Hungry Mountain Man Read online

  “As of yesterday,” I say, nodding. “I just moved.”

  “I don’t see this kind of resume every day,” Martin says, raising an eyebrow at me curiously.

  “Thank you very much,” I say.

  “When you walked in, I thought you were one of those college kids in for work over the break, but you’ve just got quite the baby face, haven’t you?” Martin says, still scanning my resume. I laugh. I think Martin might be of that age where everyone who is under forty and an adolescent looks like a college kid to him, but I’m flattered regardless.

  “I hear that sometimes,” I say.

  “Can I ask why you’d want to work somewhere like this after all these fancy jobs and titles? I’m afraid you might be a bit overqualified for the job,” Martin says.

  “I moved here because this town means a lot to me,” I tell him. “It’s where my grandparents got married, and they loved it here. My grandmother loved chocolate – making it almost as much as eating it,” I say, chuckling, “and I used to help her when I’d stay with them. So, this shop makes me think of her. It makes me feel like I’m in my grandma’s kitchen again, like a little girl. It makes me happy just being here in a way all those jobs never could.”

  “Chocolate does tend to have that effect on people,” Martin says, smiling fondly. “But you don’t think you’d be bored working here?”

  “Not for a single minute,” I say, grinning back at him, and I mean it.

  “Do you remember any of it? How to make the chocolate or any of the recipes she used?” Martin asks.

  “Not really,” I admit, “but I’m a fast learner, so I’m sure it’ll come back to me.”

  “And you don’t mind that it’s a bit of a pay cut, I’m sure?” Martin says, raising an eyebrow at me. “You must’ve been making much more in the advertising field.”

  “Not at all,” I say. The place I’m renting here is so cheap I can hardly believe it, and everything in town seems so much more affordable than the city already.”

  “Well, what I’m looking for right now is a weekday shift leader. I need someone to open the shop, to help run the back, answer the phones, send out orders, ring up customers, and supervise some of the high school kids who work the register. I’ll be here to help most days, but I need someone I can trust to be here without me. Does that still sound like something you’d be interested in?” Martin asks.

  “That sounds great,” I say. “I worked in a bookstore during high school, so I know how to run a cash register, and I’m excellent on the phone and with customers.”

  Martin chuckles again, and I wonder if I’m coming on too strong, too overenthusiastic. I know I tend to do that at times. “I’d ask you more standard interview things or have you fill out our paper application, but like I said, you’re overqualified, so I don’t think I need to,” he says. “I’d be looking for someone to start this week, so if you’re available, I think might be able to work something out.”

  “Thank you so much,” I say, breathing a little sigh of relief and reaching out to shake his hand again. “I’m available as soon as you need me.”

  “Glad to hear it,” Martin says. “Well, then. Welcome aboard.”

  “I’m really excited to be here,” I tell him because it’s true. This is how I’d hoped this day would be. Not Jacob and his one-word grunted answers but nice people, a slower pace, and a fresh new start. I think my grandparents would approve, loving the idea of me working in a chocolate shop like this with someone like Martin.

  “Let’s get you set up with some paperwork, and you can tell me all about your grandparents while you fill them out,” Martin says. “If they spent a lot of time here, it’s possible I knew them.”

  I spend the rest of the morning in the shop, filling out tax forms and contact information while telling Martin about my grandparents with that warm, sweet smell lingering in the air the whole time. The more it swirls around us, the more it pushes the unpleasant thoughts of Jacob and of my old life in the city out of my mind almost entirely.

  Chapter Four - Jacob

  Cutting the wood for my fire always makes me feel more focused and less stressed with every aim and swing. I’m chopping a little more than I need right now to let some of the tension of this morning out. I’ve always liked the outdoors – always liked having physical outlets for when I get too in my head, excited by the challenge of roughing it up a little. Of course, that always used to be centered on trips with the Scouts as a kid and the occasional weekend bonding adventure with my father. I’d never really planned on doing it full-time like this.

  I think it’s helping, though. It’s clearing my head a bit already from the mess the last few years have been. Having to survive on so little, making and repairing so much by hand, and relying so fully on only myself has really helped me see a lot of things in a new light. I used to do a lot of running. I was always busy, rarely home. Life moved at such a fast pace with the business and the constant family pressure. Out here, I have no choice but to take life slowly. I have to make every choice with purpose. I think it’s good for me, even if there are a lot of people and experiences I miss greatly and the loneliness is already starting to get to me.

  It hasn’t helped me figure out my plan yet, but at least I have the space to do it. I always have to be on guard, and this morning had been too close, but overall, I think I’ve picked a good spot. It’s hard to hide out from your own brother – someone who shares so much in your life. But my brother Calvin always hated this cabin. He always hated the outdoors in general. When Dad and I would come up here for the weekend, he’d refuse to tag along and then get all angry about being left out of whatever fun we had together up here, so it’s always been a spot of contention for him.

  Calvin doesn’t stay in anything but five-star accommodations these days or travel less than first-class. He’d never dream of leaving behind the city life to come out here and find me, with his glitzy world of new nightclubs, new parties, and new women every night. Calvin has always been too dependent on other people and things for his happiness – the buzz and excitement of public life, getting the VIP treatment, and having other people know his name everywhere he goes. It would never even occur to him to look for me in these mountains.

  At least that’s what I’m betting on.

  I head inside with enough wood for several days. I set it down by my fireplace, glancing around my cabin. My eye catches the slip of paper Mia had given me, the one with her name and number on it. It’s sitting on my counter. I think I really should have thrown it out. Instead, I keep thinking about her. I hate that I was so rude to her, and the more I think about it, the more it bothers me.

  I pick up the piece of paper, staring at her number before making a choice. I walk over to my phone and dial it. I can’t take her out for a coffee or anything, but at least I can apologize.

  “Hello?” she says, picking up after three rings. “Who is this?”

  “Hey, Mia, this is Jacob, from this morning,” I say, sitting down on a kitchen stool to talk.

  “Oh. Did you get that dry cleaning back already?” Mia asks. She sounds a little annoyed, and a little like she’s surprised to be hearing from me.

  “No. I – um,” I say, “I actually called to apologize to you.” The words feel awkward on my tongue, but I spit them out anyway.

  “Oh! You did?” she asks.

  “I know I was a jerk to you this morning,” I say.

  “You were,” she agrees quickly.

  I laugh, surprised at her honesty. The sound seems odd to my own ears, but I guess I haven’t had much reason to laugh lately.

  “Yeah, I know,” I say, shaking my head even though she can’t see the gesture.

  “Why?” she presses. I wish I could see her face right now. I wish I knew if she was smiling.

  “Let’s just say I was in a huge rush and a terrible mood. But I’m sorry for taking it out on you,” I say, going for honest. Technically honest, anyway.

  “It’s all right,” she s
ays, voice softening. “I was a little stressed myself. It’s my first full day here in town, and I was headed to apply for a job.”

  “You just moved?” I ask, curious. The town below my cabin doesn’t get a lot of new permanent faces. There are plenty of tourists throughout the peak season, people here for the stunning colors the mountains turn in the fall and to stock up on local jams and ciders. There a few people who come for the winter months: skiers and cozied-up lovers preferring the larger lodges who make up the steady trickle of people compared the rest of the year. There are people who come to get married and spend a remote honeymoon here, and there are nature photographers and hikers and travel writers and retirees with time-share cabins, but all those people are temporary. It’s rare that someone new, and someone so young moves to a town like this in a permanent way.

  “I did,” Mia confirms. “I’m in a whirlwind of big life changes right now, so I guess the wind brought me here.”

  “To do what?” I ask.

  “I don’t know yet,” Mia says with a laugh, “but I got a job today over at Cobblestone Chocolates, so that’s a start.”

  “Those are the best chocolates in town,” I say. “Maybe on this whole side of the mountain range.”

  Her laugh is light and lilting, and it makes me feel lighter, too. “Then I made a smart choice,” she says.

  “Congratulations on the job,” I say sincerely, hoping to make up for this morning.

  “Thank you,” she says. She sounds sincere, too, and it makes me smile. She’s easy to talk to, and I can’t help but think about what it would have been like if things had been normal and I’d been able to take her out for a coffee to make up for the spilled one. I haven’t dated anyone in a long time. Even before this, I was married to my work. I was always the one behind a desk or on the floor while Calvin was out being the social one – the face of the company. While he was schmoozing with socialites and bringing models to events, I was spending hours going over numbers or perfecting new technology. For example: the one that had added all those extra zeroes to our revenue, that took us from local to international, that is probably linked to those attempts on my life.

  “Where did you come here from?” I ask, wanting to hear more about her. It’s just nice to talk to another person again, to hear a voice other than my own around this place. I tell myself this, but I know there are more reasons I want to keep the conversation going. Mia answers and tells me all about her life in the city, about her advertising job and how much she’d hated it. We talk about it until the sun is setting and my kitchen is getting dark around me, and after she hangs up, the cabin feels lonelier than it ever has. Even after we say our goodbyes, I’m still left wanting to hear her voice again, to talk to her more.

  Now is the wrong time to be thinking about dating anyone. I just met Mia earlier today, but there’s something about her. I can’t help but listen to those thoughts in my head. I think I’ve been lonelier up here than I’ve let myself realize.

  Chapter Five - Mia

  After four days in town and two shifts at my new job, people are already greeting me by my first name. Waiters, store clerks, customers at the shop, and even people on the street all say hello and ask me about my day like we’ve been friends for years. I absolutely love it. It makes it feel like the mess of my last job is so far behind me. It makes me feel like good things are already starting to happen here.

  Martin has been a wonderful boss so far and I’ve been looking forward to going to work every day. I’m learning to make chocolates in an old-fashioned mixer with just the right ratio of cocoa, milk, and sugar. I’m learning how to send out all our shipments, how to wrap them when they’re gifts or presented for businesses. I’m learning to make the schedule, looking at the availability of our part-time staff. I’m learning to fill up the glass cases just right, displaying the most enticing pieces right in the center. I’m learning to dip strawberries and pretzels in the perfect amount of chocolate and line them on trays. I’m enjoying all of it even more than I thought I would.

  “Thank you, sweetheart,” an older woman says, smiling at me as I ring up her order and hand her a steaming cup of hot chocolate. “I can’t make it through a cold day without a cup of this.”

  “We have it every day, all year round, cold or not,” I say, smiling. I haven’t actually tried the hot chocolate yet, but I know it’s a rich and creamy customer favorite and that Martin has been making it the same way for longer than I’ve been alive.

  “I know you do,” the woman says, handing me her credit card. Most of the customers here like to talk, I’ve noticed. I’ve always loved conversation myself, so it suits me very well. “Although sometimes you can’t keep it stock during the tourist season. You’ll see.”

  “I’ve heard. But I think Martin is planning to make extra this year to accommodate it,” I say, grinning.

  “Oh, wonderful!” the woman says, taking her order. “Well, you tell him I said hello. I’ll see you again soon, dear.”

  “Have a great day!” I call after her as she leaves. I think of the small office I’ve left behind: a bland little box with a phone that rang constantly and so many people shouting at me or ordering me around or asking pointless questions or wanting rework after rework – as if what the world desperately needed right now was another frozen vegetable medley option. I don’t miss anything about it. I’ll take sweet people and pleasant conversations over a single minute of what I’d left behind any day.

  At the end of my shift, when I’m putting some of the chocolates in the fridge to be stored overnight, I remember Jacob saying these were the best chocolates in town. I wonder what kind he likes best. I wonder if I should send him some when he sends me that dry cleaning bill. I’m still so surprised at how well our last conversation had gone. I honestly hadn’t been expecting him to call at all, let alone him calling to apologize.

  That makes him a completely different guy than I’d thought. It changes everything I’d first thought about him. It was a nice thing to do, and our whole conversation had been so nice, so pleasant. He’d been just a little awkward over the phone. Maybe a little nervous. It had been fun to talk to him. Maybe, instead of a jerk who’d try to ruin my first morning, Jacob will turn into my first friend in my new life.

  I decide to call him as I’m leaving. I’m on my way to a hair appointment, but it’s not for an hour, so I think I’ll have time. He picks up after just two rings.

  “Hello?” he asks, sounding just a little confused. I can’t help but wonder if his forehead has that same crinkle in it that it had had that first morning.

  “Jacob, hi!” I say, walking fast. “So, I have two questions.”

  “Mia,” he says, as if he hadn’t been sure at first or like he doesn’t talk on the phone much. Maybe both. “What are these questions?”

  “Well, first, I wanted to see if you’d gotten that dry cleaning done yet, and then I was wondering if you’d like me to send you any chocolate from work when I send back the bill since you mentioned you liked them,” I say.

  “Oh,” Jacob says. I can hear a rustling sound behind him. “About that dry cleaning. You don’t actually need to do that. I don’t get dry cleaning, anymore, anyway. Not that – you wouldn’t have to do it anyway, really, but I don’t use a dry cleaner,”

  “Not ever?” I ask I decide to walk toward the park as I talk. It’s a nice night, and I figure I can get some exercise in before my appointment.

  “Not anymore. Not since I moved into my cabin,” Jacob says, laughing a little.

  “So, it sounds like you’ve made some big life changes too,” I say, smiling. It hadn’t occurred to me that dry-cleaning would be a bit less common here than in the city, but I guess it makes sense.

  “I did. I used to have clothes sent out all the time, but now I use a machine I hooked up myself,” Jacob says. I picture Jacob with tools, building and fixing things. It’s a good image. There’s just something so attractive about a man who can work with his hands.

  �
��So, no dry-cleaning, then,” I say, biting my lip. “What about the chocolate anyway?”

  “I’ll let you know,” Jacob says, laughing again. “How is that going? Your new job?”

  “I love it,” I say excitedly. “It’s exactly what I was hoping for.”

  “Do you actually make the chocolate? Or are you more into sales?” Jacob asks. I smile again, picking up my pace as I wind past a giant tree in the park.

  “Both! Making it is so much fun. Martin has all this great old equipment – the kind that looks like you’re in one of those diners from the 1950s. It’s amazing to see it all work and get to use it myself,” I say.

  “It’s great they still work,” Jacob says. “Our old equipment, all this stuff my family has in storage, is mostly rusted and doesn’t do much. I had to take most of it off the line myself. It would have been more expensive to repair than it was all worth.”

  “Old equipment for what?” I ask, curious.

  “Whiskey,” Jacob says. “It’s the family business.”

  “Really?” I ask, intrigued.

  “My great-great-grandfather had a secret recipe, actually,” Jacob says. “He brewed it right in these mountains.”

  “And you still use it now?” I ask. The more we talk, the more Jacob seems to relax. The more comfortable he seems.

  “Not exactly,” Jacob says. “That recipe is long lost, but my grandfather used the legend of it to start the company as it is today.” Jacob having a family business is not something I was expecting, but I like hearing him talk about it. I picture one of the small desterilizers that do ten-cent tastings for tourists and sell to local restaurants, Jacob in charge of ten employees who have all worked there for years.

  “That’s a lot of history,” I say, headed back toward town for my appointment. I wonder if Jacob ever gives tours, talking to visitors in that rough and gravelly voice of his. Maybe I can get a tour of my own one day. “Did you move out here to be closer to it?”