by Caroline Lee
“And you know that I think of you as the closest I’ve ever had to a brother, right?”
“I was yer servant for a decade.”
“You were much more than that, and you know it.”
Both men were leaning forward slightly, and Gordon wondered if Vincenzo could taste the tension in the air. He refrained from asking, instead gripping the crystal glass tighter, and marveling how a poor street urchin like himself had ended up here, in the middle of the American west, calling this man ‘friend’.
Finally, Vincenzo exhaled and leaned back. He nodded once, as if pleased he’d made his point, and Gordon wondered if he had. “What do you want, Gordy?” When Gordon inhaled to give him a glib answer, the other man held up his hand to stop him. “I mean, in life? I’ve found my Arabella and Eddie, and am at peace here in Everland. You were the one who talked me into staying, when I would’ve run from the potential happiness I’d found here. You were this place’s biggest proponent, but you’ve been…lost.” The disfigured man took a sip of the brandy, and Gordon felt the other man’s missing gaze. It was disconcerting. “So, I ask you to really think before you answer. What is it that you want?”
Gordon didn’t have to think. “My restaurant.”
His friend nodded, and why not? Vincenzo had often heard him talk about the restaurant he’d one day open. “And is it true that you’ve approached Mr. Worth?”
News traveled fast in this town. “Aye. The old bank would be an ideal location. The ceilings are high an’ there’s a big row o’ windows along two sides.” The other man nodded appreciatively. Gordon had gotten used to describing sights for his friend and employer over the years. “An’ Mr. Worth named a fair price. I think he’s just interested in movin’ to the new building. He said I could have it as soon as the end o’ the year.”
“So what’s the problem?”
Gordon sighed and plunked the brandy down on the table beside him. He ran his fingers through his hair, grumbling at how well his friend knew him. “I don’t have enough.” Even at the price Mr. Worth had quoted him, he’d have to work for years to pay off the debt. He couldn’t expect to go to Briar’s father like that. Hello, Mr. Jorgenson. I’ve just poured all o’ my money into buying an empty building, an’ I’ll be in debt fer years t’ pay fer the renovations. Can I marry yer daughter?
But apparently Vincenzo didn’t understand. “I’ll give it to you.”
“Give me what? The bank?” Gordon mumbled at his knees.
“The money to buy the building. You’ve got enough saved for the renovations, I’m guessing?”
Gordon looked up, cautiously, his hands now laced behind his neck. “Aye, but I’m not askin’ that o’ ye.”
“Why not? Let me give you the money.”
“I’ll not take yer charity, Vincenzo.”
“Why not?” The other man suddenly slammed his free hand down on the arm of his chair, making Gordon jump a little at the intensity of emotion in that one gesture. “I have more money than I can spend, I owe you a debt I can never repay, and you need my help.”
“I can’t take money I haven’t—”
“Oh, be reasonable, you stupid Scot! If it weren’t for you, I’d be dead or drunk or dead drunk long ago. You were the one who kept me alive and performing all those years. You were the one who got me here to Everland and made me a home. You were the one who made sure I could marry my Arabella! How could you possibly think that’s not worth a little extra back-wages?”
Gordon was silent for a long moment, trying to put his emotions into words, since he knew Vincenzo couldn’t see his expression. “It’s not that I’m not grateful fer the offer, Vincenzo, but…”
“There’s no but, Gordy. I owe you. You’ve taken care of me for well over ten years.” The scarred man took a deep breath. “Please. Let me take care of you for once.”
You’ve taken care of me.
His friend’s word pounded through Gordon’s head over and over, merging with the ones Briar had said only last night. You take care of people, Gordon. It’s what you do.
Slowly, he nodded. He had taken care of Vincenzo for years, hadn’t he? But he’d been paid for his service, exactly as he deserved. And it had been a long time since he’d taken something he didn’t deserve.
So he just sighed. “Vincenzo, I promised myself a long time ago that I wasn’t going t’ take anythin’ I hadn’t earned. I did enough o’ that when I was a kid, to my Gran’s shame. Ye were the one who taught me I didn’t have t’ do that anymore.”
“And now I’m the one who’s asking you to take it. You’ve worked hard, Gordy. I’m sure your family would be proud of you. But let me do this for you. I can give you the amount you need to make up the difference, so you can start your business without debt.”
The offer was so tempting, Gordon could almost taste it. He could buy the building, pay Skip to do the renovations, buy what was needed to start the restaurant, and know that whatever he made would go to him, not to a lender. But… He scraped his hand across his face again, and then dropped his arm with another sigh, before looking at his friend in the chair across from him. “I can’t. Thank ye fer the offer, but it wouldn’t be fair—”
“A gift, then.” Vincenzo wasn’t asking.
“A gift fer what?”
The blind man smiled then, and reminded Gordon of Rajah, Vincenzo’s cat. The smile was just that slow, that smug, and that knowing. “A wedding gift.”
Huh. News really did travel fast in Everland. Gordon hadn’t even hinted his plans…and they weren’t even really plans. Not yet. “What makes you think I’m getting married?”
He’d tried to keep his voice neutral, but when Vincenzo smirked, he knew he’d failed. “I don’t. I just think you ought to.”
“Oh, aye, old man? And do ye have a thought on who I ought to marry, as well?”
“No, but I’m guessing that you do.”
Blast him, but Vincenzo must’ve deduced something. Had Gordon spoken too fondly of Briar, at some point in the last months? Had he acted too foolishly in the last weeks, since Zelle’s wedding? Or had his friend just made a good guess? Judging from the way Vincenzo’s smile was growing into chuckles, Gordon had to admit defeat.
“Fine! Aye, I’d like t’ marry.”
“Someone in particular?”
“Ye mean ye haven’t guessed that part as well?”
“Don’t be so surly. You’re getting married, you’re getting your restaurant, and you’ll take my wedding gift, won’t you?”
The money that Vincenzo was offering—between friends—was enough to start the life Gordon had been dreaming of for years. And without the additional debt, he’d be able to offer for Briar. He wouldn’t have to choose between his dream and his love. “Aye.” Vincenzo slapped the chair’s arm again, and Gordon smiled to see his friend’s pleasure. “Aye, I’ll take yer money, old man. As a wedding gift.”
“A wedding gift for my oldest friend.”
“Yer only friend, I think ye mean.”
Vincenzo began to laugh, and Gordon joined in. There’d been so many years when Vincenzo hadn’t laughed, but Gordon had been there beside him the whole time. It felt good, to laugh now.
“Well, goodness! I’ve interrupted something particularly funny, haven’t I?” Vincenzo’s wife Arabella swept into the room, and offered both men a smile. Gordon couldn’t help but smile back; he liked the quiet woman who’d brought so much joy to his friend’s life. But his smile was nothing compared to Vincenzo’s, who stood to wrap his arms around his wife.
There’d been times, over the months since they’d wed, that Gordon would make his excuses to leave the room, or at least look away, when Vincenzo kissed her like he was doing now. But today, Gordon just cocked his head to one side and waited, the fingers of one hand idly toying with the glass of brandy.
He imagined what it would be like, to kiss his own wife with that much passion, that much unabashed love, not caring who saw it. Vincenzo and Arabella had taught him so
much about love and marriage just since the spring. Once day soon, he hoped to put that knowledge to good use.
When the couple finally pulled apart, they were both smiling. “So, honeysuckle? How was the book business?”
“About as slow as usual,” Arabella answered with a low chuckle. Since marrying the wealthy musician, she’d kept her bookstore open more out of the love of sharing books than any real need for income. “But the gossip was good, so that makes up for it.” Just a few months ago, the idea of gossiping would’ve flamed her cheeks, but Vincenzo had taught her that she didn’t need to constantly worry about keeping up appearances. Instead, she smiled in Gordon’s direction. “And why are you two giggling like Eddie and his friends?”
“Giggling?” Vincenzo’s pretended affront made Arabella chuckle again. “We weren’t giggling. I was merely congratulating Gordy.”
“Oh? On something important?”
“No, not really,” Gordon’s friend teased. “Incredibly unimportant, really.” A sigh. “It’s just that our friend is finally getting married.”
Arabella gasped, her hands flying to both cheeks. “Married? Oh, Gordon, I’m so pleased that you’re getting married too! How exciting!” She gave a little bounce. “To whom? When’s the wedding? Can I help?”
Gordon might’ve smiled at her enthusiasm, but there was something she’d said that had given him pause… “What do you mean, ‘too’? Who else is getting married?”
“Oh, haven’t you heard? The news was all over town this morning. It seems that Roy DeVille has finally orchestrated a match for Roy Jr. after his last engagement ended so poorly, and this time it’s based on his stomach!”
Arabella obviously meant it as a little joke, but Gordon’s own stomach knotted suddenly. “His…?” He swallowed, his throat dry. “Who is Roy Jr. marrying?”
“Why, Briar Jorgenson, of course! Apparently he’s quite taken with her baking, and her family is thrilled with the match. Gordon? Is something wrong?”
But Gordon didn’t answer. It’d been over a decade since he last lost everything, but he was discovering that it still felt the same. An empty belly, or an empty heart? Either way, the hollow that had opened inside of him hurt more than he remembered.
Briar was marrying another man, and Gordon felt his dreams turning to dust.
“You did what?”
“Engaged you to Roy DeVille, Jr., dear. Weren’t you paying attention?”
“I was paying attention! I just can’t believe that you’d do something like that without asking me!”
“Oh, pish-posh!” Nana Rose couldn’t possibly look more pleased with herself. “You weren’t any closer to marrying, so I had to help you along a little bit. You should have seen Roy Jr. and his father—still such a handsome man—gobbling down your chocolate drop cookies yesterday at tea. I knew they’d be a hit!”
Briar had known Nana Rose had been up to something, but this? Her stomach tried to crawl up her throat as she struggled to remain calm. “You can’t just engage me to marry someone I don’t want to marry! This is the nineteenth century, Nana Rose! I can vote now and I can certainly choose for myself whom I want to marry.” Especially when there’s someone I’ve already chosen! She forced herself not to think of Gordon, or the panic she was barely holding at bay would surely overcome her.
“Briar, dear, you’re being hysterical. It’s just a little marriage. To the most eligible man in Everland. Every girl wants to marry Roy, Jr.”
Sure, he was wealthy and handsome, with his blue eyes, but Briar had already fallen in love with a set of amber eyes that always seemed full of joy. “Every other girl in Everland, maybe, Nana Rose. Remember what he did to Zelle this summer?” Roy Jr.’s inattention had nearly gotten Briar’s best friend killed, and only Dmitri’s fast thinking—and faster riding—had saved her.
But as expected, Nana Rose just waved away Briar’s objections. She always did, come to think of it. She just plain refused to believe that Briar could possibly want something different from what she herself wanted. Silently, Briar appealed to her parents, who stood side-by-side across the parlor. Ma looked cowed, as she always did by her own mother, and Pa worried his hat between his hands, as if unsure how he’d gotten into this situation in the first place. Briar caught his gaze, and tried to beg him with her eyes: Don’t do this, Pa. And for a moment, something flickered across his expression that might’ve given Briar hope, had he not then glanced at Nana Rose and ducked his head.
In the Jorgenson household, it was clear who was in charge.
As far as her parents were concerned, Briar was engaged to Roy DeVille Jr., and her grandmother couldn’t be happier. The older woman was standing taller, and smiling broader, than Briar had ever seen. And why not? She’d ensnared the most eligible bachelor in Everland, Wyoming.
Too bad she hadn’t snared him for herself, though. Briar’s gaze bounced between her parents and her grandmother. No. No, she couldn’t be engaged, could she? Not to Roy Jr.? A puffed-up flighty cowboy? Not when she wanted so desperately to be engaged to a hard-working, long-haired, thief-turned-chef who could make her laugh and feel perfectly at ease in the kitchen?
“Is there anything I can say to convince you that I don’t want to marry Roy, Jr.?” She didn’t mean to sound so defeated, but it wasn’t like she could help it; she was defeated.
Nana Rose knew she’d won; Briar could see it in the way her elegant lips curved into an elegant smile, and she elegantly lifted her chin smugly…and elegantly. Darnit! Everything the woman did was elegant, and it just served to remind Briar that she wasn’t made for the same life her grandmother so obviously wanted for her.
“Don’t be silly, Briar Rose. Of course you want to marry Roy Jr. Why wouldn’t you? He’s set to inherit the largest ranch in the area, and will be a very wealthy—and gorgeous!—man one day.”
Yes, but he’s a pompous pea-brain. Briar didn’t say it though, because Nana Rose would almost certainly chastise her for rudeness. Instead, she did the only thing she could do, when her chest was so full of hot, frustrated anger and her stomach so full of dread; she left.
She turned and practically ran out the door, desperate to be away from these people who, despite being her family, so obviously didn’t understand her. Refused to understand her. There was only one person who understood her, now that Zelle was gone, and he was the one she wanted to be engaged to.
The tears that threatened finally began to fall when she reached the outskirts of Everland, but they weren’t as terrible as they could be. Her anger at her family kept her from giving in completely to despair and weeping the way Zelle had wept when Dmitri had left her. After all, Briar hadn’t lost Gordon…she’d just gained a different fiancé. A completely unwanted, unsuitable, unlikable fiancé who was chosen for her just because he liked her baking. Well, for heaven’s sake, everyone liked her baking! But she didn’t go around marrying every man who enjoyed her cakes!
She was breathing hard by the time she stepped up onto the boardwalk along Andersen Avenue, but it helped to keep the tears from falling as well. She was just too angry. But it had been a mistake to come here, where her friends and neighbors greeted her so pleasantly. She’d had a vague notion to go see Gordon, to tell him all about this nonsense, but didn’t know where he’d be. Instead, she took deep breaths and kept her eyes glued to the boards, pretending great interest in where she stepped.
Which is why she saw the envelope.
She might’ve passed by it, except for the command written in huge letters on the side that faced her:
PICK ME UP, BRIAR.
So, as any curious person would do, Briar picked up the envelope. Her anger didn’t seem nearly as fierce as she pulled out the piece of paper and unfolded it. There was an elaborate seal at the top of the page, a “G” surrounded by the words “The Guild of Godmothers”.
Briar sniffed. She’d heard all about godmothers, only a few months before, when a crazy old lady claiming to be one had used a ladder to climb into Zel
le’s upstairs bedroom. But Helga—or rather, “Happy”—had seemed harmless enough, and had cheered Zelle up when she’d needed it.
Then, just when things were starting to get interesting, Helga had disappeared. Although the girls had never spoken about it, Briar had always assumed that the older woman had just snuck down her ladder…and left it in a convenient location for Dmitri to use when he had to convince Zelle his heart was true.
Thinking about her friends’ love and marriage caused another stab of pain in Briar’s gut, so she hurried to read the letter.
Dear Briar,
Thank goodness I caught you in time. Calm down. First of all, take a deep breath. I suggest you go over there and sit on the bench in front of the inn. Now take another deep breath. Are you calm now?
Good. I want you to know that—wait. You’re not sitting down. In fact, you haven’t even taken those deep breaths I told you to take—I’m a big believer in deep breaths, Briar dear. I know you’re holding your breath.
Briar lowered the paper and looked around. She was holding her breath. But who wouldn’t be, when finding such a strange letter, which seemed to know everything as it happened? She glanced back down to the letter:
Do it, Briar. Bench, breaths, NOW.
Briar hurried to the bench in front of the Van Winkle Inn, and sat. Without peeking at the paper, she took a deep breath, held it for a moment, then slowly let it out. It felt so good that she did it again, and then a third time. Each time she exhaled, she felt some of the hopeless anger leech out of her chest. She wasn’t exactly calm—how could she be, when her family was making high-handed decisions without her?—but she did feel better.
After a moment of steeling herself against the goosepimples that came from reading a letter that was apparently omniscient, she lifted the paper again.
Good, good. See? I told you that you’d feel better. Deep breathing is the key to healthy living, although most of my medical colleagues refuse to acknowledge that simple truth. Why, most of our health concerns can be addressed via deep breathing and regular digestion of fiber—You know what? Never mind. This isn’t relevant.
