Loved

by Rebekah Dodson

  And jazz? Matt never listened to jazz. Hair bands and disgusting eighties metal, but never jazz.

  Wow.

  I’m pretty sure Cam was having some of the same thoughts, because she couldn’t pick her jaw up off the ground.

  I squeezed Camden’s arm into silence. “Yes, definitely.”

  “Oh, one more thing,” he added, “it’s a formal private event, though, so you two will be my guests. I assume you brought appropriate attire?”

  I nodded, thinking of Camden’s good forethought of the tiny, sparkly dresses in our closet back at the room.

  “Right. See you there, around seven-ish, shall we say?”

  “Bye, Matt.”

  He strode away from us quickly, and once he’d rounded the hill and disappeared, Camden smacked me on the arm. “‘Bye, Matt.’ Are you insane? Matt?”

  “That’s his name?” I started the way Matt had gone.

  “He’s your ex, don’t you forget that.” Camden jogged to catch up with me. “You can’t go rekindling that shit. It never ends well, you know that.”

  “So what you’re saying is I should have a new man every night, then?”

  Cam stared so hard I thought she would shoot actual daggers from her eyes.

  I turned and walked backwards for a couple of feet. “I’m not rekindling anything; but what harm does it do to befriend the owner of this beautiful place? I got us an invite to a private dinner party, didn’t I?”

  Camden chuckled then. “Well, yeah, I guess that’s great. But there’s just one problem.”

  “What’s that?”

  “My silver dress might be a size too small for you. Especially with your huge—”

  “Ah, ah,” I held up my finger, because I knew she was going to compare our breast sizes again. As long as I’d known Cam that was the one thing she liked to remind me about, that I was way more gifted than her. “I guess we’ll see, won’t we?”

  Chapter 4

  Matt

  “LIAM, YOU GOT EVERYTHING handled here?” I ducked into the kitchen as soon as I’d tucked the paint in the small utility shed just outside the employee entrance. I poked my head in the kitchen to find the chef and his four sous assistants in a flurried rush around the double stoves.

  I spotted Liam in the corner, having a meeting with the new catering waiters we’d hired for the season. He held his thumb up in the air without looking at me. “Add two more to the list, will you? Oh, one of them is a vegetarian.” He nodded, and I ducked out of the kitchen.

  I headed back out the employee side to the small cottage up the narrow path. While Shuri had preferred to live in the Inn, I’d conceded and given Liam his own space, especially now that he wasn’t a kid anymore. The single room cottage we used to rent out for private events was now my home, and Liam and I had poured money into restoring the old dilapidated barn on the edge of the property, turning it what Oregon Country magazine called, “The best wedding destination in Northern Oregon.” In a couple of days, it would be lit with yet another happy couple starting their lives together.

  Unlocking the cottage, I stepped into the simple, sparsely furnished room with one bathroom, complete with loft above that held a simple queen bed. I didn’t own a TV or even a dresser and had downsized a great deal when we moved out here. Liam preferred to keep the things of his mother’s: fancy doilies and oil paintings and such. My life at the inn started well before sunrise and ended late at night, and twenty-four-hour shifts were not uncommon around here. I didn’t need much as a result.

  It was hard to believe that, a few years ago, Elaine and I had shared a sprawling 1800 square foot home with all the decorations: two wide screen TV’s mounted on the wall, cherry wood furniture, and sectional couches in both the living room and entertainment room as well. The divorce had been so awful, so sudden, that we sold everything instead of splitting it. I guess we both needed to start over, but I had a feeling I started with less than Elaine did.

  I climbed the stairs to the loft slowly, thinking about the look on Elaine’s face today in the vineyard. I couldn’t recall her looking at me like when were married - not ever. But something in her face gave me hope, a small spark that maybe there was something still there. I had loved Shuri, Liam’s mother, but she always knew she shared me with another, and she had been beautifully understanding about it, even when she was sick and wasted away before our eyes.

  I stepped into the shower, thinking about Elaine, instead, a happier thought, though not by much.

  Dinner. Had I been crazy? My heart thudded hard when I asked Elaine, fearing her friend would decline. Camden had always been a little out there, and if there was something keeping Elaine and I apart, it would be her best friend. Drying off quickly, I pulled out my one suit, complete with starched white shirt and suit coat tails. It was hard to believe when I met Shuri and moved out here, I owned a dozen Armani suits. One of the most freeing days of my life had been when I donated them to charity. I began to dress quickly, expertly tying the bow tie around my neck. With a final tug and my keys in my hand, I headed back to the inn.

  In the hour I was gone, Liam had certainly outdone himself in transforming lunch service into a dinner banquet. The overhead chandelier lights in the banquet hall were down low, and floating candles lit each table, set with sparkling silver and decorative orange, red, and white napkins. He’d arranged the tables in a circle around the wooden dance floor in the middle, which I had forgotten to remind him to do, just in front of the temporary stage we’d set up after lunch service. The boy had watched behind the scenes for many an event, but this was the first I’d given him the reins on. He wasn’t doing such a bad job, either.

  The jazz band was setting up. Then high school students scurried to unfold trumpets, saxophones of different sizes, and a trombone, while one of them, a pock-marked skinny lad, strummed a guitar with a pick in his mouth. Next to him the drum player was setting up the kick pedal, while a young woman delicately held the standing bass. Each band member was dressed impeccably in blue vests over slacks or floor length skirts. To the side of the stage, their director, in suit tales matching my own, chatted with a student holding a French horn.

  Looking around the rest of the room, I saw nearly every table was filled with guests in all their fancy. Even the few children in the room were dressed in tiny versions of their parents, girls in poufy dresses and little boys in smaller versions of dandy suits. They hugged their parents’ legs as they milled about the room, sampling beer and wine alike from the small bar on the right side of the room. I spotted the bride and groom-to-be right away at the front of the room, holding each other’s hands and staring at each other.

  I winced, remembering when Elaine looked at me like that once. Scanning the room, I didn’t see her anywhere

  Striding to the third table away from the couple, the one marked “Reserved for Staff” with a gold placard, I poured myself a glass of lemon water into the crystal glass at the table and downed the entire thing. I eyed the bar briefly but reminded myself I was still working, and I never drank on the job.

  I sauntered over to the happy couple-to-be and introduced myself. Jacki Jones and Isaiah Kettle, they told me, and I learned that my unhappy couple yesterday were Jacki’s parents.

  “Apparently there was some kind of mix up with our room for after the wedding on Sunday,” Jacki admitted sheepishly, though she sounded almost happy about it. “But my mother worked it out, or so she said.” She stared at me pointedly.

  I blanched. Dinner it is, I had told her mother. Dinner? For the entire party? I made a mental note to discuss the issue with Grant later. Either way, this mistake would likely cost us dearly. I forced a smile on my face as the band behind us began to tune up. “I hope you enjoy your stay, Mr. And Mrs. soon to be Kettle,” I chuckled, “and hope you will join us for the complimentary wine tasting and manager’s reception on the patio outside after dinner is served.”

  “We thank you for your kind hospitality.” Isaiah beamed at me but turned back to
his fiancée.

  I’d been dismissed. I headed back to my table, greeting wedding guests and our regulars as I went. I was chatting with Harriet Neme, an elderly woman from Portland’s old money that came out every Friday for our reception, when the banquet doors slid open.

  “Excuse me, I’ve other guests to greet,” I nodded to Harriet, and she smiled her farewell.

  Elaine was a goddess clad in a shimmering rose-colored dress that hugged all of her curves delicately, highlighting her pale skin, the pink shade a match to her glossy lips. Next to her Camden shined in silver, a stark contrast to her dark skin. Both ladies looked vibrant and refreshed, though I didn’t miss the lines under Elaine’s eyes. Smiling and chatting excitedly, I couldn’t help but wonder how exhausted she was.

  But why? Elaine had never been one to put nose to the grindstone, so to speak. She had the easiest job in the world at a hospital; or at least, I assumed she still did. She was one of the highest paid administrators, and her job was just paperwork and meetings. She had no idea what it was like to run an inn, or better yet defend a murder client...

  I stopped myself, offering her my arm to both ladies. “I’ll show you to the table if you’d like?”

  To my surprise, both took each of my arms and I escorted them to the front. The jazz band was fully set up now, quietly playing a slow tune.

  “Alone Together,” Elaine mumbled as she took her seat. Camden glared sharply at her. Elaine blushed, looking at me. “The song. It’s Chet Baker.”

  “You and your jazz obsession,” Camden rolled her eyes and looked at me. “I don’t suppose we can get some Garth Brooks in here or something? I could do with some Friends in Low Places...”

  “Uh, maybe next time,” I told her. I circled the table and sat next to Elaine, just as the first course was coming out.

  We munched on salad and soup quietly, the only sound the quiet voices of people chatting and the soft clatter of silverware bowls and plates. I reached for a piece of bread at the same time Elaine did and our fingers brushed. She pulled away quickly, looking down at her nearly empty plate. Camden was chatting about her work to Elaine softly, and I was left to my own devices as I downed another class of water.

  “Wine?” I loosened my collar as I said it. There were complimentary bottles of our personal brand at every table and looking around most of them had been drained. I feared those would be a write off at my expense as well.

  “Yes, please.” Elaine held out her goblet. Camden declined. “None of you?” Elaine questions, taking a small sip and closing her eyes briefly. “Wow, this is really good.”

  “I don’t drink. And yes, it’s our reserve.”

  She blinked at me. “Since when don’t you drink?”

  Since you left me, I wanted to say, but instead I just said, “For a while now. It’s my wife Shuri’s Moscato recipe, it’s been in her family for years, just like this place.”

  Elaine winced. “I suppose she...”

  “Everything okay out here?” Liam interrupted, sliding in the seat beside me. He was dressed impeccably, in collared shirt and suit jacket, his ruddy curls still slightly damp from a shower. He unbuttoned his jacked with one hand as he sat and poured himself some water.

  I surveyed the room. The jazz band was now playing something a little more upbeat, In The Mood style, if I wasn’t wrong. I could hear laughers and chatting, and everyone seemed to be in a good mood.

  Except Elaine. I snuck glance at her, and she at me. Our eyes met, then she shifted back to Camden, nodding and adding the noncommittal ‘yeah, I agree’ when appropriate.

  Camden stopped talking suddenly and stared between me and Liam. “Liam, right?” she stuck her hand across the table. “Nice to see you again.” Her eyes sparkled at him.

  I wasn’t a fool. I saw how she looked at Liam. He smiled back at her and took her hand instead of shaking it, kissing the back of it. “Enchante.”

  “Is that French?” Camden giggled. Elaine frowned at her.

  “That’s enough,” I leaned over and whispered to Liam.

  He threw me a look of intended innocence and shrugged at Camden. “It might be. Do you know any?”

  “No,” Camden smothered a giggle again. “But I do like to hear it.”

  “Ah, well I took some in high school, and ...”

  Both Camden and Elaine shared a look. Elaine finished her second glass quickly. “Are you, uh, still in high school?” Camden asked hesitatingly.

  “No, ma’am, I graduated last year.”

  “How old are you?” It was Elaine’s turn to ask, as our entrees arrived at the table.

  “Just turned nineteen,” Liam announced proudly.

  I stomped on his foot under the table, and he glared at me, mouthing, What? I cleared my throat. “Shall we eat? The prime rib looks delicious.”

  Camden stared down at her plate covered in a mushroom risotto topped with a sprinkle of parsley. “Why Matt, I can’t believe you remembered I’m a vegetarian.”

  “Shut up, you are not,” Elaine teased her.

  “I am! Most of the time...” Camden rolled her eyes at her.

  “That’s interesting,” Liam leaned forward. “What’s it like? I’m not a fan of meat myself, per se, and I’ve always thought about trying it. What are some of your favorite dishes?”

  Camden lit up when he asked about it and immediately listed off several different ones.

  “Oh no, now he’s done it,” Elaine laughed softly. “Camden could talk about food all day.”

  “So could Liam.” I matched her chuckle. “The boy needs culinary school someday. In high school they offered a few cooking classes through the local community college, and he’s been hooked since then.”

  Elaine threw me a look. “I’m not sure if you remember, she’s a caterer? She specializes in vegan and vegetarian clients in Seattle.” She cleared her throat, leaning towards me to keep our conversation semi-private, though in the noisy room, I was sure she didn’t need to. She poured herself another glass of the reserve. “Speaking of that, you’d never know that band was from a high school. They are quite good.”

  “Yes,” I agreed, “aren’t they? They come every year, and I swear, they just keep getting better.” As if on cue, the band switched from the lively one to a more mellow beat. I tapped my foot in time absently.

  “What do you think of ...”

  Elaine and I chatted about music interests, and I was glad to see she was still just as obsessed with her jazz and swing as she always was. “I’m sorry,” she apologized, “Camden doesn’t like jazz, and I...”

  “No, no, it’s okay, these heathens here don’t much appreciate jazz around here, either.” I shot a look at Liam, who was grossly involved with Camden about the difference between porcini and button mushrooms. “That one,” I hooked my thumb at him, “would prefer if I played some Cardi B or Taylor Swift here. Heathen!”

  Liam smiled widely, then turned back to his conversation with Cam.

  “Oh, god, speaking of pop music have you heard...”

  I let Elaine ramble on. I had tried to interject where I could, but just listening to her talk was a delight to my ears. dessert was served then, our competent stuff whisking away the dinner plates and serving coffee and wine service. Beyond the patio doors on the left side of the room, I could see the staff setting up long tabled and moving bottles out to the veranda.

  Liam pushed back from the table. “Well, if you’ll excuse me, ladies, Dad. I must oversee the reception area outside.” He stood, bowed slightly, and left the room.

  I offered to pour another glass for Elaine, but she declined. “Oh, no, I think I’ve had enough,” she smiled at me, her eyes slightly glossy.

  Great job, Matt, you got her drunk. I winced. “Yes, okay, fine.”

  People were wandering outside now, and a few couples, including Jacki and Isaiah, had taken to the dance floor.

  Camden stood then and excused herself from the table. “Wait, where are you going?” Elaine asked, grabbing her
hand.

  Camden shook it off. “It’s a wedding, woman, you know how many guys are here looking for hot chicks like us? I’m going out to the reception!”

  I rolled my eyes as Camden slipped past me.

  “Fine.” Elaine stood. “I suppose I should get back to my room...”

  “No!” I almost shouted, the table next to us looking very sharply. I lowered my voice. “I mean ... care to dance?”

  She glared at me. “I’m a little drunk, Matthew Sinclair, but did I hear you right?”

  “You did.”

  “You don’t dance.”

  “How do you know?”

  Her face fell, and I wish I hadn’t snapped at her. I tried again. “I mean, Shuri taught me, same as she taught Liam. She insisted her men needed to learn.” I chuckled at the memory. “Besides, listen to what they are playing.”

  She listened for a moment, gazing up at the stage. “Cheek To Cheek,” she whispered. “Our...”

  “Song,” I finished.

  “We danced to this at our wedding,” she whispered.

  “Among many terrible eighties songs.” I chuckled.

  “Matt, this isn’t...”

  “What? A good idea? And why ever not?” I held out my hand. “There’s no harm in a dance. Permit me?”

  Her eyes searched mine. “Just one, alright? I really don’t feel all too great about now.” She put her hand in mine.

  “Just one,” I promised. I pulled her lightly to the dance floor, and in tune with the song, placed my hands chastely on her waist, and hers lay over my neck.

  I could hardly believe she’d agreed to it. I wasn’t sure if it was the private reserve talking or not, but I’d take it. She was warm and soft under my grasp, just the same as when we’d danced at our wedding nearly a decade ago.

  I could hear the lyrics in my head as the trumpet played on. I pulled her closer to me as we danced, and she didn’t resist, her head buried in my shoulder.

  "Heaven, I’m in heaven, and my heart beats so that I can hardly speak...”