MY HEART TO KEEP (Hazel Island #2)

Chapter 2

CHAPTER TWO

The one downside to being a chef, Jocelyn had realized early on, was that when she got home, she didn’t want to cook for herself. She’d never admit to anyone that she often microwaved a Hot Pocket or made a pot of macaroni and cheese from the infamous blue box most nights. Other times, she took home leftovers from the restaurant, so at least in that way, she was eating something she cooked herself.

But for other people? She’d always cook for them. She’d more than once wondered what that said about her, but she didn’t exactly have money for therapy to figure it out.

After making a plate of homemade lasagna and salad for her dad, she made one for herself. She carried both plates to the living room where Pete Gray spent most of his days.

Pete was watching Wheel of Fortune, which he watched every evening.

“It’s ‘scuba diving and snorkeling’!” he said to the TV. “Did this guy seriously just guess one of the letters was an ‘x’ when there are two letters left?”

Jocelyn handed her dad his plate. “It’d be pretty embarrassing to choke when the answer is that obvious.”

“I should’ve been on this show.” This was something Pete said at least once a week. He’d even tried to get on the show in his younger years, but it’d never worked out. Now, he was too ill to leave his recliner, let alone fly to California.

In his early sixties, Pete Gray looked at least ten years older. A tall, thin man, his hair had disappeared before he’d turned age thirty. Growing up, Jocelyn had always seen him with a beard. But the last few years, Pete had started shaving again. His beard grew in random patches. He always joked that this new type of beard made it seem like he kept shaving his face in the dark with a Swiss army knife.

Pete had been the only parent Jocelyn and her younger sister Alexandra had ever known. Their mom had walked out of their lives when they’d been just kids.

“Is this from the restaurant?” said Pete as he ate the lasagna.

“Nope, made it fresh today and brought it over for you.”

Pete made a tsking sound. “You don’t need to cook for me, Jossy. I know you’re busy. I’m fine eating a turkey sandwich or noodles.”

“Like I’m going to let you eat ramen noodles.” Jocelyn pointed at his untouched salad. “Eat your veggies.”

He just snorted, but he did as she asked. He usually did, especially now that he was unlikely to fully recover from his last stroke.

Jocelyn couldn’t help but watch as he struggled to lift his fork to his mouth; how slack the right side of his face had remained. He struggled to remember basic details, and Jocelyn had noticed that he often talked about the same five things over and over again. After months of physical therapy, he’d been able to walk again with the assistance of a walker. Not being able to walk easily, though, still frustrated her dad.

He couldn’t run anymore. He couldn’t drive and doing much beyond microwaving a bowl of ramen noodles was beyond him. Where once he’d seemed so alive, now he just seemed diminished.

His poor health was why Jocelyn had moved in with him when she’d returned to Hazel Island nearly two years ago. Although Alex helped as much as she could, she had her own business to run that occupied much of her time.

But despite his body failing him, Pete’s mind was still there. Maybe it wasn’t as sharp as it had been, but the essentials of Pete Gray were in there. For that, Jocelyn was thankful.

“How are things at the restaurant? You’ve been working a lot of hours,” said Pete once they’d finished eating.

Along with her friend and boss, Gwen Parker, Jocelyn had opened a brand-new restaurant on Hazel Island called Lyn’s Eatery. Jocelyn, a trained chef who’d attended culinary school in New York, had jumped at the chance to be the new head chef. Even if the restaurant was located on a tiny island in the Puget Sound.

“I’m still working on getting my staff up to speed,” hedged Jocelyn.

Pete raised an eyebrow. “Having trouble?”

Jocelyn gritted her teeth. Her sous chef Kelly was talented, and she knew it. To the point that she acted like Jocelyn giving her constructive criticism was offensive. Just yesterday, Jocelyn had taken Kelly aside to tell her that her knife cuts had been messy, and Kelly had not taken the comment well.

“Do you think I’m intimidating?” Jocelyn blurted.

Her dad, bless his heart, took a few moments to reply. “I think you’re a strong woman who knows what she wants. To some people, that might be intimidating.”

She smiled. “You mean I tend to run over people without even realizing it.”

“Let’s just say even I know not to get in your way.” He winked.

But Jocelyn, despite her tough exterior, wasn’t all that tough on the inside. She’d heard her staff whispering about her, complaining about how she was a hard-ass. She got on me for being five minutes late. Why does she always have a stick up her ass? one waiter said earlier that week when he thought Jocelyn wasn’t listening. She’s not even our boss. Gwen is!

Jocelyn had wanted to point out that she was the boss when Gwen wasn’t around. And the waiter in question had been late multiple times now, and during their busiest times.

“I don’t think any of my coworkers like me.” She stretched her legs out on the ottoman, sighing. “I told myself I’d do better with this new job. Make nice, make friends. But then I see them wasting time, doing sloppy work, being little shitheads. And I can’t make myself stay nice.”

“You ever stop to think that you might have too high of standards for yourself?” said Pete quietly.

Jocelyn groaned. “Not this again.”

“Sweetheart, you’ve always felt like you needed to be perfect. The best student, the best chef. I’d tell you to relax, but I know you won’t listen. But maybe cut your staff some slack. They’re learning like you’re learning.”

Despite herself, Jocelyn pictured Luke Wright in her mind. If anyone thought she was a certifiable shithead, it was him. But she thought he was a shithead, so it was fine.

She was fine with Luke hating her. She’d had a long time to get used to the idea. Besides, she was pretty sure she was incapable of being nice to him at this point. He was so arrogant, so sure he was right, so good at getting under her skin with just a single passing comment.

Jocelyn got up to do the dishes, her mind turning. Why did she care so much what other people thought of her? She didn’t need anyone’s approval, except for her dad’s. And she had that.

Why yearn for approval that didn’t matter?

She cut up some carrots, gathering some other veggies to feed her rabbit, aptly named Fluffernutter. The rabbit was currently curled up on his little bed in her bedroom. When he saw her coming toward him with dinner, he stretched and yawned before doing his happy dance.

Jocelyn placed the veggies in his kennel, along with adding more pellets to his bowl. He kicked his back feet in excitement. A gray rabbit with a white eyepatch, Fluffer was basically like a dog in rabbit form. Or maybe more like a cat: he was litter trained, after all.

“You approve of me, don’t you?” she said, petting the rabbit’s silky ears.

Fluffer was currently occupied with eating. Jocelyn always smiled as she watched him nearly inhale the carrot and spinach she’d give him most nights.

Leaving Fluffer to his dinner, she returned to the kitchen. As she passed the kitchen table that was covered in mail, papers, and other random items, she picked up one of the bills with a red PAST DUE on the envelope.

She glanced at the living room, but her dad was watching some reality show. He’d be pissed that she’d read his mail. But when she took out the letter inside, she was glad she’d violated that promise.

It was a medical bill. It said that it’d go to collections if the bill wasn’t paid immediately.

Her dad had assured her more than once that she didn’t need to help him with his bills. She’d believed him, but she’d had her suspicions.

Jocelyn had been giving her dad money, assuming it’d gone toward his bills. So where was it going?

“Dad,” she said, handing him the bills. “What are these?”

He didn’t even blink. He took the envelopes and stuck them in the side of the recliner’s cushion. “Nothing you need to worry about.”

“Dad. Come on. You’re not paying the mortgage? What’s going on? You could go into foreclosure. You could lose the house—”

Pete put up a hand. “I told you: don’t worry about it. I have it under control.”

Jocelyn sat down, taking his hand. “You clearly don’t. I thought I was giving you enough money. But I can give you more. I’ll pay as much as I can.”

“No. Absolutely not. You have your student loans to pay off. I’m your dad. I’m not asking you to give me any more money.”

Jocelyn just waited. When Pete seemed to realize she wasn’t going to let the subject go, he sighed.

“I wish I could tell you the money you’ve given me is going to something fun. Like gambling. Or cocaine,” he said.

Jocelyn snorted. “You’ve never even smoked a cigarette, Dad.”

“Never too late to try something new.” His smile soon faded. “But I’m behind on everything. The medical bills, they keep piling up. Insurance is refusing to pay for the latest. I call and call, but it doesn’t matter. They won’t budge.”

“I wish you would’ve told me.”

He squeezed her hand. “I’m your dad. This is my responsibility, not yours.”

“I can at least hound insurance for you. We already decided that I’m intimidating, right? I’ll bully them into submission.”

He chucked her under the chin. “I’m sure you could.”

As Jocelyn lay in bed that night, she couldn’t sleep. Her head was all numbers, wondering how she was going to make enough money to help her dad for real. As he’d said, she had student loans to repay. Although she wasn’t paying rent, exactly, she had her own expenses. Her car, for one. Maybe she could sell that, but it wasn’t worth much to begin with.

She’d taken a pay cut, starting this business with Gwen, and she’d been okay with it. Now, though, she almost wished she hadn’t. There wasn’t much left over at the end of the day, and Gwen wasn’t in a position to offer Jocelyn a raise, either.

She could ask Alex, but she had her own money troubles. The bookstore she’d bought and ran was struggling.

Turning over, Jocelyn heard Fluffer climbing the stairs onto her bed. He snuggled down next to her, nosing her hand, as if asking her if she was okay.

“If only I was rich,” she said to the rabbit. “If I were rich like Luke Wright, I could make this all go away. He’s a lucky son of a b***h. Rich and handsome. While us peasants can barely pay our bills.”

She sighed. If she saw Luke’s annoying, handsome face in her dreams, she failed to mention it to anyone the following day. She might not have any money, but at least she had her pride.