The Chesapeake Diaries Series (83 page)

Wade watched the bride and groom pose for photos on the lawn. “She seems like a really nice girl.”

“She is. She’s super. He’s very much aware that he’s a very lucky man.”

“Good for him. He deserves to be happy. Beck’s a heck of a guy.”

“The best,” Steffie agreed.

The bartender approached, and Wade turned to Steffie. “Another champagne?”

“Sure.” She smiled. “Thanks.”

Wade ordered the glass of champagne, then asked the bartender, “Do you have KenneMac beer on tap?”

“What kind of beer?” The bartender leaned forward as if he hadn’t heard.

“KenneMac.”

The bartender shook his head.

“I’ll just have whatever you have on draft, then,” Wade told him.

“What kind of beer did you ask for?” Stef wasn’t sure she’d heard, either.

Wade grinned. “KenneMac. It’s the beer I make back in Texas. KenneMac is the name of the company. I knew he didn’t have it. We’ve barely moved into Oklahoma.”

“Oh.” She nodded. “You could probably get a few of your old cronies to ask for it. Start a trend.”

The two glasses were served, and Wade handed Stef her champagne.

“Here’s to the happy couple.” Wade tilted his glass
in Steffie’s direction, and they touched rims, drank from their glasses.

“You’re looking good, Stef,” Wade said, catching her off guard. “You always look good, but tonight you look especially pretty.”

“Thanks, Wade,” was all she could think of to say. Had he ever complimented her like that before?

It must be the dress, she thought, smoothing the skirt of water-colored silk that looked like one of Monet’s gardens. She’d bought it at Vanessa’s shop, Bling, because it had looked so damned good on her. And because it had looked so good, Ness had given her a really good discount. She’d hoped to catch Wade’s eye tonight, and after having decided that she looked like a goddess in the dress, figured it was her best bet.

It was always so nice to be right about such things. Wade had gravitated toward her like a bee to a rose.

“I saw your aunt Berry at the ceremony,” Stef said. “That’s some hat she was wearing.”

“You know Berry.” He chuckled. “She likes to make an entrance.”

Stef smiled and waved at one of her neighbors.

“So I hear your business is going well,” Wade said.

“It’s ice cream.” She shrugged. “This is a tourist town now. How could I miss?”

“I hear it’s more than just ‘ice cream.’ Berry went on and on about how it’s her favorite place in town these days. She tells me you concoct some pretty fabulous flavors.”

“Well, yes, I do,” she said with no false modesty. “I work at it, though. I like the challenge of making things that no one else does. I like playing with flavors
to—” She stopped. “Sorry. Ice cream is one of my favorite subjects. I was about to bore you straight into the ground.”

“Not at all. I feel the same way about the beer that we brew. I really enjoy making unique flavors, too.”

She watched his face to make sure he wasn’t teasing her.

“You flavor your beer?” She frowned. “I thought beer’s flavor was, well, beer.”

He smiled. “I think that might be true of most of the beers from the big breweries. But microbrewing, ah, that’s a whole ’nother story.”

“What’s the difference?”

“Think of the difference between the ice cream you make as opposed to buying prepackaged ice cream that’s made in bigger batches by one of the big commercial ice-cream makers that’s shipped to supermarkets all over the country.”

She nodded. She got it. She knew every ingredient that went into every one of her batches and where it came from. She knew she made a superior product. Milk and cream from organically raised cows, fruits and spices organically raised. No additives, no preservatives.

“You make a better product than, say, the beer you’re drinking here. Smaller batches, for starters.” She nodded in the direction of his glass.

“That’s right. And because I make it myself, I control what goes into it, so if I want a beer that has a hint of, say, ginger or some other spice or fruit or an herbal note, I can experiment until I hit on the right combination.”

“I do that, too.”

“I thought you might. I wandered past Scoop this afternoon, saw your sign, stopped in, but you weren’t there.”

“I was probably getting ready to come here. Stop in tomorrow, and I’ll give you a tasting. A little of this, a little of that.”

“That sounds like an offer I can’t refuse.”

There was more banter and the greeting of old friends whom Wade hadn’t seen in a long time, lots of catching up, lots of reminiscing and laughter. When it was time to move into the ballroom for dinner, they wandered over to the table where the seating arrangements were displayed.

“Where are you sitting?” he asked.

“Table five.” She held up the little card with her name on it.

“So am I.”

“Really?”

“Well, I am now.” Wade grinned. “I just switched cards with Ricky Davis. He’ll never know the difference.”

He took her arm, his fingers light as a whisper, and together they found their table. Throughout dinner they laughed and talked, their heads close together, and after, when the band began to play, they danced. Every slow dance, ever closer, ever slower … their bodies melting together until Stef could hear his heart beating, feel his breath against her cheek and against her neck. Visions of a long, slow, sweet, and sexy night of total magic danced in her brain, and she was all but drunk with the thought of what the night still held for them. Everything was going exactly the way she’d always dreamed it would. It took all her willpower
not to pinch her arm to make sure it wasn’t a dream.

Her body was so close to his that when his cell phone buzzed in his pocket, she could feel the vibration.

He held up the phone and looked at the number of the incoming call. Had it been her imagination, or had he blanched slightly? Whatever, he’d led her from the dance floor and back to her chair, and excused himself to take the call.

Must be business, she’d thought at the time, though what kind of business at almost midnight on a Saturday night …

And then he was back at her side, saying something like, “It’s time to leave.” She bit her bottom lip to conceal her smile, lest he realize how eager she was to get to her apartment and toss off the watercolor-silk dress that he’d admired, thinking,
Wait till he sees what’s underneath.…

He grabbed her by the hand, and after making short but sweet congratulations and good-byes to the happy couple, he all but ran out of the inn. Steffie’s long legs hustled to keep up, and she was just about to ask, “Your car or mine?” when he pulled up abruptly at a gray sedan that was parked three cars away from her own.

“I’m sorry, but I have to leave,” he was saying as he unlocked the car with the remote. “I need to get to the airport.…”

He mumbled something about flying standby but she didn’t catch it.

“The airport?” Confused, she frowned. “Seriously? You’re leaving
now
?”

“Look, I didn’t want to say good-bye to you inside, but that phone call … something’s come up,” he said. “I’m really sorry. It was great to see you, Stef, great to catch up, and I wish I could stay. Maybe next time, when I’m in town …”

“Maybe not.” She backed away from him. When he took a step toward her, she took another back. “Hey, don’t let me keep you …”

“Stef …”

“No, don’t, Wade. Just go.”

She watched with disbelieving eyes as he got into the car and backed out of his parking space and sped off.

“Seriously?” she said aloud to the empty parking lot.

She growled and opened her driver’s-side door and angled in behind the wheel. She jammed the key into the ignition, put the car in reverse—and found cars blocking hers. She banged on her steering wheel, took a deep breath, and set off for the inn, seeking the blood of the idiots who’d thought it was okay to park behind her, feeling humiliated, frustrated, and more disappointed than she’d ever felt before.

You led me on and then you let me down. Had your chance and you blew it. I don’t know what you’ve got going on back in Texas that’s so hot and heavy that it couldn’t wait until tomorrow, but you just missed out on what could have been the best night of your life and you don’t even know it
.

It most certainly would have been the best night of hers, too … but that was something else he’d never know.

Diary ~

As much as I appreciate all the business the tourists bring to St. Dennis, I must admit that I do love it most when they leave and we townies have our little town by the Bay to ourselves again. Fall arrives and most of the summer people depart. Is any place more glorious in September than St. Dennis? The weather is perfect—what’s not to love about cool nights and warm sunny days?—and the colors of summer and autumn blend in the foliage, if only for a few weeks. Yes, yes, of course I know that October is just around the bend, and the days will grow shorter and cooler, and cool leads to cold … I wasn’t born yesterday. But I think that September just might be my favorite month of all—and not just because Daniel and I were married in September
.

Dear me, that was so long ago … and he’s been gone now for …

Well, I digress …

My point being that I look forward every year to reclaiming the town, to the changes that come when the tourists leave. The hustle is gone from the sidewalks, and the lines from the restaurants, and St. Dennis—the St. Dennis I grew up in and have loved all my life—reverts almost to the way it was before it was “discovered.” Except, of course, for the day-trippers, but they arrive mostly on the weekends and are gone by Sunday afternoon. And I can’t in good conscience complain about them, because they keep our inn full and keep our businesses open all year round. They’re the reason we have the late-season sailboat races and fall festivals and special holiday events, which I have to admit I enjoy as much as the next person. The Christmas tour last year was just wonderful, and from what I hear, this year’s will be even bigger. Oh, my, but the sight of all those old houses up off Old St. Mary’s Church Square, decorated to the nines with wreaths and lights and … well, it was magic. And we all need a little magic in our lives, don’t we?

I know I’ve had my share of magic over the years … oh, yes, indeed, I have. ~

~ Grace ~

“That’s it, right there, ace. The house where I spent my happiest years. Number Twelve River Road.” Wade MacGregor hoisted the squirming child onto his shoulders. Delighted to be released from the car seat where he’d spent way too much time over the past few days, the little boy kicked his feet in the air, wanting
down
more than he wanted
up
. “Hasn’t changed a whole heck of a lot since then.”

Wade studied the exterior of the house for a long moment. “Looks like there have been a few changes in some of the trim color there around the porch. Aunt Berry always likes to keep up with the latest trends. Must always be on the cutting edge, you know?”

He paused momentarily to stare at the fence that ran across the front of the property. He wondered when the fence had been installed, and why. No one had mentioned it in recent phone calls.

Then again, there were things he hadn’t mentioned, either.

“Let’s go check out the river. See the water?” Wade crossed the broad lawn to the wooden pier in long strides, fully aware that he was procrastinating.
“Right down here is where I learned to fish and canoe and row and crab and do all kinds of fun things.”

He looked up into the face of the dark-haired cherub whose heels kicked gleefully into his chest.

“Yeah, I suspect you’ll be wanting to do those things one day, too. I’ll teach you whenever you’re ready,” Wade told him. “I promised your mama that I’d raise you the best I could. I can’t think of any better place for you to spend your summers than right here in St. Dennis, just like I did.”

A sleek boat passed by, kicking up some wake as it headed toward the mouth of the New River, where it met the Chesapeake Bay.

“Someday soon, we’ll go sailing out there. You’ll like that. We’ll have to get you a little life jacket first, though.” Wade thought for a moment. “Your mama loved the water. That’s one thing you’ll want to know about her when you get older. She loved to swim and water-ski and dive. Maybe one day you’ll want to do those things, too. She wanted to teach you herself, but that’s not going to happen now.” Wade swallowed the lump that threatened to close his throat. “I know you miss her, buddy. I miss her, too …”

Overhead a gull drifted, and attracted by something on the dock, dropped down onto one of the pilings to get a better look. It hopped to the deck, pecked at something solid for a moment, then took flight, the unexpected prize held in its beak. The bird changed direction, and angled back toward the Bay. Wade followed it with his eyes until it disappeared.

“Ring-billed gull,” Wade said aloud. “Not to be confused with the herring gull. Someday you’ll know the difference. Someday you’ll know all the shorebirds.”