Rules of Contact
Page 4
Ken stifled a laugh. “Yeah, you kind of do. You’re always serious, Amelia.”
“This is my job. I’m very serious about it.”
Flynn pointed to her notebook. “But you smiled when you made notes about the chili.”
“See? I can smile. Therefore your point about me not smiling is moot.”
He rolled his eyes. Sometimes everything with Amelia was an argument. “Okay, so what else should we review before the party Thursday night?”
“We need an estimated head count,” Ken said.
“I have the RSVP list right here. We just finalized it. I’ll e-mail it to you both right now.” He forwarded the message from his phone.
Amelia checked her phone, scanning the list, then looked up at him. “You’re bringing a date?”
He nodded. “Yeah. Why? Is that a problem?”
Amelia looked over at Ken, then back at him. “No. No problem at all. So who’s the new woman in your life?”
“She’s a flight attendant I met on the way back from the game in Detroit.”
“Flight attendant, huh? That’s great. Is the press coming to the team party?”
“They usually attend these kinds of events. Just to get some sound bites and cover the team and the season so far. Plus, Irvin likes anything involving the team to get press.”
“Sure. Of course. Totally understandable.” Amelia quickly focused on the list, but her lips curved.
For someone who never smiled, she sure was smiling a lot now. So was Ken.
“What?”
“Nothing,” Amelia said. “I hope you have a great time at the dinner. We’ll make sure it’s perfect. You should finish your chili before it gets cold. I have to see to dinner.”
But that smile of hers lingered as she got up and left the table. Ken’s did, too, as he excused himself. And he’d sure as hell like to know what the two of them found so damned amusing.
FOUR
After a long night at the restaurant, Amelia went home, kicked off her shoes, tossed her jacket on the chair next to the front door, piled her purse on top of it and went straight to the kitchen. She pulled a wineglass out of the cabinet and poured herself a nice glass of cabernet, then walked through the kitchen and into the sunroom. It was a little chilly in here, but fortunately there was a heater. She clicked it on, then sat on the sofa. She pulled a blanket over her and reached for her tablet. After a few sips of wine she felt the kinks in her muscles start to relax.
It had been a good night. Working at Ninety-Two was a good fit for her. She liked the people she worked with, and she had creative freedom to express herself through the food she made. All in all, not a bad start to a new beginning in a new city.
Her phone rang so she pulled it out of her pocket. It was her friend Laura.
“Hey, what’s up?”
“I was wondering if you were home yet.”
“Just got here. It’s late for you. I would have called you but I thought you’d be asleep.”
“No, I switched shifts at the hospital so I’m on until eleven thirty. I just got home. Jon’s asleep and I’m wired. Are you crashing or are you up for some company?”
“I won’t go to sleep for a while yet. Come on over.”
“I’ll be right there.”
Amelia hung up and smiled, then shrugged the blanket off and went into the cabinet to pull another wineglass down. She loved her rental house. It was older with tons of quirky charm like uneven wooden floors and yet the sunny, large kitchen had been updated with all new, high-end appliances, perfect for her. The house’s best feature, though, was its prime location, right down the street from Laura and Jon’s house. Since she didn’t know anyone else in San Francisco, finding this place had seemed like kismet.
She went to the door just as Laura rang the bell. She opened it and Laura swooped in, still wearing her scrubs and tennis shoes. Despite having worked a full shift as a nurse, her best friend was still gorgeous. It simply wasn’t fair.
“And how was your day?” she asked.
“My day was I hope you’ve opened a bottle of wine,” Laura said in response.
“As a matter of fact, I was sipping on a fabulous cabernet when you called.”
“See, this is why we’re friends.” Laura made her way down the hall, her dark brown ponytail swinging as she walked.
Amelia laughed and followed her, glad her friend was comfortable enough to pour herself a glass of wine.
“Are we on the porch?” Laura asked.
“Yes. The heater’s on. Grab yourself a spot and a blanket. I’m going to go change into something more comfortable, and I’ll be right there.”
Amelia dashed upstairs and changed out of her work clothes and into yoga pants and a long-sleeved cotton shirt, then slid into her favorite pair of slippers. She found Laura on the wicker chair, a fleece blanket covering her legs.
October in San Francisco could be cool, but the porch was closed in and with the heater on it was very comfortable.
“Tell me about your day,” Amelia said.
“Two car accidents, one drug overdose, a ruptured appendix, a broken finger and one surly drunk who threw up all over one of the other nurses.”
Amelia grimaced as she tossed one of the blankets over herself. “Well, at least the drunk didn’t throw up on you.”
Laura raised her glass of wine. “Small favors.”
“Look at it this way. At least you’re not bored. Isn’t that why you went into nursing?”
“True. I can’t believe I started my freshman year of college thinking I wanted to become a CPA.”
Amelia smiled as she remembered their first year together. “You did always score high in the math classes.”
“Math always came easy to me. But I was following in my mother’s footsteps. She was the finance whiz. Midway through the first semester I knew I’d die a slow, agonizing death in finance.”
“Plus you were so good with people. And you knew you loved medicine.”
Laura leaned back and propped her tennis-shoed feet on the old, scarred coffee table Amelia had picked up at the flea market the first weekend she’d come to town. “True. I’d have made a kickass doctor. It was just all those years of medical school—”
“And all that debt.”
Laura laughed. “Yes, all that debt—that kept me from realizing that dream.”
“This is my job. I’m very serious about it.”
Flynn pointed to her notebook. “But you smiled when you made notes about the chili.”
“See? I can smile. Therefore your point about me not smiling is moot.”
He rolled his eyes. Sometimes everything with Amelia was an argument. “Okay, so what else should we review before the party Thursday night?”
“We need an estimated head count,” Ken said.
“I have the RSVP list right here. We just finalized it. I’ll e-mail it to you both right now.” He forwarded the message from his phone.
Amelia checked her phone, scanning the list, then looked up at him. “You’re bringing a date?”
He nodded. “Yeah. Why? Is that a problem?”
Amelia looked over at Ken, then back at him. “No. No problem at all. So who’s the new woman in your life?”
“She’s a flight attendant I met on the way back from the game in Detroit.”
“Flight attendant, huh? That’s great. Is the press coming to the team party?”
“They usually attend these kinds of events. Just to get some sound bites and cover the team and the season so far. Plus, Irvin likes anything involving the team to get press.”
“Sure. Of course. Totally understandable.” Amelia quickly focused on the list, but her lips curved.
For someone who never smiled, she sure was smiling a lot now. So was Ken.
“What?”
“Nothing,” Amelia said. “I hope you have a great time at the dinner. We’ll make sure it’s perfect. You should finish your chili before it gets cold. I have to see to dinner.”
But that smile of hers lingered as she got up and left the table. Ken’s did, too, as he excused himself. And he’d sure as hell like to know what the two of them found so damned amusing.
FOUR
After a long night at the restaurant, Amelia went home, kicked off her shoes, tossed her jacket on the chair next to the front door, piled her purse on top of it and went straight to the kitchen. She pulled a wineglass out of the cabinet and poured herself a nice glass of cabernet, then walked through the kitchen and into the sunroom. It was a little chilly in here, but fortunately there was a heater. She clicked it on, then sat on the sofa. She pulled a blanket over her and reached for her tablet. After a few sips of wine she felt the kinks in her muscles start to relax.
It had been a good night. Working at Ninety-Two was a good fit for her. She liked the people she worked with, and she had creative freedom to express herself through the food she made. All in all, not a bad start to a new beginning in a new city.
Her phone rang so she pulled it out of her pocket. It was her friend Laura.
“Hey, what’s up?”
“I was wondering if you were home yet.”
“Just got here. It’s late for you. I would have called you but I thought you’d be asleep.”
“No, I switched shifts at the hospital so I’m on until eleven thirty. I just got home. Jon’s asleep and I’m wired. Are you crashing or are you up for some company?”
“I won’t go to sleep for a while yet. Come on over.”
“I’ll be right there.”
Amelia hung up and smiled, then shrugged the blanket off and went into the cabinet to pull another wineglass down. She loved her rental house. It was older with tons of quirky charm like uneven wooden floors and yet the sunny, large kitchen had been updated with all new, high-end appliances, perfect for her. The house’s best feature, though, was its prime location, right down the street from Laura and Jon’s house. Since she didn’t know anyone else in San Francisco, finding this place had seemed like kismet.
She went to the door just as Laura rang the bell. She opened it and Laura swooped in, still wearing her scrubs and tennis shoes. Despite having worked a full shift as a nurse, her best friend was still gorgeous. It simply wasn’t fair.
“And how was your day?” she asked.
“My day was I hope you’ve opened a bottle of wine,” Laura said in response.
“As a matter of fact, I was sipping on a fabulous cabernet when you called.”
“See, this is why we’re friends.” Laura made her way down the hall, her dark brown ponytail swinging as she walked.
Amelia laughed and followed her, glad her friend was comfortable enough to pour herself a glass of wine.
“Are we on the porch?” Laura asked.
“Yes. The heater’s on. Grab yourself a spot and a blanket. I’m going to go change into something more comfortable, and I’ll be right there.”
Amelia dashed upstairs and changed out of her work clothes and into yoga pants and a long-sleeved cotton shirt, then slid into her favorite pair of slippers. She found Laura on the wicker chair, a fleece blanket covering her legs.
October in San Francisco could be cool, but the porch was closed in and with the heater on it was very comfortable.
“Tell me about your day,” Amelia said.
“Two car accidents, one drug overdose, a ruptured appendix, a broken finger and one surly drunk who threw up all over one of the other nurses.”
Amelia grimaced as she tossed one of the blankets over herself. “Well, at least the drunk didn’t throw up on you.”
Laura raised her glass of wine. “Small favors.”
“Look at it this way. At least you’re not bored. Isn’t that why you went into nursing?”
“True. I can’t believe I started my freshman year of college thinking I wanted to become a CPA.”
Amelia smiled as she remembered their first year together. “You did always score high in the math classes.”
“Math always came easy to me. But I was following in my mother’s footsteps. She was the finance whiz. Midway through the first semester I knew I’d die a slow, agonizing death in finance.”
“Plus you were so good with people. And you knew you loved medicine.”
Laura leaned back and propped her tennis-shoed feet on the old, scarred coffee table Amelia had picked up at the flea market the first weekend she’d come to town. “True. I’d have made a kickass doctor. It was just all those years of medical school—”
“And all that debt.”
Laura laughed. “Yes, all that debt—that kept me from realizing that dream.”
