Page 5 of Considering Us

“Look,” I began, knowing that I needed to be transparent, particularly after everything Andrea had been through. Plus, it wasn’t in my nature to be demure or evasive. Sometimes, it was better to lay all your cards on the table. “You should be aware that I was just involved in a similar situation and–”

“Trust me,” she interrupted, shaking her head. “I know what happened. I have an unfortunate addiction to internet gossip. I watch that Boston PSA on TikTok every day.” She must have noticed my worried expression because she put up her hand as if to stop me from stressing. “Things happen. I’m not judging anyone in your situation or in this situation, for that matter,” she said, gesturing at the flyer. “What happens between adults is their business. I am just stuck in a job I feel ill-prepared for now, trying to find a Dining Services Director while the students eat subpar meals.”

Eww. If there was anything I had little tolerance for, it was bad food. Life was too short for that, and I had grown up eating some terrible things. My mother’s awful casseroles came to mind. “What’s going on there? Don’t you have mostly the same dining staff you had before she left the role? Or did they all leave with her?”

“Yes, they’re all still here, but they are really struggling without her. Donna planned all the meals, ordered all the ingredients, and led all the staff meetings with that department. She wiped out all her computer files when she left. We have old archives of menus, but that’s about it. We don’t even know which recipes she used. Plus, Marnie, the interim director, if you want to call her that, is obsessed with boxed meals. It’s just the fall athletes here so far, but she’s got everything set up incardboard boxes as grab-and-go. Everyone’s groaning about it and leaving the boxes everywhere. Tons of waste, plus there are pizza deliveries coming to campus every single night. Two of the cars hit each other in the parking lot yesterday.”

“You need a leader,” I murmured, mulling this over. “I have absolutely no experience in this kind of environment,” I added, almost as if I was trying to convince her that I was the wrong person for this job. I couldn’t tell if I wanted to take this on or not.Maybe I’ll move to another city and start my business over. I didn’t really have the money to do that, and my thoughts kept darting back to David Anders.I would have to leave him. For whatever reason, I was attached to that quirky six-foot-five guy who never left his condo building unless he had a game or practice. Even his trainer met with him in the small gym of his luxury Seaport high-rise at odd hours so as not to interact with many onlookers. Despite his oddities, he lit up whenever I came over and actually talked to me—David Anders hardly talked to anyone—probably because I brought enchiladas and cookies.

“Devon, I know you were chef de cuisine at Minx before it burned to the ground,” she retorted. “That is no small feat, managing that kind of kitchen. I ate there once, back when I worked at Exeter. We had a dinner meeting with some prominent Boston alumni there. It was excellent. Everything was well-executed. And since then, you’ve run a successful business dealing with people who I’m sure are not easy to please. These teenagers and our staff might be your easiest customers yet.”

What do I have to lose?I couldn’t be humiliated much more than I already had been, and my bills and expenses would stack up quickly after I got my last checks and Venmo transfers from the clients who had fired me. Boston was a ridiculously expensive place to live. Maybe I could do this for a year andregroup and figure out what the hell I actually wanted. “Are you offering me the job?” I asked.

Andrea stood up to fiddle with the air conditioning unit. “I’m sorry this thing is so loud. I don’t think these window units are meant for days like this. Makes you long for those cool fall days, huh?”

“Love the fall,” I replied. “But I dread what comes after. I’m not a big fan of winter, which I know makes no sense since ours goes on for about eight months.” It never stopped me from drinking my iced coffee and eating my ice cream, though.

“Right?! I do think there’s something cozy about living up here on this campus during the winter, though, plus there’s no commute.” She made a good point. I wouldn’t be hauling cooler bags and groceries all over the city in snow, ice, and wind. Walking to work–from wherever I’d be living–would likely be a hell of a lot easier. “I want you to take this job,” she continued. “Um, I should probably ask you some kind of interview question to make this more formal. You know, in case the Board wants some details of your hiring process.”

“Sure. Go for it. Ask away.”

“Well, like I told you, we are not making our constituents very happy right now when it comes to food. It’s just the fall athletes for the next couple of days, but later this week, everyone else shows up. Staff will start eating in the dining hall more regularly then, too. What will you do early in your time here to connect with students and staff to make meals a more pleasant experience for them?” She shuffled through some papers on her desk, looking for something but apparently not finding it. “Was that a good question? I’m so new to this.”

“Great question. I think listening to people is the first step. I had to do this with my private chef clients. I sat down with them and found out what their food needs were, but more importantly, I discovered what foods made them happy. Whatmeals had positive nostalgia associated with them. I would imagine—especially for students who are away from home for the first time—that if I can make them some things that are familiar to them, this transition can be much easier and more positive. So, I think I’ll run some small focus groups. That’ll help me get to know everyone better, too.” I felt a bead of sweat run down my temple. I was thinking on my feet, and it was starting to show. And that clunky air conditioner wasn’t keeping up with the scorching day outside. “How’s that for an answer?”

Andrea clapped her hands together. “Perfect. Are you in?”

I took a deep breath. “One more caveat. I have one client left in Boston. He’s really important to me. I need to make him food, which I can do in my own kitchen if you’re giving me a space with one. But I’ll need to go down there once a week to deliver some things to him. Would that be okay?”

Andrea gave me a smirk. “Is it, you know, theguy?”

“No, no, not him. They fired me. At least, his wife and all her friends did. It’s a professional athlete, and he’s twenty-two, and his mother employs me to feed him. It’s sort of a unique situation.”

“Of course you can still work with him,” Andrea said. “Let me show you around campus.”

We spent the next half hour or so meandering through buildings, both old and new, stately brick structures and charming wood-frame houses. I saw the expansive dining room and met a few staff members, who seemed excited that I was coming aboard. The kitchen was modern and well-equipped. I witnessed a few students picking up boxed lunches, inspecting the contents, and throwing them out in a big barrel outside of the building. I had my work cut out for me, but anything I could come up with was probably going to be an improvement.

Andrea led me to a dorm and up four flights of stairs. I had to practically haul myself up the last few. “And here it is,” she said, flinging open the door. “Your apartment.”

I didn’t know what to expect, but given how out of breath and shaky I felt, I hoped I wasn’t seeing a mirage. It took up the entire fourth floor of the building–a large Victorian house similar to the administrative building but without a turret—and had huge windows on all four sides. The back window had a fire escape so tall I felt dizzy looking down it. Air conditioning window units buzzed from the side windows. There was a large living space, a bedroom big enough to fit a king-sized bed, a walk-in closet, and a bathroom with a claw-footed tub as well as a stand-up shower. A full-sized washer and dryer were stacked in another closet. The eat-in kitchen was obviously recently renovated, with granite counters and gleaming stainless-steel appliances. It would have rented for at least six thousand dollars a month in certain areas of Boston, probably much more.

“This would be, um, mine?” I choked out. My Beacon Hill place was lovely but a small studio. My dining table doubled as a second kitchen counter. This was a whole different world.

“Yes, included in your benefits package,” she replied, smiling. “We just ask that you’re available for any student issues as they arise in the dorm when you’re here. There are staff living on each floor of the house, but I promise you this is, by far, the best apartment on campus. I might like it better than my house!”

She sold me. Tam had expressed interest in leasing my condo, so with living at Rockwood—even at a salary less than I was accustomed to—I would be saving money. And in a year’s time, I could decide my next move. Despite the hellscape that the past few days had been, things were turning around. “This is great. Thank you. I look forward to moving in.”

We walked down all the stairs and worked out the logistics and plans for me to get started on the job. As we headed downthe path back to the administrative office where my car was parked, I noticed the boys’ soccer team heading in the opposite direction. A tall, thin man with sandy blond hair and a bit of scruffy facial hair, dressed in athletic clothing and carrying a clipboard, was at the back of the pack, chatting with one of the players. His voice was so familiar, causing me to stare at him in a way that he must have felt. He looked up at me and stopped talking, and our eyes briefly locked. As I walked past, I kept looking, turning slightly to continue trying to determine if he was who I thought he was. He did the same until we were too far apart to keep doing that.

“Everything okay?” Andrea asked once we got back to the front of the building where our tour had begun.

“Who was that? The soccer coach?” I asked, but I already knew. It had to be him.

“Kyle Holling,” she said. “Coaches soccer, obviously, but he’s also a history and government teacher. He’s been here for years. Just went through a nasty divorce. His wife used to teach here. Ex-wife, I should say. She and their daughter moved to Boston. I probably shouldn’t have told you any of that. Another part of the job I need to get used to. No more gossip,” she said, somewhat wistfully. “Why do you ask?”

“I know him,” I replied.How is this happening?“We went to college together.” The words came out of my mouth as if they were in slow motion. I felt lightheaded and wobbly on my feet.

Andrea winked. “I’m guessing there’s more to the story than that. Kyle’s a doll. Never shuts up, but he’s a sweetheart.” She followed me to my car. “I should probably advise you to stay away from each other to prevent any more controversies around here, but that would be silly. You’re both adults. Just don’t do it in front of the students, okay?” She laughed and waved, heading back up to the path toward her office. “See you soon, Devon!”

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