Happy Birthday: A Novel

“In the restaurant?” She looked worried. She didn’t think anything had changed. That was never a good sign, when the staff saw that things were slipping before you did. She was panicked by what he said. What did he mean? Theft? Taking money from the cash box? Poor service? Sloppy food or presentation?

“I meant the changes in you.” He pointed to her belly, and she was instantly relieved. “You look sad, April,” he said boldly. “This can’t be an easy time for you.” She didn’t know what to answer him. She didn’t want to admit to it, but if she denied the pregnancy, in a few weeks he and everyone else would know it anyway.

“I guess I just have to look at it as an unexpected gift,” she said with a sigh. “Please don’t say anything to anyone yet. I didn’t think it showed. I don’t want to tell them for a while. Nothing’s going to change here, but it’ll worry them anyway. Maybe they’ll think I won’t care as much about the restaurant, but I will.” She tried to reassure him, but he looked sorry for her. He was a nice man, and a good employee, but she had no other interest in him than that. She never got personally involved with her staff, and didn’t intend to start now. And she could sense that he was personally interested in her. She didn’t welcome it from him.

“And who is going to care about you, not just the restaurant?” he said pointedly.

“I can take care of myself.” She smiled. “I always have.”

“It’s not so easy with a child, especially now.” She nodded, not sure what to say to him, and uncomfortable with the conversation. “The baby’s father?” he asked, and she shrugged.

“He’s not involved.”

“I thought so.” He had also guessed that it was Mike. He had seen the way she looked at him, and he had come to dinner with her family on Christmas Eve. He also knew that he hadn’t been back since, which wasn’t a good sign. And the sadness in her eyes said the rest. He knew she was alone, and he felt sorry for her.

“If there’s anything that I can do for you, I’d like to help you,” he said gently. “I think you’re a wonderful person, and you’re very good to everyone. We all love you.” He didn’t tell her that he did, but he could have gotten there with ease, with a little encouragement from her, which she was careful not to provide. She didn’t want to mislead Jean-Pierre. She wasn’t interested in him. And with his divorce, he was vulnerable now too, and probably lonely without his wife and child.

“Thank you,” she said simply. “I’m fine,” she reassured him, and wanted to get off the subject. She tried to make that clear to him.

“I’m here if you need me,” he said again, and then disappeared into the wine cellar. He had said enough. He had let her know that he cared about her as a person, and would be happy to as a woman, if she let him. She didn’t seem to be open to it now. He hoped she would be one day. Maybe when the baby was born. He wasn’t going anywhere, and it touched his heart to know that she was pregnant and alone. He was a good man. But April didn’t want him that way. Right now, she wanted Mike or no one. She couldn’t think about getting involved with anyone while carrying someone else’s child. That was too complicated for her. It was convoluted enough as it was, without adding someone else to the mix. She was better off alone now anyway, she told herself. She had enough on her mind.

Jack called Valerie in her office that afternoon. She sounded busy, and said she was interviewing someone and would call him back. He assumed it was for her show, but as she hung up, she was sitting across her desk from a young woman the Human Resources office had sent her as a possible assistant to replace Marilyn, and Valerie didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. Her name was Dawn. She had a nose ring, and a diamond stud just above her lip. Her hair was dyed jet black with a royal blue streak in it and spiked with gel, and she had colorful tattoos of cartoon characters up and down each arm. She also had tattoos of a red rose on the back of each hand. Other than that she was neatly dressed in jeans, high heels, and a short-sleeved black sweater. She sounded intelligent, had gone to Stanford, and she was twenty-five years old. She was a far cry from the beloved assistant Valerie had worked with for years.