Page 156 of The Nanny and the Hothead
“Yeah, Mitch didn’t take it well when Ines brought up the subject,” she commented, trying to wrap her head around the complexity of her hothead chef and his complicated past.
“I can imagine,” Ralph continued. “The three of them share a lot of history. They were so young when reality TV came calling. Then came the overnight success, followed by fame and jealousy. It was hard to watch Mitch turn into the younger version of Bruce after he learned Holly had cheated on him with Seth. But then you entered his life, Charlotte, and he started taking out Say Cheese, Louise again. He opened the door to a part of himself he’d locked away.”
“I can’t take the credit, Ralph,” she answered. “I had the idea to do the food truck reboot. But Mitch made it happen. Mitch is the magic.”
Ralph chuckled and shook his head. “That’s where you’re wrong. Louise believes Mitch found his spark when he found you.”
“I don’t think I’m the spark,” Charlotte confessed.
“No, I’m not saying you are the spark,” the man countered.
Ralph had spent much of his life as a social worker, counseling others. And she had the distinct feeling he was dropping breadcrumbs for her. But she couldn’t decipher his last comment. “Then what do you mean?”
“I mean several things. You made him want to be better. You showed him another way of life was possible. You helped him face the broken pieces of his past. And you were there to support him when he became a full-time father. You inspired him to seek out what he’d buried deep inside of himself. But here’s what I know about Mitch. When he’s at a crossroads, he picks a path and forges his way forward, full speed ahead. Sometimes, that path serves him well—like with the cooking and his culinary career. Sometimes, it blinds him from seeing the good things that are right in front of him.”
She sat back and exhaled the heavy breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding. “What path do you think he’ll choose this time?”
Ralph rested his hand on her shoulder, a fatherly gesture that brought the hint of a grin to her lips. “I can’t answer that question. But I can tell you that he loves you, kiddo. Louise and I saw it the first time the two of you pulled up to Helping Hands. Don’t give up on him quite yet. I believe he’s at a crossroads right now. He could still surprise you.”
She picked up the handkerchief and wiped away fresh tears. Were they for her father, a man she wished would offer her wise words of comfort instead of the cold shoulder, or was she scared of the path Mitch would choose? Or was it neither?
What about the choice that was in front of her now—the choice to follow her dreams and attend the workshop? She shook her head, trying to order her spiraling thoughts.
“I have a feeling it’s not only Mitch that’s weighing heavy on your heart,” Ralph added.
She steadied herself. “I have a decision to make. There’s an opportunity to attend a photography workshop in London. I have to let them know today if I’ll be attending. It’s something I’ve dreamed of. If I choose to go, I leave in three days. The day it starts is the day Mitch’s book is due to his publisher. I’ll be leaving him to finish his book alone. Honestly, I don’t even know if he wants my help anymore. But this is my crossroads. Any advice from the resident social worker?” she finished, smiling through her tears.
Ralph nodded. “Yes, follow your spark.”
“My spark?” she whispered as she stared across the street at Professor Tran’s gallery.
“Yes, and sometimes, the answer is right in front of you,” Ralph added, coming to his feet. “Good luck, Charlotte. I hope to see you soon.”
“Your handkerchief,” she said, holding up the cloth.
“Keep it. You’ve got a good heart. I have a feeling you’ll need that handkerchief for happy tears next time.”
“Thank you, Ralph,” she said, watching the man stroll down the street, when a pack of women staring at their phones nearly ran into the guy. Charlotte eyed the group. That wasn’t just any pack of women. It washerpack of women—Penny, Harper, and Libby.
With a giant cup in her hand and her cell phone in the other, Harper looked up and shrieked. “She’s here! I see her! She’s on that bench!”
What the heck was going on with them?
“What are you doing here?” she asked, flabbergasted.
Penny dropped her cell into her purse. “We’re sort of tracking your phone.”
Charlotte’s jaw dropped. “Sort of?”
“Let me help,” H said, holding out her cell. “We aretotallytracking your phone, Char.”
“How?” she stammered.
“Penny’s hot nerd fiancé hooked us up,” Harper added as Penny nodded, looking pleased as punch. “We also had to listen to Rowen’s whole spiel on how a bazillion apps are tracking you at any time. So, according to Rowen, we’re just one of many who know exactly where you are.”
Charlotte stared at the phone. “That’s creepy.”
“We wouldn’t have to resort to being creepy and having my fiancé commit cyber-crimes if you’d answer your phone,” Penny replied in a huff, then glared at H. “And Harper thought it would befunif we did it on foot. We’ve been walking for two hours!”
