Where My Heart Breaks (23 page)

“I wanted to tell you before Patrice did that I’ve decided that I will be seeing Reed Black this summer. In fact, I’ll be seeing a lot of him.” My double entendre amused me. I pictured his naked muscular torso in my mind, and it made me want to lick my lips.

“Is that so?” My mother was not so amused. “You understand that decision has consequences?”

It was stupid and wrong that trying to have a conversation with my mother was more often a negotiation than a discussion. My mother was used to winning those negotiations. It gave me a certain thrill that this time, she would not.

“I understand that you said if I continued to see Reed that you would rescind your financial support for my senior year of college,” I said.
 

My mother sniffed. “Good. As long as there is no misunderstanding.”

I barreled forward. “I like it here at the Willoughby. If Patrice will let me stay, I’m still planning to work for her for the rest of the summer.”

“That is entirely Patrice’s decision,” my mother said. “I think you are making a rather large mistake, Kathryn. This isn’t something you can change your mind on by the way. Once it’s done, it’s done. I would have thought that your misguided adventures last fall would have taught you something.”

“I learned a lot,” I said. “This is different, but I wouldn’t expect you to understand.”
 

“Is that all? Your father and I are out to dinner. I need to get back.”

“Yes, that was all.”
 

“Goodbye, Kathryn.” Then the line went dead. I had been dismissed.

I stared at the phone and felt the irrational urge to throw it into the lake. Then I realized that it didn’t matter. I had made the first cut to the ties that bound me to the cruel woman who gave birth to me twenty-one years ago. It didn’t kill me. In fact, it felt pretty good.

I pushed myself to my feet and looked back at the house. One conversation down. Two more to go. Then I would figure out what the hell I was going to do with the rest of my life.

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

I found Sam in the butler pantry putting away the dishes from lunch. Patrice was very particular that there was one set of place settings for lunch, one for dinner, and one for special occasions/catering events. The reasoning behind it was a rather lengthy and unnecessary explanation that wandered over two pages of the training manual intended for the kitchen and serving staff. I thought it was stupid. Dishes were dishes, but it wasn’t my bed and breakfast.

Sam straightened and ran a hand through his hair. “Hey.”
 

“Hey, yourself,” I said. “I need to talk to you, Sam. Do you have a minute?”

He sighed. I sensed he knew what was coming.
 

“Sure. Let’s go outside.”

I followed him through the kitchen. The Willoughby cook, Mrs. Edelbrook, already had the stovetop full of pots and pans, and I could smell the cloying scent of garlic and chives. My stomach rumbled, reminding me that I had essentially skipped lunch.

Once outside, we made our way to a small red picnic table that was reserved primarily for staff breaks. Sam gestured for me to sit down and so I did. I tried to piece together the best way to start, but Sam saved me the trouble.

“So this is about Reed, right?”

I flushed and was sure that he could see the guilt written all over my face. “I like you Sam, and I had a lot of fun Saturday night with you and your friends. I don’t want to lead you on any more than I inadvertently have. I can’t go out with you on Wednesday night.”

Sam crossed his arms. “Because of Reed.”

He wasn’t letting me out of it that easily. “It wouldn’t be right for me to go out with you because of Reed, yes.”
 

“So you lied to me the other night.” His words were calm and matter of fact and hit the intended target of my guilty conscience.

“Things are different now,” I said. I wasn’t going to share the fact that Reed and I had slept together, multiple times since then. That definitely changed the dynamic of the situation. “I should have said something sooner. I’ve had a lot of things going on in my head, and I was confused at the time. I’m not confused anymore.”

“There are a lot of things that you don’t know about Reed, Kate. You should find that stuff out before you get hurt.”
 

“I know about Isabelle,” I said. “I know that he’s been a regular Cassanova for the last decade since she died. He’s been honest about that with me. But he’s not that guy anymore.”

“I wouldn’t be too sure about that,” Sam grumbled.

I didn’t bother trying to defend Reed any further. Sam had his own ideas about who Reed was just like the rest of the town of Bleckerville. I knew who Reed was with me, and so it didn’t matter what anyone else thought.

“Can we still be friends?” I asked. “Assuming my aunt doesn’t kick me out of here, we’re still going to be working together all summer. I’d hate for there to be any awkwardness between us.”

Sam looked away from me then. “I’ll think about it.”

I shook my head and stood. I was done with drama, and I was done with people making me feel bad about my decisions. I understood that Sam was hurt, but I had done my best to be honest with him. He could either accept it or not. That was his decision. Either way, I would respect it and work with it.

“I have to go get ready for my shift,” I said. “I’m sure Patrice will be looking for me soon.”

I started to walk away when Sam’s voice caught me. “Kate?”

I stopped and turned. I waited for him to continue, unsure of what he might say.

“Mrs. Edelbrook said that Patrice disappeared during lunch, and I haven’t seen her since then. You might want to check on her.”

I frowned. That was not like Patrice at all. All the staff, including me, felt like Patrice was constantly hovering over their shoulder making sure everything around the Willoughby ran perfectly at all times. Her abrupt absence would be noted as unusual because it was.
 

“I will. Thanks.”

“Be careful, okay?”

I looked at Sam and saw his concern for me openly displayed on his face. I knew that if he decided he did still want to be friends with me, I would be lucky to have him. I waved at him with a small, sad smile and then quickly made my way into the house. I needed to find Patrice.

I made my way up to the second floor, nodding to Ginny Stevens who helped out with the registration desk during the week. Ginny barely looked up from her knitting needles to nod back at me. Ginny was the only staff member allowed to sit and multi-task during her shift, and I think that was because Ginny was old enough to be Patrice’s mother. Ginny ran the front desk for the previous owners. She worked for cheap, so Patrice told me that she let her be. I was sure that, on the other hand, that drove Patrice crazy.

I followed the hallway around to the very back of the house and down another narrow hallway to the last door on the right. I felt as if I was trespassing on Patrice’s personal territory, but at least I had two good reasons for it. The door was closed, and I leaned in to press my ear against it. I didn’t hear anything inside.

Feeling silly, I stepped back and rapped my knuckles on the door. I waited but heard no answer. I looked over my shoulder out the window across the hall, which gave a view of the garage below. Patrice’s grey Buick was parked in its usual spot on the side of the garage out of the way of the guests and the rest of the staff. She hadn’t left the Willoughby for her appointment yet. It was possible that she was out on the grounds somewhere checking on something random, but that didn’t feel right either.

I brought my hand up and knocked harder wincing at how the vibrations rattled off the confined space. I thought I even heard the window pane shake. This time, I heard the muffled cough from the other side of the door. A few moments later, the door opened.

Patrice looked like hell. Her hair was stuck up in several different directions, and her eyes were bloodshot. She had a tissue in her hand and she coughed again into it, and it sounded like she had a gallon of liquid in her lungs. Her skin was pale, but I could see that her cheeks were flushed and there were small beads of sweat across her forehead. She was dressed in a t-shirt and sweatpants. With her stooped shoulders, she appeared twenty years older than her fifty-three years.

“What do you want?” she rasped.

I couldn’t help but wonder if she was about to fall over. “I needed to talk to you, but it can wait,” I said. “Sam said you disappeared during lunch. I was worried.”

“I’m fine,” she said, as another fit of coughing caught her in its grasp.

I watched her in alarm. “That doesn’t sound fine, Patrice.”

I could see into the room behind her. All of the shades were drawn, and it appeared like a yawning cave ready to swallow her whole.
 

“I’m feeling a little under the weather. I’ll be fine in the morning,” she said.
 

She started to push the door closed, but I put out my hand stopping it. She didn’t have the strength to push me out of the way. “Are you running a fever?”

“I’m FINE,” she said. Her voice cracked though, and I saw a ripple of shivers work their way through her body.

I stepped forward causing Patrice to take a step backward. Then I took her elbow and forcefully pointed her in the direction of the bed that I now could make out in the dimly lit room. She weakly protested and then let me maneuver her across the room and back into bed. I noted the pile of tissues across her bedside table and the bottle of aspirin. Then I spied the thermometer.

“If you want me to leave, let me take your temperature.”
 

As she pulled the blanket up to her chin, I could see by the expression on her face that she was determined to be difficult.
 

“No,” she said.

Although I didn’t have any siblings, I babysat more than my fair share of the neighborhood kids during my teenage years. I knew from experience that sometimes it was easier to do something outright rather than ask permission and waste precious minutes arguing.

I reset the thermometer and then shoved it into Patrice’s mouth. By her bulging eyes, I could see that she was as surprised as I was that I had taken matters into my own hands.

“Under your tongue,” I said briskly.
 

I held my breath, but she didn’t spit it out. I considered it a minor victory. A few seconds later, the thermometer beeped, and I managed to grab it before Patrice did. My eyes widened. “102. I may not be a doctor, but I know that’s not good.”

“I’m fine,” Patrice said again. This time, the protest was a lot weaker.

I picked up the empty glass on the bedside table and made my way into the bathroom. I filled it to the brim with cold water. Then I returned to the bed and set it down. “Drink that. I’ll get the dinner service going, and then I’ll come back up to check on you. If that temperature isn’t better, then I’m going to call the doctor.”

I didn’t wait for Patrice’s answer.

“Kate, don’t forget to tell Mrs. Edelbrook that we need a vegetarian option for the Coopers. It’s Monday. She always forgets on Mondays,” Patrice said.

“I’ll remind her,” I promised. “Get some rest. I’ve got it covered.” Then I slipped out the door closing it softly behind me.

I had a million things on my mind as I quickly made my way back up to my room, not the least of which was the fact that with Patrice down for the count, the responsibility for keeping things running at the Willoughby fell squarely on my shoulders.

I burst into my room and found Millie sprawled on the chaise lounge underneath the window with her legs curled up beneath her. She had Lula’s copy of
Where My Heart Breaks
open and appeared intent on the words in front of her. She didn’t even look up as I strode into the room.

“So what’s the game plan?” she asked.

“Did you bring any comfortable shoes with you?”

That got her attention. “Maybe. Why?”

“I might need your help in the dining room tonight. I need to keep an eye on the front desk after Ginny leaves at five and Patrice is sick. If I need to call the doctor, I’ll need someone to cover for me.”

She sat up and put the book down. “Tell me how I can help.”

I was eternally grateful that Millie didn’t require long, drawn out explanations. She was a woman of action, and I appreciated that about her. “If you could come down around six, I’ll let you know.”

She flicked me a quick salute. “Amelia St. John, reporting for duty.”

I had to get ready, but I stopped long enough to give Millie a quick hug. “I don’t know what I’d do without you here. I love you.”

“I love you too. Now get out of here and do your thing,” she said gruffly.

I did as she asked. I worried about Patrice and hoped there was nothing seriously wrong with her. Patrice wasn’t the type of person to go down easily, so it was likely that whatever was wrong she had been ignoring for days. I tried to think if I saw any symptoms, but there was nothing that I remembered. Of course, as Dr. Kreger would no doubt tell me, I had been rather self-absorbed as of late.

I needed to take a shower and get downstairs. Putting the rest of my anxiety to the side, I focused on the list of things I needed to do for dinner service. One thing at a time. My first job was to survive one night without Patrice.

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

Promptly at six pm, I saw Millie’s blond head pop into the dining room. Sam and I had barely spoken since dinner service started other than exchanging some commentary on some of the guests. As Patrice predicted, Mrs. Edelbrook had forgotten to include a vegetarian option on the evening menu, but was able to whip something up before the Coopers made their appearance.

I made my way over to Millie, who was dressed in a long-sleeve navy blue fitted top and khakis. I saw a pair of navy blue canvas tennis shoes on her feet, and she had her hair pulled back into a prim bun at the base of her neck.
 

“Sam said he could cover the tables. If you can just help out with drinks and making sure that the plates are organized and ready to go out from the kitchen, that would be a big help,” I said, handing her my apron.