By the next afternoon he still didn’t have a clue, and it wasn’t for a lack of trying. All the way to Billings and back.
He answered a knock at the front door, signed for another shipment of pasta dishes he’d ordered as Dixie came toward him, waving a letter, totally happy. Damn, he liked seeing her that way—radiant, full of life, ready for fun. He’d miss that. He’d miss her.
“What’s got you in such a good mood?” he asked as she entered the restaurant.
She gazed around. “Wow! This place is fabulous. I like the fountain in the middle and the trellis effect overhead. Cozy and not stuffy.”
“That’s what I was aiming for.” Others had stopped and complimented him on the restaurant, but none of those compliments mattered as much as Dixie’s. “So, what’s with the letter? Good news?”
“I got this from the Boston Globe. Seems they picked up that panning article I did on you and liked it. They’re interested in seeing more articles. Just freelance, of course. Still…You’re not looking all that surprised.”
That was because he was taking in every wonderful inch of Dixie Carmichael. Totally enjoying her and not paying that much attention to what she was saying. Besides, he already knew. “Hey, I’m surprised all to hell. So, tell me more.”
She gave him the squinty-eyed stare. “You did this.” She waved the letter in the air. “You got the Globe interested in me.”
“Dixie, I’m with—or was with—the FBI.”
“With newspaper connections. You admitted that when you told me the papers wouldn’t pick up my smuggling story and here’s the Globe picking up another story of mine. All that picking up seems a little too coincidental. And the Globe is in Boston. You were raised in Boston. I may not be an FBI agent, but I can put that together easy enough.”
“I sent a guy I grew up with the article. But he wouldn’t have bought it if he hadn’t liked what he read. That’s the truth. You’re not going to turn his offer down, are you? It’s a good opportunity, exactly what you want. What you deserve.” And what he didn’t want at all. But…
A grin slid across her face. “I guess I should say thanks. I won’t let you down.”
She kissed him, making him happier and sadder than he’d ever been in his life. He’d helped her realize her dream, but she was leaving and Boston was far away. “Let me fix you a celebration dinner.”
Even though she still smiled, her eyes clouded with sadness. “I…can’t. I haven’t told BJ or Maggie about the letter and I’m meeting them at the Sage—” she checked her watch “—right now and I have to pack and tie up loose ends and…Well, you get the picture.” She swallowed. “Besides, I really suck at goodbyes.”
His heart physically ached. He hadn’t thought her going would be this painful. He forced a grin. “If you’ve never driven in Boston, maybe you should fly in.”
He was just filling time, finding anything to talk about. He couldn’t give her up, not yet.
“I’ve considered that, but the Camaro is who I am and it would be like leaving everything behind.” Her voice hitched and she gazed at him. “I can’t leave everything.”
Leaving. Damn, he hated that word. Maybe because that was what the women in his life did. For whatever reason, they left him. “Well then, Dixie Carmichael, have a safe trip. I’ll miss you.”
MORNING CROWD filled the tables at the Sage as Maggie fidgeted in the booth. “I can’t believe this is our last breakfast together.” She nodded to Dixie’s car, which sat parked on the street. “How’d you fit all your stuff in a Camaro?”
BJ drummed her fingers on the tabletop. “You have maps and your AAA card and your cell’s charged and—”
Dixie stilled BJ’s fingers and continued to hold her hand. “I’ll be okay. And I’ll be back for Maggie’s wedding.”
“I bet you’ll be too busy or too caught up in your new life,” Maggie huffed.
She sounded as sad as Dixie felt. “I’d never be that busy,” she said. “I’ll be back.”
Maggie nodded at the new waitress as she refilled coffee cups, served up breakfast and took orders. “She’s okay, but she’s not you.”
Dixie needed every ounce of self-control not to jump up and help. Her waitress days were over, she reminded herself. “She’ll be fine. Waitressing takes a little getting used to, and for the customers to get used to her.”
“Have you seen Nick?”
“Day before yesterday. We said goodbye then.”
“Well then,” Maggie said as she studied her fingernails, trying to look nonchalant but failing miserably. “I suppose you don’t know about the auction.” She pulled a yellow paper from her purse and skidded it across the table to Dixie. “My, my, I wonder what it’s all about.”
Dixie read the flyer, feeling her head start to throb. “He’s selling off the restaurant? Why would he do such a thing?”
BJ took her hand. “You’re asking the wrong person, Dix, and I so think you should ask the right one.”
Dixie checked her watch. “The auction’s starting in fifteen minutes. This makes no sense.” She felt her brain fog. “What is that man doing now? Nick’s Place is his dream. He quit the FBI for it. He was ready to open, just waiting on the white rattan tables and chairs he’d ordered.”
Maggie stirred her coffee. “Guess it isn’t as big a dream as he thought. Maybe he has other dreams.” She put down her spoon and said to BJ, “Think I’ll walk on over to the auction. What about you?”
BJ stood. “Good idea.” She gazed down at Dixie. “Coming? Or going?”
“If this is something you two cooked up, I’ll—”
“No way.” Maggie dropped enough money for the coffee and a tip on the table. “Whatever Nick has planned is all his own doing and I didn’t know anything about it till this morning, when I got this flyer taped to my mailbox. Aren’t you dying of curiosity? I sure am. Maybe you should ask Nick. At least show up and find out.”
BJ smiled too sweetly. “’Course we can write you all about it. Tell you want happened.”
“You? Write? Either of you? I’ll be dead and in my grave before that happens.”
BJ added her money to Maggie’s. “Probably.” She put Angela in the stroller and followed Maggie out of the Sage.
A pout pulled Dixie’s lips together. They didn’t even see her off, wave from the sidewalk, throw rose petals in her wake, and they’d left a bigger tip for the new gal than they’d ever left for her.
What was going on? She could drive out of Whistlers Bend and get on with her life…though she’d probably combust from a terminal case of curiosity before she crossed the state line.
Five minutes, that was all it would take to stop by, see what was going on, satisfy her insatiable nosiness, and then she could leave town in peace.
Dixie added her money to the others and walked up the street to Nick’s Place. A crowd was already spilling out of the restaurant onto the sidewalk. She walked faster and started elbowing her way in as people gave her dirty looks, but suddenly she didn’t care about them—only about Nick.
She got as close as she could, till the throng became too tightly packed for her to press on. The old ladder he’d been on that first day she and Nick met lay propped against the wall. She climbed up the first two rungs. Nick had piled boxes of his new dishes on the table beside boxes of glassware beside boxes marked table linens. Other boxes stood against the wall; unassembled bistro tables lay in a heap in the corner.
She waved her hand to get his attention, and when his eyes focused on her, he smiled hugely, his eyes bright and filled with happiness, making her feel happy she hadn’t left. He wedged himself through the noisy crowd till he reached her. “What is this all about?” she asked.
“I’m selling out, Dixie.” He stepped up onto the ladder beside her and kissed her full on the lips right there in front of half the population of Whistlers Bend. “I’m going to Boston with you.” The crowd quieted, suddenly captivated by the conversation, and she couldn’t blame them—she was prett
y captivated, too.
“What are you talking about?” She gestured at the restaurant. “This is what you want. You told me so. Everyone in town will swear to that.”
He kissed her again, taking her breath away. “You’re what I want.” The crowd went dead quiet, the female half—and maybe some of the males—letting out an audible sigh of appreciation. He continued. “I’m auctioning the restaurant stuff off and then selling the building to Wes for his photo studio.”
She grabbed his arms. “Nick, you hate big cities. This is a bad idea.”
“I’ll get a job in one of the restaurants there. Boston has tons of great restaurants. I can find my way around. It’s where I grew up. I got this covered, Dixie. I want us to have a chance together, and that’s not going to happen if I’m here and you’re in Boston. I’ve got to be in Boston, too, with you. I finally figured out what was wrong in my life. Women have always left me and I hated that. Then I realized it wasn’t their leaving me that was the problem, but my not going after them. I’m going after you, Dixie. I want to be with you.”
A lady in the back said that was the most romantic thing she’d ever heard, and the crowd nodded in agreement, a few people dabbed moist eyes. Nick made his way back to the auctioning table. He swung a hammer against a chunk of wood. “The first things on the auction block are the dishes.” He held up a pasta plate. “Basket-weave pattern, good quality, dishwasher and microwave safe.”
Dixie remembered the first time he’d cooked for her and he’d told her about his plans for Nick’s and… “I’ll take them all,” Dixie blurted. “Whatever you paid for them.”
Every eye focused on her, and Nick said, “Dixie? What will you do with all that china? You’re moving to Boston.”
“I’ll make a lot of friends.” She scribbled a check and passed it through the crowd making its way up to Nick.
He studied it, shook his head, then held up a wineglass. The ones with bubbles blown into the glass, which Nick had liked more than the cheaper glasses. Dixie yelled, “I’ll take them all…to go with the china.” He gave her an incredulous look and she wrote out another check and passed it forward.
“The next items,” Nick said, “are the tablecloths and napkins.” He held up one tablecloth. “The color is—”
“Italian Sunset,” Dixie said. “The same color as the Roman shades on order for the windows. A great color. I’ll take them. And I’ll take the fountain and the bistro tables.” His eyes met hers, and she remembered when he’d shown her a picture of what he’d had in mind. She wrote another check.
Nick shook his head. “Well, that brings us to the stove and—”
“I’ll take it.” How could she let someone have the stove he loved so much? “And the refrigerator.” She made out yet her check.
“That’s all I have. Except—” his eyes met hers across the crowd “—the chef.”
“He’s kind and thoughtful and brave and fun and a darn good dancer,” Maggie blurted. “And your life without Nick in it will suck.”
“All those things are true,” Dixie said. Everyone was pin-drop quiet. “I’d love to take the chef.”
He laughed and came to her and scooped her into his arms. “Sold,” he said. The crowd cheered and Nick kissed her as she wrapped her arms around his strong neck. She loved him with all her heart, every inch of him.
Nick set her down and the crowd slowly filed out of the restaurant, promising to return when the tables got delivered and Nick’s Place opened for business. Nick closed the door. “You didn’t have to do any of this, you realize. I really meant it when I said I was selling out to follow you to Boston. It wasn’t a trick.”
“But now you don’t have to.”
He picked up the checks she’d written him and put them in her hand. “I don’t need these. All I want is you.”
“Then we’ll be partners in Nick’s Place. I’m a great waitress.” She smiled. “And I wouldn’t be happy in Boston without you. You make me so happy, Nick, happier than any newspaper job ever could.”
He kissed her forehead, his lips on her skin a touch of heaven. “I’ve got some business to take care of. Me staying here wasn’t in my plans.”
“You have to tell Wes the place isn’t for sale?”
“But there’s another place. I’ll be right back, okay?”
“I can come with you.”
“You unpack our dishes and glasses.”
And she did, then put together one of the bistro tables. She was happy, really happy. She and Nick would be working together as partners.
The front door opened and Nick came in. She asked, “Did you get Wes a place for his studio?”
“Above the Whistle Stop, and he has a job on the newspaper.”
Dixie felt her eyes bulge. “Eversole agreed to hire on Wes? He’s such a skinflint I never would have imagined he’d do such a thing.”
“I have powers of persuasion with the editor—at least, I hope so.” He handed her an official-looking paper. “Bill of sale for the Whistle Stop. I bought it from Eversole for you. I know it’s not the Boston Globe, but it’s all yours, to make whatever you want of it. You gave me my dream, Dixie, the restaurant. I had every intention of following you to Boston. I wanted to give you your dream, at least partly.”
She studied the paper in her hand. “You did this for me? How did you get that geezer to sell?”
“Well, I had all these checks and Eversole likes mining a lot more than running a newspaper. He’s always wanted to try his hand at finding gold. And I think dinner every week was mentioned.” Nick laughed. “You want me to live the life I want and I want that for you with all my heart. I love you, Dixie Carmichael.”
He fished in his pocket and pulled out a filigree ring with an emerald-and-diamond setting. “This has been in the Romero family forever, and that’s what I want you to be. Celest sent it to me when I told her I was planning to marry you if you’d have me. I love you, Dixie.”
She threw her arms around his neck. “I love you, Nick, and I’ll marry you. You are my dream, the happiness I’ve always wanted.”
Epilogue
Dixie pointed out the upstairs window of Maggie’s house to the gleaming white tent on the lawn of Sky Notch. “I can’t believe we invited all these people to our wedding. What were we thinking?”
“Weddings,” Maggie corrected. “And will you quit fidgeting, so I can fasten these pearls around your neck?”
BJ pinned up a wayward strand of Maggie’s hair that had had the audacity to come loose. “We’ve all lived here forever and sat at that table at the Sage for years, hashing out our lives. It only seemed right that our friends and neighbors would help us celebrate today.”
Dixie laughed. “They’ve listened to us grouse and complain enough.”
“I still can’t believe Nick catered his own wedding and cooked days,” BJ said.
“I can’t believe we all found wedding dresses we like,” Maggie said.
“I think we were motivated,” Dixie said, then added, “things sure have changed for us in the past three months since we turned the big 4-0.” She held out her hands to her two lifelong friends and they each took one. “Okay, here we go. Are we all ready?”
Their gazes met and Maggie smiled. “We each have our own lives, doing what we want to do, and we have wonderful men to share our lives with. We are incredibly lucky women.”
Dixie grinned. “We’re forty and we are so fabulous.”
BJ laughed and nodded. “And we’re late.” She led the way down the steps. They crossed the lawn, the harp and violin music drifting from the tent as a breeze tangled in the trees.
When they got to the entrance to the tent, Maggie nodded at the musicians and the sound of the “Wedding March” filled the space. She started down the aisle, followed by BJ, then Dixie. Jack, Flynn and Nick were waiting, incredibly dashing in dark suits.
The three couples stood before the judge. “Friends,” she said, “we are gathered here today to join this man and this woman
.” She nodded at Maggie and Jack. “And this man and this woman.” She nodded at Dixie and Nick. “And affirm the joining of this man and this woman.” She nodded at BJ and Flynn. “In holy matrimony.”
ISBN: 978-1-4603-6958-6
A FABULOUS WEDDING
Copyright © 2005 by Dianne Kruetzkamp.
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* Forty & Fabulous
A Fabulous Wedding Page 17