Page 22 of Second Chances

His disappointment must have been evident, because Ben told him, “Not everyone works outside, Henry. Most summer employees run the registers and stock the shelves.”

“Or bus tables,” Henry heard behind him. Juan held up his name badge. “I’m working in the restaurant,” he shrugged. “No donkeys for me, but at least I can work with Angie.”

“Look, you seem like a nice kid. Work hard, don’t goof off, and come back next summer. If you’re back a second summer, you can request where you want to work. It’s not always granted,” Ben warned, “but sometimes you get lucky.”

“Okay, thanks for letting me know.” Henry wasn’t afraid of working hard, and the idea of coming back next year was more motivation to do so, so he chose to remain positive. He turned to Juan. “Where are you staying?”

“Dorm three,” Juan replied, “room three-fifteen.”

“Cool! Looks like we’re neighbors.” After high-fiving, the boys retrieved their luggage. Henry’s was the duffel bag his dad had used when he was in the Army. William had served three years right out of high school.

Later that afternoon, when the boys went to the restaurant, Juan introduced him to his girlfriend, Angie, who proved to be as outgoing as her boyfriend. The three of them quickly became fast friends, and Henry settled into a routine at the Grand Canyon. He spent his time off hiking, reading, or hanging out with Juan, and he’d discovered that the gift shop was kind of fun to work in because he got to meet people from all over the world.

Exactly two weeks later, Henry’s life changed forever. On a joint day off, he and Juan drove to Flagstaff. Juan was looking for a new cowboy hat: “I want to fit in down here, so I figure that’s the way to go.” Henry wanted to check out a bookstore he had heard about that carried books on anatomy and diseases. “You know why I like hanging out with you, Henry? The conversation is never dull. You always have some interesting facts. Sometimes they’re gross, but they are never boring,” Juan told him on the trip. “Plus, you’re teaching me how to fix my own car, and that, my friend, is cool.” Juan’s car had given them a bit of trouble starting that morning, but Henry tightened some loose cables, showing his friend how to troubleshoot in the future.

Once in Flagstaff, Juan headed to the western store, and Henry to the bookstore, where he not only found several medical books but also two Michael Crichton novels. Having made his purchases, Henry was sitting on a bench outside the ice cream parlor, flipping through an illustrated copy of Gray’s Anatomy, when a Greyhound bus pulled up across the street. Maybe it was the whooshing noise of the bus’s door opening that drew his attention, or maybe it was just a shift in the atmosphere, but at the exact moment Henry raised his head, an ethereal vision stepped out of the bus into the sunlight. Golden blonde hair, shining almost white under the intense Arizona sun, cascaded down over a pair of feminine shoulders until ending at the waistband of a pair of jeans that accentuated the longest legs he had ever seen. From the tips of her toes, exposed in a pair of high-heeled sandals, his gaze traveled up, and his breath caught at her bare midriff peeking out. Not wanting to be a creep, he glanced away from her, but not before memorizing every detail of her. Until now, Henry had considered DD the most enchanting female alive, but this girl was in a different league. Desperately trying to distract himself, to center himself, to imprint any other image in his mind but her, he opened up Congo, one of the Crichton books he had just bought, but none of the letters made any sense.

“Excuse me? I’m wonderin’ if you can help me?” From the heavens, the voice came, smoother than honey. He clenched, some basic instinct telling him not to look, warning him he would regret it, somehow, someday; but for once in his life, Henry didn’t follow his instincts. Instead, he tilted his head back, staring into the face of an angel with stormy blue eyes, and vowed to himself to do whatever he could to make her happy.

Inside Shorty’s, where the decibel level on Charlotte’s smartwatch warned her she was in a noisy environment, Amy announced, “One Cosmo for you, and a Manhattan for me,” presenting the drinks to Charlotte with her usual flair. “Imagine if the weather had been this crappy last year when we were going to Deadwood. Would we have even made it as far as Beverley from Sioux City?” With snow falling outside at a steady pace, the women were celebrating their one-year anniversary of discovering Beverley.

“A Manhattan, huh? What’s the matter—were they all out of gasoline?” Charlotte teased her friend.

“Very funny, very funny. It’s not like your Cosmo is light on the booze, Lottie.” Amy sipped her cocktail before stuffing a handful of the bar’s popcorn into her mouth. “Do you ever think of fate, though? What if a blizzard had blown in last year? We probably would have scrapped the entire Deadwood plan and stayed in Iowa. You might never have started over at all.” The two friends should have been in Deadwood again for a weekend away during the school’s spring break, but just after Amy arrived at Charlotte’s house, the interstate heading west had closed, making their vacation a staycation—for Charlotte, anyway. “It is really coming down out there. I’m glad I left Sioux City this morning before this storm moved in.” Amy cleared her throat before continuing, “I would like to propose a toast: To Beverley!”

Charlotte raised her glass, clinked it to Amy’s, and repeated, “To Beverley!” She winced as she tasted her drink. Okay, one would definitely be enough for her, based on the alcohol burning down her throat. “I have to confess, I’m not all that broken up about having to stay here for the weekend.” She opened her menu to peruse her dinner options. “I’ve been working non-stop getting the drama department back to the glory days of what everyone around town tells me it used to be.” And she was doing her best, coaching students for the oral interpretation contests held in February, and directing the spring musical that would premiere in a month.

“And how is that going?”

Charlotte nodded. “I love it. My students are fantastic, and some of them are quite talented. Now that everything is fairly organized, it should all run a bit more smoothly next year.” She gingerly sipped her drink. “I’ve already started thinking about what performances we’ll do next year. And after asking the students for input about what books to read for class, I’m updating the curriculum to make it more diverse.”

Amy smirked. “Is this when I say, ‘I told you so’? You have such an energy now whenever you talk about work.”

“When you’re right, you’re right. Moving to Beverley has been good for me. I love my smaller classes; they really give me the opportunity to form meaningful relationships with my students.” Content with her professional life, she sighed, wishing she felt the same about her personal one.

“You must be tired, though. I’m sorry I never asked if you were too exhausted for this weekend.”

Across the table, Charlotte squeezed her friend’s hand. “No, no, I was looking forward to getting out of town, but this is fun, too. I’m just glad we’re together.”

“Always,” Amy responded with a wink. “Now, before we get all emotional from menopause, what is good here to eat?”

“This is the first time I’ve been here, but some of the staff at the school say the food is excellent. Paul told me that the steak and arugula flatbread is to die for.”

“Ooh, with the rhubarb vinaigrette? That does sound yummy. How about this chislic poutine?”

“Yes, I saw that, too! You know I’m a sucker for beer cheese.” Charlotte suggested, “Want to get both and share?”

Amy lowered her menu. “Excellent idea! How can people not recognize the Midwest as a culinary giant with these offerings?”

Laughing, Charlotte raised her glass. “To the Midwest!”

“Hear, hear!” After they ordered their dinners, Amy asked, “So now that we have established that you love living here, and your job is all you dreamed about, what about the other aspect? Don’t even try to deny anything; it’s written all over your face. And I also know that sigh earlier wasn’t about being tired.”

Charlotte groaned, dreading discussing the void that was her romantic life. “Well, you know I went on a date with Rob⁠—”

Amy shook her head. “Nope, don’t care about Rob.” Charlotte didn’t either, which was why she’d only gone on two dates with the single dad of a graduating senior. She had met him when she attended a prom committee meeting, one of her extracurricular groups required by the school for teachers. He had asked her out for coffee one Saturday afternoon and made a big production of not having his wallet, so Charlotte paid for his order. No big deal, but then the same thing occurred when they had gone out to the movies the following week.

“And then Ted and I went to the basketball game⁠—”