"He doesn't like to wear them all the time, and since he can drive without them, he usually doesn't."
I shove a spatula into the bowl and scrape down the batter that has risen along the sides, which has become second nature to me. I don't mind the repetitive nature of this job, but I am starting to think that once I move on, I'll be happy never to make another muffin in my life.
"He looks so serious with them on," I whisper loudly, suddenly worried that he might hear our conversation. Part of me wants to follow him, stop him where he's standing and pull off those glasses to see what his eyes can tell me.
Is he just tired? Or is he upset with me, after our interaction at the reception? Is he sorry that he brought up the past, especially since he's moved on to make a future for himself?
Without me.
Which is entirely my fault.
"It's been awhile since whatever happened between you, well, happened, but neither one of you looks happy, or even content."
I drop the spatula into the deep bowl, then snap the power button on the mixer off as it starts to clatter.
"Sorry to distract you, especially while you were wielding that spatula."
It's too late for her to make light of her observation, and I'm not smiling when she tries to.
"Jenny, I know he still cares about you, and his relationship with Emily complicates that. I just wish the two of you would talk about it. If it wasn't important, you would have moved on by now."
I wipe my hands on my apron absentmindedly, frowning.
"But he has," I managed to whisper loud enough for her to hear, still worried that Michael can hear her words. He's used to his mother giving her two cents, but this is so private.
And as she's already noted, so complicated.
If Emily wasn't part of this equation, would I be with Michael right now, trying to repair what my lack of trust in him wrecked?
"I'm going to go talk to him about this audit he's working on with the diner records, but think about what I said. I can't tell you what to do, but I can tell you what I see."
She touches my shoulder as she walks by, tossing her used paper towel in the trash underneath the counter beside me.
"Just talk to him. If nothing else, the two of you won't feel so awkward around each other if you do."
If only she knew. I think after our dance and Michael's revelation, I'm more uncomfortable. Awkward doesn't cover it. Not even close.
My anger at him has dissipated, my sense of betrayal long gone, and I wonder how his feelings about our breakup have changed, if at all.
There's no way for us to be together, alone, without anyone noticing, so how can we talk about this?
And what about Emily?
He wouldn't be with her, engaged to her, if he didn't care for her.
I'm alone in the kitchen now, just me and the muffin batter, and I'm chewing on my lower lip when Steve walks in the back door, a large box in his arms.
"Delivery left outside," he huffs as I rush to help him, pushing the door wider for him to walk through with the weight he carries.
He chatters amiably as we unpack a variety of paper products onto the clean counter Cathy just wiped down, and he checks off each item against a packing slip and an invoice on a clipboard that hangs on a bulletin board above.
"So Parker says your sister is thinking about Kent State's architecture program."
Random change of subject, but one I can get into, since it pleases me that I've been able to do something for Sydney and Parker doesn't seem the worse for it, either.
"Yeah, I'm sorry I didn't make the connection between them sooner. She's been fascinated with building design since she was little, and is obsessed with Wright. It makes sense for her and Parker to talk, you know?"
"Sure does," Steve's smile is impossible to resist, and I find myself mirroring it, genuinely happy for Sydney to have a fellow architecture fiend right here in Valley Vale.
"I plan to take her to Fallingwater this summer. I don't know any more about it than what she's told me, but to have a Wright close by without visiting, as I understand it, is practically a crime."
I hear the door to the dining room open and flap closed as Steve laughs.
"I seem to recall hearing a similar statement from Parker. I guess they have internships, too, so you'll have to ask him about it."
Something to focus on besides Michael, which is good, and Sydney would be thrilled with the idea for her future studies.
As much as I want to figure out what to do about my mistakes with Michael, I need to really consider how to go about it the right way, whatever that is.
One that doesn't hurt anyone, except maybe myself, which will probably be the case.
But not for lack of trying, once I work out the best way to do just that.
Sydney deserves more of my attention right now, and Steve has given me a good reminder of that.
"How's Parker doing, by the way?"
Michael's arm rises beside me suddenly as he speaks, and I jump a little in surprise as Steve takes Michael's hand and the two of them shake firmly but quickly, as if they've done this hundreds of times.
They probably have.
I look at the paper products, knowing where they all are stored, and decide to repack them into the box and take them to the shelves in the dry storage room.
Clearly I'm not part of this new conversation, and standing here beside Michael is making me edgy. Not only was I not expecting him to appear right now, but there's something in his tone of voice that sounds off, like he's annoyed.
But why?
Tucking napkins beside the heavier folded paper towels, I shuffle the items around to fit back into the box as Steve and Michael continue to speak.
"He's great, thanks for asking. Enjoying his break from school."
He's so easygoing and friendly that he doesn't catch the sharpness in Michael's voice.
"Already looking for someone to hang out with over the summer, huh?"
I stop moving but keep my back to them. What is he talking about?
"Oh, I don't know. He's happy to have found someone who shares his interests, though, thanks to Jenny."
The silence that follows Steve’'s revelation seems to echo within the kitchen walls, and I can't help turning to take a peek at Michael's reaction.
His hands are in fists at his sides, and he's glaring.
Not at Steve, but at me.
Chapter Eighteen
Wait, why is he mad at me?
I take a step back into the counter, unable to move further away.
What is going on in Michael's head right now?
"Is something wrong?"
I dare to ask, not wanting to wait for him to explain, especially since Steve is frowning now and I can tell that he just wants to get around Michael and start working. He's busy with his own tasks here at the diner, and while he'll stop for a friendly chat now and then, he has a lot to do.
"See you both later. Have a good one."
He doesn't wait to hear Michael's response to my question, awkwardly shuffling around Michael, who doesn't budge or answer him.
Which is rude, and very unlike the Michael I know.
The Michael I used to know.
"Is something going on between you and Parker?"
I lift my arms to brace myself on the counter with my hands as I consider this. What in the world is he talking about?
"No?"
It definitely sounds like I'm not sure, even as I deny it. But I most definitely am not interested in Parker, and he isn't remotely interested in me.
Besides, why is my love life any of Michael's business?
I smile as I realize that he's jealous, and his jaw tightens as I laugh in relief.
I'm not sure what his anger means in the larger scheme of any potential for a future together, but the fact that he is still emotionally invested in me at all is an excellent sign.
When he turns away, I don't think for a moment about what I'm doing when I reach out
and grab his arm, stopping him. He doesn't look back at me, although he doesn't try to pull from my grasp.
"It's Sydney. She and Parker have been talking a lot about architecture because he's studying it in college, and you know how she loves it."
He does. He knows everything about Sydney, since he's watched her grow up nearly as much as I have. We used to help her comb through old home and garden magazines we bought at the library book sales to find unique houses and landscapes for her to look at. She would cut them out and arrange them based on their similarities.
The realization hits his expression in an instant, and with a sigh, his whole body relaxes, the muscles underneath my fingers loosening, and I drop my hand from his arm.
"Oh, yeah, that makes sense."
He rubs his hand on the top of his head, I gesture I recognize as something he does when he's nervous.
But he didn't seem nervous when we were dancing at the reception, which was entirely his idea.
"Sorry. None of that was any of my business, anyway. I'm glad Sydney has found someone to talk to about it, since we were never all that much help."
We did what we could, but he's right. When it came down to it, my sister geeked out over her architectural heroes on her own, and we just nodded and went along with whatever she said. Parker has no idea what he's gotten himself into with her.
Or maybe he does.
"It's fine. I think you scared Steve, though."
I find myself relaxing along with Michael, glad that the misunderstanding has been cleared up.
"I'll apologize to him, too."
He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. He's always been cute, and has grown into handsome, but with those glasses he is downright irresistible.
I make myself step sideways to put more distance between us, although I really want to move closer. If he wasn't with someone, if she wasn't wearing his ring . . .
"What is it?"
My mouth is hanging open, and I shut it once I hear Michael's question and realize that it is.
Michael’s grandmother’s ring. I don't know what prompted Cathy to tell me about it years ago, but it had made me excited, both at the prospect of wearing the ring itself and what it would mean for Michael to propose one day.
At the thought of the two of us spending the rest of our lives together.
Was Emily wearing Michael's grandmother's ring? I hadn't looked closely, but if she isn't, that would mean something about their relationship, wouldn't it?
The idea is both frightening and hopeful, depending on what answer I will find when I ask.
Not Michael, of course. That would be extremely awkward.
Instead, I smile, which only confuses him more.
"Nothing, I'm good. I should get back to the muffins."
I nod toward the other side of the kitchen and hold back my smile. If Emily isn't wearing that ring, I must have a chance.
But I don't want to ruin her happiness, either.
"Is there someone else, though?"
I've managed to walk halfway across the room when his words stop me in my tracks.
All I can do is shake my head. I haven't been interested in anyone else, in spite of my roommate's efforts to fix me up with men at college and my own failed attempts at dating.
I was never ready to try to have a relationship with anyone else, because I never stopped loving Michael, even as I tried to push him out of my heart and head.
Instead of waiting for him to say something, I turn around and stay where I am.
"No, but I'm glad you found Emily. She seems great, I mean, I wouldn't have been happy with you dancing with another woman, but clearly she trusts you."
I shrug.
"I'm sorry I didn't."
Those last few words are a surprise to me, although they are true. I just hadn't planned to say them, not here, not now.
"Jenny . . ."
I force myself to turn back around and get back to work, just as Michael is interrupted by Cathy, who rushes in, speaking to him before the door has swung closed behind her.
"It looks like we might have enough saved by July to get an additional oven so we can get the bakery moving forward."
I stare into the muffin batter bowl, which has taken up a lot of my attention lately, but when silence follows her statement, I glance over at her. She's watching Michael, and I wonder which of us he's looking at.
Clearly she hadn't heard any part of our exchange, and I'm glad. She means well, but I don't need any more complications when this should be so simple.
I love Michael, but he's engaged to someone else.
But he's also jealous over the possibility that I could be in a relationship with another man, so . . .
"Did I interrupt anything? Do you two need a minute?"
"No," I answer Cathy immediately, just as Michael does, more intensely.
"No! We were talking with Steve, that's all."
Cathy clears her throat, and her lips quirk a little, as if she's suppressing a smile. I'm mildly annoyed at the idea that we are entertaining her, but that's not really fair.
"What were you just saying, about a bakery?"
She holds the clipboard she is carrying up against her chest and closes the distance between us, her smile triumphant.
"I'm so happy you were here to catch that! It's kind of a secret right now, just among family, but you've always been like family to us, so this is good."
The tears that spring to my eyes shouldn't be a surprise, but I have to blink a few times to hold them back.
"It means a lot to me that you still think that way, Cathy."
I don't say the words very loudly, and part of me hopes that Michael doesn't hear them.
She reaches out and puts her arm around my shoulders.
"That won't ever change, Jenny."
Her whisper keeps me from holding back the single tear that slides down my cheek, and I catch a glimpse of Michael pushing the door to the dining room open gently, his focus downcast, as if he doesn't want to disturb us.
"Now, why don't you stay after your shift is over, and we can have an early lunch to talk about the bakery. Since you've been an important part of getting our baked goods ready every morning, it only makes sense that you would have an interest."
She sighs and steps back.
"I'll let you get back to work, and chase Michael down to talk about these figures."
I wipe my nose on my shoulder, like I'm eight years old instead of nearly twenty.
"Sounds like a plan, thanks."
With her back to the door, Cathy puts a little weight on it so it starts to shift, and smiles back at me.
"I wish you weren't going back to college. Keeping you here at the diner would be great, but it would be even better to have you help us start the bakery up."
She's gone as her last words hit me, and I realize that I haven't told her that I'm staying. I haven't told anyone, except my family, since I just decided yesterday.
Do I want to stay here and bake muffins and bread every morning after the summer? Not really, but what else do I have planned?
Helping my mom, taking care of our new baby . . .
And what else?
"Mom!"
Michael's voice calls out, and I drop the spatula into the batter, running into the dining room to find him kneeling on the floor with Cathy in his arms, as if he's barely caught her before she's hit the floor.
"What's wrong?"
I close the distance between us in moments, resting my hand on Cathy's arm. Her eyes are closed but she's smiling faintly.
"Just got dizzy there for a moment."
Michael eases her up carefully and as much as I know how close his family is, it is still touching to see how concerned and gentle he is with her. He doesn't acknowledge me at all, as his attention is entirely on his mother, and I love how easy it is for him to put his family above anything else.
I've known this aspect of him for years, but right now, it feels like I'm discovering something
wonderful about him all over again.
"I'm fine," Cathy whispers as she rests her elbow on the table of the booth where Michael has shifted her, his own body close to hers and his arm around the back of the seat.
"You look awful."
I take the seat across from them as Michael contradicts her, and notice that he's shaking. He's really scared, and now, so am I.
Is this more than just a bout of dizziness? She works so hard, as does her husband, but maybe too hard. I wonder if I've been more a burden on her, as far as training and attention goes, than a help.
Cathy leans her forehead into her hand and takes a deep breath, and I catch Michael's eye as I pull my phone from my back pocket. He nods wordlessly, and I offer him what I hope is a reassuring smile as I slip out of the booth and start to dial 911 while I walk away, clearing my throat as I head back into the kitchen so Cathy can't hear me speaking.
I'm not sure what to tell the operator, other than what I witnessed, but when I return to the dining room and find Michael in tears, I know that it doesn't matter, because help is on the way.
Chapter Nineteen
Cathy tries to argue her way out of a trip to the ER, but when she opens her eyes and finds Michael in tears, she smiles, her face relaxing into a tired sort of acceptance.
"I'll come with you."
Michael stands back while he speaks, as the paramedics check Cathy and ask her questions, and without thinking, I step up and take his hand. It's damp and warm, and I catch it right as he's moving it up, and I know he's about to rub the top of his head.
He squeezes my hand as soon as our fingers touch, and I don't worry about whether or not it's wrong for me to offer him comfort. Not when his mother is going to the hospital in an ambulance.
"No," Cathy allows the paramedics to assist her onto a gurney, and Michael flexes his hand, but keeps it tightly in mine. "You two stay together, and call your dad, Michael. He'll be worried if he comes here and it's empty."
Steve is somewhere cleaning something, so I'll have to hunt him down and explain what's happening. I can call Mark, too, and then Michael can ride with his mom.
But before I can say a word, Michael is agreeing with her, and we stand hand in hand watching them take her from the diner, following them into the parking lot as she is loaded into the ambulance. He lets go of me and leans in to kiss her cheek, and they whisper for a moment together before he backs away.
When You Were Mine Page 11
