Silas let go, moved to the picnic table, hunted all around it, and checked in the grass behind the tree. He stepped back and looked at me. “I don’t know. Someone probably came by.”
“Who the fuck would be out here?”
“Kids.”
“Great.” I checked all around the car but couldn’t find anything. I tried to open one of the doors to get a towel, but it was locked. “Oh for—Silas. Please tell me you at least have your keys.”
“And I’d have kept them where?” he asked dryly.
“Silas!”
I found my glasses easily enough. It looked like they had just fallen from the table, but after that, we searched everywhere. Silas and I walked up and down, back to the pool, found another picnic area, circled back—we spent the entire goddamn day looking for his pants with the car keys inside. By the time we did find them,up in a tree, I was cold, sunburned, bug-bit, starving, and pissed.
We drove home still missing Silas’s shirt, my socks, his left shoe, and my right.
“GOOD MORNING!How was swim—what happened?” George asked from the counter in Eatery.
I woke up still pissed. I can’t say why, really. I had grown accustomed to my hilariously poor luck in life, but this wasn’t cool. Two out of two dates with Silas ended up leaving a sour taste in my mouth. What if he decided after a week of this that I wasn’t worth the disaster that followed?
“We got punk’d,” I said, trying to sound as cordial as possible. “Kids hid our clothes. We spent the entire day trying to find his car keys.”
George rubbed the back of his head nervously. “Sorry to hear.”
I shrugged. “Can I ask you a question?” I was fully ready for this plan to backfire too.
“Yup.”
“Can I cook full-time?”
George’s eyebrows went up. “Why?”
“I like it. I want to stay in New Hampshire. I want to stay with Silas.”
After a minute George smiled and left the counter to come to stand in front of me. “I guess yesterday wasn’t so bad, then?”
“Besides the sunburn and mosquito bites on my ass?”
“Tell you what,” George said as he crossed his arms. “We’ll do a trial. Make up a menu of your crazy dishes and we’ll try them on the public. If they’re a hit… I’ll keep making my classics, and you can spice Eatery up with your burgers and tilapia tacos.”
“You’re being serious?” I asked. “Because if you’re fucking with me, George….”
“I’m not. Scout’s honor,” he laughed. “But get me a menu. In the next few days, okay?”
“And if the food works—I don’t want you to think I’m changing your business.”
“Hey, I’m not above saying yes to a good idea. And I like you. And I love my brother. So let’s see how this works.”
“Yes. Yes, yes,okay. Thanks, George!”
He patted my shoulder roughly and headed back to the kitchen. “Now go clean my tables!” he called.
The front door opened behind me as I took a step, and a familiar voice called—well, not my name, exactly. “Babycakes!”
Oh, my little purple-headed grandma. I turned and looked down at Bridget. “Hey.”
“How’ve you been, angel? Yikes, that’s a nice sunburn you have.”
“I’m good. I was going to come see you today.”
