“Look, right now, you know what I know. No one’s talking, at least the ones who actually know something. The rest of us are left wondering what the hell is going on. I wish I had more to tell you.”
“But there’s a possibility that this merger isn’t actually going to happen?” I asked Barbara, my mind reeling as I tried to process everything she’d just told me. She’d been suspicious for a while—senior management hadn’t been as forthcoming as usual, forecasting had been skewed, and there’d been mid-level human resources types sniffing around the last week or so, allegedly brought in by the board to ascertain the efficiency of each department, but our own internal HR department wasn’t aware of it beforehand. Add to that the rumor that The Empire Group, New York City’s top marketing firm, which had an entire department dedicated to brand awareness with a strong hotel division, had recently been entertaining the idea of scooping up some of the smaller boutique firms on the East Coast—exactly like the one I worked for—and there you go. Corporate merger as a possibility suddenly became an idea that was firmly rooted in reality.
“But what will that mean? I mean, no, actually, that is what I mean, how will this affect us? Projects already underway, future start dates, you know I wanted to bid for the Oakmont job when this one is wrapped up, will that even be possible now?”
Barbara sighed the heavy sigh of a woman whose own world might be turned inside out and upside down. She’d worked for the firm for as long as anyone could remember, she was this firm, surely if anyone was safe it’d be her, right? “I don’t know, kiddo, I’ll tell you everything as soon as I hear it. For now, just keep your head down and do the best you can. Your work speaks for itself, but right now it needs to scream, got it?”
I did, actually. My work needed to be outstanding, above reproach, and my references when I left this hotel had better be pitch-perfect. It’s amazing, when faced with the possibility of an outside audit, how quickly you begin poking holes in your own balloon. My work was good, had always been good, and this job was no exception. Except, of course, for Archie.
“Barbara, what a mess,” I groaned, leaning my head on my hand.
“Hey, don’t get down about this, nothing’s been confirmed yet. For now, we just do our jobs and keep the lights on. It’ll be fine. Now, tell me all about the summer bookings at the Mountain House, how’re they looking?”
Barbara and I talked for a few more minutes. The conversation was strained, stilted, and unlike any we’d had before. Normally, I could count on Barbara for three things. To kick my ass, to praise me while she was kicking my ass, and to make sure I always had my true north. She was my professional compass, and she always made sure I was pointed forward and thinking ahead, making sure I made the choices in my career to keep me that way. For the first time, she seemed unsure, and that made my true-north needle bobble.
A merger? What would that mean? Would I still be able to pick which jobs I wanted? Go where I felt I was most needed? I’d worked my ass off for years to get to a certain place within this company, was that going to be undone? And what if what had happened up here in Bailey Falls came out right as a new management team was taking over? Hey, here’s our star employee, Clara Morgan, she schtupped the client, but bookings are way up so we’re overlooking that part.
I could hear Barbara in my ear, telling me not to worry until there was something to worry about.
I tried to point my compass north.
I shivered, wrapping my arms around myself.
“Are you cold?”
“A little.”
“You should’ve worn a coat.”
“I wasn’t thinking, someone was kissing on my neck when I was trying to get ready and it slipped my mind.”
Archie grinned. “To be clear, I was that someone, right?”
“Right.” I laughed. We were in town, a rare thing these days as we were busier than ever at the hotel. Roxie had been after me since I arrived to come to Zombie Pickle Class, and in a weaker moment I agreed not only to come but to bring Archie.
Roxie and Natalie knew what was going on at Easter. But they’d been dying to see it in person. So down the mountain we came. And it was cold.
“I mean, it’s really cold,” I said again, swinging my arms back and forth to warm up. Roxie’s class had gotten more and more popular over the past few months, and they were nearly outgrowing their space at the diner. Parking spots close to the diner were all taken, and we’d had to walk nearly five blocks to get there on time.
“Here, take this,” he said, shrugging out of his coat and slipping it onto my shoulders.
“No. Please. I couldn’t possibly.” I said all of this deadpan while eagerly snuggling into the warmth. “You smell good, by the way.”
His laugh rang out across the tiny town square. “I smell good?”
I shrugged. “You do.” I inhaled deeply. “Yeah, you smell good.”
“What do I smell like?” he asked, sliding his arm around my shoulders and pulling me closer. I glanced around nervously, wondering how many people could see us and how quickly word could spread that the owner of Bryant Mountain House and the outsider they’d brought in to fix things were hanging all over each other downtown. But the weight of his arm, the way he tucked me into his side so easily, so casual yet so caring, made it impossible for me to concentrate on anything other than trying, in vain, to capture the scent of Archie.
“Wood.”
“Pardon me?”
“Wood. I took a woodworking class once, extra credit in high school, kind of the last hurrah of shop class before the teacher retired. We made birdhouses out of walnut. The days we cut the wood it always smelled really fresh, almost astringent-like. But the days we sanded the wood, really spent time with our hands working on it, there was a different scent, kind of . . . I don’t know. Fresh and green but a little bit warm too. Cozy. Which made sense at the time, as I was making a cozy little house for some future bird family to enjoy. You kind of smell like that.”
“I smell cozy,” he echoed.
“Plus a little mapley.”
“Walnut and maple?”
“Syrup this time, maple syrup.”
“I do love pancakes.” He wrapped his arm more firmly around my shoulders. “So you took shop in high school? Interesting.”
“I don’t want to build you a birdhouse, if that’s what you’re hoping for.”
“No, I was just thinking that it’s one of the first things you’ve ever mentioned when it comes to your childhood. You know, where you grew up, what kinds of things you liked to do.”
“Oh. Really?” I said, pulling the jacket tighter.
“Where are you going?”
“Hmm?”
“Get back over here.” He laughed, pulling me back into his side. I’d pulled away and hadn’t even noticed I’d done it.
“Wow, looks like quite a crowd,” I said, pointing at the diner, glad we were almost there. I didn’t want to talk about birdhouses, or shop class, or childhood anymore. I wanted to get inside, and learn to can or pickle or whatever the hell we were learning tonight.
“All these people are here for a cooking class?” Archie asked, as we watched another horde go inside.
“Roxie said it’s gotten really popular, but I had no idea.” When Roxie had first moved back to Bailey Falls, it’d started out as a bit of a joke, Chad and Logan wanting to learn how to make jam and pickles. Something about the zombie apocalypse and all the old people dying and no young, healthy people knowing how to make jam anymore. Jam being important in the aftermath and all. So she taught them. And they mentioned it to a few friends, and the next week a few more people showed up. And so on and so on, bam. Most popular cooking class in town, and more to the point, one of the most popular social activities for your local Hudson Valley hipster.
We paused just outside the door, watching the festivities inside already in full swing. It struck me suddenly that in all the time we’d spent together, I’d never once heard Archie mention spending
time with friends, or even mention a friend in general. What a lonely life he must’ve had up on his mountain after his wife died.
He’s not some crazy hermit in a fantasy novel . . .
Right.
Before I could ruminate on it for too long, Natalie’s cleavage was pressed against the front window and by the way her mouth was running I could approximate she was saying “Get your ass inside now.”
“Your friends are . . .” Archie trailed off, unable to take his eyes off what she was presenting.
“Weird?” I finished.
“So weird,” he agreed, dragging his eyes away with a laugh and a shake of his head.
“Come on, the sooner we get in there the sooner we can leave. And do naked things.”
He froze with his hand on the door, hanging his head dramatically. “Why in the world are you just telling me this now? We could’ve been doing naked things this whole time?”
“Who knows, if I have enough wine tonight,” I said, ducking under his arm and sailing inside, “I might do naked stuff in the car.”
If I didn’t know better, I’d say the guy with the pocket square growled.
Zombie Pickle Class was a success. We’d come on a banner night, something the class had been asking for all winter long. It was piecrust night. After we said hello to everyone and Roxie got us sorted at stations, I listened as my friend took charge of a class that was literally bursting at the seams. They spilled out across the restaurant, into the kitchen, along the counter, each table was taken and there were even makeshift stations set up in the entryway.
“She needs a bigger place,” Archie whispered, while we listened to Roxie explain what was required to make the perfect piecrust.
“She’s been looking, but in a small town like this, it’s not like there’s tons of space for a professional chef. Leo offered some space over at Maxwell Farms, but I think she wants to do it on her own, you know? I think that’s why she was so excited when you brought up the idea of bringing it up to the resort and—”
“Is there something you’d like to say to the rest of the class?” Roxie asked, as she made her rounds.
“Yes, I’d like to say that I’m excited to be here, and the teacher is awfully pretty.” I batted my lashes at her as she rolled her eyes.
“I am awfully pretty, so I’m not going to argue with you,” she replied, inspecting our table. “I see you’ve got your flour all measured, your butter is cut into perfect squares, ice water is at the ready, pastry cutter in hand.”
“Yup,” I said proudly. My station was neater than anyone else’s. “I’m ready to go.”
“One question,” she asked. “What are you going to let Archie do?”
“What?” I asked, looking up in surprise.
“This is a team effort, Clara, you’ve got to let him do something. One can’t learn to make perfect piecrust without actually getting to do some of the making. Now back away and give him the pastry cutter.”
Archie chuckled under his breath as I pushed the pastry cutter in his direction.
“Of course he gets to do some of the making, I was just getting things set up for him,” I muttered, rolling my eyes in her direction.
“I saw that,” she said as she sailed away.
“I meant you to,” I shot back.
When class was finally over, most everyone left except for a few of us who gravitated to the kitchen to help Roxie clean up.
“I can’t believe I made a piecrust,” Archie was still saying, shaking his head as he kept an eye on his perfect pie on the counter as though it might disappear.
“You did really good, Arch, you guys should definitely come back next week,” Roxie said, leaning against Leo as he stacked clean dishes on the shelves.
“What’s on the menu next week?”
“Homemade chicken stock. I taught it last fall, but that was before the class got so big, and everyone’s been asking for it again.”
“Oh, we’ll be here, we will definitely be here,” Archie said enthusiastically, nodding and wiping his sudsy hands on his apron. He was washing up the last of the plates, and Oscar was drying them. Natalie and I sat together on top of the stainless-steel prep table in the corner. “Won’t we?”
“Hmm?” I asked, looking up from my nails to see Archie looking at me expectantly. “Oh yeah, sure, we’ll be here. Next week.”
Archie went back to the sink, laughing as Oscar glared at a slippery glass that he couldn’t seem to get ahold of. I felt someone else’s eyes on me, and I turned to see Natalie looking at me expectantly.
“What’s up?” I asked, crinkling my brow.
“You tell me,” she said, crinkling her own brow like she was trying to see inside my brain.
“You know I don’t like when you try to mind-read, just ask your question.” I sighed, suddenly exhausted. It was warm in the kitchen with all the people and the hot water.
“Someone’s making plans for you,” she said, lifting her chin in Archie’s direction. “Someone is making plans to make stock with you, next week.”
“Yeah? So? It was fun tonight, didn’t you have fun?”
“Sure, it’s fun every week. Oscar and I never miss a class when I’m in town.”
“How very homemaker of you,” I replied, hearing the snap in my voice and regretting it almost immediately. “Sorry, that was bitchy.”
“A little,” she agreed, bumping my shoulder, “but I won’t hold it against you. Why are you being bitchy?”
“I don’t know, I’m just . . . I guess feeling a bit overwhelmed with all this.” I sighed again.
“With all this . . . what?” Natalie asked, looking at me with a secretive grin. “You finally ready to admit that you and Archie are dirty dancing up there on your mountaintop?”
I buried my face in a dish towel. “Yes, yes, I give up.”
“I knew it!” She laughed, slapping at my shoulders. “Tell Natalie everything, starting with how much he loves it when you ride him like a cowgirl.”
“Oh, for God’s sake,” I snapped, now covering my entire head with the towel. But then I peeked out a little. “Actually, that’s one hundred percent correct, how the hell did you know that?”
“It’s a talent.” She sighed. “Seriously, though, good for you. It’s about time.”
“It is about time, in fact it’s all about time, and that time will eventually come to an end,” I said, watching the boys finish up the dishes. Archie was laughing, snapping towels and ducking as Leo threw a soapy sponge his way. His eyes were crazy blue, catching the light and twinkling merrily. His hair was messed up, his shirtsleeves were soaked even though they’d been rolled up, and he looked completely relaxed and at home.
They all did, in fact. The boys were playing, Roxie had wandered over and was going on and on to Chad and Logan about the play that Polly was involved in at school and whether they’d be able to attend next month. It was like an episode of some sitcom where everyone was good-looking and happy and having all the sex they could ever want before heading down to the local coffee shop or diner to one-up each other with jokes and one-line zingers.
And I was the girl sitting on the prep table under the dish towel trying to figure out exactly where she fit in. I was the girl who came in for a four-to-five episode arc, the one whom one of the main characters fell for, and he became part of a stronger, more defined story line as he weathered whatever this outsider had to offer. Even though, technically, I’d been around just as long as anyone, I was still on the outside. Because I’d be leaving at the end of my story line, packing my bags and heading out into the gray wasteland of sitcom characters, blowing out of scenes just as quickly as I blew in.
Archie would remain. I’d be the Girl Who Brought Him Back to Life. Or the Girl Who Made Archie Great Again. Or worse, the Girl Who Broke His Heart.
I winced, rubbing at the sudden hollow feeling in my chest. I needed to get back to the hotel, I needed to lie down and get some sleep and not think about this right now. But that wasn
’t in the cards.
“I can see you working yourself over there, kiddo,” Natalie said, “but I think you’re overthinking this a bit.”
“How can I not overthink this? I overthink everything, and you’re telling me this is the time to just trust the universe to not cock it up?”
“Yes. I literally think that exactly,” she said. “Get out of your head, Clara. You got this, trust it.”
I didn’t answer, just kept rubbing at that space in my chest as things wound down for the evening.
“So, since everyone is here,” Roxie said, jumping up on the table next to Natalie so we were sitting in a row, “I have some news.” Leo came to stand in front of her, grinning big. “Well, we have some news.”
“You’re pregnant. I knew it! I fucking knew it, didn’t I tell you Roxie was going to be the first?” Natalie crowed, waving at Oscar and trying to pull him over to her with her own version of a laser tractor beam. “Didn’t I tell you?”
“Hush, Pinup, let her talk,” he groaned, but submitted to the tractor beam.
“Yes, Pinup, let her talk,” Roxie said. “But no, I’m not pregnant.”
“Not yet,” Leo said, running his hand possessively along her leg.
“Everyone hush,” I instructed, leaning forward so I could see Roxie’s face. She was beaming. “Except Roxie.”
“Well, it’s not a huge surprise, I suppose, but Leo asked me to marry him. And—”
“She said yes!” Leo yelled, swooping her up into his arms and swinging her around the kitchen, nearly taking Archie’s head off in the process.
Squeals of congratulations and mazel tovs rained down on the happy couple, Natalie bowling everyone over to hug Roxie tight. Archie shook Leo’s hand and slapped him on the back, Oscar did the exact same thing and nearly bowled Leo over in the process. Roxie’s hand was forcibly removed from her back pocket by Natalie and there it was, the ice cube.
Sparkling and shiny, a diamond the size of a skating rink sat on the third finger of her left hand. And just as sparkling and shiny, her eyes and his face. Thrilled. Proud. The two of them gleamed like they were lit from within.