Instead, she motioned to the bartender and ordered a flight of barrel-aged sour beers from a local brewery in sample-sized glasses.
When she threw her head back to take in the first beer—a sour fermented with grapefruit and lime zest—the flavor nearly knocked her off her chair. She coughed and sputtered, screwing her face up in what must have come across as a look of displeasure to the woman several stools down from her at the bar. Eva did her best to chase the taste out of her mouth by gulping down the contents of her water glass.
Her neighbor at the bar looked amused. “Something tells me you’ve never had a sour beer before?”
Eva nodded, throwing a wary glance at the rest of her flight. One down, four more to go. “You’d be correct.”
The woman slid a stool closer. “They’re an acquired taste. If you don’t think you’ll like the rest of them, I’m happy to order whatever you normally drink and then trade you for what’s left of your flight.”
Eva considered the offer and then reached out her hand for a shake. “You’ve got yourself a deal. I’m Eva.”
“Candace,” the woman replied. “Pleased to make your acquaintance. What’ll it be?”
“You seem to know your drinks. Something sweet. Whatever you’d recommend.”
While Candace studied the drink menu and mulled over the options, Eva studied Candace. She was short and strong of build with a pixie cut and a nose piercing. It also struck Eva that Candace was wearing the garb she once pictured her dream significant other in—a flannel button-up, jeans, and Chuck Taylors. She was half tempted to grill the stranger about her favorite authors. If Candace liked J.D. Salinger, it might be the universe sending Eva someone to distract her from Taylor.
Or it might just be a coincidence. Not everything had to be a sign.
When Amanda first got back from her honeymoon and heard about the Taylor debacle, her advice had been that the fastest way to get over someone was to get under someone else. That didn’t feel like Eva’s style, but the idea of flirting with a cute stranger willing to save her from expensive but mouth-puckering beer certainly couldn’t hurt anything. Especially if Taylor had decided Eva was no longer worth the time of day.
When a pear cider materialized in front of Eva, she closed her eyes and took a sip. “Perfection.”
Candace smiled in response and raised her glass. “Salud.” After taking a sip of her own, she asked, “You’re not from around here, are you?”
“No, just in town for the week. Partially for work, partially for a getaway. How could you tell?”
“I’m a regular here and I’ve never seen you before. That, and you’re a little dressed up for this place.”
Eva blushed. She was wearing a black turtleneck, faux fur vest, and a pair of black diamond teardrop earrings from her mother. She’d also gone a bit heavy-handed on her makeup with a smoky eye and a deep plum lip.
“This is my first time going to a gay bar. I wasn’t really sure how to dress. I’m making my rounds to a couple of other GLBT-friendly places while I’m here. Anywhere you’d suggest?”
Candace’s eyes lit up. “You’ve just asked exactly the right person. Consider me your gay fairy godmother of all things Asheville.” She yanked a pen off the bar that someone had left after signing their receipt and scribbled her number on a napkin. “I have to head out because I’ve got a big day at work tomorrow, but give me a call tomorrow night. I’ll show you the ropes.”
“I’d appreciate that,” Eva said, smiling into her drink.
Candace stood to leave and threw some cash down on the bar for her bill. “Here’s the first thing you should know. There’s no such thing as a gay dress code. Just wear what you want. And what you’ve got on tonight? That looks great on you.”
Candace winked and then sauntered out of the bar. Eva watched her walk away.
25
Taylor
At home that night, Taylor was overwhelmed with all she needed to do.
Spending the full day with her grandmother meant she was able to squeeze in more time for good memories, laughter, and conversation—all opportunities she knew she may or may not be able to count on having again. Each moment was precious.
Spending the full day with her grandmother also meant she had to carefully prioritize the rest of her evening. There were bills to pay, a checkbook to balance, and an apartment in dire need of cleaning. If she was going to survive the school week, she needed to complete some practice questions for her upcoming Discrete Mathematics quiz and do some reading for her online history class.
Her brain was telling her to attend to all of those things first. Her heart was screaming at her to do something else.
Everything that her grandmother said to her—and she suspected everything carefully outlined in the advice section of her grandmother’s notebook—told her she needed to let go of her pride and open up the present Eva had left for her at the community center.
She sunk into the worn cushions of her couch and cracked open the note.
The only poet I know much about is Elizabeth Barrett Browning. If the collection of poems inside were hers, I’d preface this by saying “Let me count the ways…” I want to explore the world with you. But it’s not Elizabeth Barrett Browning, it’s Elizabeth Bishop, because you’ve taught me to open my eyes to new things: new writers, new experiences, and new possibilities. So instead, I’ll preface this by saying that I don’t want to mourn you like Bishop mourned her partner in the poem where she talks about the art of losing. I want to master the art of loving you instead. Enclosed, you’ll find a book full of ideas about how I could continue to learn and love and grow with you. I know I made a mistake at Amanda’s wedding. I want to make it up to you. In order to do that, I just need you to give me a chance.
Taylor scrambled to open the package. Inside, she flipped through the pages Eva had lovingly altered, barely taking the time to finish reading one before she’d made it to the next. It was dizzying.
Some of the pages hinted at things they’d talked about together, like their shared fantasy of visiting the New York Public Library to visit the concrete lions that guarded the front doors and see some of Taylor’s favorite poems by writers like Yeats where they were fashioned into the sidewalk on metal plaques leading up to the building. There were other things in the book that made Taylor realize just how tuned in Eva had been, how many unspoken things she’d picked up on. One such thing was a picture of a passport with a note. I want to be there when you get your passport and realize the world is now yours. That seems like the perfect thing to put the tip money from Amanda’s family towards.
Taylor flashed back to tearing up the check Eva sent in the mail and realized just how much she’d misunderstood Eva’s intentions. All this time, she’d been furious at others for being quick to judge her and she was rushing to make that same mistake with other people.
She took a deep breath to clear her head and put the book down, knowing if she read any further, her eyes would fill with tears and make the task ahead all the more difficult.
Taylor picked up her phone and dialed Eva’s phone number. She wasn’t sure she had the right words to apologize, but every moment she continued to put between the two of them before bridging their divide meant she was getting closer to the point where it might simply be too late.
Her heart sank when the call went straight to voicemail. “Thank you for your call! I am currently out of the office attending a business conference that will poise me to better serve current and future clients alike. During this time, please expect a slight delay in phone and email correspondence. I will be back in touch in no later than twenty-four hours.”
At the beep, Taylor did the best she could given the circumstances. “This is Taylor, calling you to tell you what I should have said days ago, a week ago, but didn’t. I know you’re at a conference, but when you have a moment, I hope you’ll call me back.”
She decided to work out her nervous energy by cleaning her apartment. By the time the tub and d
ishes had been scrubbed and the carpet had been covered in neat vacuum lines, maybe her heart would slow enough for her to focus on her growing pile of homework.
She doubted it, but it was worth a shot.
26
Eva
A seasonal gingerbread latte in one hand and her bullet journal in the other, Eva was well rested from a glorious night of hotel sleep and ready to conquer the world. Or at least she was in the opening session of her conference. The speaker left her feeling energized and like her work was important, earth-shattering, even. Working in the wedding industry, Eva sometimes felt slighted or belittled by others that insinuated her work was trivial. In a city ruled by research institutions and tech bro startups, it could feel like everyone else was busy making scientific breakthroughs or inventing something that would lead to fame and fortune. The morning speaker reminded her that for each bride and groom she spoke to, her work was anything but frivolous.
The second session of the day was composed of breakout sessions you could opt in or out of. Intrigued by the session description about working with GLBT clients, she collected her things and headed to a small conference room at the end of the hallway.
The first attendee to get there, she found herself one-on-one in a room with someone that looked awfully familiar.
Candace.
She’d traded in her flannel and Chuck Taylors for a charcoal business suit with a bright pink button-up. A plaid bow tie that matched her lip gloss completed the look. Today, Candace’s bleach blonde pixie cut was gelled back into a sleek look instead of standing at attention in the rebellious spikes she’d worn at the bar the night before.
Candace was so wrapped up in last-minute prep at her podium that she didn’t notice Eva right away. Eva approached the podium slowly as though not to startle her. “Last night when you said you had a big day at work to get ready for, you didn’t mention you were presenting at a conference.”
Candace grinned, putting down her speaker notes. “And you didn’t mention that you were in town for one. Unless, of course, you’re not and you’ve just been trailing me around town.” She raised her eyebrows.
Eva shook her head. “I’m a wedding planner, not a spy.”
“Does that make us colleagues or competitors?” There was something flirtatious about the way Candace posed the question that caused a blush to creep across Eva’s cheeks.
“I guess that depends.”
People were starting to file into the room. Eva threw her things down in the center of the second row so that she could grab a good seat while Candace ran a quick mic test to make sure the people in the back could hear her.
The hour flew by. Candace was dynamic behind the mic, pouring out helpful information one moment and throwing out funny anecdotes to make her audience laugh the next. It was clear that she was in her element when she was presenting. When she revealed that she sometimes also performed weddings for couples in the more rural parts of Western North Carolina that couldn’t find a gay-friendly officiant, her ease made more sense. She was an old hat at making a crowd eat out of her hands. Once or twice, Eva looked around to make sure she wasn’t the only one completely captivated. It was clear that she was not.
Eva was surprised how much she’d never considered—everything from the gendered language used on wedding planning checklists and forms to identifying churches willing to perform ceremonies for same-sex couples. That had yet to come up at the chapel at her Alma mater where the majority of her weddings took place. By the end, Eva’s bullet journal was chock full of action items. For starters, she needed to look at her website and find ways she could make the language clients would see more inclusive.
At the end of the session, Eva gave Candace high marks on the assessment card for her presentation. After slipping it into the collection box at the back of the room, Eva lingered by the door so that she could catch Candace on the way out.
“Any chance you’d share that presentation with me? I tried to get down good notes, but I’m afraid I’m not as fast with my left hand,” Eva said, nodding towards her arm. Days before the conference, she’d managed to switch out her cast for a less cumbersome brace.
Candace looked at her for a long moment as though weighing a decision about how to respond. “I’ll do you one better. I’ll meet you in the lobby in twenty minutes and spend the entire day with you. You can ask me anything you want.”
Eva bit her lip, her eyes traveling down to the conference schedule she was carrying with her. Going with Candace meant skipping sessions on social media marketing for small businesses and vendor negotiation, not to mention a networking lunch she’d paid extra to attend. She wasn’t the type to break rules or throw away money.
“Or do you think you’ve learned all there is to learn from me?” Candace prodded, sensing Eva’s hesitation.
“I’ll meet you in twenty. Don’t leave without me,” Eva said.
* * *
Eva felt a pang of guilt when she ditched her conference materials on her bedside table but told herself there were two more full days of sessions left that she could use to make up for playing hooky.
Not sure what the day ahead entailed, she traded her stilettos in for some more comfortable shoes, brushed her teeth to rid herself of coffee breath, and slicked her lips with a fresh layer of clear gloss.
She took a long glance at her cell phone. Another pang of guilt. It had been turned off since she checked in. Her voicemail had promised that she’d return all calls within twenty-four hours, but chances were good that clients wouldn’t have tried to get a hold of her on a Sunday. As long as she listened to and returned any messages around dinner time, she’d still be in the clear. That gave her nearly a full day to play with.
It wasn’t long until she was being whisked away in Candace’s old school Camaro, whipping along mountain roads with Lady Gaga on the radio. Along the way to wherever it was Candace was whisking Eva away to, she talked about restoring the car with her father. They’d purchased it from a junkyard and lovingly painted and upholstered it from top to bottom. It had taken months’ worth of weekends to get everything just right. It was obvious Candace still considered the same level of care for her car an ongoing priority. It was immaculately detailed with what looked and smelled to be a new layer of Armor All gleaming on the dashboard.
“I take it you’re close to your father, then?” Eva asked.
“I’m a daddy’s girl through and through. He taught me everything I know about cars and about life in general.”
“And the wedding planning?” Eva teased.
Candace chuckled. “Well, that I had to figure out on my own. He’s a renaissance man for sure, but the only wedding he’d care about is the one I’ll have one day if I can ever find anyone willing to put up with my crazy work schedule. If you’re a wedding planner, you know how difficult it can be to find the time to date.”
Eva nodded but didn’t comment. She had already checked Candace’s finger for a wedding ring. She’d done it the night before at the bar. That’s how she’d realized she found Candace attractive. Looking for a ring was the first thing she’d do before when she was out on the town and saw an attractive man. These days, she noticed men less and less.
She also found it attractive that Candace was both family oriented and interested in a family of her own.
Candace whipped her car into the driveway of a bright pink house, its windows full of pixie lights. It looked more like a funky beach bungalow than a place you’d find in the mountains. In the front yard was a sign painted in rainbow colors advertising Candace’s company. “This is my house, but it’s also my office.”
“I’m in the same situation,” Eva said. “Convenient, but makes work/life balance kind of difficult.”
“You’re preaching to the choir, my friend,” Candace said, walking them inside.
The interior and exterior might as well have been night and day they were so different. Inside, the walls were tactfully decorated in stunning bridal portraits and wedding pho
tography, all clearly professionally mounted and framed.
“These are gorgeous,” Eva said, lingering in front of a black and white photograph of a bride studying what appeared to be handwritten vows scrawled in calligraphy. The portrait was so vivid that Eva felt sure any moment the woman would look up at her from behind the glass, startled by Eva trespassing on such an intimate moment.
“I took them myself.”
“All of them?”
Candace nodded. “That’s how I got into the business. I was a starving artist for years, jumping from one freelance photography gig to the next. I didn’t like weddings at first because of all the pressure but they were what made it possible to keep a roof over my head. When gay marriage became legal and all of my couple friends started talking about getting hitched, I realized there was a huge opportunity in wedding planning for GLBT couples. Given how queer-friendly Asheville is for both locals and tourists, I was in a prime location to get my feet wet. It’s been nonstop ever since. I get both the locals and the people that consider this a destination wedding spot because of the Biltmore.”
“Do you still make time for photography?”
“I still do a fair number of engagement photoshoots because it’s easy to bundle in with my other services, but there’s less time for the fun stuff.”
“Such as?”
“Travel photography, taking pictures at car shows, pin-up portraits, that kind of thing.”
The next room was her office. Candace switched on a computer. “You’ve got my undivided attention and access to my forms and marketing information and anything else you might want to poke and prod at. What do you want to know?”
Forgetting Chuck Taylor Page 11
