“It’s a lot.” Kyle pursed his lips. “People aren’t doing so hot.”
“Nope.”
He took a few steps, then turned back to me. “Hey, I wasn’t going to say anything, but Ashley mentioned this earlier about someone you both know.”
“What’s that?”
Kyle hesitated. “She said Kendra Collins was in the line earlier. I think she was with her dad.”
“Kendra Collins?” Kendra Collins?
“Ashley was really worried about her. You know, being in line here.”
“I didn’t realize Kendra was back from New York.” I thought about it. “In fact, I haven’t seen her in over a year. Ever since the last party we had at The Frosted Heart.”
“Seems so long ago.”
“It does.”
“Well, I just thought you’d want to know she’s back.” Kyle adjusted his grip on the boxes. “Also, I thought about what you said about the grand opening. Let’s have it at the end of next week when there’s supposed to be good weather.”
“Okay,” I replied, my mind still on Kendra.
“We’ll start putting the word out on social media and other places,” he added. “I’ll let you get back to work.”
My friend left, and I stared at the remaining pile of boxes for a long time. Kendra Collins—I had to admit, I hadn’t thought about her much in the last few months. She was in New York City and that was far away—that wasn’t part of my daily life.
Even though I’d had a secret, simmering crush on her.
How could I not? The woman I knew was beautiful in so many ways—thin, tall, and sculpted from years of pushing her body to the limit. Bright green eyes and soft brown hair rounded out her porcelain skin, and she had a way of making people feel at ease. Rather, she had a way of making me feel at ease. More than once I’d thought of reasons to hire her at my nightclub, throwing theme parties at The Frosted Heart when I knew she was in town just so I’d have an excuse to see her in the crowd.
If there was anyone who might get me to settle down or walk away from my usual string of meaningless dates and one-night hookups, it was her.
And now she was here. Back in the Cincinnati area. Not in New York City.
I frowned. But this isn’t right at all. Seth said Ashley saw Kendra in line for a food box, and that meant—oh God, that means she’s in real trouble.
I shook my head, knowing I couldn’t dwell on it. I needed to get to work. I picked up an armload of boxes. People were hungry and they needed help. Far be it from me to stop that effort. I slapped a decal on one box, then another, and finally a third.
But then my thoughts drifted back to Kendra Collins.
We’d all had a bad year—that was a given. I didn’t know anyone who hadn’t been affected by the pandemic, and everyone had some form of hardship and bad news. Plenty of people had lost family members and friends to the disease, to say nothing of the people who’d suffered economically because of the fallout from rolling business closures and lockdowns.
That sad group included me.
Once it became obvious that no one would be dancing, drinking, and partying in large groups for the foreseeable future, I’d had to let my staff go and close The Frosted Heart. The process wiped me out financially. Devasted me. If Kyle hadn’t stepped in with a job and a purpose, I might have found myself on the other side of a food line too.
So, I could empathize.
And in a way, I was sad I hadn’t thought about her plight before. I’d read plenty of stories about how the virus decimated the NYC arts scene, closing theaters, galleries, ballet companies, and fledgling artist colonies. It made sense the problems would have affected Kendra too.
God, I hated what this pandemic had done to all of us. No one was immune from its destruction.
I put a sticker on one other box and took my phone from my pocket. I still had Kendra’s phone number in my contact list, and we’d exchanged plenty of texts over the last few years, mostly centered on the type of costume she should wear for whatever party I was throwing. We might not have chatted in a long time, but it wouldn’t be out of the realm of possibilities for me to reach out to her.
I opened the texting app and typed out a simple message: Hey, I was wondering how you were doing. I know it’s been a weird year. Hope you’re well. I studied it for a moment and then hit send. It was way above normal of the things I usually sent her, but what did that matter? The time for the usual had passed long ago.
Might as well talk to someone I cared about.
THREEKENDRA
I had to admit, not only was it kind of the Watch Hill Community Church to provide the food boxes, but it was also awesome they didn’t scrimp on what they handed out to the people. I didn’t have much experience with that type of thing, but I had to imagine that most charity food drives didn’t include fresh vegetables, a wrapped whole chicken, or boxes of name brand food.
For the first time in several weeks, I wasn’t freaked out by a lack of food in my dad’s fridge or the dwindling money in the bank. Now, if I can just find some steady work . . .
“I’m going to make some stew with what we got,” I said to Dad from the kitchen. He sat on the couch in the living room of the small Cape Cod, a house we’d had for all my life in the town of Fairview, a community that butted up to Watch Hill but had none of the quaint qualities of our bigger neighbor. “And I’ll leave it on the stove so you can eat it when I leave for work.”
“Thanks, honey, I appreciate that,” Dad replied, the
