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I blink at him in surprise, momentarily befuddled he’d even need to ask such a question. I get he’s a hockey player and works for someone else, but surely he appreciates that business ownership is vastly different.
“Because this place doesn’t run itself,” I manage.
“Of course not,” he replies, his tone gentle, an apology he’s not assuming anything is easy. “But why do you physically have to be here? I know you have things you do every day, but do you have to be the one to do it? Can you delegate? Can you work from the hospital? Could you hire someone to help? Could you maybe not open for breakfast? I’ve been trying to think of anything to help get you to the hospital for Aiden. Hell… teach me how to do stuff and I’ll help out when I can.”
I’m sure one day I’ll look back on this moment and I’ll realize that it’s when I understood with utter clarity that Boone Rivers might just be the absolute nicest, most caring and genuine soul I know. He’s an incredibly busy person who devotes his free time to making sick kids happy, facilitates rehab spots for alcoholics, and now he’s offering to help me spend more time with my brother.
By slicing prosciutto and provolone in my deli.
“Boone.” My voice is low, appreciative, but slightly dismissive.
He cuts me off again. “Don’t you dare tell me this is impossible.”
“I can’t just—”
“Answer me one question,” he says.
I tip my head, a silent nod for him to lay it on me.
“Have you tried to sit down and figure out a way to leave the deli behind so you can go to the hospital during the day? I’m talking about trying to hash out a viable game plan. Or have you just dismissed the feasibility because you had your dad covering days and it seemed insurmountable?”
Flushing with guilt, I stammer. “Well, I’ve thought about… I mean, when it comes to running this place… what you have to understand…”
Boone smiles empathetically as he stands from his chair. Hovering over my desk, he looks around and then snags a pad of paper and a pen. His butt back in the chair, he leans forward, poised to take notes. “Let’s make a list of your morning duties.”
I’m torn in three—irritated because I have work to do, moderately amused that he’s so pushy about this, and completely melting because it’s so endearingly sweet.
It’s for the last reason I give in to his request, although not without an eye roll and a sigh. “Okay… morning duties. I get here first to unlock the place, turn the lights on, check inventory. Charles comes in not long behind me to finish any food prep needed while I make sure the front is all set up. It’s cleaned at closing, but I double-check things, make sure condiments are full, the cases are set up, bathrooms are cleaned and stocked. I also check the outside of the store, make sure the windows look nice, no trash outside. I boot up our point of sale system, make sure the register has cash, and then assist Charles when I’m done. Georgie comes in a little before we open and handles the front orders and I’ll pitch in depending on how busy it is. An hour later, one of our part-time employees will come in to help as we get busier. I’ll then spend some time in the office, checking catering requests, monitoring inventory—”
“Stop,” Boone says as he continues to scribble notes for a few seconds. He glances over what he’s written and frankly, it looks completely illegible but his head lifts. “I’m not seeing much on here that Georgie or some other employee can’t do.”
“Well, I suppose not. It’s just… I’d need to be here for oversight. To make sure it gets done—”
“—to micromanage,” Boone says.
“To manage,” I correct. “Georgie is wonderful, but sometimes he has the attention span of a squirrel.”
“Have you ever tried to give him additional responsibilities?”
I look at him pointedly. “A squirrel, I tell you.”
Boone laughs. “Fine. But everything here is rote work. You can make a checklist for him to follow. You could make a checklist for anyone to follow.”
“But then there are the sales reconciliations, inventory checks and orders, employee scheduling, quarterly returns, payroll, deposits. I can’t just teach someone to do that.”
“No, I suppose not,” Boone says slowly, then pauses for dramatic effect. “But you can do all that from the hospital, can’t you? At least until your dad can help out again.”
I’m poised to argue but my mouth opens and nothing comes out.
“I mean… theoretically, they have Wi-Fi and you could do most of that from that laptop you’ve got right there.” Boone nods to my computer—an old Lenovo that keeps chugging.
“Theoretically…” My words dry up. I don’t have a good reason why I can’t do a lot of the work from the hospital.
Boone remains quiet, giving me time and space to think this through. I slouch in my office chair, tip my head back and stare at the ceiling. With my toes on the floor, I turn the chair left, then right, then left again as I ponder.
My gaze cuts over to Boone who stares at me expectantly and I cannot come up with one logical argument against anything he’s said. A huge wave of euphoria and giddiness sweeps through my body, making me want to laugh with hysterical glee.
I can spend the days with Aiden.
