| |
Kate woke with her journal lying on the other side of the bed, her computer screen opened and dead next to it. She must’ve fallen asleep at some point while she rested her eyes. Turning on her side, she peeked out the window. The sun’s rays blended like watercolors across the sky, deep purples melting into pink and finally baby blue. In the pale dawn light, she could see the tiny village square. She grabbed her journal and looked over her new list.
Her list to start over, and start living.
She stretched and got out of bed, then threw on her robe. She wedged her feet into slippers and headed downstairs. As she cracked open the sliding glass door, the crashing of waves immediately surrounded her.
The air felt mild and a little humid. Perfect for running.
She looked in the direction of The Fish Market and noticed she was getting into that habit, especially now that she knew Matt lived there.
Thoughts of yesterday slipped in as she ate toast with peanut butter. Her goal was to run along the ocean’s frozen shore.
Next was Quincy Market.
Then, eating in the North End.
And then hauling lobsters.
All in that order.
While she ran, she focused on another one of her lists. Her plans for when she returned to Minnesota. The first thing she had to do was move her things out of the house. The house was from another life, and she no longer wanted it. Eric hadn’t moved in yet, but the space was too big for just her. Hopefully the sale would happen quickly, and whatever came from it, she would save. All of it would go toward start-up costs for her new business venture—Kate O’Neil Design.
Until she found a new place, she’d ask to stay with her mother, she couldn’t stay there. She found a couple of listings in the city and enquired by emailing the real estate agents. The idea of owning her own business brought a new excitement she hadn’t felt before. Throughout the night, she worked on her mission statement and her personal brand. She researched what she could online about business start-ups. She found advice about what she needed to do before setting out on her own, the initial costs and fees, whether or not to hire an attorney for filing for a LLC, and the costs of outsourcing assistance from independent contractors.
By the time Kate reached the beach, she realized she didn’t want to wait. When she’d return to work, she’d hand in her notice.
She had worked in the industry for more than a decade, and had an extensive client list and more than a few who would recommend her work. She had kept detailed notes on all her accounts, and had a good rapport with her clients. For the first time in years, she could feel her dreams at her fingertips.
By the time Kate reached the end of Perkin’s Beach, gray clouds covered the sun’s rays, but the snow still glowed against the dark granite bluffs. She stopped running and stood at the edge of the water, listening to the waves. Their roar against the rocky shores could be heard off in the distance, and had such an effect on her whole being. A day ago, she had felt the weight of the world on her shoulders. Now, as she stood at the mouth of the Atlantic she felt light, like a feather floating in the wind.
***
MATT LISTENED AS THE meteorologist warned of a new nor’easter threatening to dump another twelve to eighteen inches on the East Coast. The unpredictability of these storms was usually what excited Matt the most, but the impending storm posed a problem for his and Katie’s day in the city.
“This is going to be another big one, folks, so make sure you have extra food and water on hand. It’s always good to have a battery-powered radio in case of a power outage.”
He grabbed his phone and wallet before heading out the door, hoping she wouldn’t cancel because of the snow. When he stepped inside the bakery, the crowd was a bit heavier than normal. He looked around, searching out Katie, reminded him that he needed to finally get her number.
“Did you hear about the storm coming in?” Frank asked as he got to the front of the line.
“I can’t believe another nor’easter.” They had been nailed this winter already, and it wasn’t even January. They had at least four more months to go.
“I’m afraid so.” Frank handed over a coffee cup. “You need to stock up on batteries, being up there above the restaurant!”
Frank mumbled something about retiring in Florida just as Katie walked in the door. Her eyes immediately sought his. She twisted her auburn curls and looked even more amazing.
“Well, hello!” Frank sang out.
Katie greeted Frank like a long lost friend.
From underneath the counter, Frank pulled out a basket of goodies. Matt shouldn’t have been surprised that his uncles included pastries in their plans.
“A wicker basket?”
“What?” Frank asked, handing a set of keys to Matt. “The van’s packed and ready to go. You two should be careful, and leave the city before the storm comes in.”
She looked inside the bag. “These smell delicious.”
Frank handed her a to-go cup. “Now grab some coffee before you leave.”
***
KATE COULDN’T STABLE her breath as Matt’s green eyes locked onto hers. Maybe it was seeing him in his element the day before, or maybe it was because his aftershave smelled so good, but she felt herself blush. He looked good. Real good.
He dressed casual, with a winter vest over a wool sweater and a pair of jeans just worn enough to fit him perfectly. But it wasn’t what he was wearing that drew her in. It was the way he looked at her when she walked through the doors, as though she was the only person in the whole universe.
The room quickly warmed around her as he moved closer and said, “Good morning.” His voice sounded like velvet.
“Good morning.” The butterflies in her stomach made her quickly look away. She hoped he hadn’t noticed the reddening of her face. She took a drink from her cup full of breakfast blend, and scorched the roof of her mouth.
Now she was creating fantasies with her old teenage crush, who was clearly just a nice guy. He didn’t ask her to go to Quincy Market. It was a set-up. Her desperation must be palpable.
“Your eyes match your coat,” he teased.
She looked down at her purple parka. “Well, I was finally able to breathe a little out of my nose this morning, which is a huge improvement.” She had almost forgotten about her black eyes. She had put on concealer, but washed it off again. It had just made her look ill, instead of like she’d been knocked out by a bunny hill. She opted for only a little blush and mascara. “There’s a big storm coming.”
Matt nodded as he checked the weather on his phone. “We should be able to spend most of the day in the city before it’s supposed to start coming down.”
“Did you order all this breakfast?” She lifted the basket up into the air, feeling the weight of its contents.
“That’s just what my uncles do.” Matt put his phone in his front jeans pocket. “I wanted to text you not to eat, but realized I didn’t have your number.”
She knew she would have to explain what happened to her phone, but she didn’t want to have to tell why it was floating with the lobsters. “I got rid of it.”
He slanted his head and squinted his eyes. “You’re one interesting woman, Katie O’Neil.”
Her shoulders immediately relaxed when he didn’t pursue it further. Instead, he led her out of the shop to the white van that was parked along the sidewalk. She immediately recognized the Vivaldi font on the sliding doors that read La Patisserie. She would have gone with Bickham Script Pro instead, it was more Frank and David’s style.
He opened the passenger door for her, then jogged around to the driver’s side. Once she buckled her seat belt, she said, “You fish for lobsters, tow out stranded drivers, and deliver pastries. What don’t you do?”
Matt turned the keys in the ignition. “I don’t fly.”
“At all? Or you just don’t like to fly?”
“Both.”
“I guess that’s why you never came out to Minnesota.”
“Well, not exactly.” He looked as though he was going to say something else, but stopped himself. The mood immediately shifted, and she wished she hadn’t said anything. She didn’t want to rehash the past, because she knew she was the one who had been the scoundrel. Instead, she wanted to go to the city and live in the present.
He reached over to the radio and turned it up. The slow introduction to Sweet Caroline began playing. “You ready for Boston?”
She looked out the windshield at the road before them, and while taking in Neil Diamond’s voice on the radio, she nodded. “Yes, I am.”
“Let’s go!”
They traveled along Route 1, wandering through small seaside villages until they hit New Hampshire, passing over Portsmouth’s brick skyline covered in snow. The highway became crowded once they passed over the Massachusetts border. She leaned forward in her seat to see landmarks she remembered as a kid. Bunker Hill stood over triple-deckers, tree-lined neighborhoods edged the city’s tallest buildings, and the harbor’s docks were filled with ships and barges that ran along the edge of city. She swiveled around to get a good look at Zakim Bridge floating through the Boston.
The highway soon dipped underground, and the screech of wheels and brakes filled a dingy tunnel. Matt turned off onto an exit and the van climbed toward light. Soon the city embraced them. They were in the heart of Boston. Historic brick-and-mortar buildings sat in between tall, sleek skyscrapers.
Matt drove through the city’s narrow streets, going down one-ways and taking sharp turns with ease. With one shot, he parallel parked next to a long brick building. “We just have to deliver to a few vendors, and then we’ll hit up all the tourist spots.”
He jumped out and opened the back doors, pulling out a cart. He began filling it with white boxes with La Patisserie written on top. She noticed the bakery’s logo was in a different font than what was on the van, and both were different from their website’s logo. This was only the kind of detail a designer would notice, she guessed, but it made their brand inconsistent. To advertise and market their business, they needed consistency, especially a small company that needed as much recognition as possible. An inconsistent brand could potentially confuse the buyer. Unfortunately, it didn’t surprise her, either. Even with their professionalism and clear style, Frank and David couldn’t afford a marketing team like the big corporations she designed for. You spent the money where you could.
Matt moved efficiently, and she knew he wouldn’t accept it, but she asked anyway. “Do you need help?”
“Nah,” he smiled at her. “After we finish the deliveries, you just tell me where you’d like to go.”
“I have a craving for some Italian,” she said, thinking of some of the North End restaurants she had looked up online last night.
That was when she’d taken a peek at Frank and David’s website. They used a simple design, but if they were her clients, she’d showcase what she loved most about them—their unique take on a French patisserie. Their website felt flat, the pictures dull, and none of it showed Frank or David’s personalities.
“There are plenty of places just up the road.” Matt pointed to a long rectangular building the size of the whole block, with a gold dome in the middle. Four granite pillars flanked the entrance, with steps the width of the building. The gray granite building stood like a Bostonian Parthenon. Christmas garland wrapped the stone pillars. A decorated tree twinkled out on the cobblestone courtyard. It was a Christmas wonderland. “We’ll hit Quincy Market first, and then Faneuil Hall.”
Matt pushed the cart along the sidewalk, snow packed between the cobblestones. Snowbanks were piled everywhere, but even in the cold, vendors set up shop outside the marketplace.
They entered a glass structure, that reminded her of a greenhouse, warm and bright, but instead of plants and flowers, it was filled with bull carts selling touristy stuff like t-shirts, small trinkets and souvenirs. Matt led her up the ramp into the interior of the market. A quiet buzz filled the long hallway of food stalls ran down the middle of the building. Steam rose from behind glass walls. People stood in long lines waiting for every type of food imaginable: seafood, Italian, Indian, Asian, Middle-Eastern, coffee, ice cream, and more delicacies than she could count.
“This place used to be a fish and meat market.” He pointed to the mammoth wooden signs against a brick wall. Standing tables filled the room, crammed with people enjoying the food. Up above, a circular railing opened to a second floor. She peered through the large rotunda, at least a few stories tall. The rotunda’s space was massive, yet it felt warm and inviting with the light coming in and hitting the red brick walls, casting a warm glow throughout the space. The dome had been painted a creamy New England yellow with a pale blue railing opening up the second floor. Birds swooped from one side to the other. As they walked down the long hall of vendors, businessmen and women stood in line with college students and tourists for food. The energy of the space hummed off the walls.
“Let me stop at a couple vendors while you check the place out,” Matt said, already starting down the hall. “Tell Mario at The Brew that your cappuccino is on me.”
“Where should I meet you?” She didn’t want to make him wait, or worse, get lost in the city.
“Don’t worry. I’ll find you.” Matt waved as he took off down the corridor, disappearing into the crowd.
The space bustled around her. People weaved in and out of the lines in front the various vendors. The movement created an energy she enjoyed, but she didn’t follow suit. Instead, she meandered along, checking out each stall. The scents melded into one. Spices melted into savory blending into sweet. She stopped for a cappuccino and thanked Mario with a very generous tip, then followed the long, tiled, passage.
She spotted Matt up ahead. He shook hands with a man and a woman, and they all talked with ease. A sudden pride grew inside her chest as she watched him pass over boxes of pastries. David and Frank had really created an amazing product. With David’s mastery of pastries and Frank’s chic style, they really had something that she felt would thrive, even beyond New England.
Then it hit her. She could help them. She could create a new, more modern website for La Patisserie. All she had to do was take some photos of David baking, with Frank’s style showcased, and create a website that reflected their personalities. Then she could find the right market for their advertising to drum up more business. David would need to update anyways, as he was starting his new cooking classes. It could also be her way of thanking them.
She walked over to Matt and the vendors and asked, “Do you mind if I take some pictures of you for Frank and David?”
“Not at all.”
As Matt delivered pastries, Kate took photos from different angles, hoping to capture the energy in the market and restaurants. The fluorescent lights weren’t optimal, but she was able to catch enough backlight to show texture in the photos. Once Matt finished all the deliveries, they returned to the van with the empty cart and stowed it in the back. When he shut the doors, he grabbed her hand and started pulling her down the street. “Come on, we’re going on a trolley ride.”
“What?” She followed after him as he headed down the sidewalk.
“The duck ride would be too cold this time of year.”
Every once in a while, he’d place his hand on the small of her back as they walked down the street. Each time, his touch sent an electrical current pulsating through her. When they reached the trolley, he waited until she boarded before climbing in. She picked a seat in front, next to the window. He sat down and leaned close. The leathery musk of his aftershave infused the air around her. As he looked out the window, pointing out landmarks before the tour guide did, he moved closer, his leg resting against hers. And suddenly, she wanted him to move even closer.
She wondered if her broken heart was twisting Matt’s genuine kindness into something it was not. He had that natural ability to put everyone at ease when talking to him. She tried to ignore his touch on her leg.
After the tour through the city and a late lunch in the North End, the snow began to fall as they made their way back to the van.
“We should probably head back,” Matt said as they walked along the cobblestone sidewalk.
She nodded, but secretly wished they could stay in the city forever. The day had been perfect, and she didn’t want it to come to an end.
“I heard there’s this bar where everyone knows your name.” He said it so casually, she wasn’t sure if he was serious or being silly.
“I hear people are always glad you came.” As she spoke, his smile grew.
“I hear Boston’s really something in a snowstorm.”
“Yes, I’ve only heard, never been able to actually experience it.”
He pulled out his phone and put it up to his ear. “Yes, hello,” he said into it. He walked away, so she couldn’t hear what he was saying.
Then he swung back around, stuffing his phone into his pocket. “You wouldn’t believe it, but two rooms just happened to be available at the Harbor Hotel.”
He was right. She couldn’t believe it. “That sounds perfect.”
They parked the van and walked around the city as the snow fell down around them. The whole time, they talked. They talked about everything. She told him about her parents’ divorce, and he told her about his. She told him about her father’s family, and about living at home during college. He told her about fishing, and cooking at the restaurant, and finally getting his own boat.
Then, she confessed the one secret that she had told no one. She told him about Kate O’Neil Designs. And like a faucet opening up, all of her ideas spilled out. Her ideas for Frank and David’s website, the different ways she wanted to showcase not only David’s work, but also their brand and style. She had told Matt things she had told no one. Dreams she hadn’t had in a long time.
And suddenly, her lungs opened up, like wings on a butterfly, and she could breathe long and vibrant breaths. She told him everything. Her plans for when she returned to Minnesota. How pathetic she felt, having to live back at home and sleep in her childhood bed. How she wanted to travel more, and take charge of her career, her life, and her future.
Matt just listened. He’d give his thoughts once in a while, but he never interrupted the flow of her narrative. When they finally finished their dinner in the North End, she felt alive.
As they walked back toward the hotel through the falling snow he said, “You know, I know some people who would benefit from the same thing you want to do for my uncles. You could probably pick up some business if I spread the word.”
“Of course! I would definitely be able to help with logos or branding.”
A tiny spark of excitement ignited inside her. She could create designs the way she wanted and create a brand of her own. Kate O’Neil Designs would no longer be just a dream.
“You know what an entrepreneur does when they get their first client?” Matt asked her as they reached the corner. “They celebrate.”
“Client?”
“Maybe you could help out a lobster guy?” he said. “I bet even people in Minnesota would want some of Maine’s fresh lobster.”
She covered her mouth with her hands as she realized what he was saying, then wrapped her arms around his neck, hugging him.
His arms squeezed her, then let go as he said, “This calls for a drink on me,” Matt said. “I know just the spot.”
“You’re my client, which means I should be the one buying the first round.”
“Alright, but I get to pick the drink.”
There was no mistaking the look he was giving her.
A warm wave from her belly rushed to her chest. “That sounds perfect.”