Chapter 25

Chapter Twenty-Five

Caroline

C alvin and I are perched on scuffed wooden bar stools, like vultures eyeing our prey. If it weren't for my thick down coat, I'd be concerned about splinters in the hiney.

From our vantage point, I watch the line cook through the hole-like gap in the wall. Actually, the entire place is a hole in the wall. The unshaven cook is straight out of central casting. White paper cap, stained apron, sweating like a hog. The only thing missing is the ash-dripping cigarette for added flavor.

Calvin's eyes are glazing over. "I can't tell you how relieved I am that this place is still here."

I have to admit the smell is intoxicating. My stomach grumbles once more. At this point, I'd eat the beef with the tobacco additive. The only thing I had all day was Aunt Pearl's cookie.

The ding of a bell. "Order up!"

The smell of fried onions is potent. I'm salivating now. I'm Pavlov's dog.

A young waitress with piercings in every possible orifice, brings over the piled-high burgers. Brown goo is oozing out the sides. This will be a ten-napkin meal. Not my usual fare.

The waitress sets the plates in front of us. "Two Bobby burgers. On the house."

Calvin smiles. "Aww, thanks."

I carefully lift the monstrosity to my lips and peer over the bun's edge at Calvin. "What am I missing?"

The cook swipes at his brow. If he could squeeze his forehead, we'd have two glasses of salt water to go with our burgers. He leans through the wall cut-out until his bulk stops him at his shoulders.

"Didn't he tell you? Bobby was Calvin's mom. The best teacher Sugarbush Falls ever had. When she passed, we named our most popular item after her."

I ponder this as my teeth sink into the burger.

My taste buds explode. Smoky, sweet, juicy, just the right amount of heat. I've never tasted anything so good in my life.

My eyeballs must be popping out because Calvin says, "Told ya."

It takes me a full minute to chew, swallow and wipe down my mouth. "How have I never heard about this place?" I say, readying for the next heavenly bite.

"It's a Vermont secret. People come from as far as Montpelier for a Bobby burger."

"We need to invest," I say, around a mouthful of beefy deliciousness.

It dawns on me that I may soon have no money to put where my mouth is.

Calvin and I delight in our meal. No need for side fries. I want to devote all my calories to this one masterpiece.

When we're finished, there's a mountain of stained napkins between us.

"You missed a spot." Calvin leans over and wipes the edge of my lip. With his thumb.

Every one of my nerve fibers revs up. Right here in the burger joint. I'm a millimeter away from licking his fingers, when the waitress materializes with two colas in old-fashioned glass bottles and snaps off their caps. "Dessert."

I let Calvin finish the lip wiping job without grossing out the waitress.

I refocus all my attention to the cola in front of me. I can't recall the last time I drank one. It's terrible for you. The irony makes me smile. I just downed enough cholesterol to give me an actual coronary.

"Doctor, I believe you just fed me an extremely heart-unhealthy lunch. Seems irresponsible." I'm halfway through my drink.

He leans in, finding something in my expression that tells him I'm not actually annoyed. It feels good to have someone get me again.

"Your episode was stress-induced and while you are correct, eating comfort food—in moderation—can help reduce stress. Tell me, how's your anxiety right now?"

He's so close I can count the black hairs in his short, scruffy beard. I ponder what it would feel like against my neck. Scratchy? Ticklish?

I down the last of my dessert. "What anxiety?"

He laughs and stands, leaving a sizable tip for the waitress, then thanks the cook.

"Come by any time, Calvin."

We're heading to the door. "Where to now?" I ask.

"We need to balance out that meal with some exercise. Build up a sweat." The intensity on his face makes my heart flip.

I follow him outside, ready for whatever kind of exercise my hot doc has in mind.