Tess in Boots (18 page)

CHAPTER 19

I found him outside the house,
lying on his back in the driveway, halfway under his car. Sara’s car wasn’t anywhere in sight.

This was my chance. It was now or never.

I walked up to where Jake was working and tapped his foot with mine. “Hey there.”

“
Hey, Tessy,” he said, without looking out from under the car. “Pass me that rag, will ya?”

I crouched down on the gravel and picked up the rag, placing it into his open hand.
“What are you doing under there?”

“
Changing the oil.”

“
Ah.”

“
How’s the wedding coming along?” he asked.

“
Good. Things are a little rushed, but it’s good.”

“
You know, Sara said there’s an orchestra concert downtown tonight. It’s just some local college kids. But I thought you could go check it out. You might find someone to play for the ceremony.”

“
Tonight?”

“
Yeah.”

“
That’s a little short notice.”

“
What else do you have to do?”

I thought about
it for a moment. He was right. What
did
I have to do? I had to plan the wedding, that’s what. And this would help. “That’s not a bad idea. Where is it?”

“
The community center, I think. Six o’clock. I can take you, if you want. It will give us a chance to hang out.”

“
Six o’clock. Yeah, that’s great. It’s a date. Thanks.”

“
Uh-huh.” He grunted, and I heard a metallic sound come from under the car.

I took a few controlled breaths, trying to work up the nerve to tell him what I
came to say. “Hey, Jake?”

“
Yeah?”

“
This may sound like a crazy question, but… has Sara been married before? Before you, I mean?”

He laughed.
“No.”

“
Are you sure? Like, absolutely, one-hundred-percent sure?”

“
I’m pretty sure, Tessy. But if she had been, I’d hope it was to someone rich. I’d like to cash in on that divorce settlement.”

“
How do you know for certain?”

“
Because I know my wife. What kind of crazy question is that, anyway?”

I hesitated. How to even
begin
to tell him? “Jake…”

Do it, Tess. Be a big girl. Say it.

“Jake, do you think there’s anything… going on between Sara and Thatcher?”

He laughed again, harder this time.
“Oh, Tessy.”

“
Seriously!” I stomped my foot.
It’s so obvious.
Why doesn’t he see it?

He slid out from under the car and sat up.
“Seriously. No. Look, Tessy, I have a lot to worry about. Not the least of which is something going on between Sara and Thatcher.” He shook his head and smiled to himself.

“
But I—”

Before I could say anything more, I heard the sound of tires on the gravel and saw Sara’s car approaching. She parked behind Jake and stepped out onto the driveway with the puffy brown envelope from earlier tucked under her arm.

“Hey, babe.” Jake walked over to her and kissed her on the cheek.

“
Hey.”

“
What’s that?”

“
What’s what?” Her eyes were wide and innocent.

“
That.” He pointed to the package under her arm.

She looked from Jake to me, then back again.
“This? Oh, nothing. Just something I ordered…”

“What?” he asked.

“Um… beauty supplies. You hungry?”

He shrugged.
“Yeah.”

“
Okay. I’ll make some sandwiches.” She smiled at him and headed toward the front door. “How about you, Tess? You want to eat with us?”

“No
thanks. I have wedding stuff to do.”

“
All right. See ya later.”

“
See ya.”

Jake went back to work on the car, and I
started off toward the cottage. I looked over my shoulder and caught a glimpse of Sara as she disappeared into the house. I couldn’t help but notice the way she carried the package close to her body, protecting it, as if it would shatter into a million pieces if she loosened her grip.

Back at the cottage, I stretched out on the bed, reflecting on how Sara
was so dismissive in brushing off the contents of the package, and how Jake simply shrugged and accepted her answer.

Oh, nothing
. Just something I ordered…
It was so scary how he took what she said at face value. She was walking all over him, and he didn’t even realize what was happening. What else had he been so naïve about?

Well, her relationship with Thatcher, for one.

Sara James.

Who are you, Sara James? And what do you want with my brother?

Back when Jake and Sara got married, my mother was all up in arms about it. She said it was too fast; he didn’t know anything about her; they should have waited. She had a hard time letting it go, long after the wedding. And a part of me understood. I was just as concerned at first. Then I met Sara, and I liked her. To me she always seemed so caring and genuine. But now I wondered if maybe my mother was right. We
didn’t
know anything about her, did we? And being here, where she grew up, among all these secrets, made it all the more evident.

It was so hard to stay here and watch Jake get trampled on. But then again, that’s the reason I was staying. For Jake. I promised to help him, and
I’d gotten this far. I couldn’t leave him hanging. This wedding was important to him. And if it was important to him, it was important to me.

I let out a heavy sigh and pulled myself up off the bed, walking over to the table and powering on my laptop. When the screen came up, I typed a quick email to Viv detailing the invoices I compiled earlier in the day so she could send out the payments. I cringed as I relayed the cost of the band in the email. It was way too much. But I was desperate. And besides, Viv had said it herself.
“We’ll pay anything.”

This
would be some wedding, I mused. I couldn’t wait to get a look at this rich mystery couple. I hoped they wouldn’t be disappointed by the quaintness of it all. But then again, why would you come to a place like this if you weren’t going for quaint? They could have just as easily pulled this off in Hawaii. Or anywhere. So they
must
be looking for something low-key. If they were going for charm, I’d charm their overpriced pants off.

I hit
“send” on the message to Viv, and then opened up the email Natalie sent with the vendor information. I made a mental note to do something nice for that girl. She pulled through in a big way. In less than forty-eight hours after speaking with her, I had a cake and a band all secured. Now to call the photographer.

Call DJ
, she wrote.
The photography thing is a side gig, but you have got to see these pictures.

I dialed the number Natalie
gave me and was surprised to hear a woman pick up the phone.

“
Hello?”

“
Hi, I’m looking for DJ?”

“
This is DJ.”

Huh. I don’t know why I expected it to be a man. Not that it mattered, but it surprised me a little.
“Oh. Hi. I got your number from an acquaintance of mine. I know this sounds crazy, but I’m planning a wedding next Friday, and I need a photographer. Are you by chance free?”

“
I could be,” she said. “Where’s the wedding?”

“
Carl’s Creek Vineyard. It’s right off—”

“
I know where it is. What did you say your name was again?”

“
I’m sorry. I don’t think I said yet. It’s Tess. Tess Dougherty.”

“
Tess Dougherty.” There was a hint of amusement to her voice. “Yeah, sure. I can do it.”

“
You can? That’s amazing!”

“
There’s one thing, though,” she said. “I want to show you my work first.”

“
Oh, that’s not necessary. I’m in a pinch, and I trust you’re great.”

“
No. I insist. I won’t agree to do it unless I’m sure you like my work. It’s part of my artistic process.”

I placed a hand on my forehead. Artistic process? I didn’t have time for this. There were a million little things I needed to organize here. And I still had to run down to Suzie Q’s to talk to them about the rehearsal. Unless… maybe she could meet me there for dinner tomorrow night. That way I could knock out two birds with one stone.

“Are you by chance free around five tomorrow?” I asked. “I’m planning on heading down to Suzie Q’s to talk to them about food for the rehearsal anyway. Maybe we could grab something to eat there, and you could show me the pictures. Do you know the place?”

She laughed.
“Yeah. I’ve heard of it. That works. I’ll see you then, Tess Dougherty.”

“G
reat. Thanks, DJ. See you then.”

I hung up the phone and tossed it aside.
Something about our conversation rubbed me the wrong way. It was almost as if she was mocking me or something.

Oh, well. If I was going to make this wedding happen, I couldn’t waste time worrying about silly little things like whether people liked me.

Or big important things, either, like what was going to happen to Jake. And what I would do with my life after the wedding. If, that is, I survived until then. And right now, that seemed like a big
if
.

CHAPTER 20

The toes of my boots
rested on the bottom rung of the folding metal chair in front of me.

It was the first time I
’d worn them since trying to give them back to Thatcher. For a while, I left them sitting by the cottage door. I considered throwing them out, or donating them, even. But they were so comfortable. And they went with everything. At least around here they did.

And besides, they were just shoes. What was the big deal? In a way, wearing them felt like a small victory of sorts. I could wear them and not think about him.

Take
that
, Thatcher Bartholomew James. I’m wearing the boots, and I’m not even thinking about you.

Staring down at the toes of my shoes and hearing the music of the orchestra all around me reminded me of the first time I sat in the audience at a concert like this one. That time I was wearing a cocktail dress and heels instead of jeans and a pair of boots. And I was sitting in a plush red velvet seat in the theater, not a folding chair in a community center. But other than that, it was the same.

Boring.

This music never appealed to me. It was nice background sound and all, but I could never pinpoint why anyone would spend hours at a concert like this. There was nothing to watch, for starters.

Well, except for tonight. But that was different; that was because I was on a mission to scope out the musicians. I had to hand it to Jake. It wasn’t a bad idea finding someone to play at the ceremony. I scanned the intense faces of the performers. For students, they all seemed so polished and professional. Any one of them would be perfect. I would approach the conductor after the concert to see if he could put me in touch with someone. Or better yet, maybe I’d make Jake do it. He seemed to be enthralled with the performance. I could see him in my peripheral vision, seated next to me and swaying his head along with the music. Jake always did have an artistic side, though growing up he mostly channeled it through fleeting memberships in various garage bands.

Ouch
. I forgot how hard and uncomfortable these chairs could be. I adjusted my weight, crossing one leg over the other and leaning to the side. There, that was better. The slight movement gave me a shift in perspective, and I could see a woman in the next row popping Junior Mints into her mouth.

I smiled to myself.
There
was a similarity between this concert and the first one I attended in the city.

Junior Mints.

I hadn’t planned on going. It was a Thursday night, I remembered, and I was just getting ready to leave the office. But right before I left, Jim Pierce stopped by my desk, offering me a ticket to the symphony that night at the Lincoln Center. He couldn’t make it, he explained, but it’d be a shame to let it go to waste. I didn’t have any interest in the symphony, but this was Jim Pierce. Talking to
me
. Offering me his ticket. Back in my telemarketing days, it was a huge deal for someone like him to even know my name, nonetheless speak to me. So I said yes without even thinking about it.

I didn’t have much time to get home and change before heading back into the city. When I arrived at the venue, the show was about to start and I was starving. The closest thing to food I could find in the lobby was a giant box of Junior Mints, which I paid almost an hour’s wages for.

An usher helped me find my seat as they dimmed the house lights, and I inched my way down the row, squeezing past about a dozen other audience members. As I sat down, my jacket caught on the armrest of my chair and I struggled to pull it free. There was a clattering sound as something fell to the floor. I looked down to see my box of Junior Mints peeking out from under a nearby seat. I sighed and bent to pick it up, contorting myself into a very uncomfortable position until I could reach the candy.

When I settled into my seat, the music had already begun
, and I’d made quite a scene. The guy seated next to me leaned in and murmured, “That wasn’t necessary.”

I whipped around to look at him.
“Ex
cuse
me?”

I must have said it a bit too loud, because several people turned to look at us. From the next row a lady with her hair pinned up into a French twist put her finger over her lips and glared at me. I turned and fixed my gaze on the musicians.

I’d only been in New York for a short time, but I already learned people in the city could be so rude. This guy was another perfect example. He had a lot of nerve admonishing me. What was I supposed to do? Just leave the candy on the floor?

I remembered sitting in the audience, trying to pay attention to the music and popping Junior Mints into my mouth. Once I calmed down it was all I could do not to fall asleep. But then, about thirty minutes into the concert, something strange happened to wake me up. The guy next to me, the same one who made the rude comment, reached his hand right into the box and ate my candy.

Who did he think he was?
He did it again, and again, until there were a couple pieces left in the box. By the time intermission came around, I was seething. “Did you want the last two?” I asked when the house lights came up.

He turned to look at me, and I was struck by how handsome this Junior
-Mint bandit was. I hadn’t gotten a good look at his face yet, and I assumed he was some sleazy-looking jerk. But this man was… gorgeous. He smiled at me, revealing a perfect set of pristine white teeth.

“
No, you go ahead. I can always get more.”

“
How considerate of you,” I snapped. I didn’t care how attractive he was. I was hungry.

He perused his playbill without a response as I chewed on the last two Junior Mints. I crumpled up the empty box, and with no trash can nearby, I shoved it into my purse.

That’s when I saw it.

My unopened box of Junior Mints. It hadn’t fallen to the floor at all. It
was in my purse the whole time.

That meant…
I’d been eating
his
candy. When he made the comment earlier, he wasn’t trying to chastise me for making a scene. He was trying to
thank
me for picking up his candy.

I wanted to die. I wanted to shrivel up and die right then and there. Or at the very least, wake up and realize it
was all some terrible, mortifying dream.

But no such luck. I wasn’t waking up, and there was no way out. I was stuck in my seat, trapped by the crowds of people stretching their legs all around me. I had to say something to him. I felt the tips of my ears burning as I tapped him on the arm.

“Excuse me?”

He lifted his gaze from the playbill and looked at me over his glasses.

“Um…” I held up the box. “I’m so sorry. This is extremely embarrassing. But I thought you were eating
my
Junior Mints. I bought some, too, and when I saw the box fall to the ground I assumed… um, anyway, turns out it was yours.”

The slightest smile spread across his lips.
“That explains a lot.”

“
Please. Take these.”

“
No, thank you. It’s fine.”

“
I insist.”

He closed the playbill.
“Tell you what. Why don’t you have dinner with me after this? Then we’ll call it even.”

I wasn’t sure how or why he wanted to go out with me after what transpired. But I was elated. I couldn’t wait to tell Annie. She was going to flip.

“Okay. I’m Tess, by the way.”

“
I’m Logan. So you’re a fan of the symphony?”

“
Mm-hmm,” I lied, “the biggest.”

That’s where the pretending started, and I guess it never really stopped.

I hadn’t seen it before. Not until Thatcher questioned me that day at the diner. But looking back, it was clear as could be. With Logan, I always seemed to be reaching for something more, trying to be this perfect complete version of me. Like I would one day become that person for him, if I could just keep playing the role a little bit longer.

He would be here soon, I remembered, and a feeling of dread washed over me. A small part of me wanted to see him, sure. He was comfortable. He was what I knew. It would feel so good to slip back into life with him.

But I was also afraid of seeing him. Afraid of not having the guts to stand up to him. Afraid of pretending again. Afraid of losing myself. As hard as things were, the more time I spent down here, the more I got back in touch with who I was. Or, more accurately, who I
wasn’t.

And I
wasn’t
a fan of the symphony. I never had been.

I looked away from the lady’s Junior Mints and tried again to focus on the beauty of the music. But it was no use. I couldn’t concentrate.

To pass the time, I scanned the old black-and-white photographs that lined the cinderblock walls. I counted them, not spending any significant length of time studying the photos, when one particular image caught my eye. I was too far away to make out the details, but something about it seemed to be calling my name.

Yes, there was something special about that photo. I tried to look away, but each time I did, it
drew me back in, nagging at me with relentless pursuit. It haunted me. It was almost as if I could feel the man in the photo staring at me from a distance.

As one song faded into another, the man seemed to be crying out to me, shouting louder and louder above the music. He wouldn’t let me rest. When the last song was finished and the conductor took a bow, Jake popped out of his seat and made a beeline toward the restroom. As soon as he disappeared from sight, I wiggled through the crowd and walked over to the picture, squinting and tilting my head as I got closer. What was it about this photo that was so compelling?

I took my time absorbing its details. At first I wasn’t quite sure, but then… yes. Yes, that was the vineyard in the background. It must have been from a long time ago, back when the barn was new, and the grapevines were young.

The man in the picture stood in front of the fields, hands in his pockets, squinting into the camera. He was wearing a hat, which cast a shadow over his face, making his expression hard to see. I leaned in closer, so close my breath fogged up the glass of the frame.

There. I could see better from here. I scrutinized the man’s features. There was something tender about his expression; something in his eyes made me think he might have been in love with whoever was on the other side of the camera.

F
rom up close I could see there was something very familiar about those eyes. In fact, I’d seen those
exact
eyes, looking at me in that exact way.

They were Thatcher’s eyes.

The realization sent a chill down my spine. Yes, it was him. Without a doubt, it was him. But then again, it wasn’t. It couldn’t be.

Could it?

“Excuse me, dear.” A woman’s voice came from right over my shoulder.

I jumped and turned around to see a sweet elderly lady smiling up at me.

She touched my arm. “I didn’t mean to frighten you. I wanted to say hello. You’re Thatcher’s girlfriend, aren’t you?”

As soon as she spoke the words, I recognized her. It was Ms. Betty, I realized, from the diner.

“It’s Tess,” I said.

She smiled. “
That’s right. Tess. How are you, dear?”

“
I’m-I’m good. Good, thanks. How are you?”

“
Oh, I’m fine. Out and about for a night on the town. My husband’s the conductor, you know.” She pointed at the stage area where the musicians were packing away their instruments.

“
Really?”

She nodded, her smile brimming with pride.

“That’s funny,” I said. “I was going to talk to the conductor. We’re having a wedding next weekend, and I’m looking for someone to play at the ceremony.”

“
A wedding? He proposed! I knew it! I
knew
it!” Her mouth flew open with excitement, and she fanned herself.

“
Hmm?”

“
Thatcher. He popped the question, didn’t he?”

“
What?”
I must have been a little too loud because several people in the room turned to look at us. I lowered my voice and asked again, “What?”

She looked puzzled.
“He didn’t ask you to marry him?”

“
Who? Thatcher?”

“
Yes, dear. Thatcher.”

“
No. Why would you think that?”

She tugged at the collar of her blouse.
“Oh, my. I’ve done it again. I’ve said too much, haven’t I?” She stole a glance at her husband, as if to make sure he wasn’t watching her. “Would you like to sit down, dear?”

I nodded and collapsed into the seat on the end of the nearest row. She sat behind me, and I turned to face her, resting my arms on the back of the chair.

She leaned forward with wide eyes. “I heard about the boots.”