Stuck With the Grumpy Single Dad

3. Chapter Two Mabel

Chapter Two: Mabel

“ M abel Lee, did you hear the news?”

I lean against the open doorway leading into the Siren & Sword’s small but modern kitchen. The grill sizzles with peppers and onions, filling the space with a delicious aroma that just barely manages to mask the chef’s pungent cologne.

“What are you talking about, Joshie? And, oh, for the love of all that is pure and holy, can you stop wearing the stinky perfume that fancy girlfriend of yours bought you?”

Joshie rolls his eyes at me, spatula poised like he’s debating whether or not he wants to smack me with it, while Roy snickers quietly behind him as he dutifully minces a mountain of fresh garlic.

“She’s not fancy,” Joshie rebuts.

“She’s French, isn’t she?”

“Colette is from Quebec.”

“Exactly. French. I didn’t know they liked their amoureux to be so stinky.”Joshie sighs so loudly and heavily that you’d think he has absolutely no sense of humor. I know better, though. I’ve been working with the head chef at the Siren & Sword for almost a decade now. We’re practically family.

“I’m not stinky,” he grumbles.

“Says the Mayor of Stinkville, USA,” mutters Roy.

Joshie raises his spatula to smack him, but Roy playfully waves his chopping knife in the air in warning. With a snort, Joshie shakes his head and puts the harmless kitchen utensil back down.

“Fine,” he snaps. “I’ll stop wearing it, but you two can be the ones to explain to Colette why I’m no longer allowed to wear her super expensive gift to work anymore.”

“No problem,” answers Roy, casually tossing a plump garlic bulb into the air and catching it with one hand. “I’ll just say it gives me migraines. It wouldn’t be a lie.”

This time, Joshie really does smack him with the spatula.

“Stop it, boys,” I pretend to chastise them. “No mischief in the kitchen. I’m assistant manager now, remember? You have to behave in my presence.”

Both of them simply roll their eyes and chuckle. They know I’m not really being serious. I might be in a position of authority now, but these two guys are good enough at their jobs that a little rebellion is no big deal. Plus, admittedly, if anyone is making trouble around here, it’s probably me. Liam, the owner and general manager, says I have a talent for bringing out the chaos in people.

I think what he really means is that I’m gifted in bringing out the best in people.

“Get back to work,” I jokingly reprimand them.

I turn on my heel, knowing that I need to go check that table five doesn’t need any refills, but Joshie’s voice stops me before I can take another step.

“Don’t you want to hear the news, Mabel? ”

“Oh, right. What news? Did the Dechaines finally find their missing cat?”

“The Dechaines lost their cat!?” exclaims Roy before Joshie can answer. “Oh, no! I loved Mittens!”

Joshie huffs in annoyance. “First of all, everyone knows Mittens loves to pretend to be a barn cat out at the Greene’s farm. He’s probably too busy befriending the sheep to come home.”

“True,” Roy says with a shrug.

“Second of all,” Joshie continues sharply, “no, that was not the news. Clearly, you guys haven’t heard that they finally hunted down the heir to Beaufort Manor.”

In unison, mine and Roy’s mouths drop open.

It’s been a grand mystery for the past year in Mermaid Shores, the question of what’s going to happen to the historic mansion out on the cliffs. Mr. Beaufort passed away last summer, but it took a week or so for the news to actually spread, given that he was such a recluse.

It’s both weird and sad to think that the old man lived in that huge house all by himself, but he seemed to like it that way. Mr. Beaufort was the kind of tourist-turned-local, whom everybody knows about, but rarely sees. He liked to keep to himself, apparently. All alone in that big house overlooking the sea.

For the past year, rumors have bounced around about the fate of the manor. Everyone knew that he didn’t have any children or grandchildren to pass it on to, so our first collective assumption was that it might become a historical landmark. Sort of like Blakeley Manor just up the road from it, but maybe with the potential to be converted into a museum instead of an event center. That was Mayor Dechaine’s idea, anyway.

Except then it turned out that Mr. Beaufort actually does have relatives to pass his estate down to. Distant ones, obviously. Mrs. Whitten got word from Dina Thomas, who spoke directly to Tammy from the Town Hall at Lazy Joe’s one morning, that Beaufort Manor was going to the grandson of a second cousin thrice removed. Or something like that. They were having a lot of trouble finding the guy, though.

For months, in order to entertain ourselves in the offseason, we speculated about who the Beaufort heir might be. Some haughty brat from Europe? A decent Cape Cod local? A foreign royal? Some random person from the middle of the country who hasn’t even seen the ocean with their own eyes?

“No way,” I say, once I manage to pick my jaw up off the floor. “How do you know that?”

Joshie shrugs. “Colette’s cousin Randy drove past the place on the way to Blakeley yesterday and said those rusty old gates were open.”

“That could mean anything, though,” Roy chimes in. “Maybe it was just some town official or tax assessor or whatever investigating a potentially abandoned building.”

“Yeah, maybe. Or maybe it’s the Beaufort heir finally showing their face in town,” Joshie argues.

Before these grown men can start bickering in earnest, I cut in. “I guess we’ll just have to wait and see, won’t we?”

I flip a strand of red hair over my shoulder, feigning nonchalance, but neither Joshie nor Roy is fooled. They snicker quietly. Everyone knows that I tend to be a little too curious for my own good. I’m not a gossip. I’m not nosy . I just like to talk to people and I like to know things about them. That’s all.

“Whatever,” I add. “Is that it, then? That’s the news?”

Joshie fetches a tub of marinated chicken from the fridge, giving me a look that sarcastically says sorry my gossip wasn’t impressive enough for you.

“Hey, I have news!” Roy exclaims .

I should really get back out to the dining room and make sure table five isn’t parched with thirst. Plus, if I read the vibes at table seven correctly, I’m sure they’re going to complain about their egg-white omelets. As if it’s my fault they chose to order egg whites and spinach at a restaurant that specializes in grease and flavor.

Still, like I said, I can’t resist my own curiosity.

“What’s up?” I ask Roy.

He smiles and lowers his voice slightly. “Well… it’s actually really big news, and we haven’t actually told anyone yet. Other than our parents, I mean.”

“Oh, now I’m definitely intrigued.”

Roy’s smile grows. “Okay, so try to keep this to yourself for at least another day or two, Mabel Lee. That’s all I ask.”

I give him a mock salute. “Scout’s honor.”

Joshie snorts quietly, but doesn’t say anything.

Roy drops his voice to a whisper. “We’re having a baby.”

The words send a jolt through my body. Embarrassingly, the first emotion I feel is frustration, quickly followed by a touch of jealousy. I do my best to push all that negative nonsense away as swiftly as possible, though, and make room for the overwhelming rush of joy and excitement that comes pouring in a moment later.

“A baby ? Oh my goodness, Roy!”

My eyes prick with tears. Happy tears , I tell myself, and then I rush forward to engulf Roy in a hug. Joshie reaches out to pat him on the back.

“And thank goodness I’m not the only breadwinner in the family,” Roy continues when I wordlessly release him from the embrace, “because even though I love this job, I took one look at the price of diapers and formula and whatnot and almost fainted.”

Because I still don’t know what to say, I murmur a watery congratulations and pull him into another hug. Thankfully, Roy is so overcome with emotion over finally revealing this secret that he doesn’t seem to realize that my usual chatty demeanor has been subdued.

Joshie, however, clocks it right away.

“What’s wrong, Mabel Lee? I mean, I know you hate kids, but there’s no need to be in mourning for Roy.”

His words cut like knives, but I refuse to let it show as I force a smile onto my face. After all, I can’t blame him. That’s the narrative I’ve presented for years: the reason I’ve never settled down and had kids is simply because I don’t like them.

The truth is a lot more complicated than that, but it’s really not anyone’s business. It’s the one thing that I’ll never allow to get caught up in the small-town gossip machine. I’ve carried it with me for over a decade now, and the only people who know are my parents and one other person.

So, instead of crumpling into a ball on the floor like I’m tempted to do, I punch Joshie lightly in the arm. “Ha! Yeah, you know me…”

Before anyone can say anything else, a very deep and masculine throat-clearing jolts us out of our on-the-clock shenanigans. For half a heartbeat, I’m worried that it’s Liam hunting me down because I’ve been missing in action for a minute too long, but the owner of the Siren & Sword isn’t a micromanager in the first place. Plus, chattiness aside, I am an exemplary employee. It’s why he promoted me.

Both Roy and Joshie raise their eyebrows at whoever it is, then direct their attention back to cooking. I turn around.

For the second time in ten minutes, my lips part in surprise before I can rein in my reaction.

I can only guess that the man standing in the back hallway of the restaurant is a customer. He’s absurdly handsome. Tall, muscular, sun-tanned, and a little bit rough around the edges in a way that suggests his job requires him to work with his whole body. His hair is a nice blondish brown and super thick, but styled in a practical cut that makes me think this guy has no idea how freakishly gorgeous he is.

It’s the eyes, really. They’re icy blue and flecked with silvery gray, and I’d be tempted to call them pretty if not for the fact that this rugged man is most definitely anything but dainty and gentle.

He clears his throat again, that bright blue gaze trailing halfway down my body before snapping back up to my face, as if he can’t be bothered to take in the full sight of me. Fair enough. I do look a bit frumpy today, with my baggy overalls and wrinkled apron.

“Hey, there,” I say, offering him my warmest, friendliest smile. “Can I help you with something, handsome?”

His eyebrow quirks slightly at the handsome , but there’s otherwise no other indication that he appreciates the flattery. In fact, my kindness only seems to create more tension. Is it just my imagination, or did he just narrow his pretty-not-pretty eyes at me?

“I was looking for the bathroom,” he says, his voice smooth as honey yet oddly cold.

“Well, you almost found it,” I tell him, unwavering in my attempts to soften him up. As a waitress, this is second nature to me. “Just keep walking down the hall and it’ll be on your left!”

To be extra helpful, I step out into the hallway next to him and point down toward the restroom with a playful wink. He smells like fresh lumber and soap.

The man doesn’t even pretend to smile at me. All he does is nod once, blink his icy eyes, and carry on down the hall. I glance back at Roy and Joshie, but they’re no longer paying attention.

That was weird. I’ve always considered my people skills to be my best asset. Even the most disgruntled of customers can’t hold their own against my natural charm.

Whatever. Maybe I’m having an off day.

With a quiet sigh, I head back out to the dining room. The second I emerge from the back, however, I’m intercepted by a slightly disheveled Vicki. She’s a seasoned waitress just like me, so I know that if she looks a little frantic, something’s really gone wrong.

“What do you need?” I ask her before she can even open her mouth.

“Can you take table two for me? Table three just announced that they’re now a party of eight, and might be expecting a ninth and a tenth, so I need to deal with that.”

“Ugh. We need to start requiring that people make formal reservations if they’re going to come in hoards.”

“Yeah, well, I’ll talk to Liam about it, but for now the only way out is through.”

I snort. “Totally. No problem. I’ve got table two covered, Vick.”

“You’re a lifesaver, Mabel Lee.”

“Not at all. Just a gal who loves her job!”

“If you say so!”

I glance behind me toward table two, which is one of the booths along the back wall. I see two preteen girls sitting side by side on one bench, which means they must have a parent roaming around somewhere, so I head over to the bar to grab three menus.

When I turn back around, however, I quickly learn who the guardian in question is. It’s the guy from the hallway. He folds himself into the booth opposite the girls. One of them reaches out to pinch his arm. As I watch, he feigns agony and pretends to faint against the wall. The girls giggle loudly.

Alright, then. So, he’s not a total grouch. I can work with that.

It’s time for Operation Charm His Socks Off: Attempt Number Two.