Loved

by Rebekah Dodson

  “But what if we find some hotties to go with us?”

  “Cam!”

  “What? Don’t tell me you don’t want a rebound guy to tide you over until you find your next ‘Henry.’”

  “Jesus Christ, I do not. Relaxation birthday weekend, right?”

  “Girl, I could relax more with some di—”

  “Don’t say it!”

  “What, a girl can’t get some up in here?” She moved a little in her seat. “It’s been months, El. Maybe I’ll find true love in Hood River! Or, at least a hot piece of—”

  “Jesus...” I muttered again, but I couldn’t help laughing. We had a weekend ahead of us, that was sure. And I never knew how Cam did it. She had a new man every weekend it seemed, someone she’d picked up at a catering gig or a bar. They never lasted long; though whether she tired of them or they tired of her “muchness” I never knew.

  “A little over three hours left to go until we get there!” Cam said, the excitement spilling out in her high-pitched voice.

  I smiled at her. Her excitement was infectious. I just hoped I could ease my broken heart somehow.

  Priorities.

  Chapter 2

  Matt

  “NO, NO, NO. NOT THERE. Over there! James! Will you just ... oh, God.”

  I pinched the bridge of my nose and shook my head. You have to be kidding me. Setting up for lunch service in the small banquet room should have been an easy twenty minutes. Instead, a few new staff members I’d had to take on this season were slow and kept dropping things. It was hard to get temporary staff up here. We usually wound down around August, but here it was, the second week of September, and we were booked through Thanksgiving. What was worse, a small wedding party was coming in tomorrow. Only about fifty or sixty people, but they had booked out the rest of our rooms, including the barn for the reception and the gazebo down by the pond for the ceremony. Everything had to be perfect this weekend, because Moscato promised the experience of a lifetime, and I always delivered.

  My son, Liam, who was more proficient that most of my staff that day, rushed over. “Dad— we’ve got a wee bit problem in the kitchen you need to attend to.”

  “Oh Christ, what now?”

  “The turkey for the Bacon Lettuce Turkey Avocado lunch special is past date, and we need someone to run into town to get more.”

  “Go, do it, take my truck.” I tossed him the keys. “You know how to charge it at the bulk store.”

  He caught them deftly. “Got it.”

  “Be back in an hour!”

  Savannah, the new waitress who had only been on the floor a little less than a week, was cleaning a wine glass with a dingy rag. “Savannah!” I called her as Liam rushed behind me. “What the hell are you doing? Go get a clean towel!” She looked at me blankly with wide eyes and then sat the glass over sideways as she rushed behind the batwing doors.

  “Jesus, how do these people manage to breathe sometimes?” I muttered to myself, weaving between tables to set the glass upright. I stopped and inhaled deeply, seeking my Zen as my wife Shuri used to tell me. It wouldn’t do any of my staff any good if I had a heart attack trying to get them in order.

  “Matt!”

  I turned to see Grant, my receptionist, waving me over. I hurried back to the front of the banquet room. “Yeah?”

  Grant leaned in as three more waiters continuing the bustle of setting the tables around the rustic decorated room. “Lila made a mistake in reservations,” he whispered. “She’s double booked the honeymoon suite.”

  “I’m glad I fired her last week then,” I whispered back harshly, thinking of the idiot I’d hired to answer the phones who couldn’t figure out how to store reservations in the Outlook calendar. “Do whatever you need to do to fix it, Grant.”

  “I’m trying to, but I think you’d better come up front. I’ve got a couple who insists they called first, but I searched the records, and it was a couple of women instead. What do you want me to do, boss?”

  I sighed. “I’ll be up there in a minute.” He nodded and hurried back to the stairs to head up to the front desk. I spun my watch around and stared at it. I had fifteen minutes until a wine tasting on the center garden, and then seventy-five minutes until lunch. I didn’t have time to be two places at once, and I immediately regretted sending Liam out, but it was a 20-minute drive each way to town and he’d just barely make it back as it was.

  First, sort out my guests, then I had some last-minute maintenance things to tend to before the wedding party began to arrive. I trusted Liam to get the dinner service running smoothly. I trusted him more than anyone else here, anyway. I flipped out my phone and spoke a text to Liam to oversee lunch as I hurried out the banquet room and up the stairs to the first floor and reservations.

  I never knew why the builders of this four-story resort had decided to put the banquet room slash restaurant in the basement, along with the kitchen. On one hand, it had easy access for equipment with a loading bay off the small road that wound around to the back-parking lot. Thank God I’d updated the kitchen as soon as I got the place. On the other, though, it had to double as breakfast, lunch, and dinner. Which was fine, if it wasn’t for our once a week dancing event, where we had to spend hours converting the dining area to a banquet room. The main floor held the spa and receptionist desk, with two more floors above it that housed sixty rooms and a honeymoon suite.

  “What can I do to help you folks?” I announced as I rounded the corner from the stairwell. “I hear there’s a misunderstanding we can clear up if we just ...” I stopped dead in my tracks a few feet from the desk.

  Hanging on the desk was a tall, thin man and a large woman, the latter wearing a shapeless dress and shaking her finger at Grant. Neither were paying attention to my entrance. Standing just behind them was a dark-skinned woman examining her bright red fake nails and looking bored. What was her name? Kathy? Kelly? Something like that? An brown haired woman stood next to her, frowning and biting her lip as she fiddled with her phone. Even though her normally super long, slightly wavy hair was short and flipped out now, I knew that nervous lip biting habit anywhere. The first woman stared up at me and said nothing, her mouth forming an ‘O’ instead as she nudged the woman standing next to her, who looked up sharply.

  “Elaine.” I breathed her name for the first time in five years. I wanted to step forward. Much to my initial disgust, I ached to sweep her off her feet and hold her.

  She narrowed her eyes at me. “Well if it isn’t Matthew Sinclair. What are you doing here?”

  “I, uh,” I cleared my throat, finally able to make my legs work as I stepped closer. “I work here.” You’re the owner, I silently corrected myself. Why didn’t you just say that?

  “Do you?” She slipped her phone in her back jeans pocket and examined her pink and white tipped nails, just like Camden - I think that was her name - had done a moment ago. I vaguely remembered her friend as flamboyant and extravagant - she always had a new man on her arm and a new ring on her finger back in the day. Ellie’s cheeks flushed and her foot tapped against the wooden floor, however, and I knew she was just as nervous as I.

  Hell, why were we nervous? Hadn’t we both moved on? Our divorce had been a clean split: especially her leaving out of the blue and serving me with papers the next day. To this day, I never really knew what I did wrong to shove her so far away. Time heals all wounds, they say, but some stay just as fresh when you keep picking at them, and especially except the ones that were ripped open too soon. Seeing her again was a raw moment indeed, and a million memories flashed across my vision: playing wallball in middle school, our high school prom, our college education. The day I passed my bar, and her first job at a hospital. Bittersweet, painful. I spent a long time trying to forget them.

  “Excuse me, but my name is Nancy Jones, and my husband and I reserved this room first,” the woman at the counter turned to me. “Are you the owner?”

  I cleared my throat again and stuck out my hand. “Y-yes, I am. Ma
tthew Sinclair. Pleased to meet you. I understand there’s been some confusion. What can I do for you?”

  “Well, unlike these two women over here,” she announced nastily, throwing her gaze back to Ellie and her friend, “we are actually newlyweds and need that honeymoon suite.”

  “Hey now, how don’t know you know this isn’t my lesbian lover?” Ellie’s friend quipped with a sarcastic smile on her face. She winked at the lady, who just frowned angrily. Ellie gaped at her friend in absolute horror, and as if to demonstrate, the other woman pecked Ellie on the lips.

  Ellie stumbled back but smiled as she wiped at her mouth. “What’s gotten in to you?”

  Mrs. Jones rolled her eyes at them and turned back to me, then Grant, who stood stone faced behind the counter. “Well? Are you going to give us what we paid for, or not?”

  “Absolutely, we can fix this.” I scooted behind the counter as Grant stepped graciously to the side. I typed a few things into the computer and saw that they had indeed booked the honeymoon after a ‘Camden Recine.’ Camden, yes, that was her name. Ellie used to call her Cam, or something silly like that. I flashed a brilliant smile at the nasty woman in front of me. “Mrs. Jones, I’m absolutely sorry, but I’m afraid our previous employee made a mistake in booking you both.”

  “And? What are you going to do about it?”

  “Dear...” Mr. Jones touched her arm, but she waved him away. “Well?” she pressed.

  I typed away, going to screen after screen. We were booked, except for a couple of rooms, and neither had been cleaned yet for the day. “I have a king suite on the fourth floor,” I admitted, “but it will be about an hour wait for that one. It does have the kitchenette and living...”

  “We want the honeymoon suite!” she huffed.

  “They can have it,” Elaine spoke up behind them, “we’ll take the king suite.”

  “What are you doing?” Camden whispered, but it was so loud we could all hear her. “We were here first! And I prepaid!”

  “Ma’am, what I can do for you, if you take the king suite, is offer you lunch on us today, as well as a free wine tasting event tomorrow.” I ignored the two women behind them. I wanted desperately to look at Elaine, hope for some sign from her, but I was a fool, I knew.

  The husband whispered something to his wife, who glared at him but nodded. “Make it dinner, too, on the house, and we’ll take the downgrade.” She spat the last word as if it was something undesirable.

  “Thank you!” I tried to sound as exuberant as I didn’t feel. “We are pleased to have you stay with us at Moscato Vineyard. Grant?”

  Grant stepped up in my place and produced the brochures he always kept handy. He launched into his dialogue of our services with practiced confidence. “Now, let’s get you a schedule of events!” he said with a flourish, placing a multitude of inviting pictures before them. Nancy Jones changed her tune as she was likely excited about getting more acquainted with wine, I guessed. I dismissed it as I turned to Elaine and her friend.

  “May I take your bags up to your room?” I gave a flourished bow, hoping it wasn’t too much.

  “But we haven’t even checked in yet,” that Camden woman whined.

  I controlled my eye from twitching. “Of course. Grant?” I called. He held up a hand to wave me away, signaled ‘okay,’ and tossed me two keycards. He was my unofficial second in charge for a reason after all - at least, until Liam came of age, anyway.

  “Just let him,” Elaine whispered to her. She refused to look at me.

  “Well, fine, but we have five bags, you sure you can manage?”

  I frowned, looking past them to see two sets of cheap-looking luggage. One of them was cheetah print. That had to be Camden’s, I guessed. The small purple suitcase seemed more Ellie’s compact, no-nonsense style. “All that for four days?”

  They both glared at me.

  “Okay, okay. Yes, I think I can manage fine.”

  I was a great liar when I needed to be. That was something Ellie and I always had in common.

  It was not fun struggling with two suitcases and three clutch bags, but we somehow managed to make it down the hall to the end. I swiped the card between my teeth and then kicked the door open slowly, beckoning them in.

  “Oh my gosh, Cams,” Elaine gushed, crossing the threshold first. “Isn’t this just gorgeous?”

  Camden rushed past her to the door on the left and revealed a king size bedroom, complete with private tub, while Elaine just stood in the middle of the living room area, gazing at the forty-inch flat screen mounted on the wall, just beside the kitchenette complete with microwave, two-burner stove, and dishwasher.

  I set the bags down against the corner, not really sure what to say or do. I watched as Elaine ran her hand over the crisp blue counters, over the stove edge, and up to the cabinets. One by one she opened them and peered at the sparkling white dishes and pristine glasses, along with cooking utensils and pots and pans below the stove. I was sharply reminded of the wistful look in her eye the day we signed the papers on our house, nearly eight years ago. Only today she was a bit older, a bit sadder, and a little less herself than I used to know. What had she been through in the last five years?

  “El, there’s a jacuzzi on the patio, oh my God!” Camden ran out into the living room. “Can you believe this, it looks better than the photos!”

  I chuckled softly, and they both stared right at me, as if they forgot I was standing in the room.

  “Oh!” I shifted nervously. “I’ll, uh, see myself out.”

  Elaine offered me a small smile. “Thanks, Mr. Sinclair.”

  “You’re welcome Ms. Sinclair,” I said, then caught myself. “Mrs...?”

  “No. Not for lack of trying,” Camden mumbled.

  Elaine blinked at me. I’d caught her off guard.

  That was my signal to go, as fast as possible, and find some work to get involved with. The gazebo isn’t going to paint itself before the sun sets. “Have a nice stay, ladies, if you need anything, Grant at reception will be glad to answer your questions.”

  I threw the door open and then turned, almost running straight into Liam, who froze with his hand lifted in a knock. “Thank God, I found you. Grant told me you’d be up here. The store delivery was delayed and there was no turkey in town. I bought ham and now we are having a cordon bleu special instead. Savannah’s changed the signs and I alerted the chefs.”

  “Good thinking, son.” I winced as I realized I never referred to him that way in front of customers. At least, I tried not to. I chalked it up to Elaine’s presence somehow. I turned back to the ladies, who were standing there and looking confused.

  “This is Liam Sinclair, my step-son.” I cleared my throat. “Liam, this is Camden Recine, and Elaine Sinclair.”

  “Sinclair?” Liam looked from me to her and back again.

  “My ... ex-wife.”

  “Ah...” Liam mused, and I shook my head briefly and mouthed later. He seemed to take that in stride and nodded.

  “You’d better get down to the kitchen to facilitate,” I told him and without another word he headed back toward the elevator. I nodded to the two ladies and shut the door behind me.

  Jogging to catch up with Liam, I met him at the elevator just as the doors were sliding shut. I squeezed in and he pressed the button for the basement floor.

  “You never told me you were married before Mom,” Liam admitted.

  “It doesn’t matter, Liam.”

  “Did Mom know?”

  I hesitated. “Yes.”

  “Did you leave her, or did she leave you?”

  I turned to the once teenager, now a man, in every respect. He was still every bit the teenage boy I’d raised to be a man, though no one would realize it; we looked nothing alike, and I, at thirty-five years old, I was a bit too young to have a son that was barely nineteen. My black hair was swapped for a brownish-red curly crop like his mother’s, and his eyes were bright green, not dull gray like mine. He was intuitive, I’ll give h
im that, but sometimes I wondered if he had picked up his bluntness from me or his mother, god rest her soul.

  “Does it matter, son?”

  “Of course it matters. If she left you, then she’s a distraction. If you left her, then she’s an irritation.”

  His intelligence shocked me, and not for the first time. There was a reason he had graduated high school two years ago at the age of seventeen. Even since his eighteenth birthday shortly after, he’d been my right-hand man.

  I sighed. “Liam, there are some things you don’t need to know about me.”

  “You promised you wouldn’t keep any secrets from me,” he said somberly. “Distraction or irritation? If we want to run a tight ship here, we need to know.”

  “I know, son, but Elaine ... let’s talk about this later, okay?”

  “All right.”

  The elevator dinged, and the doors swung open. He hurried out fast, his steps doubled in pace.

  “Liam?”

  He paused at the door to the kitchen. “Yeah, Dad?”

  “She won’t be either. I promise.”

  “Distraction, then. You can’t fool me.”

  “Jesus, kid, when did you get so smart?”

  “I imagine it was around the time you came along and whipped me into shape.” He winked and then slipped through the double doors.

  I shook my head. What were the odds of Elaine walking through those doors? We hadn’t spoken in over five years, six almost, as she insisted on handling everything through the lawyers back then. I’d met Liam’s mother, Shuri, a few months after everything was finalized, and it seemed for the first time in my life things would get better. Even ten years older than me, she had this vineyard and a timid thirteen-year-old boy who could barely leave his mother’s side, especially when a year later, the cancer diagnosis had come. I’d fallen pretty hard for them both, and Liam, whose father had never bothered to show up in his life, and I were a team.

  I lost Shuri just eighteen months later, and life had never been the same.

  But Elaine, here, now? This was too good of a chance. If she was single, maybe I’d be able to win her back. I’d been thinking a lot about her lately, wondering if I could pick up the phone and dial her number. Would it be the same? Would she even talk to me after our split?