The Promise of Paradise - By Allie Boniface Page 0,56
in the city.”
The city? As in Boston? Marty rarely left Paradise, as far as Ash knew, though he’d been gone a lot of nights this summer. What was the guy up to? Got a woman? She couldn’t imagine it. Gambling addiction?
“…so could you give me a call when you can?”
Ash erased the message. She might as well get it over with. He probably wanted her to cover as manager tonight, or maybe pull a double tomorrow. She'd call and find out for sure and tell him about her leaving at the same time. He wouldn’t like it, but—
Marty picked up on the first ring. “Ash?”
“Hi. Got your message.”
“Ah, hey there.” He coughed.
“Oughta get those lungs looked at,” she said almost without thinking. She knew he wouldn’t listen; she told him the same thing two or three times a week. It wasn’t like you could change the habits of a chronic smoker. The things people carried around for a lifetime worked their claws inside the skin and stayed there.
“So what's up?”
“Ash, listen. I’m gonna need someone up here full-time to run the restaurant. I'm thinking about opening another place down near Salem. Cater to the college crowd.”
“What are you talking about?”
“I've been talking to a buddy of mine these last few weeks. He’s got the dough, likes my ideas. Wants to go in partners with me.”
“Really?” Ash’s brows rose. She couldn’t picture Marty leaving Paradise, let alone opening another version of Blues and Booze. But then again, she’d never really looked past his yellow teeth and bloodshot eyes. Maybe the restaurant business had grown on him. Maybe, after all this time, he did want more. Maybe he wanted expansion, a place that drew a younger, bigger crowd. More money. More possibilities. “So wait, you’re leaving town?”
“For a while, if I can find someone to take care of the place here. I'll be spending most of my time down there, next few months, anyway. So, ah, if you’re interested, like to offer you the manager job. Full-time.” He chuckled, wheezing only a little. “Well, probably be more than full-time, ‘cause you know what the hours are like. You can hire someone to work under you, if you want. Part-time, cover the nights.”
“Marty, I can’t—”
“Don’t say no right away,” he interrupted. “I know it probably ain’t the dream job you got lined up inside your head. But you’re damn good at it. The customers like you. Lot of ‘em come in to see you. But you don’t take any crap from anyone either, and that’s good.” He paused to draw a rattly breath. “I ain’t never considered opening another place ‘til this opportunity came along. And you…you’re okay. You got the hang of it. And you’re about the only person with enough brains to keep it going. So if you want to stay in town for a while, give it a shot, I’d appreciate it. Really.”
Ash didn’t say anything. Stay in Paradise? Run Blues and Booze? It was ridiculous. She couldn’t. She’d do a terrible job. Besides, she’d make what? A few thousand dollars? Barely enough to cover the rent in this second-floor apartment. No way. It made no sense.
Then why didn’t she just tell Marty thanks, but no thanks? Why didn’t she tell him she’d be gone in two weeks, back in Boston where she belonged? Why, instead, did she tell him she’d think about it?
Because, she decided as she threw on an old pair of shorts and a halter top and stepped into the rain, she had finally, and completely, lost her mind.
* * *
The rain let up shortly after Ash rounded the corner of Lycian Street, and by the time she headed downtown, past the church green, all that remained was a fuzzy sky with some sun poking through. She bent her head against the wind, shoulders hunched, and walked past the restaurant. Past the tiny yellow-sided library, where Celia Darling waved a hand as she gathered books from the return bin. Past Annie’s Fabrics and the Used Book Depot, sharing space in a corner building. At the convenience store she turned, giving a nod to the guy who stood in the doorway. Harry Broker. Came in sometimes with his teenage daughter, weekends when she visited from her mom’s.
Ash shook her head. She couldn’t keep thinking about the people she knew, the connections she’d made here in Paradise. It had been just a summer detour, a distraction, as her father had put it. A few weeks of getting to know