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Authors: Valerie Frankel
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Amanda. He was just another loser with big plans and a light wallet—that twenty won’t cover his drinks and yours.”
“I’d do better with married fathers of two like you?” she asked, slightly annoyed with Paul’s “you can do better” refrain. Paul seemed taken aback by her comment. She tried to laugh it off. “What’s a girl with radiant beauty to do?” she asked him.
“Irony? You’re hilarious. I love that. Gimme five.” Paul raised his hand. She jabbed him in the ribs with a swizzle stick.
Amanda turned to face the windows. No sign of Chick outside. She drank her cocktail and thought about what could have been. Then she went home, determined to get in touch with Chick in the morning, apologize, and try again. She had to. If she’d scared him off, he’d never come into Romancing the Bean. And if he didn’t bring his friends, the whole plan of using these men as bait would be botched. Amanda tried not to imagine Frank’s reaction to the news of the date, Clarissa’s disappointment in her. She’d have to tell her new friend she’d blown it with Chick. Clarissa probably never blew it. The whole doubledate thing was out the window. Amanda couldn’t believe she’d gone from new social circle to alone and miserable at a bar in five seconds flat.
If only she’d stuck with the skirt.
“He what? ” demanded Frank. It was early the next morning. Amanda had had a terrible night’s sleep. She was relieved in a way to tell her big sister what happened.
“I’m so sorry,” she said. “Especially for Chick. You should have seen his face. He was so embarrassed. I hope he’s not afraid of me.”
Frank said, “It never stops with you. The innocent mistakes that I have to clean up or absorb. I’m tired of it, Amanda.”
“I’m sorry, Frank. I didn’t mean any harm.”
“You never do. Get dressed,” said Frank. “We’re going to his place. Maybe if you beg him to forgive you, he’ll come back to Romancing the Bean. His picture is going to be in the Courier. People will want to meet him.” Frank paced. “I am furious about this, Amanda. Honestly, I’m surprised how angry I feel. If I were wavering about what I wanted out of life, at least now I know. We have to keep the store afloat. It’s a noble thing to own a business, to work hard and provide a service to the community. Thanks to your bumbling, at least now I know for sure.”
“You’re welcome,” Amanda said.
“Just get dressed,” Frank said.
“Ten minutes.” Amanda knew that not even the most potent chamomile tea could soothe Frank when she was in a righteous snit. So she got dressed (jeans and T-shirt, crewneck sweater, boots, and pea coat).
Frank’s lecture about Amanda’s recklessness continued as they walked the four blocks to Chick’s apartment on Joralemon Street (they’d gotten his address from his entry card—the pile was still under the cash register). Amanda half listened to her sister (“Actions have consequences,” “You don’t think before you act”) while mentally preparing for her speech to Chick. She’d been mulling about it all night: “Chick, I want to try again with you. I sense real potential between us, not just sexual attraction. Giving up on what could be something significant after one weird date is like slamming the door on destiny. We might be meant for each other. And the only way to find out is to give us another try.” Amanda believed every word of it. She’d felt a real connection to him since the minute they first met. Somehow she knew that their fates were intertwined. He had to see her again.
As the sisters turned the corner onto Chick’s block, Frank spotted the flashing lights first. The ambulance was parked in front of Chick’s building. Amanda sucked in her breath on reflex. Frank pulled her sister by the wrist as she rushed toward the siren sound. They got to the police blockade just in time to see Chick’s stiff, blue body on a stretcher being wheeled
“I’d do better with married fathers of two like you?” she asked, slightly annoyed with Paul’s “you can do better” refrain. Paul seemed taken aback by her comment. She tried to laugh it off. “What’s a girl with radiant beauty to do?” she asked him.
“Irony? You’re hilarious. I love that. Gimme five.” Paul raised his hand. She jabbed him in the ribs with a swizzle stick.
Amanda turned to face the windows. No sign of Chick outside. She drank her cocktail and thought about what could have been. Then she went home, determined to get in touch with Chick in the morning, apologize, and try again. She had to. If she’d scared him off, he’d never come into Romancing the Bean. And if he didn’t bring his friends, the whole plan of using these men as bait would be botched. Amanda tried not to imagine Frank’s reaction to the news of the date, Clarissa’s disappointment in her. She’d have to tell her new friend she’d blown it with Chick. Clarissa probably never blew it. The whole doubledate thing was out the window. Amanda couldn’t believe she’d gone from new social circle to alone and miserable at a bar in five seconds flat.
If only she’d stuck with the skirt.
“He what? ” demanded Frank. It was early the next morning. Amanda had had a terrible night’s sleep. She was relieved in a way to tell her big sister what happened.
“I’m so sorry,” she said. “Especially for Chick. You should have seen his face. He was so embarrassed. I hope he’s not afraid of me.”
Frank said, “It never stops with you. The innocent mistakes that I have to clean up or absorb. I’m tired of it, Amanda.”
“I’m sorry, Frank. I didn’t mean any harm.”
“You never do. Get dressed,” said Frank. “We’re going to his place. Maybe if you beg him to forgive you, he’ll come back to Romancing the Bean. His picture is going to be in the Courier. People will want to meet him.” Frank paced. “I am furious about this, Amanda. Honestly, I’m surprised how angry I feel. If I were wavering about what I wanted out of life, at least now I know. We have to keep the store afloat. It’s a noble thing to own a business, to work hard and provide a service to the community. Thanks to your bumbling, at least now I know for sure.”
“You’re welcome,” Amanda said.
“Just get dressed,” Frank said.
“Ten minutes.” Amanda knew that not even the most potent chamomile tea could soothe Frank when she was in a righteous snit. So she got dressed (jeans and T-shirt, crewneck sweater, boots, and pea coat).
Frank’s lecture about Amanda’s recklessness continued as they walked the four blocks to Chick’s apartment on Joralemon Street (they’d gotten his address from his entry card—the pile was still under the cash register). Amanda half listened to her sister (“Actions have consequences,” “You don’t think before you act”) while mentally preparing for her speech to Chick. She’d been mulling about it all night: “Chick, I want to try again with you. I sense real potential between us, not just sexual attraction. Giving up on what could be something significant after one weird date is like slamming the door on destiny. We might be meant for each other. And the only way to find out is to give us another try.” Amanda believed every word of it. She’d felt a real connection to him since the minute they first met. Somehow she knew that their fates were intertwined. He had to see her again.
As the sisters turned the corner onto Chick’s block, Frank spotted the flashing lights first. The ambulance was parked in front of Chick’s building. Amanda sucked in her breath on reflex. Frank pulled her sister by the wrist as she rushed toward the siren sound. They got to the police blockade just in time to see Chick’s stiff, blue body on a stretcher being wheeled
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