Mike doesn’t call at all.
His meaning is pretty clear.
He thinks I only want sex and he’s not interested. I made my perspective pretty clear, I guess, and lost the chance of having a friend. If it’s just sex or nothing, I’m not getting either.
Sometimes it stinks to get what you asked for.
The week passesin a blur of debating what Merrie calls ‘the chicken conundrum’ – the roast chickens just aren’t selling and we have no idea why – and crazy traffic. The café is so busy, which is both blessing and curse. A big contributing factor is all of Luke’s crews at the theatre, and we decide to push off our first chef’s table until July. That was supposed to fill the slow times and we don’t have any.
Una is making a slow recovery from the chemo althoughshe won’t admit it. She’s spending a lot of time napping, which just makes me more determined to move out soon so we don’t disturb her rest. On the other hand, I don’t want to be far away. Footsteps across the yard is a great solution. I take Sierra to see the trailers before her guitar lesson with Luke on Saturday morning, and she picks the same one I like.
I’d told Lynn that I’d need financing and she has all the paperwork ready for me to go to the bank in Havelock and apply for a mortgage. I’ve always fantasized about having a cash buffer and about having a home. Both. Simultaneously. Turns out it’s a choice of one or the other.
I’ll crunch the numbers again later and hope I’ve missed something.
In the meantime, it’s back to the café. Lunch is a blur and we clean up together before the dinner rush starts.
“Where’s Mike?” Sierra demands as we’re setting tables.
“I don’t know.”
“Why don’t you know? Weren’t you going to see him this week?”
“I saw him Monday.” All of him. Mmm hmm.
Merrie starts to whistle in the kitchen, but I ignore her and keep my attention fixed on forks and knives, nicely folded linen napkins and five tables to go.
“Is he coming for dinner?”
“I don’t know. I think he goes to Havelock on Saturdays.” I get a look for that so I reply firmly. “He has a life, Sierra.”
My daughter heaves a massive sigh of discontent. “He said he would update me on the greenhouse this weekend.”
“There’s still time.”
I’m not going to admit that it’s my fault Mike’s scarce. Two tables to go.
“I thought we maybe could visit Rupert tomorrow.”
“Well, we can’t just invite ourselves out there.”
“He said we could.”
I don’t want to visit Mike’s friend without him, or face Mike for the first time after our disagreement in front of Sierra and Rupert. “But Una might need help.”
“Una will be sleeping. Rupert said we could come anytime.”
“Rupert was being polite.”
“You should check on Mike.”
“Mike has a family and a whole company of people to check up on him.”
She leans across the last table, her expression fierce. When her eyes blaze like this, it’s easy to see the Cavendish in her. “Mike said he would tell me about the greenhouse this weekend and Mike does what he says. He’s not, so something iswrong.”
I don’t want to undermine her trust in her father, but she doesn’t know the whole story.
“You don’t know that. He could be busy.”
