Lilly
While Georgie works on replenishing the display cases of meats, cheeses, pasta salads and fruit, I efficiently clean the dining area. Spraying cleanser, I wipe down the tables and chairs with one cloth and dry them with another. Any crumbs tossed to the floor will get picked up when I sweep and mop. Charles is in the back scrubbing the kitchen, and that’s how we end the lunch rush. We have about two hours before business will pick up again, although admittedly, our evening patrons are usually here for takeout rather than dine-in.
I get everything cleaned except for one lone area at the counter where Stu works on the crossword puzzle while eating his lunch special of chicken salad on rye with home-fried kettle chips. He lives just down the block and eats here religiously on Tuesdays and Thursdays, preferring to wait for the main rush to finish.
“You good?” I ask Stu as I walk behind the counter, tugging off my rubber gloves. Georgie moves back and forth between the commercial refrigerator and the display cases, exchanging partially cut blocks of meats and cheeses for whole packages. The partial cuts will go to the kitchen for sandwich orders and the full packages will be used for customers wanting to purchase by the pound.
Stu doesn’t even look up from his crossword. “All good, Lilly.”
I head into the back, tossing the rubber gloves in a plastic bin that will get washed and sanitized later. Charles is elbow deep in soapy water and a practiced eye tells me he’s got everything under control here. I fill the mop bucket with Pine-Sol and warm water, slap the mop inside, and wheel it out to the front with one hand while carrying a broom in the other. It takes me thirty minutes to make sure the floors sparkle and by the time I’m done, Stu is gone and we are without customers for a moment.
I resist the urge to slump into one of the booths to take a five-minute breather. I’m afraid once I sit down, I won’t want to stand back up again and I still have to do payroll. My stomach clenches at the prospect of crunching numbers because while I’m sure I’ve got enough in the accounts to pay the staff, I’m not sure I’ll be able to take a draw. While I still have a little cushion in personal savings, our rent is due on the apartment next week and it’s going to be tight.
It will all work out, I remind myself.
It always does.
With a sigh, I wheel the mop bucket to the back. I rinse it and store it in the large walk-in janitor closet before washing my hands in the employee sink.
“Do you want me to make you something?” Charles asks as he works on drying a stack of stainless steel bowls.
“I’m good,” I reply, but in truth, I’m starved. I didn’t eat breakfast but I need to get the payroll done before the evening crowd starts. I intend to get out of here by six tonight so I can visit Aiden.
“Lilly,” Georgie calls from the swinging doors that separate the kitchen from the front of the store. He’s leaning his head in. “You’ve got a visitor.”
Frowning, I grab paper towels and dry my hands. “Who is it?”
“Some tall dude. Asked for Lilly.”
I roll my eyes. Georgie might not burn the place down but he’s not the most proactive thinker at times. “Be right there.” I glance over my shoulder at Charles. “You good on food prep or need my help?”
“I’ve got it under control,” he assures me.
Charles is a godsend. He keeps the kitchen running flawlessly, which is a huge burden off my shoulders, and I put him in my prayers every night. I also say prayers to make Georgie just a little more responsible and not someone I have to micromanage too much.
Heading through the swinging doors, my eyes land on Boone standing on the other side of the ordering counter. He’s bent slightly at the waist, looking at the display case of meats filled with pastrami, ham, roast beef, turkey, bologna, salami and prosciutto.
His gaze cuts my way as I approach and he straightens with a smile. “Hey.”
“Hey,” I reply, tipping my head. “What are you doing here?”
“I was on my way to visit Aiden and thought I’d come by to check on you.”
Frowning, I tug nervously at the collar of my T-shirt—forest green with our deli logo on the breast pocket. I have the sudden urge to rip the Moni’s Deli ball cap off my head because it makes me feel lame.
“Me?” I croak.
Boone smiles, all easygoing charm as he steps up to the counter and places his palms on it. “Yeah, you. How are you doing?”
I glance around the restaurant. It’s empty, no customers and Georgie is now mysteriously gone. My gaze comes back to him. “Um… busy, I guess.”
Boone looks around, an exaggeratedly slow perusal of the emptiness. His lips quirk as he teases. “Yeah… place is hopping.”
I can’t help but laugh. “It’s a blessed lull we get at this time before the dinner rush starts. You want something to eat?”
“Um… yeah, I could eat.” His eyes go up to the chalkboard menu on the wall behind me. Our offerings are simple, but they are delicious. “I’ll take a Reuben.”
I key the order in as he pulls out his wallet. I wave it off. “You don’t have to pay.”
Boone ignores me, pulling out a credit card and offering it to me. “You’re running a business. I’ll pay.”
We lock eyes for a moment and I can see he’s more stubborn than I am. I reach for the card but he pulls it back. “Did you eat?”
I’m confused for a moment but then slowly shake my head.
“Join me for lunch then.”
“Oh, I can’t,” I say, throwing a thumb behind me. “I’ve got work to do.”
“Fifteen minutes, Lilly. You can spare it and I’ve got stuff to talk about regarding your dad.”
As if on cue, my stomach rumbles. “All right… I’ll join you.”
I try to take the card but he pulls it back. “Put your order in.”
“I don’t need to have mine paid for. It’s one of the perks of owning a deli.”
Boone nods at the iPad we use for transactions. “Put in your order and let me pay for it.”
Another staring match ensues but finally I give in, punching in a turkey on wheat.
“Add bottled water and chips for both of us,” he demands with a wink.
I roll my eyes but I can’t stop the small smile before doing as he commands. “What makes you think I like bottled water?”
“I don’t,” he says as I turn the pad for him to tap his card against it. “But it’s healthier than soda.”
I snort. “You’re lucky that I do, in fact, drink only water.”
The screen updates and presents him with the order total and a place for his signature. He enters a custom tip of thirty bucks and holds up one hand as he signs with the other. “Don’t even think to complain about that.”
My mouth snaps shut as I was indeed getting ready to lay into him for such an extravagant waste of money. At least to me, but maybe not to him. I’m sure he makes a fortune as a hockey player.
While Boone grabs bottles of water and chips from the self-serve rack and cooler, I stick my head in the back. “That order is for me and a friend,” I say to Charles. “I’m going to take a quick break.”
“Take longer than a quick break, boss,” Georgie says. “We got you covered.”
I give them both a smile and nod my thanks. “I just need about fifteen minutes.”
Charles and Georgie exchange a mocking look but it’s Charles who drawls, “Oooh… a whole fifteen minutes. Wow.”
“Smart-asses,” I mutter as I let the door close and turn back toward Boone. He chose a booth farthest away from the counter, I assume for privacy since we’ll be talking about my dad. One thing I’ve learned about the meddlesome hockey player, he’s nothing if not thoughtful.
I slide into the booth opposite him and Boone pushes a bottled water and chip bag to me. I note he chose barbecue, which is fine. I like them all as evidenced by the padding on my hips, but I push the bag aside until my sandwich gets here.
Boone opens his bag and pops a chip into his mouth while staring at me.
“What?” I demand as I unscrew the top of my water.
“You look absolutely pained to be taking a break,” he observes after swallowing.
“I’ve got a ton of stuff to do. I don’t have the luxury of breaks.”
His expression softens. “I’m sorry. I don’t mean to make light of how busy you are. I don’t know that I’ve ever met a single person with as much responsibility as you carry.”
“No,” I exclaim with a shake of my head and an apologetic smile. “I’m sorry. I don’t mean to be snippy. And yes, it’s hard for me to sit still, always feeling like I’m letting something slip through the cracks, but I do realize there’s value in it.”
“Then I’m glad I forced you to join me,” he says.
I dip my head, cock an eyebrow. “You’re kind of pushy.”
Boone laughs and my breath sort of catches. He’s an incredibly handsome man but that easy, delighted burst of humor makes him near beautiful. I shake my head, clearing away such thoughts. “Before I forget, congratulations on clinching your division last night.”
Boone blinks in surprise. “You watch hockey?”
“No,” I admit with a sheepish smile. “But Aiden does and that’s what we did in his room last night. He’s taken it upon himself to teach me the game now that he’s best buds with Boone Rivers. We were celebrating some good news, so it made it extra nice that you won last night.”
“What were you celebrating?” Boone asks, picking up his water bottle.
“I’m not even sure what you know about Aiden’s condition.”
“Aiden told me he got leukemia when he was five and that it went into remission for a while, but that it came back not long ago. More chemo didn’t help, so they did the bone marrow transplant.”
I nod at the very basic history. “It was the best option.”
“I’m not really sure what that means,” Boone admits. “I try to always let Aiden steer the conversation, so I don’t ask a lot of specific questions. He did tell me that they sort of blasted his marrow to get rid of the leukemia but that it killed all his healthy cells too, so that’s why he’s at such a risk for infection.”
It’s very thoughtful that Boone gives Aiden the space to talk. My brother likes to be as normal as possible, even while lying sick in a hospital bed. “The hope is that the healthy marrow harvest from the donor will make its way to his marrow and start creating healthy new blood cells.”
“How did you find a donor?” Boone asks.
“I was a match. Only one in four family members are, so we were lucky.”
Boone grimaces. “Do I even want to know how they got your marrow?”
“Probably not, but it was done under sedation so it wasn’t that bad. At any rate, the chemo left Aiden’s marrow profoundly suppressed and it made him susceptible to infections.”
“That’s why he couldn’t have visitors at first.”
“Right. He’s on a pretty heavy regimen of anti-infective agents.”
“What does that mean?”
“Antibiotics, antivirals and antifungals because he doesn’t have white blood cells after the high dose of chemotherapy he got before the transplant. He gets blood transfusions almost every other day and he has weekly bone marrow aspirations to see if his marrow is recovering. It can take weeks to see if a transplant takes. We were celebrating last night because his most recent tests showed that while his blood cells are still suppressed, there doesn’t seem to be any signs of leukemia.”
“Holy fuck,” Boone exclaims, his hand shooting out to grab mine. I’m so startled by his outburst that I jump in my seat, but it’s the fact he’s holding my hand that has my heart beating so fast. “That’s amazing news, Lilly. Why didn’t you start with that the minute I walked in?”
I grin and attempt to tug my hand away, but he holds tight as he asks, “Does that mean he’ll get out of the hospital?”
My smile doesn’t slip as I shake my head. “No, not yet. It’s safest for him to stay there until his marrow recovers. But this is the best possible news, and we’ve been anxiously waiting for it. The cure rate with a transplant is less than fifty percent, so the fact there’s no evidence of leukemia is huge. Now we just need his red and white blood cells to perk up a bit.”
Boone’s hand jerks in surprise but then he tightens his grip. “Only fifty percent?” he murmurs thoughtfully. I nearly hyperventilate when his thumb gently strokes over the back of my hand. “I don’t know why I thought it would be higher or that this was a sure thing once he had the transplant.”
“Order up,” Georgie says as he delivers our food. They’re wrapped in white paper with the names of the sandwiches written in black wax crayon.
I’m sure Boone meant nothing by the touch, merely being comforting, but my heart pounds like a jackhammer. I pull away and smile up at Georgie. “Thank you so much.”
“Enjoy,” he replies brightly before heading back behind the counter and into the kitchen.
Boone and I open our sandwiches. I grab napkins from the silver-plated holder on the table and hand him a few.
“This would probably be a good time to talk to my dad about rehab, don’t you think? Given the good news we’re riding high on.”
“I think sooner rather than later is better,” he says, picking up half of his sandwich. “I’ve got a list of resources from Harlow.”
“Can he do an outpatient program? I’m not sure he’ll agree to go inpatient since that will take him away from Aiden.”
“I thought about that and specifically talked to Harlow about that very thing. She found a really good outpatient program and even called to make sure they could take him. Dropped Stone’s name to grease the wheels. But he’ll probably need a medical detox first.”
“I assume that means he’s assisted in his detox with medicines? How long will that take?”
Boone nods. “Harlow said it could take five to ten days depending on how bad the symptoms are, and that would be done inpatient. Then he can move to the outpatient program.”
I pick at a piece of turkey hanging from my sandwich, popping it into my mouth as I consider this. If there’s ever a safe time for my dad to make a stab at getting sober, it’s while Aiden’s doing well. The stress of an uncertain future is what drove him to binge. The hope Aiden’s most recent test results give make this the best time to talk to my dad about it.
“I honestly don’t know how to broach the subject with him,” I say before taking a bite. My starved stomach rumbles with satisfaction. “It’s easy when I’m angry at him because the words just sort of come out, but anger isn’t the way to do it.”
“How much is Aiden aware of what’s going on?” Boone asks.
“He knows. I try to not overwhelm him with this stuff but if he asks, I’m transparent about it. I won’t lie to him and at almost twelve, he’s pretty savvy about Dad’s issues. I talked to him a little last night about getting Dad into rehab. I think after he showed up at the hospital drunk, it’s become more imperative.”
“Maybe it should be a family discussion then.”
“And you?” I ask hesitantly because he’d offered before. For the first time ever, I want to take someone up on their offer of help.
“I will if you want me to.” Boone’s gaze locks onto mine, an intense stare that says he’s in this with us. “I’m the one who brought it up to your dad and I don’t mind lending my two cents.”
“He respects you. We talked about him showing up at the hospital drunk and he remembered the talk you had with him in his bedroom. It’s given him something to think about.”
“Then count me in,” Boone says easily. “I’ve got a morning practice tomorrow but I could do any time after.”
“Evening? I work until six.”
“Sure,” he says and we iron out details. While we munch on our sandwiches and chips, we discuss the best way to bring up the subject so Dad doesn’t feel like we’re ganging up on him and agree to all meet at the hospital at six thirty p.m.
When we’re done eating, my inclination is to get back to work. Payroll is calling but I can’t help but ask Boone, “Why do you do this?”
Boone arches an eyebrow. “You mean help you with your dad?”
“I’m curious to know more about that, of course, but I mean visiting kids in the hospital. Particularly the cancer ward. That’s kind of a tough way to give back to the community.”
A smile plays at Boone’s lips, which I can’t help but notice are full and soft looking surrounded by his beard. “My mom, Patty, is an occupational therapist and while I was in junior high and high school, she worked at the hospital with kids. Not just kids with cancer, but those who were inpatient for whatever reason. She got close to many of them and she’d talk about them at home. She’d be so happy when one got discharged and she’d be devastated if one died. I saw how important it was to her and I wanted to do something that honored her. She did so much for our family when my dad was battling his addiction and I wanted to show the same kindness that she did because it was always so important to her. She’s the strongest woman I know, although you’re kind of giving her a run for her money.”
I flush from the unexpected compliment. I’d been entranced by the beautiful way he chose to honor his mother with his free time, so much so that I wasn’t ready for him to call attention to my sacrifices.
It’s my nature to hide away from such a spotlight and I duck my head.
“I didn’t mean to embarrass you,” he says quietly, and my head snaps up to look at him. “I’m just in awe of everything you do for your family and at such a young age. I know it’s not easy.”
“Honestly, it’s all I’ve ever known,” I admit with a mirthless smile. “After my mom died when I was twelve, I became Aiden’s mother. When he got cancer, I was fifteen and my dad fell apart so I became father, mother and breadwinner. I’m twenty-two now and I’m father, mother, breadwinner and business owner since my dad’s not consistently able to help out with the deli.”
“You’re amazing,” Boone says. I want to turn away from his scrutiny but his gaze holds me in place. “I’m going to move you into first place as the strongest woman I know. But you can’t devote your entire life to others and not have something for yourself. What do you do for fun or relaxation?”
My eyebrows draw inward as I try to think of something to tell him so I don’t seem totally lame. I come up empty though. “I don’t have time.”
Boone’s eyes flash with something I can’t quite identify. A combination of ire and empathy that swirls, then turns into determination. “We’re going to have to change that.”