Changing Tides, page 7
But she wouldn’t do better tomorrow because she was fired.
Rachel wiped her running nose with the back of her hand in a very unladylike manner. Regardless, she sniffed and asked, “You think?”
“I know. All first days are like this. All new jobs are scary and hard, but then you get comfortable. You get the hang of the work, and it’s easier. You even start to enjoy it.”
Rachel glanced down at her hands, staring at her chipped manicure.
It looked awful. When was the last time she’d had her nails done? When would she ever be able to afford little luxuries like that again? The thought depressed her.
She exhaled a long breath. “Not that it matters. I’m fired, remember? I made a scene in front of the diners. Boggs’ll never take me back.”
“So you try anyway.”
Rachel opened her mouth to protest, but Andi beat her to it. “And if it’s still a no, then something else will come along. Some way, somehow, you’ll do this, Rach. You’re going to make this work. I know you will.”
Rachel chewed on her lower lip, wanting to believe her, but she wasn’t so sure at the moment. She felt like a blind man walking through water. She had no idea how deep it was or how to get to solid ground. Instead, there was no end in sight, and if she took the wrong turn, she’d drown.
“How do you know?”
Andi went silent for a moment before a slow smile curled her lips. “Because,” she said, squeezing Rachel’s hand, “you’re a Beaumont. You’re a fighter. And if all else fails”—she nudged her shoulder—“you have me and Cassie.”
Rachel woke early, before the sunrise, and before Andi.
She grabbed a throw blanket out of the closet in her room, slid on a pair of shoes, then tiptoed out onto the upper deck of the house to capture the first light of dawn while she pondered her situation.
As she moved, her feet ached, remnants from the day prior spent waiting tables and compensating for the broken heel. In her former life, she would’ve booked a massage at the spa and spent the day sipping cocktails while someone rubbed and scrubbed and eased away the tension with fifty-dollar lotion. But not today.
She stared out at the dark horizon, watching as a tiny sliver of light crested above the water. Moments later, the dark sky blazed as the sliver grew bigger and brighter, casting a rainbow of fiery color across the water.
The way she saw it, she still had two options. Admit defeat and move with her parents. Let them support her like they’d done her whole life. Or, she could stay in Bayshore, fight to get her job back, and learn how to live completely on her own for once.
Maybe she would no longer be able to buy Chanel or go on frivolous shopping trips in the city. She might never again know the luxury of spending days upon days of doing nothing but hosting extravagant parties, attending premiers, shopping, and dining at five-star restaurants. Instead, her days would be filled with an aching back, grease under her nails, and the scent of fried bacon in her hair. But she’d be doing it in a place she loved, surrounded by her friends.
Andi only really came back to her and Cassie this past summer, and now Cassie was almost always gone, trapped in her nightmarish marriage. Could Rachel really leave now when she had just begun to rekindle her relationship with one friend? Could she abandon the one that needed her more now than ever? The other day at the cove, Cassie said she was planning to leave Carl. What if she needed help?
Rachel knew the answer. It was a no-brainer.
She wouldn’t leave. Not now. Not ever. At least not if she could help it.
Tomorrow, she’d head back to The Sea Oat with her head held high and the little pride she had left, apologize for the things she said, and then she’d beg for her job back. She’d do whatever it took to make it right and reclaim her position. That gave her twenty-four hours to rehearse her speech and to allow Boggs to cool off. And it gave her time to perfect her coffee making skills and any other tools she might need working at The Sea Oat. If she had to wait tables to earn a living, she’d be the best dang waitress on this side of New England.
Rachel smiled and lifted a hand to block out the glare from the ball of fiery orange now making its ascent into the sky, then she turned and headed for the door.
After she changed, she made her way into the kitchen where she chewed her lip and grabbed her phone, then searched how to make a superior pot of coffee to get some tips. After she’d read through several articles and waded through the things that didn’t apply to making coffee at the diner, such as grinding and roasting your own beans, she went about retrieving the coffee filters and grounds. She set about pouring water into the machine, measuring the proper amount of grounds—the part she got wrong yesterday—then added a dash of cinnamon, something she saw in a movie once. This time, she remembered right away to place the carafe underneath, and flicked the coffee pot on.
There. Simple, she thought.
Then, determined as ever, she opened Andi’s fridge to see what she could make for breakfast.
“What’s all this?” Andi’s voice broke the silence as Rachel set a plate of toast on the table.
Rachel stepped back and offered her a wobbly smile, then shrugged. “I thought I’d say thank you. Scrambled eggs and toast are about the only things I can cook. Unless you count cereal, but I’m pretty sure pouring something into a bowl with milk doesn’t constitute cooking.”
Andi laughed. “I’ll take it.”
When she sat down, Rachel joined her.
“Coffee?” Rachel asked, lifting the carafe.
“Absolutely.”
Rachel poured her a steaming cup and waited as Andi added cream, then lifted it to her lips and took a sip. “It’s good,” she said with a grin.
“Really? It’s not too strong or too weak or—”
“It’s perfect.”
Rachel sighed in relief and lifted her own mug to her lips.
“Aren’t you going to eat?” Andi asked.
“I’m not hungry.”
Andi arched a brow, and Rachel explained, “I’m mulling over what exactly I’m going to say to get my job back.”
Andi beamed. “You’re going to ask Boggs for another chance?”
“I think it’s about time I stopped relying on my parents.”
Rachel stared into her coffee cup, thinking about all she’d lost. It hadn’t fully hit her yet that the life she was accustomed to was gone for good. A part of her kept expecting her father to call her any moment and tell her he took care of everything. That there had been a big misunderstanding and he’d worked it all out. It’s what she was used to. And Rachel couldn’t lie; she’d be relieved to hear it.
But even if he did solve everything and somehow recouped her family’s wealth and reputation, Rachel wasn’t sure she’d ever feel secure again unless it was through her own volition. If he lost their money once, he could lose it again.
Chapter Nine
Rachel exhaled, then stepped out of the old Honda and made her way across the little parking lot toward the marina. As she drew closer, the water came into view. The yachts and sailboats moored in their slips, gently swayed in the breeze, but the sidewalks were mostly empty.
She glanced down at her feet, to her sneakers and skinny jeans. It was a far cry from the ensemble she wore her first day on the job. Needless to say, she learned her lesson. There was a reason everyone had stared at her like she’d grown a third head.
Today, she went to Boggs prepared. She knew what to expect, how hard she’d have to work, and she could make a dang good pot of coffee.
“I know I screwed up,” she said, imagining Boggs’ scowl. “I did a terrible job. I was slow, and I messed up orders, and . . .” She wrung out her hands in front of her. “Your fries are not greasy. They’re the best in town, in fact. I only said that because . . . because I was jealous.”
Rachel groaned and shook her head.
She sounded ridiculous; she was out of her depth. Never before had she begged for anything let alone a job. In the past, if she wanted something, all she had to do was write a check and it was hers.
But those days were gone, and she couldn’t buy her way out of this.
Rachel stepped forward and stumbled over the lip of the sidewalk.
“Whoa, there,” came a familiar voice, followed by the warmth of a hand as it wrapped over her forearm, righting her.
Rachel glanced up, into the familiar face of Mystery Man from that night at the O—the man she now knew was named Joe Hastings.
She tucked a lock of hair behind her ear, wishing he’d remove the dark aviators he wore so she could get another glimpse of those smoke-blue eyes.
“You,” she said, slightly breathless.
“Me.” When he smiled, he ducked his head, and Rachel wondered why he did that—looked away, almost as if he was embarrassed about something. “You’re wearing sneakers this time,” he said, motioning toward her shoes.
Rachel shifted her gaze to her feet, and her cheeks turned pink as if she’d forgotten her choice of footwear. “Oh, yeah.” She laughed. “I decided I value my limbs. I’d like not to break an ankle.”
When he glanced back up at her and offered her the warmest of smiles, the cutest set of dimples winked at her, sending a jolt straight to her heart.
“What are you doing here so early?” she asked, glancing around her.
It was just before The Sea Oat opened, and there wasn’t a soul in sight, save for some fisherman working on the docks, prepping their boats.
“Work,” he said, then tucked his hands in the pockets of his coat. “What about you? Are you here for your shift?”
“Oh . . .” Rachel glanced to the door of The Sea Oat, then back again, unsure of what to say. Apparently, he hadn’t heard about her little outburst that got her fired in front of a diner full of people. She should be relieved the whole town hadn’t heard about it, but instead, she just felt stupid. “I uh . . . yeah,” she answered, then remembered how he’d been in the restaurant the other day talking to Boggs and asked, “Will you be in today?”
“No, not today.” He smiled, then took a step back, much to her disappointment. “I’d better get going. I’ll see you around?”
“Yeah.” She couldn’t help the smile splitting her face in two. “I’ll see ya around.”
She watched as he turned and walked away from her, noting the wide set of his shoulders beneath the thick flannel work shirt he wore.
Why hadn’t she kept the conversation going? She’d never had an issue talking to men before, and suddenly she was tongue-tied?
It was clear Joe was the quiet type. Either that or he just didn’t like her and was merely being polite, but one thing was clear. If she wanted more than a two-second conversation with Joe Hastings, she would need to initiate it.
After he disappeared around the corner, she resolved herself to the task at hand and turned toward The Sea Oat, heading for the door before she could chicken out. If she failed to get her job back now, once Joe found out she’d been fired, he’d think she was a liar and a loser.
She paused in front of the entrance, pushed her shoulders back, then swung open the heavy glass door and stepped inside. The clatter of silverware resonated from the back, and she caught a glimpse of Mandy’s retreating form as she headed into the kitchen. No sign of Boggs in the front, which meant he was probably in the kitchen doing whatever it was Boggs did all the time.
Taking a deep breath, Rachel hurried through the dining room, thinking of all the reasons she needed this job and how little she had to lose. But when she pushed through the swinging doors, Mandy glanced up and stared warily while Miguel shot her a wink and grinned.
She wasn’t sure which reaction was worse, but as her gaze zeroed in on Boggs standing next to the griddle, her stomach dropped, and it took everything in her to step forward instead of running out the door.
When she cleared her throat, Boggs glanced up. If he was surprised by her presence, it didn’t show. Instead, he nodded as if he expected her. “Miss Beaumont.”
“Uh, do you have a moment to spare? I had some things I wanted to sa—”
“Just a minute,” he said, cutting her off. Then he pointed toward the dining room.
Taking his cue, Rachel retreated the way she came and waited just outside the swinging doors while nerves jumped in her chest.
The moment he appeared, she began. “I just wanted to say that I’m so so sorry about—”
“I have your new schedule posted in the back. Be sure to check it. I made some changes. Turns out Mandy is leaving us sooner rather than later. She’s been having contractions, and her husband doesn’t want her on her feet. You’ve got a couple more days with her, so if you have questions, now’s the time.”
Rachel blinked at him, unsure if she heard him right. “But . . . are you saying . . .” She narrowed her eyes as though she was missing something. It was as if he never fired her and she hadn’t insulted his cooking.
Her gaze flickered behind him to the kitchen, then back again, and she straightened, collecting herself. “So, I still have a job?”
Boggs said nothing. He only nodded.
“But . . . how? Why?” she asked, her tone incredulous.
What was she doing, her inner thoughts screamed. Did she want him to fire her?
Only, she couldn’t wrap her head around the change of heart. He’d done a complete one-eighty and she couldn’t understand why.
“I’m glad to see your choice of attire is more sensible today.” He motioned toward her. “I think you’ll find it easier to keep up when you’re not balancing around on stilts.”
Rachel’s mouth opened, but she didn’t know what to say. Glancing behind her toward the front of the restaurant, she checked for hidden cameras or some sign she had entered a parallel universe, but there was nothing, just Boggs staring at her before he shooed her away with a menu from off one of the tables. “Well? What are you waiting for? The coffee won’t make itself.” He glanced at his watch. “We’ll get our first customers soon. Go!”
Rachel snapped to and hurried into the kitchen, hands shaking with nerves. Finding the clean aprons, she put one on, then headed toward the coffee pots where she began prepping a pot, adding a dash of cinnamon she brought from Andi’s house, the correct amount of grinds, and remembering to place the carafe back on the warming plate.
As she worked, she contemplated Boggs’s sudden change of heart, thinking how odd it was. Was he really that in need of help with Mandy heading off on maternity leave, or was it something else? But there was no explanation she could think of that would explain his rehiring her.
Regardless, Rachel was grateful, so she shook off the thought as the coffee pot started to gurgle and spew steam and headed out into the dining room to ensure all the placemats were down and silverware rolled before the early bird diners arrived.
By the end of the week, Rachel found Andi’s prediction was coming true. She might not win any awards any time soon, but each day things were getting easier and she was getting better. Yesterday, she only fumbled one order and managed to serve coffees to the men off the docks in a timely manner. They even complimented her, saying it was the best they’d had at The Sea Oat since they’d been coming there. Whether it was true or not, she took the compliment with a smile, and when they came in again this morning, they even exchanged some playful banter.
Rachel bustled into the dining room and cleared Table Two, wishing them a great rest of their morning, then took the armful of dishes to the kitchen and dropped them in the bin. By the time she returned to the dining area, a familiar face hovered in the doorway. When he glanced up and met her eye, she smiled.
There was something inexplicable about Joe that hit her square in the chest every time she saw him. Or maybe it was how he stuck up for her that day at the Oasis with Carter. Either way, when she stared back at him now, her stomach did a little flip.
She made her way toward him, toying with her apron in her hands, wondering how she could extend their conversation beyond thirty seconds. “You want a table?” she asked with a smile.
He wore a ball cap on his head today, but no sunglasses, and Rachel wasn’t sure if she’d ever been more grateful to see someone’s eyes. They were like staring directly into the ocean under a stormy sky.
“Not today. I just came to give Boggs an invoice and run the catch by him.”
“Oh.” Rachel glanced behind her, looking for Mandy for guidance since Boggs had taken a break several minutes ago. Last she saw her, Mandy was sitting at the little table in the corner of the kitchen with her feet propped up.
Turning back to Joe, Rachel debated what to do. If she let Joe leave, would that screw things up? Should she just approve and hope it was the right thing?
“You just missed Mr. Boggs, but he’ll be back in a bit. I’m not sure—”
“You wanna take a look for him?”
Rachel hesitated. “I don’t know what to do.”
“Boggs pretty much always approves. It’s more of a formality by now. He comes and takes a look. Sometimes he grumbles or complains I didn’t get more winter flounder or more monkfish, and then he signs the invoice anyway.”
Rachel laughed. “That sounds like him.”
Just as she said it, Mandy rounded the corner with a tray of coffees, glanced up at Joe and nodded in greeting. “Go on.” She motioned to Rachel. “You might as well learn. I got it in here.”
“It looks like I’m going,” Rachel said, turning back to Joe with her heart thumping in her chest.
“Come on.” Joe motioned toward the door and they headed outside, around the building toward the back of the marina where he opened several giant bins. Both contained some sort of species of fish for which Rachel was not familiar, and then another one contained a handful of lobsters.
“Wow.” Rachel had never seen a fresh catch off a small fishing boat like this before. “What do I do now?”
Joe smiled. “You pick it up and sample it to see if it’s fresh.”
