Sideways

by Lisa Hughey

Colt had seen Ty around but beyond a chin lift to acknowledge him as a local they hadn’t really spoken.

  “Yeah.” He sounded grumpy. He’d only stopped by to have a meal with Phoebe and sure, if Cee-Cee was around, he’d figured he’d talk to her.

  “Great. Glad you’re here.” Ty said it as if he was expecting Colt. But for what?

  Ugh. This was why he didn’t come into town. Damn Phoebe and Audrey for getting him out here. And damn, Cee-Cee for being so intriguing that he’d gone against his better instincts and come back. Several times.

  Ty thrust out his hand and introduced himself formally. “Phoebe just called and said you would be here to meet the customers who booked the fiftieth wedding anniversary party for upstairs.”

  Colt just stared. “You’ve got the wrong guy.”

  “You’re not a chef?”

  “Fifty years!” Cee-Cee clasped her hands in front of her, her eyes wide with amazement. “Can you imagine?”

  “No.” His voice and tone were harsh. He didn’t give a rat’s ass about wedding anniversaries. And what the hell, Phoebe?

  Her face fell. “You don’t think it’s amazing?”

  He tuned out Cee-Cee and turned to Ty. “I’m not the chef.”

  “But you’re an excellent chef,” Cee-Cee interjected. “He made the soup for the food bank fundraiser. Everyone said it was fabulous.”

  He shushed her. He didn’t want to cook.

  “The clients will be here in a few minutes. Did I misunderstand?”

  “Yes.”

  “Okay.” Ty walked away and pulled out his cell.

  Colt could feel the walls closing in on him. But then Cee-Cee pulled his attention away from his mini freak-out.

  “Fifty years.” She had a dreamy expression on her face. “What do you supposed it’s like to spend that much time with one person?”

  “Jail.”

  “What?” She looked like he’d kicked her puppy. Then she sighed. “I supposed you’re right. There’s probably some awful secret in their past or even their present. This is probably just social restitution for a horrible wrong they perpetrated on each other.”

  Wow, he thought he was cynical but that was borderline scathing and contemptuous. She slumped over the table, her chin in her hand.

  “Bad breakup?” He couldn’t believe he’d asked. But that would explain the mystery of her presence in Colebury. And dammit, he didn’t want to be intrigued. But he definitely was. That would also explain the contempt she’d just leveled on the yet-to-appear happy couple.

  Her face fell.

  Shit. Why would he ask that? As far as he could tell she was happily trying to set up everyone in the bar but herself.

  “Not recently. Not ever, actually.” Cee-Cee smiled sadly. “I don’t think marriage is for me.”

  But her voice was melancholy, and sadness seemed to seep from her pores. As if she longed for that connection but didn’t think she’d ever have it. He wanted to erase that look from her face. Banish the sadness from her eyes. He found he couldn’t bear for her to be unhappy.

  She distracted him by asking, “What about you?”

  “Divorced.”

  “Really?” She shook her head, eyebrows raised in surprise. “Must have been amiable.”

  Normally he wouldn’t share so much but that sad look was gone. Replaced by curiosity.

  “I should have been more torn up about it but honestly, getting married had been a whim.” Which was never a good idea. Back in his wild days when he’d burned bright and hot. “Wife couldn’t handle the hours or my stress level.”

  She also hadn’t been a fan of his drinking. She’d managed to get her digs in at him, when he’d had his meltdown. She made the rounds of the talk show circuits talking about his volatile mood swings and uneven temper. Which was ironic since she was the one who’d thrown things when they’d decided to get divorced.

  The worst part had been the disappointment of his parents. Which pretty much said everything about how much he’d loved his wife. Not enough.

  His Mami and Papi were devout Catholics. They hated that he’d gotten divorced even though they weren’t big fans of his ex-wife.

  “I’m sorry.” Now she looked distressed.

  “Ancient history.” He wasn’t lying when he said he really wasn’t torn up about it. Which was a big fat clue right there that he hadn’t been invested the way he should have been. He’d gotten married on a whim. The divorce proceedings had lasted longer than their entire relationship.

  Speaking of relationships, right now he needed to deal with the potential client coming in.

  “Where are you going?” Cee-Cee called after him.

  “To make a phone call.”

  He stepped through the kitchen and out the side door. Before he could dial his friend, his phone rang. The readout had Phoebe’s name.

  “I’ve been trying to call you.” She sounded out of breath. “Are you at the Speakeasy?”

  They’d had plans to meet so she could thank him for doing the soup.

  “Let me guess. It’s about the fiftieth wedding anniversary.”

  “Oh crap. They are there.”

  “Apparently they will be here in a minute.”

  “Look, I never meant to back you into a corner. I just got held up,” Phoebe begged. “If you stall them, I’ll be there as fast as I can.”

  “I’ll take care of it.”

  Silence on the other end. “Um you aren’t known for your tact.”

  He laughed. “True. I’ll have Cee-Cee help.”

  “She’s a terrible waitress,” Phoebe commented.

  “But she’s excellent with customers and apparently has experience with planning large events.” Colt brushed off Phoebe’s concerns.

  “Really?”

  “So she claims.”

  “I don’t know what she’s running from but—”

  “She isn’t dangerous,” Colt finished. She exuded sunshine and puppies but not anything worrisome. She had secrets. He got that. But whatever she was hiding was no threat to anyone here.

  Except maybe to the tough, grumpy exterior shell he’d cultivated over the past year.

  8

  Tracy

  Tracy chased after Ty. She didn’t know him well. He was usually busy keeping the bar stocked and managing the bartenders. He never seemed to stop moving. “What can I do to help?”

  “Cee-Cee, right?”

  She nodded.

  “You aren’t working right now.”

  Tracy shook her head. “No. ”

  “You cook?” He eyed her speculatively.

  Tracy laughed nervously. She could fake her way through a lot of things, but cooking wasn’t one of them. “Nope. But I’m golden at planning.”

  “That’s perfect since it’s their golden anniversary.”

  Fifty years. That was amazing.

  “Holy moly. Fifty years.” A happy warmth spread through her. Her mission in life was to help people find their happily every afters. This time she’d be able to help celebrate one.

  The happy couple, who looked to be in their late sixties or early seventies, walked into the dining area. Wow, they must have been young when they got married.

  Oh my gosh. They were holding hands. How sweet was that?

  Tracy’s heart grew like the grinch’s.

  The portly older man wore painter jeans with loops on the sides to hold brushes and hammers and other tools, and a short-sleeved plaid shirt. A tape measure was hooked on his belt loop and a stretchy metal watch band with a round old-fashioned face circled his thick wrist. He was balding on top, had mixed salt-and-pepper hair, more salt than pepper, and ruddy cheeks with a wide smile. Next to him was a plump woman with a rosy complexion and white hair curled up like a character from the old seventies show Charlie’s Angels, and held back with little pastel pink butterfly clips. She wore floral shorts and a pink short-sleeved top with embroidered lace on the pockets that matched her hair clips.

  Fifty years was so
hard to imagine. The commitment. The love. The fortitude to be together for that long and still want to celebrate. She’d been a little cynical while talking to Colt, but truthfully she wanted to believe that this couple was truly happy.

  “Hi! I’m Cee-Cee.” Tracy thrust out her hand.

  “Lottie and Chuck.” The woman introduced them both.

  Tracy shook their hands and then gestured to the chairs at the table. “Have a seat.”

  She could entertain in her sleep. She’d been born schmoozing, and making this couple feel comfortable was totally in her wheelhouse. “Would you like something to eat while we discuss your ideas for the anniversary party?” She handed them a menu. Once they told her what they wanted, she wrote up an order. “I’ll be right back.”

  Tracy dropped an order on the counter between the dining room and the kitchen and hoped she saw Colt so she could give him a piece of her mind.

  As if she conjured him up, he was coming out of the manager’s office.

  Tracy had an opportunity here. She was practiced at smoothing things over, but right now she didn’t want to make things easier for him. She was going to give him a piece of her mind. In Boston, she would work the room and work the details and create the spin to make her father and his political organization look their best. She was tired of it. She wanted to be who she wanted. She didn’t want to be that passive and deferential anymore.

  She marched toward him.

  “Listen here.” She poked him in the chest and then blinked. His muscles contracted against her jab. Damn, he had a gorgeous chest. And hard muscles.

  He raised his eyebrows, a smirk on his mouth. And her brain automatically shifted to sex.

  Dammit she needed to stay focused on her message. “Those people are here to talk about their anniversary celebration, and you are going to sit down and converse with them. You can work out the details of who is going to cook it later.”

  He waited until there was a break in her diatribe. “Okay.”

  She opened her mouth to continue her argument. Wait, what?

  Colt

  Colt wanted to laugh at the look of consternation on her face. “I was planning on coming back.”

  “You were?” She closed her mouth.

  He thought it might be the quietest he’d ever seen her. She was in constant motion, always gesturing with her hands and moving with her words.

  He might not want to be the catering chef and there might be some sort of miscommunication, but he wasn’t about to leave a Speakeasy customer hanging.

  He owed so much to his friends and his family. Wasn’t that why he quit? To protect everyone from his destructive behavior. A protector wouldn’t abandon his friends. He had no desire to go back in the kitchen, but he also wouldn’t screw his friends over.

  “However, I would appreciate it if you would join the meeting with me. I don’t have much experience with catering gigs.”

  She hadn’t said a word, just continued to stare at him with a bemused look on her face. Then she nodded.

  “Let’s get to it.” Colt headed for the dining room.

  Cee-Cee introduced Colt to the older couple and they got down to the nitty-gritty so they could nail down specifics for the party.

  “What made you decided to have a party?” Cee-Cee asked.

  “Well….” Lottie blushed. “We eloped at seventeen the first time. So we just want a modest little party to celebrate fifty years.”

  “Fifty years is amazing.” She clapped her hands. “First let’s talk food.”

  Colt was happy to let her take over. She was better with people anyway.

  Chuck cleared his throat. “Family style. That way picky eaters aren’t locked in to eating things they don’t want.”

  That would be easier.

  “And there’s less waste.” Cee-Cee nodded as if Chuck had suggested a community-wide composting party. “Do you have any favorite foods? What did you have for dinner the night you got married?”

  “McDonald’s. That was all we could afford.”

  “What if we did appetizers that played on the McDonald’s menu? Sliders, chicken tenders, French fries.”

  He might as well go to Costco and graze the frozen aisle.

  Colt frowned at the jolt of energy that buzzed through him. No way were they having Costco appetizers. He could do small bites with twists on the sauces and some unusual ingredients for the sliders. Beef with horseradish sauce and caramelized onions. Pulled pork with plum barbeque sauce and a spicy slaw. Maybe a banh mi.

  If he spiced up the batter for the chicken tenders, he could fry up several different flavors with complementary sauces.

  Truffle fries. Cheese curd fries, maybe a play on a poutine.

  His mind was racing with ideas. The creative burn of excitement flooded through him.

  “But of course it will be a fancier version. The chefs at the Speakeasy are phenomenal.” Cee-Cee shot a proud look at Colt and he shoved down the desire to preen. “Any foods you particularly love for the main dish?”

  “Well…I do love prime rib.”

  Lottie fretted. “It isn’t good for your cholesterol.”

  “Once won’t hurt.”

  “I want you around for the next fifty years.” She leaned over and squeezed her husband’s hand and rested her head on his shoulder.

  Cee-Cee nearly melted into a puddle next to him. Jeez, she was a soft touch.

  Chuck wrapped his arm around Lottie’s shoulder. “Okay, maybe no prime rib.”

  Colt could tell that Chuck was disappointed. “What if we do family style platters with several options? One with steak medallions with a red wine demi-glace and another with a savory chicken or turkey dish with a maple mustard glaze?”

  “That would probably work,” Lottie said softly.

  “What’s the date? We can choose side dishes that make the most of the freshest ingredients and focus on local produce.” Colt was mentally ticking through some of his signature vegetable dishes. He could share the recipes with Phoebe. Several local artisanal farms had sprung up over the past few years. “We could do a salad with Mason Rye’s Garden Goat and Dairy Farm goat cheese and figs and a local balsamic and Lyon honey dressing.”

  He was composing dishes in his head, his creativity like overflowing like a burst pipe.

  “That sounds…delightful.” Lottie’s eyes lit up.

  Cee-Cee interrupted his recipe tangent. “Are you going to have a cake?”

  “We hadn’t really thought about cake,” Lottie demurred.

  “I’ll bet Oh for Heaven’s Cakes can make something special,” Cee-Cee said. “Gigi Hawthorne is a genius.”

  Colt raised his eyebrows. She’d been in town for all of a few days and she already knew the local bakery?

  “Any specifics? Do you have a favorite flavor? Flowers on the cake, real or frosting?” Cee-Cee made some notes on a pad next to her computer. She shot more questions at them and scribbled furiously.

  “We just want something simple,” Lottie said softly but there was a yearning in her eyes that belied the statement.

  “I want you to be happy,” Chuck said firmly. “We did simple fifty years ago. We survived through kids and financial struggles and births and deaths and taxes. We need to celebrate that achievement.”

  Lottie’s eyes sparkled. “Whatever you want dear.”

  Colt reassessed his initial assumption that this party was for Lottie. Suddenly he wasn’t sure if the big to-do was more for Chuck than Lottie.

  Cee-Cee asked a few more preliminary questions about linens and drinks and decorations. Colt tuned out the alcohol discussion.

  Cee-Cee asked, “So what’s your secret?”

  “What secret?” They both looked bewildered.

  “To staying together all these years.”

  “Stubbornness doesn’t hurt.” But Lottie laughed when she said it.

  “Respect. Honoring the things we both do to be a united team.”

  Lottie grabbed his hand and twined their fing
ers together.

  “Doesn’t it piss you off when he leaves the toilet seat up?” Cee-Cee teased.

  Colt laughed out loud. Didn’t every couple fight about the toilet seat?

  “He learned not to do that real fast.” Lottie gave Chuck a look of affection so pure that it caused a lump in his throat.

  Cee-Cee prodded Chuck. “What about when she cooks something she knows you don’t like but it’s good for you?”

  “She’s just looking out for me. Although I will never like broccoli.” Chuck whispered in Cee-Cee’s ear, “Don’t tell her, but I hide it in my napkin and throw it away when she isn’t looking.”

  “I’m always looking out for you.” Lottie leaned in. “And I know he throws it away. But I’ll never give up trying to keep him healthy.”

  They all laughed.

  Cee-Cee seemed to draw out the best in people. Even Chuck and Lottie blossomed under her attention.

  “Well, we will get these notes typed up.”

  Colt should have interjected that Phoebe would be in touch, but he was reluctant to verbally pass them off to someone else.

  He and Cee-Cee waved as Chuck and Lottie left the Speakeasy with giant smiles on their faces. Colt thought Chuck had an extra bounce in his step, happy that Lottie was finally getting the wedding reception she’d dreamed of. Or maybe the wedding reception he’d always dreamed of. Because he’d been just as full of ideas as his wife.

  Cee-Cee turned and smiled at Colt. “How exciting! Their relationship is beautiful.”

  Colt grunted.

  “C’mon you have to admit they are super cute.”

  Super cute? “What are we, in middle school?”

  Tracy

  Tracy frowned at him, trying to tamp down her irritation. “Admit they were adorable.”

  He grudgingly agreed. “Fine. They do seem very happy. Get any good tips?” Colt teased.

  “Well, my partner won’t need to worry about me cooking him something he doesn’t like. There’s one future argument avoided.”

  He laughed.

  “Fifty years.” Cee-Cee rested her chin on her fist and sighed, dreamily. “What an amazing accomplishment.” She’d been too busy facilitating “happily ever after” for other people. She sighed again, her euphoria disintegrating in a sea of disillusionment. How would she ever find that fairy tale when she couldn’t be honest about her life?