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Kyle studied Hank for a few minutes. “He probably grew it to appear more intimidating. He doesn’t even look like a hockey playerwithout it. The beard made him seem meaner, unpredictable. Without it, he looks like a big ole teddy bear.”
Thinking of Hank as a cuddly teddy bear made my stomach turn. “Doesn’t the hostess look like Dr.Evans?” I blurted it out without thinking to change the topic.
Kyle shifted in his chair and fiddled with his silverware. “She’s not as good looking.”
Finally, he’d admitted he found our fertility doctor attractive. “I knew it. You have a crush on Dr.Evans.” I laughed.
Kyle leaned back so he was as far from the table as possible without moving his chair. He folded his arms across his chest.
Damn, I should have never brought up Dr.Evans.
He took a loud breath and untangled his arms. “Good looking and smart. I bet she makes some decent coin too. What red-blooded male wouldn’t have a crush.” He winked.
A teenage waiter stopped by the table to tell us about the specials. He named one and stared off into space, seemingly trying to remember the others. After a few seconds of an uncomfortable silence, he yanked a piece of paper from his pocket and speed-read his way through it, quick to cram it back in his pocket when Hank came into view. He waited until Hank disappeared into the back office and pulled it out again. “He doesn’t like it when we use cheat sheets.”
He gave us time to peruse the menu. When he returned to take our order, he didn’t have a pen or a notepad. “Don’t you want to write it down?” Kyle asked after I gave pinpoint instructions on how I wanted my meal cooked and made mass substitutions on the sides that came with it.
“Filet, medium well, don’t butterfly it, mashed cauliflower instead of a potato, and grilled brussels sprouts instead of carrots.”
After we ate our meals and the waiter cleared our plates, Hank brought us dessert, even though we hadn’t ordered any. “I remember how much you loved chocolate when you were a kid.” He placed a lava cake with a scoop of salted-caramel ice cream and two spoons in themiddle of the table. “You used to always ask for a piece of cake when you came into the diner.” He had a faraway look in his eyes that made me wonder exactly what he was remembering. His dimples appeared. The back of my neck prickled. “Sometimes I’d sneak you dessert before your dinner.”
Something about the look in Hank’s eyes and the tone of his voice ruined my appetite. I let Kyle eat all the cake. Hank watched us from across the room. I couldn’t shake the feeling that there was so much more he wanted to say to me.
Chapter 26
Admittedly, the article on Pendleton 88 wasn’t my best work. If the piece had been on any other topic, I would have spent more time revising. I needed to be done with Hank and his memories, though, so I fired off the story to Elizabeth for her review. She must have attended Evelyn Wood’s speed-reading course at some point, because minutes later, she summoned me to her office and handed me a printout dripping in red ink. “A good first draft,” she said. “But I want to promote the angle about a local boy returning to conquer his hometown.”
“I’m not sure what you mean.”
“I want to get a sense of who Hank is. What kind of man is he?”
Her cell phone rang, and she glanced down at the name. She sighed before answering. “Is everything okay?” She held a finger in the air, telling me she needed a minute.
I studied the pictures on the credenza behind her desk. Most were of her kids, some with her, but none with the father. I wondered what her story was, why she would move from New York City to this Podunk mountain community.
“The nanny isn’t feeling well,” she said when she was through with her call. “She’s vomiting, and apparently Hallie is having sympathy stomach pain.” She stood and slipped into her jacket. “Hank said he left for hockey and came back after his injury for a visit and decided to stay. Find out more about what life was like for him when he came back.”
“I don’t think that’s important. He just wants publicity for his restaurant.”
“It’s interesting. Humanizes the story.” She grabbed her purse and headed for the door. “Sit down with the man. Get to know him. Tell his story as well as the restaurant’s.”
She left me alone in her office, thinking that Hank and my aunt had conspired to set up this entire article.
After leaving Elizabeth’s office, I called Hank. The phone rang ten times before voice mail picked up. I hung up without leaving a message. I planned to tell Elizabeth that I couldn’t get in touch with him and we should run the story as I had written it, but he called me back that evening while I walked Oliver. “I saw you called.”
“I have more questions. For the article.”
“Bring them on. You know my favorite subject is me.” He laughed.
I stood under a streetlight in front of the Abramses’ house, holding the dog’s leash. Oliver tugged at a branch that was partially frozen in the remnants of a snowbank, trying to free it.
“Elizabeth would like the story to be more about you.” I said my boss’s name louder than any other word. He needed to know that it was her, not me, who wanted our readers to know more about him. “For example, what was it like when you returned to Mount Stapleton?”
Hank stayed quiet for so long that I thought the call had dropped, but then I heard him take a deep breath. “Really difficult.”
“Why? Weren’t you treated like a hero? Wasn’t the town glad you were back?”
The curtains in the Abramses’ living room shifted, and Mr.Abrams’s face appeared in the window.
