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“Just a dose of radical honestly. Why would you want to spend your day being a glorified bartender?”
The air leaves her lungs like I’ve slugged her. “I hardly think of it that way.”
I tip back in my chair, fanning my hands out to show her I’m being reasonable. “Pouring wine for people all day? Polishing glassware? Seems like bartending to me.”
Just then, the sun moves high enough to cast a beautiful pinkish-orange hue over the room, and we both follow the light, which paints the oaks gold. We gaze in silence at the magnificent trees.
Warm light hits her face, making her cheeks glow a rosy pink. I didn’t think a woman could be more beautiful, and she’s shattered that fallacy without even trying.
I’m about to give her a list of reasons why she’s wrong for the job when my phone rings. My dad’s nurse tells me he’s awake and lucid. Better than he has been in weeks. And he’s asking for me.
It’s been getting harder and harder to see him. Every visit feels like he’s slipping away a bit more, sometimes not knowing my name or who we are to each other. Who we were.
The lucid days sometimes feel hardest because they dangle a filament of hope, only to snatch it away in the next minute, the next visit. I keep losing him over and over again.
And now, if he’s asking for me, it’s because he wants to talk about the business, which I should take as a sign he’s feeling okay. He never was one for chitchat.
If he’s having a good day, I need to get there right now.
Job interview over.
ChapterFour
Jax
“I come bearing pastries.” My sister Beatrix stands in the foyer of the family house holding a bag of almond croissants. Her gray-blue eyes are alert, like she’s been up for hours, but I know better. She smiles to cover a yawn. Dark brown hair swept into a sleek ponytail, which brushes her shoulders and always makes her look ready to tackle something.
I know she has croissants in the bag because she always brings them from Sweet Butter, the café that’s on everybody’s way between home and work.
And she knows I like them.
“You thought I needed a chaperone?” I roll my eyes. I can smell the buttery pastries from here.
“I thought we should listen to the doctor.”
“I’m not sure how it helps to have two of us lobbing questions at him when he’s already confused.”
We ascend the grand spiral staircase to the second floor and walk toward the wing where my dad has been spending all of his time lately.
I reach for the pastry bag, but Beatrix holds it away in order to make some sort of point. “Oh, I didn’t realize you got your medical degree. Was that at www.quack.com?”
Apparently, there’s no use arguing with the doctor or my sister. I understand that two people will remember interactions with our dad differently, which might be fun info for a doctor to mull—I’m just not sure how it helps my dad. “Whatever. You can come.”
“Oh, thank you, kind sir,” She gives me a sarcastic curtsey and hands me the pastry bag.
Unrolling it, I inhale the scent of almond paste and powdered sugar. This day has not gone according to plan in so many ways already that it’s not going to kill me to eat a pastry. Or two. I bring the croissant up to my nose and take a bigger whiff before biting through the flaky layers.
“You have powdered sugar on your nose.” Without looking, I know Beatrix is rolling her eyes.
“Stop doing that. Fiona’s started rolling her eyes at me, and she probably learned it from you.” Thinking back to Ruby, I decide I must be a magnet for eye-rolling females.
My sister waves a hand dismissively and sips from a paper coffee cup. “Hardly. Girls are born knowing how to do that. All you did was give her a reason. Something guys are born knowing how to do.”
I’m not about to start debating gender studies after putting my foot in my mouth once already this morning. Which brings my thoughts back to Ruby. I wonder if she’ll really come back and talk to my brother or if I’ve sufficiently scared her off from working here with my perma-scowl and bark.
I let my thoughts linger on the image of her lean legs crossed at the knee and how carefree she looked when she laughed. I kind of hope she comes back.
“Why are you here?” My dad’s voice bellows across the bedroom when Beatrix and I appear in his doorway.
