knocked on the office door and announced Fox’s arrival. My dad got up from his desk immediately and made his way out to the counter, leaving me to trail cluelessly behind him.
He shook hands with Fox and got his own cup of coffee before the two of them settled in a booth and started talking. I cornered Joy in the kitchen but she had no idea what was going on either.
“I don’t know, darlin’. Your daddy didn’t mention anything to me.” Not surprising, as this conversation with Fox was probably on record as the longest chat my dad ever had. She glanced through the swinging doors to where they sat. “That boy sure is good lookin’. Where’s he from, again?”
“I don’t know. California or something,” I said impatiently. I grabbed the coffee pot and went out to refill their cups, but when I got to the table they were discussing the price of beef so I returned to the kitchen with no new information.
Twenty minutes later, I cashed out and grabbed my purse to go pick up Annabelle. Fox and my dad were still talking away in their booth, and I waved as I walked to the door.
“Avery, wait up,” Fox called.
I turned and saw him jogging toward me, the pause in his step only slightly noticeable today. My dad was already headed back to his office with his coffee cup. Fox held the door open for me and we stepped out onto the scorching sidewalk.
“Are you in a hurry?”
“Well, I have to go pick up my daughter at school but I have a minute, I guess.” My curiosity was on overdrive – there was no way I was missing whatever Fox had to say but I tried to appear nonchalant.
“I wanted to tell you that your father offered me the open cook’s position.”
When Tiny, our breakfast cook, decided last month he was going to pack up and go live with his brother in Austin, it put my parents in a real bind. Billy worked overtime, my mom pitched in, my dad manned the grill a few times, and we made it work, but we’re open seven days a week and finding a new cook proved harder than anticipated. I knew my dad was stressed about it, and I was glad that problem was solved. But Fox? Cooking at The Kitchen? Did that mean he was staying in Brancher permanently?
My face must’ve been a spectacle because Fox laughed. I wasn’t sure I’d heard it before, but it fit him. Deep and rough but genuine. I decided I’d try to keep doing things that would spark that reaction from him just so I could hear it.
“Okay.” I didn’t know what else to say.
“I can cook, you know.” Fox’s dimple was back in full force, and he looked amused at my incredulity. “Billy doesn’t want to work all nights anymore so we’re going to switch it up a bit, and I guess your mom likes cooking so she’s going to keep a few shifts.”
“That sounds good.” I was really winning today in the conversation department.
“There’s more,” he said. More? Really? Was he my estranged cousin or something?
Oh please God, do not tell me we’re related.
“The apartment upstairs,” he continued. “Your dad said it’s available, so I’m moving in.”
The Kitchen had a tiny apartment above the restaurant. My parents used it for storage and occasionally to crash for the night if they closed late and had to open again early.
I had very briefly considered living there before Annabelle was born, but it was more of a studio than a one bedroom, and certainly not big enough for a baby and all the things that went along with that. And of course “Most Organized” was determined to be independent, so I scraped together everything I had and mortgaged the rest to get my little house.
The old flat wasn’t in the best of shape from what I recalled the last time I was up there, but it was probably better than the motel. There was a separate entrance around the back and a tiny patio off the living area, which was actually private as it also faced the back of the building.
All of these thoughts resulted in one big realization: I would be seeing Fox a
He shook hands with Fox and got his own cup of coffee before the two of them settled in a booth and started talking. I cornered Joy in the kitchen but she had no idea what was going on either.
“I don’t know, darlin’. Your daddy didn’t mention anything to me.” Not surprising, as this conversation with Fox was probably on record as the longest chat my dad ever had. She glanced through the swinging doors to where they sat. “That boy sure is good lookin’. Where’s he from, again?”
“I don’t know. California or something,” I said impatiently. I grabbed the coffee pot and went out to refill their cups, but when I got to the table they were discussing the price of beef so I returned to the kitchen with no new information.
Twenty minutes later, I cashed out and grabbed my purse to go pick up Annabelle. Fox and my dad were still talking away in their booth, and I waved as I walked to the door.
“Avery, wait up,” Fox called.
I turned and saw him jogging toward me, the pause in his step only slightly noticeable today. My dad was already headed back to his office with his coffee cup. Fox held the door open for me and we stepped out onto the scorching sidewalk.
“Are you in a hurry?”
“Well, I have to go pick up my daughter at school but I have a minute, I guess.” My curiosity was on overdrive – there was no way I was missing whatever Fox had to say but I tried to appear nonchalant.
“I wanted to tell you that your father offered me the open cook’s position.”
When Tiny, our breakfast cook, decided last month he was going to pack up and go live with his brother in Austin, it put my parents in a real bind. Billy worked overtime, my mom pitched in, my dad manned the grill a few times, and we made it work, but we’re open seven days a week and finding a new cook proved harder than anticipated. I knew my dad was stressed about it, and I was glad that problem was solved. But Fox? Cooking at The Kitchen? Did that mean he was staying in Brancher permanently?
My face must’ve been a spectacle because Fox laughed. I wasn’t sure I’d heard it before, but it fit him. Deep and rough but genuine. I decided I’d try to keep doing things that would spark that reaction from him just so I could hear it.
“Okay.” I didn’t know what else to say.
“I can cook, you know.” Fox’s dimple was back in full force, and he looked amused at my incredulity. “Billy doesn’t want to work all nights anymore so we’re going to switch it up a bit, and I guess your mom likes cooking so she’s going to keep a few shifts.”
“That sounds good.” I was really winning today in the conversation department.
“There’s more,” he said. More? Really? Was he my estranged cousin or something?
Oh please God, do not tell me we’re related.
“The apartment upstairs,” he continued. “Your dad said it’s available, so I’m moving in.”
The Kitchen had a tiny apartment above the restaurant. My parents used it for storage and occasionally to crash for the night if they closed late and had to open again early.
I had very briefly considered living there before Annabelle was born, but it was more of a studio than a one bedroom, and certainly not big enough for a baby and all the things that went along with that. And of course “Most Organized” was determined to be independent, so I scraped together everything I had and mortgaged the rest to get my little house.
The old flat wasn’t in the best of shape from what I recalled the last time I was up there, but it was probably better than the motel. There was a separate entrance around the back and a tiny patio off the living area, which was actually private as it also faced the back of the building.
All of these thoughts resulted in one big realization: I would be seeing Fox a
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