Smoky Mountain Dreams (4 page)

Christopher glanced at his watch as he turned up the steep
road that led both to the jewelry studio and his own home. The studio was in a
refurbished cottage decorated with lovely wrought-iron protective bars on the
windows. He’d never been inside, but he’d seen some really nice pieces in the
windows over the last several years. Not to mention his friend Holly, who ran
the Crazy Hat Stand at SMD, told him if he wanted a custom piece of jewelry,
then Jesse Birch was the best, most trustworthy man to make it.

“He’s not tacky,” she’d said under her breath, so no one
else could hear, as she pushed her brunette hair behind her ear, and narrowed
her brown, thickly lined eyes conspiratorially. “He’s nothing at all like this
theme park or this town. It’s like he was transplanted from New York or Paris
or something.”

Christopher had been skeptical. After all, Holly was from
Friendsville and didn’t know Paris from her armpit. She also didn’t have a
strong fashion sense herself. He’d seen pictures of her prom dress, and even if
that could have been written off as youthful extravagance, her regular
going-out-on-the-town clothes made his brain bleed.

“What? You don’t trust me?” She’d rolled her eyes. “Let’s
put it this way, okay? I wouldn’t be caught dead in Jesse Birch’s jewelry. Not
flashy enough for me.
Comprendes
?”

“
Comprendes,
” he’d echoed,
laughing as she’d plopped a multi-colored beanie on his head and set the
propeller spinning with a flick of her thick index finger.

The outside of the Birch studio was creamy white, with
well-kept beds of lustrous rhododendron along the sides of the front walk,
glossy and evergreen. In the spring, they offered up a splash of purple-pink
flowers that looked beautiful against the pale color of the building.

The inside of the studio, Christopher discovered, was
nothing like the jewelry stores he’d seen in malls growing up. It had a calm,
almost regal atmosphere, with small glass cases that showed only a few pieces
in each.

“Hello,” a young brunette woman greeted him from behind a
pristine, glass-top desk with a tablet and tiny printer on it. Her dark brown
eyes glowed warmly. She was a bit plump in a solid, natural way that was
beautiful and attractive. Christopher checked her ring finger, remembering a
conversation the week before with his single pal, Dave, who’d mentioned he
preferred women to look like “real human beings instead of sticks.”
Unfortunately for Dave, it looked as though this lovely lady was spoken for.

“You must be Mr. Ryder,” she went on. “You’re right on time
for your appointment.”

“I am. But call me Christopher.”

“We’re glad you’re here, Christopher. Jesse is looking
forward to meeting you. I’m Amanda, by the way. I help Jesse out a few times a
week.”

Christopher stepped forward to shake her hand. “Nice to meet
you.”

“Well, would you like to have a look around, acquaint
yourself with some of Jesse’s work?”

“I don’t want to make him wait.”

“Oh nonsense. He’s in no rush. Here, I’ll tell you what—I
need to lock up now that you’ve arrived anyway. Why don’t you have a quick look
while I do that? If you see anything that strikes your fancy, we can talk about
it.”

Christopher cruised the glass cases thoughtfully. Holly was
right. There wasn’t a tacky piece to be found. Even the most jewel-encrusted
bangle was tasteful in its tumble of color, and some of the work was so
delicate and intricate that Christopher was seized with a sudden guilt that he
was asking a man who was so obviously talented to make what was, in the scheme
of things, a very common piece.

“I understand you have a good idea of what you’re wanting
already,” Amanda said, as she jangled a set of keys and headed to the front
door. “But if you’re not entirely sure, Jesse is great at brainstorming ideas
with clients.”

Christopher paused at the case of wedding and engagement
rings while Amanda locked up the showroom. There were a variety of styles and
sizes, but they all had a stamp of elegance to them. He bent to look more
closely at one that caught his eye. It should have been too much bling for
anyone’s finger, but somehow it was just perfect.

“That’s a platinum, mixed cut, diamond cluster ring,” Amanda
said, appearing at his side and following the line of his gaze with a
discerning eye. “It’s one of a kind. A beautiful piece.”

“Lovely,” Christopher agreed softly. It reminded him of his
mother. Well, of the mother he’d known in his youth. It reminded him of the
jewelry she’d put on when she and his father had headed to the country club. It
had been the side of his mother he’d liked best—the woman who’d worn perfume,
laughed with a wide-open mouth, and danced with his father in the living room
late at night after he and his sister were supposed to be asleep.

Staring at the glittering stones, Christopher wasn’t sure if
he hated the ring or loved it and all the memories it had brought up in him.

“Would you like to see it out of the case?” Amanda asked.

“No. No, thanks.”

The hallway from the front room to the back office was lined
with framed photographs chronicling the journey of a woman’s hand across
Europe. In the first photo, the Eiffel tower loomed high in the blue sky while
a woman’s forearm and splayed hand spiked into the foreground, wearing a bright
bracelet of purple and green stones. The bracelet appeared less refined than
the work in the studio’s show room, but still bore some indefinable mark of
design declaring it a Birch piece.

Another photo showed the same woman’s hand with the Coliseum
as a backdrop, only this time the fingers wrapped around a gelato cone, and one
was sporting a pearl and opal cluster ring. The hand, always with different
jewelry, went on to St. Basil’s Cathedral in Moscow, Big Ben, and Stonehenge
before Amanda stopped by an open door and rapped gently on the frame.

“Jesse, Christopher Ryder is here to see you.”

Jesse Birch didn’t meet Christopher’s expectations, though
Christopher hadn’t, until that moment, realized he had any. Jesse wasn’t old,
bespectacled, and decked out in his own jewelry pieces, or weak-eyed from the
strain of staring at tiny chips of gems. He had wavy, dark hair and stubble, a
lush mouth, and dark, soulful eyes. He wore no jewelry at all as far as
Christopher could see, and his hands, holding a platinum and diamond ring under
the bright lamp on his desk, were beautifully formed with long, elegant
fingers.

“Mr. Ryder—Christopher—this is Jesse.”

Jesse’s smile was warm, and revealed even, straight teeth,
except for one straggler—a canine that stood out a little sharply from the
rest. He stood with his hand outstretched. His shirt, unbuttoned at the top,
revealed a swirl of chest hair. Christopher’s eyes skimmed downward, following
the line of Jesse’s buttons over his trim stomach to where his jeans hung
nicely on slim hips.

Christopher gripped Jesse’s hand in his own, hyperaware of
his own slim but slightly-less-than-totally-fit body, the way he was standing,
and how long he held Jesse’s hand. Christopher ended the handshake quickly,
darted his eyes away, and hoped he didn’t look as flushed as he suddenly felt.

“Please call me Christopher.”

“Great,” Jesse said. His voice was low and quiet.

Christopher had the urge to lean in closer if only to hear
him better.

“I’ve been looking forward to meeting you,” Jesse added.

Amanda glanced between them, and her demeanor shifted from
friendly to a kind of surprised uncertainty, and then, just as suddenly, she
smiled gleamingly.

Jesse licked his lips and nodded at Amanda. “I’ve got it
from here. Thanks.”

Christopher turned a big smile on the woman, defaulting to
Southern friendliness to cope with the buzzing in his body and the rush of
blood in his cheeks. He hadn’t felt so unnecessarily awkward because of a surge
of surprise attraction since the time he was in high school and Rick Caddy had
caught him staring at his ass in algebra class. At least he didn’t think he
needed to worry about Jesse beating him up over it.

“Thanks, Amanda. You’ve been great. Incredibly helpful.”

Amusement dimpled her cheeks. “Thank you, Christopher. I’m
happy to have been of service.”

Jesse sat again and motioned at the straight-backed wooden
chair opposite his desk. “Please, have a seat. Make yourself comfortable. Has
Amanda offered you anything to drink?”

“I’m good, thanks.”

Jesse smiled and nodded, riffling through some notes as
Christopher dropped into the proffered chair. Christopher saw his own name at
the top of the first page, and recognized a few of the looping, upside down
words as part of the message he’d left on the studio’s voicemail over the
weekend.

He zeroed in on Jesse’s left hand.
No wedding
band.
Christopher glanced around the room quickly and spotted a photo of
two kids that looked a heck of a lot like Jesse with their arms around a woman
with long, straight blond hair and dark brown eyes
. Damn.

“It’s really great to meet you,” Jesse said as Amanda closed
the door discreetly behind her. He looked up from the notes and smiled warmly. “I
was pretty excited to see your name on the schedule. I’ve been a fan for a
while.”

“I’m sorry?” Christopher stared at Jesse’s eyes. They had
gold flecks close to the pupil. “I think you have me mixed up with someone
else?”

“You perform at Smoky Mountain Dreams, right? I’ve seen you
plenty of times.”

“
Really
?” Christopher knew he
sounded unprofessional and that he should at least attempt to act blasé instead
of outright skeptical, but he couldn’t help himself. No one had ever said
something like that.

Jesse shrugged. “Of course.
Summertime
in the Holl’er
last summer and
Christmas Joy
last winter, right?”

“Oh wow. That’s cool. I don’t know what to say.” He chuckled
and pushed hair out of his eyes.

“I think I saw you for the first time two years ago. You
sang that solo on ‘O Come All Ye Faithful,’ and I thought you were pretty
great. I looked your name up in the program and everything.” Jesse tilted his
head. “Come on, don’t be modest. Surely you have a lot of fans.”

“No, not really.” Christopher didn’t know where to look,
rubbing his palms on his jeans, and grinning helplessly. “I’m pretty happy with
the various perks of my job, but honestly, fans aren’t something I really
attract. Are you sure you’re not thinking of Lash?”

Jesse’s face contorted into a frustratingly cute expression
of sheer perplexity. “You are nothing like Lash Hinkins. Do you really think I’d
have you two mixed up?”

Christopher felt his neck grow hotter. His flush hadn’t yet
died from the spark of attraction he’d felt when he first walked in, and now it
was back in full force. “I guess not. I’m just surprised. But thank you. I
mean, that’s so nice of you to say. Really generous. And kind.”

“Nothing generous about it. I enjoy your voice a lot. It’s
got a tone and sincerity that I admire. Not to mention, you come alive on
stage, and I like that too. I can tell you’re really happy to be up there. You
don’t take it for granted.” Jesse hesitated and then said a little bashfully, “You
glow.”

“Glow?” Christopher couldn’t help but laugh. “Me? Ha! I’m…wow,
well, I don’t know what to say.”

“I can see that.” Jesse’s mouth turned up at the edges. He
shook his head. “Let’s change directions now. I feel like an idiot, outing
myself as a fan. How about I get some dignity back and we talk jewelry for a
while?”

“No, no, you’re great! I’m the idiot who can’t take a
compliment.”

“You’re right,” Jesse said. His dark eyes were soft and
warm. Christopher leaned in a little, drawn by their openness. “You can’t. You
should really work on that. But in the meantime, I thought it was nice for
someone to be self-deprecating in this age of selfies and relentless vanity.”

Christopher’s eyes strayed to the photo of the woman and
kids.

“So,” Jesse went on, folding his hands on the table as he
bent forward. “In your voicemail you mentioned this was a special piece you
wanted done. For your grandmother, I believe?”

Christopher cleared his throat. “Yes. Though I have to
admit, after seeing your work, I’m a little embarrassed by the idea I had in
mind. I’m afraid it’s a waste of your talent. It might not be worth your time.”

“Grandmothers are always worth my time. I love grandmothers.”
Jesse laughed a little.

Christopher noticed Jesse’s fingers laced together prettily.
He admired their length and form, and in a flash he wondered how they might
feel on his body. And then his attention turned to the soft, beating pulse at
the base of Jesse’s throat, and he imagined what
it
might
feel like against his tongue.

Christopher Ryder, those thoughts are
impure, young man!

But Gran in his head was chortling as she scolded him.

“So tell me about the locket?” Jesse asked. “Do I need to
give you the nervous bridegroom treatment?”

“The what?”

“Well, bridegrooms are always anxious to please their bride.
Sometimes I have to give them a little extra reassurance.”

Christopher’s breath came in and out quickly. “I’m sorry?”

“Let me tell you what I always tell them. I’ll just replace
bride with grandmother.” He winked and Christopher swallowed hard. “Let me
reassure you, your grandmother’s happiness is what’s important to me. I care
more about that than about making some piece to flatter my ego.”

“Yeah?”

“I hope that helps?”

Christopher felt a rush from head to toe, and he wondered if
he looked sweaty. “I’ve never done this before.” He waved a hand around to
encompass the store in its entirety. “Sorry. I just want it to be perfect. The
locket, I mean. For my grandmother.”