Hot Ticket (20 page)

David grabbed a handful of snow and began molding it into a snowball. “Okay, okay, I take that back,” said Tierney. David dropped the snowball. “I’m still going back in,” she told him.

“I’ll join you.” David took hold of her forearm. “I think you’ll find it a lot easier to walk if we do this together.”

Tierney looked pleased, making David feel happy. He decided not to analyze it too much and just enjoy it. Together they started back to the Barchester.

Sunday, 4:30
P
.
M
.

“ ‘And then he kissed me’—isn’t that the chorus from some song from the sixties?” Aggie mused. “The Chanterelles or something?”

“Figures
you’d
think there was once a girl group named after a type of mushroom,” Tierney replied. “I have no idea.”

She and Aggie were sitting at the bar, stealing some time to unwind. Their boss, Nugent, had finally conceded defeat and was allowing Aggie to use some of the food for the Mykofsky wedding to feed guests later in the evening. Tierney felt badly for Aggie; she’d been in the kitchen nearly nonstop since the blizzard began. When she suggested Tierney meet her for a drink, Tierney was all for it. Especially after her outdoor adventure with David.

“Let me make sure I’m hearing you right,” Aggie continued, nursing her beer. “You and David decided not to hook up anymore, then you hooked up again, then you chatted your heads off and found out you’re compatible, and then he kissed you when you were both nuts enough to pretend you were strolling in a winter wonderland.”

“Yes.”

Aggie mimed putting an invisible microphone up to Tierney’s mouth. “And how do we feel about this, Miss O’Connor?”

“Baffled. Confused. Perplexed.”

“Perhaps he thinks of you as more than a fuck buddy.”

Tierney grimaced. “I hate that expression!”

“Hey, if the merry widow fits . . .” Aggie shrugged and took a gulp of her beer. “Seriously, maybe he likes you.”

“He barely knows me.”

“Obviously he likes what he’s heard. Do you like him?”

“Yes.” Tierney took a tiny sip of her beer. She had to be careful; booze went straight to her head. “But what does it matter? I’m sure by late tonight, the runways at O’Hare will be cleared. He’s probably leaving town tomorrow.”

“So get his number.”

“Why? His life is in Buffalo and mine’s here. Besides, he already told me a relationship would interfere with his job. I don’t want to look like I’m throwing myself at him.”

“Even though you want to. What do you think, Don?” Aggie called to the crotchety, ancient bartender. “Do you think our girl here should get the phone number of one of those hockey boys?”

“Aggie!” Tierney wanted to kill her.

“Depends which one,” Don answered.

“The goalie,” said Aggie.

Tierney covered her face with her hands. “God help me.”

“Hewson?” Don sounded interested as he scratched the wattle beneath his chin. “He’s a good guy. Smart. Funny. Tough as shit out on the ice. Tips big.”

“If that doesn’t sound like the criteria for a dream man, I don’t know what does,” Tierney mocked as she uncovered her face.

“I’d still get his number,” Aggie continued, undaunted. “Or give him yours. What’s the worst that happens? He never calls? You don’t see him all year, anyway.”

“I’d still see him next January!”

“By then you won’t care whether he responded or not,” was Aggie’s sage reply. “Who knows? Maybe you’ll even have a
real
boyfriend by then. Love works in mysterious ways—when it works at all,” she finished sourly.

“Speaking of love,” said Tierney, allowing herself another teeny sip of beer, “I feel badly for Mindy, even if she
is
the biggest drama queen east of L.A. All those months of planning a wedding only to have a blizzard destroy it all? That’s got to suck.”

“Someone was supposed to get married here today?” asked Don.

Aggie snorted. “What rock have you been hiding under?”

Don shrugged. “I don’t know if it will help, but I
am
an Episcopal priest, you know.”

Tierney stared at him. “You
are
?”

“Oh yeah.” Don folded the dishrag in his hand into a neat square. “Haven’t worn the collar or officiated anything in years, though.”

Aggie looked impressed. “Don, you mystery man, you.”

“Nothing mysterious about it,” Don said gruffly. “I’m still listening to people’s problems and offering them guidance. Only now I’m not on call twenty-four hours a day.
And
the pay’s better.”

Tierney took a gulp of beer, pushed the glass away, and hopped off the bar stool.

“Where do you think you’re going?” Aggie called after her as Tierney started out the door.

“You’ll see.”

Sunday, 4:45
P
.
M
.

“Yes?”

Mindy Mykofsky, thwarted bride-to-be, gazed suspiciously at Tierney through the open crack of her hotel room door.

“Can I come in?” Tierney asked, trying to suppress the excited grin threatening to overtake her face.

“I guess.”

Mindy seemed uncertain as she allowed Tierney to slip inside. The room was a mess; it was as if Mindy’s suitcase had exploded on entry, showering the premises with clothing, shoes, toiletries, and undergarments. A large white garment bag hovered in the corner like a ghost. The groom, whose name Tierney still didn’t know, was stretched out on the unmade bed watching ESPN, throwing minibar Skittles up in the air and catching them in his mouth like a seal.

“You can get married today,” Tierney announced.

Mindy’s eyes lit up with hope. “What? The airports are open? Oh, thank God—”

“No, not that, unfortunately. But the hotel’s bartender, Don, is a minister. He could marry you.”

Mindy frowned. “I don’t want to be married by some martini-mixing minister! I want Rabbi Schnurn to do it!”

“Rabbi Schnurn’s garage roof caved in under all the snow this morning,” the groom chimed in from the bed. “He’s not going anywhere.” He pointed the remote at the TV, turned it off, and crawled down the bed toward where Tierney and his bride were standing.

“More, I want to hear more,” he said to Tierney.

“What’s your name?” Tierney finally asked.

“Bruce.”

“Well, Bruce, like I just told Mindy, our bartender could marry you in a civil ceremony if you want. Then you could have a religious ceremony with family and friends at some later date.”

Bruce looked at Mindy. “You hear that, Wuzzums? We could get married and use that bridal suite tonight, just like we originally planned!”

Mindy looked unsure. “I don’t know.”

“It was just an idea,” said Tierney. “This morning you said you
had
to get married today or you would die. When I saw a way to make that possible, I thought I’d run it by you.”

“I think it’s a great idea,” said Bruce.

“Of course you do,” Mindy snapped. “Your dream is any event not attended by my mother.” She looked torn. “My parents will be so upset.”

“You heard what the concierge said,” said Bruce. “We could always have a more formal ceremony later.”

Mindy sank down on the end of the bed. “I don’t know,” she repeated. “A civil ceremony without any reception? How depressing is
that
?”

“You could still have a reception,” Tierney pointed out. “Everyone snowed in here at the hotel could be your wedding guests. Think how much a party would cheer up everyone! Our head chef could even make your wedding cake. You could have a cake and champagne reception.”

“Sounds great,” Bruce enthused. He put his arm around Mindy. “What do you say, Mindywindywoodle?”

Mindy looked stressed. “Don’t pressure me, Brucie. Just don’t.” Her face was anxious as she looked at Tierney. “When do I have to decide by?”

“Soon,” Tierney said delicately, “if you want to give the chef time to make a cake.”

Mindy began munching on the cuticle of her left thumb. “Even so, the ‘reception’ would be pretty late, wouldn’t it?”

“I guess,” said Tierney.

“So what?” Bruce chortled. “No one’s going anywhere! I think we should do it, Min.” He whispered something in her ear that made her giggle and blush.

“You’re right,” Mindy said, beaming. It was the first smile Tierney had seen on her face in two days.

Sunday, 11
P
.
M
.

“I bet that dress cost more than our salaries combined.”

Tierney laughed at Aggie’s observation as she watched Mr. and Mrs. Bruce Goldfarb share their first dance as man and wife. As soon as Tierney had the couple’s okay to go ahead with the impromptu wedding, she’d put Don on notice, got the okay from Nugent, guilted Aggie into baking a cake, and notified guests and remaining staff that they were all invited to a wedding at 10
P
.
M
. in the hotel’s main banquet room.

Apart from Don’s repeatedly calling Mindy Cindy, the ceremony went off without a hitch. Tierney stood up for the bride and, ironically, David stood up for the groom. Now, more than half an hour into the reception, everyone seemed to be having a good time. There was even music because they shifted the baby grand piano from the bar to the banquet room.

“They look so happy,” Tierney sighed, watching Bruce and Mindy dance.

“And it’s all because of you,” Aggie sighed back, draining her
champagne glass. “Nugent should be kissing your ass, and I should be kicking it: you ever try baking, cooling, and frosting a wedding cake in under five hours?”

“But you did it,” Tierney pointed out. “And wasn’t it worth it?” She lifted her champagne flute in the Goldfarbs’ direction. “Look at them. They’re ecstatic.”

“Let’s not get carried away here.
He
looks ecstatic.
She
looks merely relieved.” Aggie’s gaze lit from table to table. “Looks like Mr. Rock Star decided not to show; I don’t see anyone here in spandex and a fright wig.”

Tierney recoiled. “He wears spandex?”

“He did when he was hot in the eighties. Nowadays he probably wears a truss.”

“May I have this dance?”

Tierney turned from Aggie to see Marius gallantly offering her his arm. Beaming with girlish pleasure, Tierney excused herself and let her coworker lead her out onto the small dance floor. One of the techies from Bangalore was tickling the ivories with a particularly smoky version of “At Last.”

“I hear this bash is all your doing,” Marius said.

“With a little help from Don and Aggie.”

“Goddamn!”
Marius marveled. “Who’d have ever believed Don was a man of faith?” He shook his head. “God moves in mysterious ways.”

“Amen.” Tierney’s eyes strayed across the room to where the Herd and their entourage were seated. Thirty-five in all, their raucous voices and hearty bursts of laughter frequently overrode the polite murmur of voices in the room as well as the sound of the piano. Her eyes met David’s for a split second before both looked away.

Marius must have noticed. “So which one of those puck-shootin’ yahoos is your lover man?” he asked.

Tierney blushed. “The one at the right end of the second table.”

“You mean, the one who’s on his way over here?”

Tierney peered over Marius’s shoulder as he turned her on the dance floor. Sure enough, David was striding in their direction. As always, the sight of him made her head swim. He looked especially handsome tonight, dressed in a jacket and tie. In fact, all the players for the Herd were in jackets and ties.

“Mind if I cut in?” David asked politely.

Marius took his time looking him up and down, sizing up David so blatantly Tierney wanted to die. “Hmmm,” he said with a frown. “Depends.”

David looked bemused. “On?”

“Whether Marius thinks you’re good enough for this fine young lady here.”

“Oh, God,” Tierney squeaked.

“I think I am,” David asserted boldly.

“Do you now. And what are we basing that on, Mr. I’ve Been Wearin’ Dentures Since I Was Ten?”

“On fact.”

“What do you think?” Marius asked Tierney. “Is he good enough to dance with the second-best concierge in all of Chicago?”

Tierney was so embarrassed she was having a hard time finding her voice. “I think so, yes,” she choked out.

“All right, then.” Marius slowly released Tierney from his embrace. “If you say so. You two kids have fun.”

“God, I’m sorry,” Tierney said to David as soon as Marius was out of earshot. “I had no idea he was so protective.”

David stared after Marius. “You told him about us?”

“He guessed.”

“I take it he doesn’t approve. I kept waiting for him to pull out a can of insect repellent and spray me.”

“He was worried about me losing my job if the boss found out. Plus he doesn’t seem very fond of hockey players.”

“Did you tell him it was over?”

“No.” Maybe she was imagining it, but to Tierney, it felt like
they were enveloped in sadness. She forced herself to concentrate on dancing. That’s when she realized they were doing little more than swaying in place. Tierney peered up at David questioningly.

“You can’t dance, can you?”

“Not really. Guess I was too busy fur trapping in my youth to learn,” David teased.

“Well, you sway very well for a Canuck.”

“As do you, Miss Nebraska Peach Cobbler of 1988.”

“You look nice,” she noted quietly, reaching up to smooth his left lapel.

David’s eyes slowly raked her body. “So do you.”

Tierney smiled to herself. The truth might be out about her being a country girl, but that didn’t seem to stop David from still being turned on by the sight of her in a suit. Heat percolated through her as she imagined him wanting her right here, right now.

David’s glance strayed to Bruce and Mindy, who were feeding each other cake. “I’m glad they were finally able to get hitched.”

“Me, too.”

“Though why the hell he wanted me to stand up for him is beyond me.”

“Did he ever thank you?”

David looked puzzled. “For what?”

“The advice you gave him in the bar last night. He said he wanted to thank you.”