Unavoidable Chance (4 page)

A trip to the dry cleaners to drop off my chef coats, and a trip to the post office, followed by the grocery store to restock the home fridge, round out our morning. My back hurts from schlepping Hope in and out of the car, and I’m ready for a cold beer and my Lazy Boy. My day has only just begun though. As soon as I make it back to the house to unload the groceries, it’s time to head back out to school to pick up Sky from early dismissal.

We pick up Sky and head to the restaurant so I can jump in for the lunch crowd and prep for the dinner crowd. I set up the girls at a table with crayons and coloring books. Sky gives me a dirty look that says, “Really, Dad?” I sigh, dig in my pocket and hand her my cell phone to play with. Who knows what that girl has downloaded on my phone? Some candy game that I’m constantly getting a million notifications for, that’s all I know.

I start each day with a quick meeting with my staff. I give a little motivational speech, and I tell the wait staff today’s lunch and dinner specials. I also tell Gabrielle, my head hostess, to leave the table for two in the corner open all night.

“But, that’s the best table in the house,” she says. I give her a smile and leave it at that.

Today’s lunch special is a veggie penne with pesto served with toasted goat cheese crostini. I pride myself on getting as much locally grown produce and meats as I can. Everything is made from scratch all the way down to the ketchup. Hope ate it up and asked for seconds, while Sky ate plain penne noodles with parmesan cheese sprinkled on top and the crostini minus the goat cheese, which yes, made it just plain bread.

Quinn was right on time picking up the girls. I gave them each a kiss and told them I’d see them in the morning. I miss most nights tucking in my girls. The restaurant is open until ten which is way past their bedtime. After clean-up and closing everything, sometimes I don’t get in until after midnight.

Tonight’s dinner special is blackened wild King Salmon served over baby spinach and topped with a jalapeno chive lime cream sauce. I had planned on serving something else, but I love this dish so much that I want Ava to try it.

By nine thirty, I know she isn’t going to come. Every time I come out into the restaurant to talk to a table, I see the empty table for two that I made Gabrielle leave open and my heart sinks. I look out the front windows foolishly hoping she’ll be just outside ready to walk in at any moment. It was stupid to think she would show up to begin with. All night I kept thinking of dishes I wanted to cook for her to try. At ten when we close, my mood has hit an all-time low. I quickly finish what I need to do, go home and crawl into bed wondering why it mattered so much to me in the first place.

Chapter 3

Ava

This morning will not be like yesterday. I know what I promised my dad, but maybe going in on time isn’t the solution. Maybe if I promise to leave at five that will be slowing down. No, six, yeah, six o’clock. Shit, I can’t get everything done by six. How about seven? I’ll leave for the night no later than seven. Right, seven it is. That’s still slowing down, right? I usually leave at nine, or even ten. Oh, who am I kidding, sometimes I leave at midnight. Alright, seven it is. I make my coffee at home using my fancy, large, totally over the top, expensive espresso machine that is totally worth every penny. Because I’m not stopping at that coffee house ever again, that’s for sure. And it’s a shame, too. I can usually walk in and more times than not, just walk up to the cash register, and they don’t even have to ask what I want. They already know. They even draw a smiley face on my cup. I’ll miss that morning smiley face. This morning I added a fifth shot of espresso to my drink, though, don’t judge me.

I pass Savvy in the hallway with a Pop Tart between my teeth and my very large coffee in one hand, my briefcase in the other, my purse over my shoulder, and my yellow blouse slung over my other shoulder, and give her a wave.

“Bye, sugar,” she yells. I sure hope the dry cleaners can get this coffee stain out of my favorite shirt.

I drop my blouse off along with the rest of my clothes that have collected in my trunk over the past few weeks at the cleaners. He takes one look at my shirt and says he’ll do the best he can. I need my shirt. It’s my lucky shirt.

I get to the office at seven and sink into my chair with a smile and a sigh. This is heaven. No one is in the office yet, I can get all the things I need to get done without any interruptions. I need to be in court again at ten, and this time I’ll be as cool as a cucumber, and completely armed with my kickass self. Yes, leaving at a more reasonable hour is definitely the answer to my promise to my dad.

I finish all the paperwork and put it in my out box for Reagan. I researched all my arguments for court today and tuck all my paperwork in my briefcase that I’ll need in court. My desk is completely cleaned and organized, nothing is out of place. I glance at my calendar and see that tomorrow is Reagan’s birthday. Shit, I forgot, and she asked to leave early tomorrow, too. I need to go to the mall tonight and get her a gift. I need an assistant for my assistant.

At nine I have my morning run down with Reagan and I’m out the door and at the courthouse by nine forty-five, right on time. Opposing council gets nothing by me today. I’m
objection
here and
your honor
there. Score one for Ava today!

I get back to the office, but not before I go through the drive through and order myself a celebratory kid’s meal consisting of a cheeseburger, french fries and a small vanilla milkshake. I’m not a pig after all. I’d never get the adult sized meal. The case I’m working on now is a tricky case. I dig in all the paperwork from discovery in hopes to find the missing puzzle piece. I vaguely remember Reagan poking her head in saying goodnight, but when I look up the clock above my door says eight forty-five. Eight forty-five! Shit the mall closes in fifteen minutes. I grab my briefcase, shove some discovery files in, but leave most of the paperwork on my desk and rush down to my car. The whole way down the elevator, I obsess about the papers on my desk and tell myself, I for sure need to get in even a little bit earlier tomorrow morning to clean that up. My heart is pounding a mile a minute as I speed to the mall. Reagan is such an important person to me. I have to get her something nice.

I screech to a stop in the underground parking garage and park on a diagonal, not because I’m a douche bag and think that my car is so special it deserves two spots. But, because I’m a douche bag boss, and I’m in a royal hurry because I lost track of time and I still need a gift for my fabulous assistant. I run all the way into the department store and come to a dead stop. What do I get her? My brain thinks of ten thousand things in less than five seconds. Got it! We both have a crazy obsession for wine. I run to the housewares department and find the most perfect gift ever. A set of four wine glasses that are mouth blown and hand etched. They have a beautiful blue tint to them and are etched with beautiful flowers. There is also a matching decanter that rounds out the perfect gift. Score! I’ll stop at the store and get a fine bottle of red wine, she’ll love it. I love it; I really want those glasses for myself.

The lady at the register wraps them beautifully in a blue gift bag, and I walk out of the store putting my credit card back into my wallet and back into the mall with a huge weight lifted. Shit, I left the office way later than I should have! It wasn’t on purpose, time just got away from me. I’ll set the alarm on my phone to remind me from now on.

With a cleansing breath, I turn the corner to head to the parking garage and run into someone hard, which squishes the beautiful blue bag between the two of us. Not only did it squish the pretty blue bag, but I hear the distinct sound of fine crystal breaking. My heart sinks, and I immediately analyze the sound. Was that one glass breaking? Oh God, that sounded like more than one glass. Oh please, don’t be the decanter. I look at the bag that is still smooshed between me and the obvious oblivious idiot and see a huge crease in the bag. Perfect! That’s just perfect. A tiny voice brings me out of my internal dialogue.

“Daddy, I want to go home,” the little whiny voice says.

A big meaty hand grabs my arm while the other takes the bag out of my hand. “I’m so sorry! I wasn’t watching where I was going, it’s late and my girls were dragging me out of the mall,” the deep voice says. And there it is. Yet again the world finds it funny to have this overgrown ogre thrown in my path. He’s ruined my lucky shirt, an awesome cup of coffee, and now he’s ruined the perfect gift.

“Ava?” he questions. “Oh, I’m so sorry. Please tell me nothing was broken. I can replace it if it did.”

I take the bag from his hand and say, “That’s not necessary.” Without even looking at him, I walk out of the mall. But not before I hear a little girl’s voice.

“Daddy, let’s go,” the little voice whines.

“Who was that, Daddy?” the older one asks.

“Um, nobody sweetheart, yes, we can go home now,” he tells them with a sigh.

I get in my car, put the bag in the passenger seat, put both hands on the top of the steering wheel and rest my head on my hands. God, I’m so dumb. Of course he has kids. That’s what he meant when he said he had to get back to his girls at the coffee house. He doesn’t like strippers or mud wrestlers; he has daughters, two very little daughters. Then, right then, the gravestone next to my father comes into view in my brain. It said, Scarlett Landry, beloved wife, mother, and friend. Duh, it said mother which means that Jax is a dad. I’m glad I didn’t remember about him inviting me to dinner. I can’t get involved with a man, much less one that has kids.

I turn my head to the right and see the once beautiful blue bag with its giant wrinkle running down the entire center of the front of the bag. Sure, it couldn’t have been in the back, now could it? I groan, pick up my head and place the bag in my lap. I slowly unwrap the wine glasses one at a time. As I get to the last glass, the once lovely blue wine glass lays in the paper in three large chunks. The wine glass itself has broken in two and the stem is completely removed from the top. Now that I think about it, it probably would have been better if the decanter had broken. Who gives a gift with three wine glasses? It’s well after nine and the mall is now closed. The mall won’t be open in time tomorrow morning before I get to work. Now what do I do?

I hang my head and sigh. Why? Why is the universe being so cruel to me? What did I do? What did I do to deserve this ape man in my face on a daily basis? Mmm, his hands are so large. I wonder if his…STOP! Pull yourself together, Ava.

I drive to the grocery store and purchase two bottles of fine, red wine, not one as planned, but two. Why two? Because if I only bought one, then there will be an odd number of items in the bag. That just can’t be.

As soon as I get home, I take the three wine glasses and the decanter out of the ruined bag and carefully place them in a new gift bag. I return the tote that’s clearly labeled ‘gift bags’ with a neat, white sticker from my handy dandy label maker, back in the closet on top of the other matching totes. It’s bugging the shit out of me that there are only three glasses in the bag.

My stomach growls, reminding me that I’ve only eaten a happy meal and a Pop Tart today, and all I’ve had to drink is a coffee with five shots and a milkshake.

I open the fridge and find nothing to eat. I open the cupboards and find nothing there either. Someone needs to go grocery shopping. I take a Twinkie out of the box and park myself at the dining room table with my briefcase.

I get to work taking out discovery papers and statements hoping to still find the one thing that will break this case. After about an hour of not finding anything, the unopened Twinkie stares at me and my stomach grumbles in anticipation. I put my head down on my papers and unwrap the Twinkie blindly under the table. I squish the whole thing in my mouth in one bite and savor its sugary goodness. So ladylike, right? Thoughts of Jax and his girls swirl in my head as I drift off to sleep, yet again using work papers as my pillow.

Jax

I knew it was way too late to have the girls out and that they’d be cranky by the end of the movie. I make it a priority to take at least two nights off a week and spend them with my girls. I still work the lunch crowd, but take off after the rush and spend the rest of the day with my two favorite little girls. Sometimes Quinn joins us too, but tonight she has a date. I sat through some cartoon princess movie half asleep myself. Hope had fallen asleep on my arm, and when the movie was over, I woke her up and she was not having any of it. My little princess had turned into a bear, and she just needed to get home and go to bed. Both girls were tugging me to the parking garage when I ran, yet again, smack into Ava.

This is turning out to be an everyday occurrence, and now I’ll have to go to the mall in the morning and try and find out what she bought and replace whatever it was. I definitely heard something break. This is turning out to be an expensive habit. I’ll just add that to my list of things I need to do tomorrow morning before I need to be at the restaurant.

Tucking in my girls, even though it’s something I only get to do twice a week, holds a special place in my heart. There’s nothing sweeter than carrying my girls to their room, tucking them in, bringing their covers up to their chin, and giving them a kiss on the forehead goodnight. Most times they’re awake and I sit with them as they softly tell me all the exciting things that happened to them that day. I love listening to their stories and hearing the innocence of their little girl lives.

That’s also when I like to remind the girls of Scarlett, by telling them that their mother and I love them before I leave their room. Sky still remembers Scarlett, but Hope was only two when she died, and unfortunately doesn’t have any real memories that she still holds on to. I like to remind her and show her pictures every chance I get. I know the pictures and my stories live in her mind as her only living memories and not the actual memory itself, but I think that’s how a lot of childhood memories go. Both of the girls have the last family photo we took together on their nightstands. We had taken the picture to send out with our Christmas cards. That was the last Christmas we spent together as a whole family. Sometimes after I tuck them in and close their door, I hear Sky talking to her mother and I smile. I know she hears them. I know she’s always watching out for them.