Not exactly a gushing compliment, but that wouldn’t be appropriate considering this isn’t a date.
“So do you,” I reply with a bit too much feeling as my eyes devour his gorgeous self. Who knew chinos and a dark green button-down shirt could be such a deliciously appealing combination? Although on second glance, it might be the way his five-o’clock shadow sculpts his already sharp jawline that appeals to me the most.
Davis opens my door before walking around to the driver’s side. This is the first time I’ve stepped foot inside a BMW, and let me just say, “wow!” The beige leather bucket seats are so soft they feel like butter. There’s an appealingly foreign aroma that is unlike anything I’ve previously associated with a car; sort of earthy, yet luxurious at the same time. The Chevy I inherited from my mom was never this sumptuous, even in its heyday before the maroon velvet seats began to fade into threads and the cloth ceiling started to sag.
Once we’re both buckled in, Davis asks, “Do you want to listen to some music?”
“Sure.” It’s not so much that I want to, but I have no idea what to say to him, so it seems like a better option than awkward silence.
Davis turns on the stereo and I gasp out loud when I hear Modern English’s song “I Melt With You.” My scalp tingles before the sensation moves down my spine causing all kinds of chaos to break loose inside of me. “I love this song,” I whisper.
“Me, too. My childhood was like one big eighties soundtrack,” he says. “My mom’s favorite pastime was reminiscing her glory days through old music.”
I’m guessing Davis’s mom and my mom would have gotten on like a house on fire had they ever known each other. Lee Frothingham doesn’t strike me as the kind of woman who would have held my mom’s job or address against her, which makes me wonder why I think her son would be any different. Davis doesn’t seem at all judgmental that I live in a trailer park. Although he might have processed his shock before I came out.
We drive companionably through the countryside listening to one mega eighties hit after another, and I feel myself slipping into the fantasy that this is not a work-related outing.
When we get to our destination, I tell Davis, “You might as well leave your car in the circular drive out front. It’ll be easier to get your grandmother situated.”
Once inside, I add, “Let me go make sure your grandmother is ready to go. You can wait in the family lounge down the hall.”
As I watch Davis walk away, I can’t help but think of all the times I did the same thing when we were in high school. His locker was so close to mine I could smell the subtle scent of his orange and clove aftershave when he passed by. It was by far the best part of my day.
I force my thoughts back to the present as Davis disappears into the lounge. I’m about to spend the day with my high school crush. My teenage self would have done backflips had she ever known this day would come. Suddenly, it doesn’t matter that I’m no more than his employee. I’m going to spend the afternoon with him and his family. It doesn’t take much for me to ignite past hopes that this could lead to something more.
Chapter Eight
October 3, 2007
Dear Molly,
Today is Mom’s birthday. We were supposed to go out for dinner, but a few days ago she decided to go on a date instead. She knows I’m mad about it, but she says she’s doing it for me. She says she wants me to be part of a normal family someday and that won’t happen if she doesn’t put herself out there and meet a man.
I told her that I was going to college in two years and that even if she does find her Prince Charming, he’d barely even be a part of my life before I left this one-horse town never to come back. We haven’t talked in days.
“Good afternoon, Mrs. Frothingham,” I greet my charge. “You look very pretty today.” Someone has already helped her change from her regular uniform of a nightgown and robe into a blue dress.
She turns to look at me with a smile on her face. “Well, hi there, honey. Who are you?”
I see Davis’s grandmother five days a week and she doesn’t recognize me, so