Catch of the Day by Kristan Higgins Page B

back door, and I wince at the noise. “Hi, boss,” he says cheerfully.
    “Hi.” I wait for the questions, but none comes.
    Instead, Octavio busies himself at the stove, checks the muffins. “How about some coffee, boss?” He doesn’t wait for the answer, just pours me a cup and hands it to me, then starts cracking eggs into a large bowl. His big hands can handle two eggs at a time, and he’s ambidextrous, at least when it comes to egg cracking. Smack! Four eggs. Smack! Eight. Smack! A dozen eggs lay waiting innocently in their bowl, not realizing they’re about to be whisked without mercy. He glances at me, his face open and friendly.
    “Would you like a raise?” I ask.
    “It’s okay, boss.”
    “You deserve one.”
    “Maybe in the summer, then.” He smiles. There’s a space between his two front teeth that I find very appealing.
    “So I really told Father Tim I love him, didn’t I?” I ask.
    “Yeah, boss. Sorry.” He winks at me and continues frying the hash browns.
    “Any questions?”
    “Nope.”
    “You’re getting a raise this week.”
    “Whatever you say, boss,” he agrees.
    Octavio is excellent at getting raises. Last year he got a whopper by not talking about that guy I’d met, and now he’ll get one for just being kind. “I wish I were as cool as you, Octavio,” I say.
    “Keep trying,” he answers encouragingly.
    At eight-thirty, Father Tim comes in and slides into his usual booth. I take a deep breath and close my eyes. “Good morning, Maggie,” he says gently. Rolly and Ben halt their conversation shamelessly, and the board of education members in the corner drop their discussion on cutting the art program. It’s to be expected—I’m the best show in town.
    “Oh, Father Tim,” I sigh. “I’m so sorry. I don’t know what to say. I hope I didn’t embarrass you, though I certainly embarrassed myself.”
    He smiles ruefully. “Not to worry, Maggie, not to worry.” He allows me to pour him a cup of coffee. “Maggie, sit with me a moment, won’t you, dear?”
    I obey. He smells like damp wool and grass, the smell of Ireland, though he’s been in America for six years now. His hands are elegant and smooth, and I hide my own hands in my lap, conscious as always that they’re rough and red, the hands of a much older woman.
    “Maggie, I’ve been thinking about our little problem here,” he says in a low voice. His eyes are kind, and my heart squeezes with painful, hopeless love. “This…this crush on me, it’s getting in the way of things, isn’t it?”
    I nod, feeling the blush creep down my neck. “I’m sorry,” I whisper.
    “I’ve given it some thought, Maggie, dear, and I wondered if I might help you in some way.” He takes a sip of coffee, then cocks his head. “What would you think if I set you up with some proper men?”
    My mouth drops open. “Uh…well…um… Excuse me?”
    “Well, Maggie, I think it might help you, ah, move on, shall we say, if you’d a nice man in your life, don’t you think?”
    Humiliation sloshes through my limbs. The priest is trying to fix me up. Oh, God. “Um…I…”
    “Proper men, as I said. Believe or not, I know a few.”
    “Okay, um, well, what exactly do you mean by proper men?”
    Tim leans back in the booth, takes a sip of coffee. “Well, Catholic would be the best place to start, of course.”
    “How optimistic you are,” I say. “Single Catholic men in Gideon’s Cove. I can think of one, Father Tim, and he’s eighty years old and a double amputee. Plus, he’s already proposed, and I turned him down.”
    Father Tim chuckles. “Ah, Maggie, ye of little faith.” He pauses and glances toward the counter. “Would you mind if I grabbed one of those muffins? I haven’t had breakfast yet.”
    A pang of guilt makes a direct hit. Here he is, hungry and unfed, trying to solve my problems. “Sure, Father Tim! Of course! Whatever you want. Would you rather have pancakes? Or an omelet? I can have Octavio make you