Making Amends

Jessica Blevins rubbed her jawline and felt the lump of newly-injected filler under her skin. Massaging would smooth it out, the aesthetician had promised, but all she’d managed so far was to find a new chin hair. Not a great start to the week before her fiftieth birthday.

Earlier, minding her booth at the Jacksonville Home and Patio Show, she’d smiled at an older guy and returned his wave. The man brushed past her, focusing on a twenty-something with suspiciously full lips and the blonde good looks Jessica used to be known for. He hadn’t even seen Jessica.

Other than that, the day had been good. She’d signed new clients for her online home decorating business, and as soon as she hauled everything out to the car, she could hit the road home to Daytona Beach. At the convention center’s automatic exit doors, Jessica leaned all her weight into a dolly overloaded with sample books, before-and-after photos, and décor items. She pushed it to the vendor parking lot and aimed the key at her Nissan Pathfinder.

Two beeps answered – one from the SUV and one from an Altima in the next row. She pressed again, and both vehicles chirped in unison. Huh. Must be a one-in-a-million factory fluke. Jessica thought about the driver of the other car. Her Pathfinder would lock automatically when she began driving, but the other vehicle wouldn’t. Should she dash over and manually lock the Altima?

Sweat was pouring down her back by the time she closed her tailgate and rolled the dolly to a holding area, and Jessica considered just driving away. But what if someone stole that other car? Its driver would be stranded out here in ninety-five-degree weather. She headed for the Altima.

It took a few minutes. The car unlocked itself once when she held her purse too close and it sensed the smart key. But soon she was back in the Pathfinder, gulping cooled air and turning to buckle her seatbelt. It was then she noticed the manilla envelope on the seat beside her, with a cellphone lying on top.

How stupid could anyone be, accidentally putting their stuff in her car? She picked up the phone and sighed. Circling back to the entrance and leaving it at the main desk would cost her at least ten minutes. Then it buzzed in her hand.

“Um, Hello?”

“Glad you picked up,” said a man’s voice. “I was going to hand you those things, but you ran off, so I put them on your passenger seat. I’m just checking to see if you’ve looked inside the envelope.”

“Of course not. You got the wrong person.”

“Nope – it’s you, lady. Go ahead. I’ll wait.”

She set the phone on the console and pulled a single sheet of paper from the unsealed envelope. The message was typed in all caps: “YOU HAVE TWENTY-FOUR HOURS TO APOLOGIZE AND MAKE AMENDS FOR THE DAMAGE YOU CAUSED, OR A CERTAIN VIDEO WILL BE ALL OVER THE INTERNET.”

She thought for a minute. When she’d learned about her husband’s girlfriend, she’d followed the woman and slashed her tires while the slut was at a beauty salon. But it never came up in the divorce, and it was over a year ago. There was that day she’d gone back to the house for the last of her things and found the locks had been changed. She threw the first rock through a window to get in, then a few more through other windows because the first one felt so good. Understandable, since her ex had convinced the judge to let him keep the house. She had considered, for a minute, crawling under his car and making some small cuts in the brake line, but would never actually do such a thing.

“You still there?” he asked. “I’m gonna say your hesitation means you’ve figured it out.”

Maybe a client. Six months ago, Trent Eavers had been so pleased with her work redoing his living room that he’d sent her a generous gift certificate to his new restaurant, and she’d invited a girlfriend along.

The bottle of wine they split nearly made up for the somewhat tough beef tips. Actually, the girlfriend had a couple of glasses, while Jessica finished off the bottle. So when Trent came out into the crowded dining room to chat, it was the wine talking when she answered his question about her entree.

Sober, she never would have blurted out that it was like chewing on bits of dried rat carcass. And she probably wouldn’t have raised her voice so that people grew silent and stared. But it had been a long day and, to be fair, if the food had been better she wouldn’t have been drinking on an empty stomach. Plus, those terrible posts on Yelp and Trip Advisor quoting her weren’t really her fault, were they? She’d said something awful and dozens of people had piled on. What could she do about it now?

“I don’t have time to stay on the line while you make plans. You gonna take care of the problem or not?”

“I’ll, uh, try,” she stammered. “Then what?”

“Then you call back on this phone and leave a voicemail that you took care of the problem.”

“Why do I need to call back?”

“Lady, I don’t get paid to answer questions. I delivered and we talked –I’m done. Take it from here.” The phone went dead.

This shouldn’t be happening to her. She was a good person – she’d just locked a car for someone. Maybe, sometimes, truth came out of her mouth and other people couldn’t handle it. Like yesterday, when she tried to sympathize with another designer at the Home Show and said she hoped the rest of his display arrived in time for opening. He’d pointed to a sign that read, Minimalist Interiors and walked off in a huff.

But when could she have been captured on video doing something really bad? So maybe the restaurant owner, Trent. Any of the diners that evening could have pulled out a cellphone, and if people saw her drunk-bashing a client on Youtube, it would be terrible for business.

Fine. She’d drive to his restaurant in St. Augustine Beach and apologize. If things went well, she might eat there and post a rave review on all the social media she could find. She could even throw in an offer to do an online makeover of the tacky restaurant dining room.

She punched The Hideaway into the GPS and drove toward the Acosta Bridge. The restaurant was about halfway between Jacksonville and her condo, less than an hour if she took I-95 instead of the A-1. Plenty of time to craft an apology and maybe think about alternate careers in case he couldn’t be satisfied.

The Interstate stretch was just long and boring enough to allow her to focus. Hopefully the place was still in business. If so, she would apologize right away and use her best sales-pitch persuasion skills to work out a deal. The exit toward St. Augustine Beach came into view, and she turned off the air conditioner and lowered the windows to let in the salt air breeze.

The Hideaway’s main parking lot was full. So, with business this good, maybe it wouldn’t be hard to convince him to forgive her. She avoided the valet stand and drove straight to the overflow lot. If everything went horribly wrong, she didn’t want to wait at the front door for some college kid to bring her car.

She pulled around and parked near Trent’s Chevy Biscayne, restored to a classic Fifties Tasco Turquoise and Ermine White, with gorgeous new red leather seats. How could anyone with such good taste in cars decorate a restaurant to look like IKEA-scratch‘n’dent-meets-Cracker-Barrel-leftovers? If their meeting ended with an agreement to redo the place, the Biscayne’s color scheme would be her starting place. She pulled down the visor mirror and freshened her lipstick. Then she remembered how handsome Trent had looked the last time she saw him, with a few streaks of gray at his temples and in his neatly trimmed beard, and she finger-floofed her hair and reapplied mascara.

“Welcome to The Hideaway. Just one?” The greeter’s nametag identified her as Audrey. Her dark hair was pushed back by a preppy headband, revealing Botox-relaxed wrinkles on her forehead.

“Yes, and can you tell Trent I’m here? I’d like to speak to him.”

A penciled eyebrow lifted. “And you are?”

“Jessica Blevins.”

If the greeter recognized the name, she hid it well. Flashing an almost sincere-looking smile, she said, “Follow me.”

They proceeded through the dining room, which was decorated just as Jessica recalled, though it didn’t seem to be hurting business. Audrey led her to a booth for two and pointed. “Trent’s right there. Shall I leave the second place setting for him?”

Jessica thought she detected a smirk. “Up to you.” She smiled sweetly. Whatever this woman’s problem was, no way was she letting it rattle her.

Audrey studied the extra silverware, shrugged, and left it in place.

Trent was leaning over a table, laughing and talking with a family who’d just finished their dinner. Jessica watched Audrey move in and rest a hand on Trent’s bicep, which Jessica noticed was nicely defined. Audrey spoke into his ear, apparently not noticing Trent’s glance at her hand or his slight eyeroll.

So Audrey had a thing for Trent, the feeling wasn’t mutual, and she probably saw Jessica as a threat. The likelihood of being asked out by Trent at this point was essentially zero, but Jessica enjoyed the ego boost of Audrey’s jealousy.

Just as a server arrived with a menu, Trent slid into the seat across from hers. “Hey,” he said. “How’re you doing?”

Jessica shrugged and said, “Okay.” She turned to the pony-tailed teenager. “Sweet tea, please.”

Once they were alone, she forced herself to make eye contact and leaned forward, aware that her ears and neck felt hot enough to be turning an unattractive shade of red. “Thanks for coming over. The thing is, Trent, you did something nice for me, and there’s no excuse for what I said when I was here before.”

“That’s true.” He might have been suppressing a smile, but Jessica wasn’t sure. The pressure of everything was putting her at risk for starting to babble.

“I, uh, I thought I might order a meal, post how much I love it, and spread a good word to all my clients.” Trent was definitely smiling now. She should stop talking. “And, and I’d love to redecorate this place. Purchases offered at my wholesale discount, with no charge for my services.”

“Redo the restaurant?” He glanced around. “Is there something wrong with it?”

Jessica resisted the urge to say, “Not if you’re colorblind and have no taste,” and said, “Well, decorating’s my specialty, you know.”

Trent seemed to be thinking it over. He nodded after a minute. “I just got the lowest prices on everything I needed, threw it all in together, and called it eclectic. But you made my living room look amazing. If you work your magic in here, everyone could enjoy it, all day long.” The smile got bigger, revealing a single dimple. How had she not noticed that before?

The server had Jessica’s sweet tea on a tray and was checking on tables along the way. “So,” said Jessica, “does this ‘make amends for the damage I caused?’”

Trent’s eyes widened. “Well, yeah, and then some.” He flushed a bit. “To be honest, you helped profits in the long run. And you were right. That chef – Austin – is my ex-wife’s cousin. He’s actually very talented –- just couldn’t handle the pressure of making an effort for several hours in a row, day after day. His replacement is great.

“You said what you thought, and a lot of people overheard. Guess they decided it would be funny to talk about it on social media, and that led to some pretty mean comments that went viral. Then I thought, Why not go with the flow? I posted a fifty-percent-off-entrees deal on the community Facebook page, with the coupon code RAT CARCASS. It was good for five meals, and a lot of seniors around here are on tight budgets. I rented a portable sign that said, ‘Try the beef tips – just don’t ask about the secret sauce.’ I got so many suggestions for other messages that I changed it every week for a while. Once a month, I hide a rubber rat somewhere in the restaurant and if you find it, you get a fifty-dollar gift card. Truth is, there aren’t a whole lot of places to eat on this end, and folks have a sense of humor. If I get any more business, I’ll have to add on.”

He paused. “You don’t seem to be listening. Regretting that offer to redecorate the place? I won’t hold you to it. The apology’s enough.”

Jessica was seeing little silver sprinkles, and she realized she’d been holding her breath while he talked. She exhaled and took in a lungful of air. “No, I said I’d do it, and I will.”

Maybe that beauty shop parking lot had a security camera after all. She pulled out a ten for the tea and a business card from her purse as she scooted out of the booth. “Here – just in case you deleted me from your contacts,” she said, handing him the card. “I’ll work on some ideas and get back to you in a few days.”

“Um, okay. Talk to you soon? Call ahead, and we’ll eat dinner next time you come by.”

She was sure Trent’s puzzled gaze followed her all the way out of the room, but there was no time to invent an explanation. A minute ago, she’d been wishing he would ask her out. Now all she could think about was the phone call she had to make.

“Ha! Wondered when I’d hear from you.”

“You said to call back. But why are you answering? And why are you sounding like that?”

“Like what?”

“I don’t know… Like you knew I’d get it wrong.”

“You mean apologize to the wrong person? I hope you didn’t do that.”

Jessica hurried past the valet check-in point. How many people had she said harsh things about? It was a fairly long list. “I’m pretty sure this guy didn’t send that threat. So yeah, I got the wrong person.”

There was a pause. “Actually, I’m the one who got it wrong – just like you said. I was supposed to confirm the name, which I didn’t do.” Another pause. “My client said the target was a hot blonde, and that she’d be coming out an exit toward the West vendor lot, taking stuff to her car. You fit the description and, well, I got distracted watching you push that cart. You’re pretty cute when you’re working up a sweat.”

“You nearly gave me a heart attack because you were ogling my—”

“Hold on. I’m explaining myself. I headed out of the parking lot and saw someone on the sidewalk who looked a lot like you – except young enough to be your daughter – no offense. I pulled over to the curb and called out the name of the intended recipient.”

“And you couldn’t have done that for me?” A valet walking past her stopped in his tracks, and Jessica realized she was shouting.

“I had peeked inside the envelope, so I told her what the note said. Unlike you, she didn’t have to think for more than a second to figure out who she’d done wrong. I even helped her out – drove her to see the injured party, pretended to be her attorney. We brokered a deal on the spot.”

“What had she done?”

“Don’t ask, and I won’t ask what you did.”

“Why didn’t you offer to help me like you did her?” asked Jessica.

“What can I say? She’s gorgeous.”

Jessica counted silently to ten and back.

“Hey, you’re in great shape for your age – what, fifty-five?”

“Shut up. You ruin my day, cost me thousands in free work, and now you top it off with an insult.”

“Yeah,” he admitted, “but don’t you feel better doing something nice for someone? Somebody you owed it to? I figured you had fences to mend, and I was right. Right?”

It was true.

“There’s that hesitation again,” he said. “See? You’re glad you did it.”

“Maybe.”

“I knew it. Now, before you toss the burner phone, let me say that it has a tracker on it and I know you didn’t stay inside that restaurant long enough to eat. I could meet you for dinner in downtown St. Augustine.”

“Um, thanks, but I think I just need to go home. It’s been a day.” He was probably harmless, but to be on the safe side, she would place the phone behind a rear wheel and run over it a couple of times before she left. “You could ask Ms. Gorgeous.”

“Nah, I’d rather date someone who can remember Billy Joel and life before cellphones.”

“So you didn’t ask her out?”

“Nope.”

“And you didn’t help her just because of her looks?”

“Oh, absolutely. But then I charged her five hundred dollars.”

“And what would it have cost me?”

“For you, on the house. Remember that, if you ever need help. Leave a message with the concierge at the San Alvero Bed and Breakfast in St. Augustine. It’s in the Historic District. Ask them to have Ray give you a call.”

She couldn’t imagine a scenario where she would actually do that, but she said, "I'll keep it in mind."

“Good luck, Jessica.”

Before she had a chance to say that she hadn’t told him her name, he hung up.