Sadie was sitting on the couch looking at Rachel’s first cookbook, a kids’ one that had a lot of pictures, while we cleaned up. When I turned to see if Sadie wanted any more of her water, I saw her head thrown back, fast asleep.
“I think maybe we should go. All the fresh air and exercise did her in. I know you’re tired, too. You took a little nap in the park.”
“Power nap. I’m good for another twelve hours,” she joked.
“You have to take care of yourself. Besides, this little girl is going to wake up ready to go in the morning. It meant a lot to her to have you come to the park today, and I appreciate you inviting us over to eat. From now on I’ll make sure we leave you alone on the weekends,” I said, uncomfortable. I didn’t want to intrude, didn’t want her to think that entertaining my daughter was her job seven days a week despite being hired for only four.
“I wanted to be there. It was fun. I wish she hadn’t crashed so soon. I wanted to show her my pink lemonade recipe out of that book and make it with her. I have raspberries in the freezer we could’ve used,” she said.
“You’re incredible,” I blurted out.
“Thank you,” she said, leveling a look at me that could’ve burned my clothes off.
“With Sadie,” I amended, “you’re very engaged with her and generous with your time.”
“Right,” she said, seeing through that cop out.
She was amazing with Sadie, but she was incredible in a lot of ways. Like the way it felt when she tipped her head against my shoulder, the looseness of her warm body against my arm. I had wanted to dip my face to hers and take her mouth, kiss her awake. I had to fight the urge to kiss her all the time now.
“We’ll see you in the morning,” I said. “Thank you for today.”
“Anytime. I mean it, Max. You’re not an inconvenience to me and neither is Sadie.”
“I never said that.”
“You’ve suggested it in a dozen ways, like you’re imposing on me and my wild social life of clipping online coupons to save more money for the down payment on the diner. Listen—I’m going to say this one time. I’ve worked at that place since I was a teenager. One day and that was it for me. Don’t think for a second I haven’t been offered more money to work in Overton. There’s a bakery that wanted to sell my pies, and if I’d accepted the contract, I wouldn’t need to babysit to make up a down payment, that’s for sure.”
“Why didn’t you do it?”
“My pies are a draw to the diner. They attract a lot of customers. People come from Overton every day to eat and get some pie and then buy a whole one to go. If I made those available to them in a bakery, that would mean less traffic at the diner, fewer regular customers from out of town. It would’ve been good for me financially, and personally if I had wanted to build a brand, but bad for the business at the diner. I knew I’d own it someday, and I made sure to keep my pies exclusive to the diner.”
“You play the long game, is what you’re saying.”
“No, I’m loyal is what I’m saying. When something feels right to me, I’m not looking for anything else. I knew the first day I waited tables that the diner was the right fit for me. I could imagine what I’d change, how I’d do things differently, but the goal never wavered for me. I may not have a college degree or a million bucks, but I know what I want and I’m loyal. And that’s worth a whole hell of a lot, Max.”
I wanted to say, Damn, it’s worth everything to me. But I didn’t. Because I knew what she was getting at. How right today felt. How easy and comfortable and wonderful. How sitting on a bench having ice cream and holding my daughter in my lap and having Rachel beside me—that the only thing better would’ve been if I could’ve put my arm around her, drawn her against me. Like she belonged to me, to us. I swallowed.
“That’s good. You’re finally getting to buy the diner, and I know you’ll make a great success of it.”
“There you have it, the gold medal winner for intentionally missing the point,” she said ruefully. “No offense, but you’re lumberjacking this up.”
“What?”
“It’s like jacking things up, but with a beard,” she quipped. “You know what I meant, and you’re choosing to ignore it. I said I’d only say it once and I meant it. I thought I’d shoot my shot, you know. And I missed. Or you did.”
I’d sure as hell missed out, but that was my choice. It was my shot to dodge, as it were.
“We’re going to head out. Good night, Rachel.” I said, my tone final.
With that, I scooped up Sadie off of the couch and carried her to the door. Rachel held the door open, and I went to the car, glad she had a ground floor apartment and I’d been able to park very close. I settled her into the booster seat and fastened her in. She rubbed her eyes. I shushed her, hoping she would stay asleep.
“Mooshie?” she mumbled.
“Shit,” I muttered under my breath. “I’ll be right back.”
I shut the car door, locked it with my fob and went back to Rachel’s door and knocked. When she swung it open, I knew she had been right there, probably getting ready to lock up.
“She left Mooshie,” I explained.
Rachel hurried to the couch where
