. Fortunately, Tish had plenty of ideas when they met the next evening, and soon Aimee planned what she hoped would be the perfect date for the final step of Phase 2.

  She’d called Edwina with the details of the date, and Frank had evidently gotten the message. He was waiting outside A Time for Love when she pulled into the parking lot after work Friday night. He was wearing jeans and a striped cotton shirt, and he carried a bag. As soon as he saw her, he grinned, and Aimee felt her own spirits lift.

  “I can’t believe it’s been almost a week since I’ve seen you!” he said as he climbed into the passenger seat. “I’ve missed you.”

  “Me too.”

  She refused to answer any questions about where they were going and whisked Frank away. She followed the same route her mother had taken and soon parked outside the church. The building was dark except for security lights at the entrances. Aimee produced a key to a door that led directly into the basement.

  “I pulled some strings and got us access,” Aimee said as they walked into the Fellowship Hall.

  The room had one small table set for two. A ping pong table the youth group used was still set up near one wall, and a piano, which had been pushed to one side for the dessert competition, now stood in the center of the small stage opposite the kitchen. Rich aromas filled the space, and Aimee excused herself to check on the crockpot she’d left simmering.

  “We’ll start with a game of ping pong, to work up an appetite,” she said.

  Frank had clearly never played ping pong before, and Aimee won the first two matches easily. But he picked it up quickly, his natural athleticism a huge advantage. The third match was close, until he slammed a shot just inside the corner line for the game point.

  “Two games to one. I win,” Aimee said. “It’s time to eat.”

  “You’re just stopping because now you know I can beat you,” Frank accused.

  Aimee didn’t bother to deny it. “Yep. Are you saying you don’t want to eat?”

  “Not at all. Whatever you’re making smells delicious, as always.”

  Aimee served the chili in two stoneware bowls and set crackers and cheese on the table. Frank ate enthusiastically and accepted another bowl when she offered. Then he helped her wash the dishes and tidy the kitchen.

  “What now?” he asked after she’d spooned the remaining chili into a plastic container for later.

  “Remember how you said you’d always wanted to learn to play the piano? I thought I’d give you a lesson.”

  They sat together on the padded bench at the baby grand. Aimee set a sheaf of music on the stood and pointed to a key. “That’s middle C. Put your right thumb on it.”

  She coached him through a series of notes until he picked out a slow version of “Mary Had a Little Lamb.” They moved on to half a dozen other children’s tunes. Finally Frank lifted his hands and flexed his fingers.

  “That’s enough for me. Why don’t you play something?”

  “Me?”

  Aimee hadn’t played in years. She thought for a moment before she launched into a Bach minuet. Frank applauded when she finished, and she stood up and bowed.

  “It was my fifth grade recital piece,” she said. “I’m shocked that I still remember it.”

  “Can you play anything else?”

  She ran through her limited repertoire, and Frank clapped after each piece. She broke off after a few bars of a sonata she used to like. “That’s it. I can’t remember the rest of it. This concludes the musical portion of the evening.”

  “Thanks for the lesson. With a few months’ practice I might be able to work my way up to an entire song.”

  “Anybody can play, with enough practice. Maybe not like a professional, but enough to plunk out a few tunes. Here, have a seat.” She pointed back to the table. “I made dessert.”

  She brought out a small tray of cheesecake brownies, and Frank chose the largest one.

  “I have something to tell you,” she began. He stopped eating and waited. “I may be losing my job.” She explained the change in the hospital’s dining services. “I’ve applied for a job with the contractor that’s taking over, but so far I haven’t heard from them.”

  He took her hand. “I’m sorry. It must be difficult for you.”

  “It’s stressful,” she admitted. When he didn’t say anything, she forced herself to continue, “And I thought maybe we should talk about it, if we’re going to continue.”

  “Continue what?”

  “Keep going. To Phase 3.” Aimee looked down at their hands. She pulled hers away, and Frank resumed eating his brownie.

  “Okay.”

  Frank looked blank, so Aimee explained, “If I’m going to be making any major changes due to whatever job I get, it might impact—I didn’t know if you—I just thought we should talk about it,” she finished.

  “You mean you might take a job elsewhere? That’s fine with me. I’m not tied to this area.”

  “What’s your plan? You haven’t really told me. You were farming. What do you plan to do if you stay here?”

  “For a job?” He shrugged. “I’ve thought about a few possibilities, and Edwin says she’ll help me. Really, I’m just waiting to see what works out. With the matches,” he added.

  “You’re waiting to see if you find someone to marry before you look for a job? Isn’t that backwards?”

  “Not really. There’s no point—I mean, I probably won’t stay here if I don’t make a match.”

  “A match? Any match?”

  Frank seemed to notice that Aimee was beginning to get agitated, and he reached for her hand again. She evaded him and instead took a brownie.

  “No, of course not just any match,” Frank said. “Us. I’m hoping our relat
ionship works out. In fact, I’m hoping we both plan to move on to Phase 3.”

  “I have no idea what you’re planning, but I don’t see how we can start talking about marriage when you don’t have a job or apparently any intention of looking for one. What would we live on? Air?”

  “Of course not.” He frowned. “I’ll find work. It’s my responsibility.”

  “What kind of work?”

  “Construction, maybe. Or landscaping. Or I could work in a factory if needed.”

  “Have you applied to any of these jobs? Do you think they’d hire you?”

  “Not yet. Edwina says—“ He stopped abruptly. “Is my lack of job a problem?”

  “Of course it’s a problem! I’m losing my job, and I’m scared to death about finding another one. I’m not sure I want to plan a future with someone who places so little importance on his own career. Do you not even care what type of work you do?”

  “I care, but I’m not picky. Any type of honest labor will do. Whatever I need to do to provide.”

  “So you’re just going to walk into a business, apply for a job, and expect to get hired, just like that?” She snapped her fingers. “Have you ever even had a job before?”

  “Other than working the farm? No. But I’ve done many different chores on the farm.”

  “Milking cows and slopping hogs is not exactly a skillset in high demand around here.”

  He sat up straighter in his chair. “What do you want me to say? If we move on to Phase 3, I’ll start looking for a job. Immediately. Is that what you want to hear?”

  “And if we don’t move on to Phase 3, you’ll look for another match, maybe with someone who won’t mind supporting her new boyfriend?”

  Aimee took a breath to calm herself, but it didn’t work. All her fear, all the resentment over the way her plans kept failing, churned inside her. “I want a plan. I don’t want to be the one who always has to be the grown up. I don’t want to start a business that fails because the other person doesn’t take it seriously, is too busy networking to do any actual cooking and leaves me with the dirty dishes while he cozies up with the valuable contacts he thinks he’s making!”

  Her voice had risen, and she knew the words she was saying were really meant for Tom, not Frank, but she couldn’t seem to stop them.

  “I don’t want to have to be the responsible one all the time, stuck in a job I don’t like, while my boyfriend is off pursuing whatever his latest venture is. I don’t want to be the only grownup in the relationship! What I want matters too!”

  “Of course it does,” Frank said mildly after a moment of silence. “I hope I’ve never done anything to suggest otherwise. But you’re talking about your ex, aren’t you?”

  Aimee lowered her voice. “Yes. I’m sorry.”

  “You still seem to have strong feelings about him.”

  Yes, like the strong desire to punch him for ruining their catering business and leaving her in debt. To scream at him for all the times he’d let her down. To ask him how he could promise so much and leave so easily. But she felt even more strongly that she should never let herself be placed in that same position again, not by Frank or by anyone.

  “I have strong feelings about having no plan for a financially viable future!” she said.

  Frank studied her while she tried to slow her breathing and soothe her jangled emotions. He waited until she looked at him to say, “If it will make you feel better, I can start looking for a job now. Tonight.”

  He was humoring her. Saying what he thought she wanted to hear. She had thought he was so steady and responsible, but maybe he was just like Tom. He’d leave all the heavy lifting of the relationship, all the dreary day-to-day things like power bills, loan payments, and rent checks to her. Not again. “Maybe we shouldn’t start the next phase until you find a job,” she snapped.

  “If that’s what you want.”

  Aimee lifted her chin. “It is.”

  He met her gaze and nodded once. “Then it seems we both have work to do.” He stood up. “Shall we?”

  He helped Aimee collect the leftover food and turn out the lights, and they walked to the car without speaking. When she stopped in the parking lot at A Time for Love, Aimee had the sudden feeling that she shouldn’t just let him go. She started to say so, but she hesitated. She needed to sort out her anger and frustration, what was directed at Frank and what was left over from Tom. She wasn’t ready for another emotional conversation right now.

  Frank opened the car door, climbed out, and leaned down to look at her, his face solemn. “Thank you for the evening. It was very educational.”

  She wasn’t sure if he was talking about the piano lesson or not, and he was gone before she could ask.

  Chapter 15

  Aimee slid her knife up and down to chop the onion smoothly. Her motions were mechanical, since her mind was miles away. Beside her, Leigh scooped cucumber slices into a bowl and paused.

  “I’ve got an interview,” she whispered.

  “You do? That’s great!” Aimee answered, and Leigh motioned for her to keep her voice down. “With the new contractor or somewhere else?”

  “The new contractor. What about you?”

  Aimee shook her head. “Nothing yet.”

  “Surely they’ll call you,” Leigh said. “They’d be crazy not to keep you on. Or you may find something better. You’re ridiculously overqualified for this job.”

  “Thanks.” Aimee kept her tone calm to hide the anxiety she was feeling. “I’m checking out other options. I’ll find something.”

  She wished she knew what. She’d spent the past week filling out job applications and replaying her last date with Frank. To her surprise, she’d heard nothing from him or Edwina. She wasn’t sure what that meant. Were they giving her time, or waiting for her? But she didn’t see how she could even begin to think about marriage with someone who had no job, no plan, and no concern. Frank was right; she was still nursing resentment over the way Tom had treated her, especially the way their relationship had ended. She’d allowed him to dismiss her, as if all their time together had meant nothing. She’d disappeared quietly, with no fuss, and left him to get on with his life without her. She’d thought she was getting on with hers too, but now she felt bogged in a mire of negative emotions.

  Tish, her self-appointed love life counselor, had advised Aimee to write Tom a letter, even if she never sent it, to tell him what she thought of him and how he’d made her feel. It would give her the chance to express all the things she’d never had the courage to say. At first, Aimee had rejected the idea, but she was starting to think it made sense. She would write it when she got home from work, and she might even send it.

  To her surprise, once she started writing, she couldn’t stop. She filled page after page with her list of grievances. All the times he’d kept her waiting or hadn’t shown up. All the birthdays or anniversaries he’d forgotten or brushed aside with the excuse that he was too busy now, but they’d celebrate properly later. The way he’d kept hinting at marriage without ever actually proposing, leaving her with the feeling that she had to keep trying to earn the move from girlfriend to fiancée. The choices he made without ever asking her opinion.

  When she finished, she set the letter aside. She wouldn’t send it. It was as much a criticism of her as it was of him. As she’d starting thinking since their breakup, she’d allowed herself to be treated this way. But she didn’t want to be ever again. She was tired of settling, tired of getting by with a job she didn’t really like, a life that didn’t really matter.

  It was time for her to go after what she really wanted. Trouble was, she wasn’t exactly sure what that was. Frank? Maybe. But only if he pulled his own weight in the relationship. She didn’t want to sacrifice her dreams to keep him happy. Their life plan should be mutual, encompassing goals they agreed upon. And before they could agree on goals, she had to figure out what she wanted.

  She pushed back her chair and went to the kitchen to fix a salad. Ch
arlene had asked her the same question when they were discussing job strategy. What did she want? She’d always dreamed of starting her own business, but could she really do it? Create a business plan and put in the hours needed to make it work? And if she did, how would Frank fit into the picture?

  She was still mulling over the questions when her doorbell rang. She answered it, and Tish stepped inside without waiting for an invitation. She pulled Lucas behind her, and Aimee checked her outfit and self-consciously smoothed her hair. She hadn’t been expecting visitors. Hopefully she wasn’t too untidy.

  “Aimee, I’m so sorry for barging in on you like this,” Lucas began, but Tish interrupted.

  “But we have something important to talk to you about.”

  “Come in, have a seat.” Aimee motioned to the sofa. “Would you like anything to drink?”

  “Not yet,” Tish answered for both of them. “It’s about Frank. Lucas just got a call from Edwina.”

  Aimee tensed. “Is something wrong?”

  “You could say that.” Tish’s tone was dry. “What has Frank told you about his background?”

  “Not much, really.” Aimee shrugged. “He’s from Alabama. He lives on a farm. He hasn’t gone to college. Unless that was just part of his cover story for the time warp date, like the whole enlisting in the Army story.”

  Tish and Lucas looked at each other. Lucas made an almost imperceptible gesture, and Tish nodded. “Aimee, you mentioned that Frank apparently doesn’t drive. Have you noticed anything else that struck you as a bit odd?”

  Aimee thought for a second. “Maybe the occasional oddity. Nothing major. Why? There’s something he hasn’t told me, isn’t there? I knew he was too good to be true. What is he, a criminal? A bigamist? An escaped mental patient?”

  “Nothing as bad as those,” Lucas answered.

  “Or maybe worse,” Tish said ominously. “You remember your time warp date, right? What if I told you that wasn’t just a setup for the date? That it’s where Frank is really from?”