and newborn baby.
Me: Here’s to one day understanding our parents.
Chad the Neck Licker: Enjoy that ice cream.
Me: Enjoy your work. Goodnight, Chad.
5
Boston
* * *
I shouldn’t have texted with her. I should have told her right away that I wasn’t Chad. I almost forgot she thought I was until that last text came in.
Beautiful Accountant: Enjoy your work. Goodnight, Chad.
I sat back in Dad’s chair, the loud groan of the hinges sending a wave of deep sadness rolling through me. The single lamp was on over the desk, and the room was otherwise dark and quiet. Seeing my phone light up with El’s name had brightened the place—and my evening—but the brutal reminder that she didn’t even know who she was texting dimmed things considerably.
That and the news that she was going to quit.
It was probably that information that had stopped me from coming clean. She was leaving anyway, and though Solano Creek wasn’t a big place, I spent all my time at West Wines or Cunning Ham Winery. The odds I’d ever see her again felt miniscule. And who knew if she was even staying here? I knew nothing about Isabel Watson.
Nothing except that she was beautiful. And smart. And that since I’d seen her at the wine festival the day before I was having a hard time not thinking about her. Especially because of this strange connection Chad had created between us by giving her my number.
I was glad El was happy. Or that’s what I told myself as I turned my attention back to the inventories I’d been plowing through on the screen in front of me.
***
On Monday morning I dragged myself into the office, dreading the day with every step of my polished Italian shoes. Normally I went straight into my own office, which sat in one corner of the low single-story office building that made up West Wines Distributors. But today, I made my way past reception and around the corner, down the long hallway to the kitchen. Coincidentally, this hallway also led to accounting.
I knew El planned to give notice today. And I couldn’t stop thinking about whether I might be able to stop her. She was a really good accountant, for one thing. She’d been the one to catch a billing error that could have cost us thousands of dollars just last month. Maybe I could convince her not to go.
I almost always bought coffee—the little artisanal coffee stand around the corner from my condo was excellent and the stuff Dad had always brought into West Wines was pretty close to swill. But today, I needed a reason to visit this side of the building. Or maybe, as the boss, I didn’t, but it felt strange to just wander around aimlessly. Coffee in hand, I prepared to head back to my own office, passing through accounting on my way.
El sat in the far corner, her desk surrounded by the low cubicle walls everyone had. Her desk, unlike most of the others, was covered with green plants, a haphazard little shelf of notepads and Post-It Notes in various colors, and a little stuffed elephant who sat in one corner looking as sad as I felt at finding El’s desk empty.
She wouldn’t just quit, right? She had to give me notice.
I turned away from her desk and headed for my own office. She was probably just running late this morning. She seemed like the kind of person who probably ran late sometimes.
I’d just decided to try again before lunch when I reached my assistant’s desk outside my office. Pauline was there—she had to be nearing ninety, and often fell asleep sitting up at her desk—but she was punctual. And as I approached her, I saw a long pair of legs and a swish of blond hair disappear around the corner in the other direction. My chest tightened.
“There you are, honey,” Pauline said. Sometimes she had a hard time thinking of me as the boss, since she’d been my father’s secretary too, and had known me since I was in diapers. We’d spoken about her calling me “squirt” and “honey,” but it hadn’t seemed to stick. “That nice girl from accounting was just here.”
I stood, waiting for more, but Pauline turned her attention back to her nail file.
“El?” I supplied helpfully.
“Did you just curse at me, young man?” Pauline did not like cursing. She also didn’t hear terribly well.
“No, Miss Pauline. Definitely not.” I was the only boss in California who addressed his own secretary as if