I wished I missed my mother. I wished I could say that I’d missed the regular ringing of my phone. But it was a relief. I hadn’t realized how much pain had come with each of her calls, the bitterness they’d brought to each day.
Someday, my heart wouldn’t be so bruised. Someday, hopefully, these feelings toward her would soften. Someday, I might pick up the phone and call her for a change.
Just not today.
“Are you taking off?” Eloise asked, glancing at the clock.
“Unless you need me to do anything else.” It was just after five. Drake had to be picked up before six, but I had time if she needed me to deliver slippers or champagne to a room.
“No, you’ve been working your tail off this week. Have I told you how much I appreciate you? Because I do.”
“Thank you.” My chest swelled with pride. When I’d worked for Ward Hotels, it had been rare to receive a compliment. From my boss. From my father. Dad set the tone for the office and friendliness was a distant priority over accomplishment.
But Quincy was a welcoming place. People smiled as you passed them on the sidewalk and said hello. Neighbors watched out for neighbors. Strangers bought strangers a cup of coffee simply to be kind.
“See you tomorrow.” I waved at Eloise, then hurried to the break room to clock out. With my coat on and my purse slung over a shoulder, I headed for Knuckles.
Knox and I hadn’t seen each other since I’d left for work this morning. We’d both been swamped with the influx of guests, and today he’d started prep for the Thanksgiving feast he’d be serving on Thursday.
But even though we’d gone the whole day apart, there was comfort in knowing that he was always close by. If I needed him, he was there.
The restaurant’s tables were set, a few already occupied.
The kitchen was bustling when I pushed open the swinging door. Skip was at the prep table, mixing a bowl of corn pasta salad. Roxanne was standing beside Knox, reviewing a menu card. Everyone looked my way when I stepped inside.
“I just wanted to say hi.” I waved to the room. “I’m heading out.”
“One minute.” Knox held up a finger. “Don’t leave yet.”
“Okay.” I shifted out of the way so I wouldn’t get bumped if a waitress came through the door.
“How’s it going, Memphis?” Skip asked.
“Busy day. You?”
“Same.” He tapped the handle of his wooden spoon on the side of the bowl, then took it to the dishwasher. Like Knox and Roxanne, he was wearing a white chef’s coat and today he was in a pair of loose cotton pants with a cheetah print.
“New pants, Skip?” Normally he wore jeans. The wild, bold and baggy pants had always been Roxanne’s forte.
“Pretty snazzy, huh.” He did a little two-step shuffle, dancing my way. “Roxanne told me I couldn’t pull off her style.”
“Because he can’t.” She shimmied over in her pink camo pants. The bright color matched the streaks that ran through her blond hair.
Skip scoffed and struck a pose. “Can too.”
The easy banter between the restaurant staff always made me smile. They teased each other. They teased Knox. But beneath the laughter and the jests, there was mutual respect.
Knox praised his staff regularly. He gave them advice and taught them new techniques. And in return, they adored him.
I adored him. More and more each day.
“All good, guys?” Knox asked, unbuttoning his coat.
“Yep.” Skip gave him a mock salute.
Roxanne nodded. “All good. Get out of here.”
“You’re not working tonight?” I asked.
He answered by disappearing to his office, returning a moment later with his Carhartt coat and truck’s keys. “There’s a storm blowing in. I don’t want you driving alone.”
“Okay.”
His protectiveness was second nature. He was a man who took charge. But unlike my dad’s barked orders and inability to compromise, Knox did it with care, not control. Like the way he’d moved us into his house. He hadn’t asked. He’d simply filled my laundry basket, one trip at a time, until all that remained in the loft were my empty suitcases. If I’d balked, he would have taken everything back.
“Hi.” He stopped beside me and dropped a kiss to my forehead. “How was your day?”
“Hi. Good.”
“You didn’t come see me on a break.”
“Because I didn’t take a break.”
He frowned and put his hand on my lower back, steering me out of the kitchen. A man at a table along the wall waved.