To both Show’s and Lilli’s evident relief, she’d finally hired an actual night manager, as well as firming up the part-time assistant manager schedule. Vicki had been working strictly on-call, covering Shannon’s rare time off. Now she was working all non-wedding weekends and Shannon’s regular days off, their schedules overlapping a bit during peak times. Show had been leaning on Shannon; he was tired of coming in second to her job. The transition was awkward, because they were still working on his house, so they were still living in the apartment here. Nobody intended to move into the apartment she was vacating, but Shannon found it strange to come out in the morning to find somebody working behind the front desk. Somebody that wasn’t her.
The house was almost done, though, and then Show would move back, and she would go with him. Over the course of the past few weeks, they’d stripped wallpaper and painted the walls. Show had stripped and polished the hardwood floors. She had emptied out all the cabinets and closets and packed away every last trace of Holly. And Show had filled Rose and Iris’s room with new furniture and toys, hoping that one day they’d visit and sleep there again.
They’d need still more furniture eventually. Shannon had the pieces from her apartment, and a bit more in storage, but what she had wouldn’t fill that house. But for now, they had enough to be comfortable. Getting Show to have an opinion about home décor was a consistent challenge, but she was resolute. He would be present in the home they shared.
She checked the time on her laptop and resisted the urge to open the doors and peek in. She knew that Steve was keeping an eye out from the kitchen and would let her know when it was time for their well-rehearsed scene-change. Looking for something to keep her mind occupied, she checked Facebook. Oh—Adrienne had added some new pictures.
She hadn’t seen Adrienne since that first, bizarrely wonderful and horrible visit. They kept in touch like this, though, and they were getting to know each other. She was in Europe for the summer, traveling with two girlfriends, living the youthful dream of Eurail passes, hostel beds, and purposefully aimless wandering. Shannon had missed that part of youth, the purposeful aimlessness. She’d been driven to make something of herself, and had never really stopped to think about what else the world held for her.
Adrienne wanted to be a photographer. No—that wasn’t right. She was a photographer. But she wanted to make it her career, too. She took lovely, moody photographs. Although she posted the usual selfies and shots of her and her friends being silly in front of historical monuments, she also posted shots that were obviously taken of things and places no one usually saw. They had depth and dimension and always a clear emotion. Drama. They were good. Shannon wasn’t an expert, but she thought they were great.
Steve opened the door between the parlor and the kitchen, and Shannon looked over to see him nod. Okay. Showtime. She closed her laptop.
Just then, a huge bolt of lightning lit the sky on fire, the thunder crashing right on top of it, and all the lights went out.
~oOo~
By the time the power was back on, nobody cared. The reception was now candlelit, with battery-operated pillars and tapers on every table and in every sconce around the dining room and parlor, and the kitchen, running its own emergency generator, had barely paused in its preparation of the meal. The small band had simply shifted to unplugged status—yet another benefit of the small venue. When, after about two hours, the lights came up again, there was a moan of protest, and Shannon and her staff turned most of them back off.
Show had come in during the reception, easing quietly along the wall and going straight back to her apartment, blowing her a subtle kiss, just a purse of his lips. She’d gone back during a lull to say hi, and he was sitting on the sofa with a beer, his shirt, beanie, and boots off, watching a baseball game. The combination of his bare chest and the domestic simplicity of the scene had made it very difficult for Shannon to go back to work.
When the bride and groom had been sent upstairs for their wedding night, the last guests had left, and the rest of the wedding party had retired upstairs as well, Shannon handed over the inn to Wallace, the new night manager, and she went back to her man.
He was sleeping on the sofa, the television still on, now some kind of sports talk show. She turned it off, and he stirred. “Hey—I was watching that.”
“Liar.” She kicked off her pumps and patted his legs so he’d make room for her, and he sat up and pulled her close.
“How’d it go?” He brushed the backs of his fingers down her throat and into the neckline of her dress.
“Not without a hitch, that’s for sure. I’m a wreck. But the bride was pleased. I guess it’s good to have things go wrong and still pull it off, but it’s so much easier when things go right.”
Now his hand was under the hem of her dress, moving higher on her leg. “You ever think about doing that?”
She was focused on the touch of his palm and fingers sliding up her inner thigh. “What?”
“Wedding.”
“What? I do them all the time. These days, weddings feel like all I think about.”
He wrapped his arm around her legs and pulled her so that she was reclining on the sofa. He leaned over her. “Other people’s, yeah.”
She wanted his hand to finish the trip it had started up her thigh. Whimpering and not getting his point, she caught his hair in her hand and pulled him toward her. But he held back. “Shannon.”
The look in his eyes told her that she was missing something, so she focused and reconsidered their exchange. Oh. Something must have changed in her expression, because he smiled.
“Marry me, Shannon.” His hand moved again, sliding high between her legs.
As proposals went, it wasn’t sweet or romantic. It wasn’t even a request. It was direct. Pure Show.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
Show opened the door to the Signal Bend Town Library, a small, one story, red brick building set across the small town park from the small town hall. It wasn’t much, that library, but Lilli had it open and staffed with volunteers. Isaac had told him that now she was working on developing programs to bring storytellers and guest speakers in during what was becoming their peak season. The woman did not relax well, obviously.
Lilli looked up from the circulation desk as he crossed the main room. Gia was playing in the children’s area near the desk, pushing brightly colored wooden beads around intricately twisted metal tracks. There were a couple of people wandering in the stacks toward the back.
She put her hands on her hips. “If Isaac sent you here to talk to me, you can turn your a—butt around and get out. I don’t need to hear it.”
Christ. What was in the air today? “Okay—that makes three people who’ve yelled at me today with no good reason, and it’s not even noon. What the heck is going on with you people?”
At the sound of Show’s voice, Gia looked up from her toy and grinned. “Unca! Unca! Unca!” She toddled over. She’d just had her first birthday party the weekend before, and she was already walking and talking like a champ.
“That’s my little diva.” He squatted down and waited for her to get to him, then picked her up.
“Great. Great. She says “Daddy,” and she says “Uncle.” She even says “Pip.” But not “Mamma.”
Show laughed. “What is with the mood, Lilli? Your old man, too. You need to talk?”
“That’s not why you came?”
“Nope. Isaac just growled at everybody and slammed his way into his office. When I went back, he told me to fu—to get lost. I’d already been yelled at once today, so I left him be. I’m here on my own business.”
“What business is that?”
“I need some advice. About Shannon.”
“Really? Do tell.” Lilli came around the circulation desk and indicated that they should sit in the nearest seating area. Gia, realizing that Unca Show wasn’t going to be doing anything particularly interesting right now, squirmed to get down. He set her on her feet and adjusted her li
ttle yellow top, and she toddled back to her bead toy. Then he sat in the chair next to the one Lilli had taken.
The library was really just the one room, though there was space to expand should the need arise. The books all fit on about eight rows of shelves, each about fifteen feet long and six feet high. Children’s books rimmed a corner in low shelves under the windows. There were toys and beanbag chairs in that little space, and two sitting areas made up of four grouped and mismatched armchairs each. There was an old-fashioned card catalogue, which was still in use, as were the old library due date cards. Show figured Lilli didn’t have long before she was looking to modernize the place, but he liked it the way it was.
The front door opened, and Lori Mortensen, the Reverend Mortensen’s niece, came in. Lori was in her late twenties. She’d worked at the Walmart for years, and she’d struggled to do it. Show thought that all of the Horde had taken their turn at keeping her ancient rustbucket AMC Matador running so she could keep making it to that job. But when the Signal Bend IGA reopened awhile back, she’d gotten hired on as the assistant manager. Things had been looking up a little for Lori since then.
Lilli stood. “Hey, Lori. Mrs. Dirkins brought back the Agatha Christies you wanted, and I set aside a book of Edgar Allan Poe stories that was donated last week. Really wonderful illustrations by Harry Clarke. Major creepy factor.”
“Thanks, Lilli.” Lori smiled. “Hi, Show. How are you?”
“I’m good, Lori. You look good.” Her smile widened. She wasn’t much of a looker—straight, limp hair of no particular color, really skinny on top, a little too much junk in her trunk. But she was one of those people who was always smiling. No matter how bad shit got, she found the upside. Sometimes that bright attitude was hard to take, but usually it made her almost pretty, that light that shone from her eyes. She was a genuinely good person. Probably why she’d always gotten free auto care.
She also had a well known taste for murder mysteries and really macabre and violent stories. The bloodier and gorier the better. If it had zombies, or vampires or werewolves, or serial killers, or just hardcore ass-whooping, she was in.
“I don’t guess you have the new Stephen King?”
Lilli sighed and shook her head. “Nope. New is what we’re still struggling with, I’m sorry to say. If it’s not out in paperback, we can’t really afford it yet. Working on that, though.”
Once Lori had her books checked out, she waved and went on her way. When they were alone again, Lilli returned to sit next to Show.
“Okay. So what’d you do?”
“Asked her to marry me.”
“Well, yeah. Like three weeks ago. Did she change her mind?”
Shannon had answered yes right away, and Show had felt a warm kind of wonder. He’d never proposed like that, just because he wanted to. When he and Holly decided to get married, that had been a whole different deal. That had been about stepping up and doing what was right. Asking Shannon had been about being in love, getting what he wanted. And she hadn’t hesitated.
“No. I don’t think so, anyway. But she’s pissed, and I don’t get it. I usually do okay, figuring women out. But I’m lost this time.”
“So why’s she pissed?”
“I’m trying to get her to plan the wedding she wants, but she won’t do it. Every time I bring it up, the damn thing gets smaller. I keep telling her I can afford whatever she wants to do, but she keeps saying stupid sh—stuff like barbecue, and getting married in the woods.”
“Maybe that’s what she wants.”
He shook his head. “Can’t be. She’s been making other people’s perfect days for years. I want her to have a better day than any of those.”
“Show. You’ve got a blind spot with Shannon. I haven’t talked to her about any of this, but maybe she wants something small because planning weddings is what she does for work. Maybe her perfect day is getting married in the woods and a barbecue after. Something relaxing and quiet.”
“It doesn’t make any damn sense. Everything about her is perfect. She’s the most put-together woman I’ve ever known. She matches her underwear to her outfits. She has six different curling iron things for her hair. She has a whole drawer just for scarves. A whole shelf of nail polish. A woman like that wants a wedding with lace and roses and violins.”
“And yet she loves a biker. She doesn’t seem so superficial to me.”
“She’s not superficial. That’s not what I meant. At all. I just don’t want her to think she can’t have the wedding she wants because of me.”
Lilli didn’t respond. She just sat there, staring at him, one eyebrow up. Gia came over, chanting “Unca, Unca, Unca,” again, and he picked her up and sat her on his knee. Lilli was still staring.
“What? I asked for advice. Staring at me like I’m a moron isn’t it.”
“Sounds to me like she’s telling you what she wants, and you’re telling her no.”
With Gia lazing back on his chest, her thumb in her mouth, one of her chubby legs swinging where it dangled off his lap, Show took a mental step back and thought about what Lilli had said.
He wanted her to have the wedding she deserved. After so many years of making other women’s weddings beautiful, she should have a day that put all those to shame. It’s what he wanted for her. But she kept deflecting him, telling him she didn’t need all that. He’d been sure it was because of him. Who he was, how he looked. This morning, tangled together in bed after sex, he’d told her that he loved her enough to wear a tux for her. He’d thought it was a sweet thing to say. It was also true.
But she’d practically growled and thrown the covers back, pushing him off her. Standing naked at the side of their bed, she’d said, “Fuck you, Show. Have the wedding you want. I’ll see if I’m free that day.” Then she’d stormed into the bathroom and hadn’t come out. Perplexed and pissed himself, he’d gotten dressed, gone to the door and said he’d see her tonight, and he’d left. He’d showered at the clubhouse.
She really wanted a small wedding. He didn’t know why he’d gotten so bound up in the idea that she had to have a fancy one—he hated all that kind of crap. He’d just gotten it in his head that she deserved a wedding bigger and better than any one she’d planned…
But she’d have to plan her own, too. Shit. Something relaxing and quiet, Lilli had said. Something she didn’t have to stress out over. Something she could enjoy.
“Yeah, I am a moron.”
Lilli laughed and leaned over to rub his knee. She lingered, wrapping her hand around her daughter’s leg and giving it an affectionate shake. A sleepy Gia sat up and reached toward her, and Lilli gathered her up and tucked her on her shoulder. “No, you’re not. You’re in the middle of your own stuff. Hard to see from the middle. I think it’s sweet that you want to give her a fancy wedding. But, speaking as a woman who had a quickie wedding in a Reno hotel and thought it was perfect, fancy weddings aren’t all they’re cracked up to be. I can’t think who’d know that better than Shannon.”
“Thanks, Lilli.”
“No problem. Talking you through this epiphany got my mind off my own stuff.”
“You want to talk about that?”
She shrugged. “I want to make another one of these.” She rubbed Gia’s back. “Isaac won’t even talk about it. He’s being all caveman about it—you guys suck when you get like that, just so you know.”
Show thought of the days after Gia was born. Lilli had almost died. “Didn’t the doctor say you’d die if you had another baby?”
She groaned in irritation. “No! She said there was a chance what happened could happen again. A chance.”
“And if it did, it would be worse?”
Lilli stared at him, her posture suddenly very quiet. He’d surprised her, and she wasn’t happy about it. “Usually, you come out on my side when Isaac and I fight.” She glared at him.
“Usually he’s the one being an idiot.” Her eyes flared, and Show decided he needed to try to move out of her line of fire.
He leaned forward. “Lilli, listen. I’m going to speak plain, okay?” She nodded warily, and he went on. “I love you. Isaac—damn. You know how he feels about you. He wears it right on his face, even when you’re not around. And I’ve seen him—more than once—sitting next to a hospital bed, thinking he was going to lose you. I’ve seen that empty look he gets. I know you love being a mom. I know you want a houseful. But you have to be around to enjoy it, then. You have to be here for this little diva. You have to be around for your man. If there’s a bigger chance than normal that you won’t be, then you’re not just being an idiot to do it again, you’re being a selfish idiot.”
“You need to go.”
“Lilli…”
“No. You’re…you’re right. I just need to stop thinking about it right now.”
“There are other ways to fill a house with kids, Lilli.”
“Yeah. I’ll talk to you later.” She stood up, Gia sleeping on her shoulder.
Show stood, too, stepping to her and kissing her cheek, then Gia’s head. “Sorry, Lilli. Love you.”
She sighed. “Love you, too. Fix it with Shannon.”
“On my way.”
~oOo~
He found Shannon in the dining room at the B&B, her foamcore boards and color-coded sticky notes spread out over three tables. She was planning another wedding, and she liked to have everything spread out so she could see the whole thing in her head at once. Vicki, her assistant manager, was standing between two tables, looking like she was just trying to stay out of her way. Neither of them had noticed him come in, so he stood in the doorway for a second and watched.
Shannon was concentrating intently, moving the colored notes around. Show knew she enjoyed doing this, making each wedding unique, giving the bride a day better than she imagined, solving the puzzle of what was really right for each event amidst the jumble of ideas that most brides had. She talked to him a lot about her work, especially the weddings, which were her favorite part. At first, he’d listened because he loved her, and she was interested, even though he didn’t personally know the difference between a peony and a hydrangea—or care. Then he’d listened because it was a way to see inside her head, and that wasn’t so easy to do. Lately, since he’d proposed, she hadn’t talked to him about weddings much at all.
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