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She sighs with relief. “I have a meeting with a supplier today. He’s coming in to pitch, but Grandpa John’s coming. I don’t want him to see the guy.”
“Why? Isn’t he the one who said you needed to keep the selections fresh, or something like that?”
“It’s the guy from the beer company coming to discuss the joint venture for the wine bar. Grandpa is dead set against it, but the board is pushing for it.”
My heart thumps painfully as I realize what she’s asking me.
Management at Zucker’s markets has spent the past two years discussing a project to turn some of their in-store espresso cafés into bars that sell wine, beer, and coffee. They’ll do wine and beer tastings on Friday and Saturday nights. The bars are being opened only in the locations with a high walk score. A walk score is a rating given to a city based on how easy it is to get around without a car. Goose Hollow has a walk score of 90, which is higher even than New York City. All the board members agreed that the uptown shopping center in Goose Hollow is the perfect area to implement the wine bar idea. Then someone suggested they implement it across all their Portland stores and suddenly our store has been seeing a flurry of meetings over the past few weeks. Apparently, Grandpa John is not supposed to know about these meetings.
I want to get up from Jamie’s chair and leave. I didn’t realize how safe I felt in my cashier position until now.
“Jamie, I can’t pretend to be you. I don’t know anything about this wine bar deal.”
She holds out her hands to stop me when I attempt to stand. “You don’t have to know anything. And you don’t really have to pretend to be me. Just thank him for coming and ask him to take a seat. Then you can just sit there and nod and look pretty while he pitches you his beer. I’ll try to get Grandpa out of here as quickly as possible. As soon as he’s gone, I’ll come in and take over.”
My entire body tenses with nervous energy just imagining this scenario, but I can’t leave her hanging. She’s my boss. And it does seem like a fairly simple favor to grant.
I draw in a deep breath and let it out slowly. “Sure. I think I can handle that.”
“Thank you!” she shrieks as she leaps out of the chair. “You stay here. I’ll go out front and wait until the guy gets here, and hope he doesn’t get here at the same time as Grandpa.”
I lean forward in the leather swivel chair as I watch her leave. She closes the door behind her and my heart races at the thought of what will happen the next time that door opens. Will it be Jamie? Will it be the beer guy? Will it be Grandpa? How will I explain sitting on this side of the desk if it is Grandpa John?
Too many questions for too small of a task. This is nothing. It will be over in a few minutes and I’ll be able to get to work.
Leaning back in the chair, I close my eyes and take another deep breath. The knock at the door startles me. I almost trip and fall in my haste to get out of the chair and answer the door. I manage to catch myself by grabbing on to the edge of the desk, but the damage is done. My nerves are ratcheting up again.
I shake out my arms like a prizefighter getting ready to enter the ring. Reaching for the door handle, I force my lips into a smile, then I open the office door.
I’m frozen at the sight of him.
Houston Cavanaugh.
The first boy I ever loved. And boy, did I love him a long time. I loved him until he was a man. I loved him until he loved me back. At least, I thought he loved me.
His eyes narrow and he appears confused for a moment. “Jamie?”
My heart drops to my feet.
He doesn’t even remember me.
“No,” I say with far too much emotion.
“Oh, my God. I’m sorry. I… I know you.”
I clutch my chest, unable to breathe. Then his eyes widen with what can only be described as pure terror.
“Rory? Aurora?”
I let out a sharp puff of air. “Yeah.”
His lips are still moving. I want to hear what he’s saying, but
my thoughts are pounding in time with my heart. Images flash in my mind: our bodies tangled in his sheets; the breakfast bar littered with sticky shot glasses and empty beer bottles; my empty dorm.
“Rory?”
I blink a few times to focus on his face and he looks at the floor, as if the weight of our history is pulling his head down.
“I’m sorry. Maybe I should come back later.”
“What? No!”
He looks up, startled by my outburst.
“I mean, you came to talk about the contract, so… let’s talk. I’m…” I nod toward the chair for him to sit down, then I close the office door behind him. “I’m sorry for spacing out. I was just a little surprised to see you.” I take a seat in Jamie’s chair and yelp as it begins to tip backward. “Shit!”
Houston laughs as I scoot forward and lean my elbows on the desk, hoping he doesn’t notice how the sound of his laughter makes the hairs on my arms stand up.
“Sorry. Obviously, I don’t sit on this side of the desk very often, but Jamie didn’t want to reschedule this appointment. She should be here shortly.”
“You don’t need to apologize.” The left corner of his mouth pulls up in his signature half smile and I grit my teeth against the surge of emotions welling up inside me. “I’m actually kind of glad we ran into each other.”
“Really? You hardly remembered me a minute ago.”
He chuckles again. “Yeah, sorry about that. I was just surprised.”
I can’t argue with this when I just used the same excuse. But it’s no more true coming from his lips than it is from mine. We’re not surprised to see each other. We’re terrified.
* * *
