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“I… uh, it was fine, thank you.” I flushed, thinking of Zane and how he’d kissed me.
How I’d kissed him back.
It was all I could think about.
I needed to get a grip.
“It’s usually pretty quiet on a Saturday. But Mr. Clarkson runs a financial support and advice clinic, and the cafeteria stays open all day though. We offer free hot drinks and cake. I’m sure Lewis could use an extra pair of hands.”
“Sounds good.”
“Excellent. I’ll take you down there and make the introductions and leave you to it, if that’s okay?”
“Of course.” I nodded.
“Great.” She got up and I followed her into the hall.
“You know, Celeste. We really are very lucky to have you with us.” A burst of pride swelled inside me. “Such a bright young girl. You really are a credit to your mother—”
The pride popped like a balloon, deflating inside my chest until it felt hollow.
Of course, it always came back to my mom.
“In fact, we were talking last night and discussing a possible press release to raise the center’s profile.”
“Press release?” I balked.
“Nothing excessive or gaudy, of course. But with the Rowe-Delacorte name behind us, we could draw some new major donors. Isn’t that exciting?”
Exciting?
“Sure,” I murmured, a sickly feeling spreading through me.
“I’ll get something organized and hopefully you and Sabrina can both be involved. Maybe I can invite Cooper too, make it a real family affair.”
“Great.”
Not.
I couldn’t think of anything worse, but how could I tell Mrs. Sinclair? Especially when I had really enjoyed helping out the other day.
We reached the cafeteria, and I was surprised to see so many people filling the tables.
“The bus from Darling Row and the next town over stops right outside, so we get a lot of foot traffic. Especially when the weather turns. The offer of a hot drink and warm place to sit for a few hours is worth the bus fare. Lewis,” she called as we reached the service hatch. “Celeste would like to help out.”
A head popped up and the man I assumed to be Lewis smiled. “I’ll never refuse the offer of help from a pretty girl.”
There was nothing seedy about his remark. In fact, the old man reminded me of Grandpa Rowe.
“How do you feel about dish washing?”
“I think I can handle it.”
“Excellent, come on around and I’ll get you an apron.”
“I’ll leave you in Lewis’s capable hands.” Mrs. Sinclair gave me an encouraging nod and went to greet some people in the line.
Despite her obvious position of power, she was kind and gentle, offering a hand to everyone and engaging them with a warm smile. Her heart was in the right place, even if what she’d said earlier about the press release idea had rankled me.
