by Amy Cissell
“You look amazing,” Sandy said as Vincent sat across from her.
“So do you. That dress is fantastic on you.”
A waiter dropped off two menus and the promised Scotch on the rocks for Vincent. “Another glass of champagne?” he asked Sandy.
“Please.”
After ordering, Sandy toyed with her champagne flute and avoided meeting Vincent’s eyes. Their conversation, usually easy and filled with laughter, was stilted.
Once the food arrived, Sandy pushed it around on her plate in between drinks of champagne.
“Do you want dessert?” Vincent asked. “It doesn’t look like you ate very much.”
“Can we go back to the room?”
“Is something wrong?”
A nervous giggle escaped. “I’m nervous. About tonight.”
“There’s no reason to rush,” Vincent said. “I’ll wait until you’re ready.”
“Oh, I’m ready. Let’s get this show on the road.”
Vincent looked at her, then looked over at the bar to catch Russell’s eye.
Russell strolled over. “What can I do for you guys?”
“Can I get the rest of the bottle of champagne Sandy’s been drinking and a couple of glasses for the room?”
“Of course. Everything on your room tab?”
“Yes. That’ll be perfect.”
Two minutes later, Vincent led the way back to the elevator. Once they were in the room, Sandy kicked off her shoes and took the bottle. She poured two glasses and handed one to Vincent. “To us.”
They clinked glasses. After taking a drink, Sandy set her glass down abruptly, took off her sling, and turned around. “Unzip me?”
Once her dress was unzipped, she slipped it off, walked up to Vincent, and wrapped her arms around him.
“You are so beautiful,” he said, sliding his hand under the black bra strap.
“Kiss me, please.”
He lowered his lips to hers and slid his hands around her back and down. She lifted one leg up and hooked it around his hip. He groaned against her mouth as she nipped playfully at his bottom lip. Vincent took two steps forward, and she felt the bed hit the back of her legs. She let herself fall backwards, careful not to jostle her still healing bullet wound; her hair spread around her head like a dark halo.
“Join me?”
Vincent’s hands were already at his neck, loosening his tie. He flung his clothes off as fast as he could, then crawled over her. “I love you, Cassandra Franklin.”
She reached for him and pulled him down on top of her. “I love you, too.”
Chapter Twenty
“I have a surprise for you,” Vincent said the next morning as he watched her get dressed from his position lounging on the bed.
“I thought you wanted coffee,” she said. “If you want me to get us hot, caffeinated beverages, there can’t be any more surprises this morning.”
He chuckled. “Not that kind of surprise, although now that you mention it…”
“I am getting dressed now.” She shook a finger at him. “No more. At least not until tonight.”
Vincent sighed noisily and got out of bed. “I might as well get dressed, too. We stayed in bed much later than I’d anticipated. I don’t want to be late.”
“Late for what?”
Vincent looked around shiftily. “I may have misled you a bit yesterday when I said I was looking for a place in Oracle Bay.”
“You’re not? I can’t move back to Portland right now, and maybe not ever.”
“The misleading part was that I didn’t mention I’d already found a place. And made an offer. And had it accepted. And signed the paperwork.”
“When did you do all this?”
“Do you remember Drew saying the house next to his was up for sale? I went and looked at it the next day. It was perfect. I was going to talk to you about it, but I didn’t want to pressure you into thinking that I was considering it your house, too. I figured we’d continue to date, maintain our separate abodes, and spend every night having a sleepover at one or the other of our places until we decided it was time to cohabitate. I was able to pay cash for the house, which sped up the process a lot, and I signed the closing paperwork when you were in the hospital. I haven’t been there since I bought it, but I’m supposed to see the realtor this afternoon to get the keys. I’d love it if you’d come with me.”
“You bought a house.”
“Surprise?”
“I am surprised.”
“Are you angry?”
“No,” Sandy said. “It’s weird. Part of me is upset that you didn’t mention it to me at all, but like you said, we’re so early in our relationship that it’d also be weird to ask me for input on the house. It’s weird. We’re weird.”
“I don’t want you to feel any pressure at all. We can continue to take it slow.”
Sandy smiled. “Slow is nice sometimes. But so is fast.”
“You are an amazing woman. So, shall we?”
“Coffee and breakfast— “she checked her watch, “—lunch first.”
“No arguments from me.”
After lunch and coffee at the restaurant downstairs, they walked through the dreary mist until they got to the house. It was a typical beach bungalow, painted the dark blue of the sea after a storm, and it had a big ‘Sold’ banner bisecting the ‘For Sale’ sign.
“This is yours?” Sandy asked.
“Ours, eventually, if you like it,” he replied.
A slight, nervous-looking man was waiting for them on the expansive porch. “Hello, Mr. Bryson.”
“Please, Ted, call me Vincent.”
“Vincent. Here are your keys. I’ll stick around long enough to do the walk-through, and then I’ll leave you two alone to enjoy your new home.”
The inside was open, airy, and beautiful. There were hardwood floors throughout the entire first floor, which consisted of a large living room complete with a fireplace, a smaller dining room, a room that could be either guest room or office, a half bath, and a gorgeous west-facing kitchen. The kitchen had large windows with an ocean view overlooking a deck.
Sandy gasped. “It’s beautiful.”
“Wait ’til you see the upstairs,” Vincent said.
There were three bedrooms upstairs. The two smaller ones faced east and shared a full bathroom. The master bedroom had an ensuite, and French doors opened up onto a balcony with a stunning view of the ocean.
“This is the best surprise ever,” Sandy said. “You can’t ever break up with me now. This is my house.”
Vincent pulled her into his body and nodded to the realtor who made a hasty exit. “If I’d known that this is all it would take to get you to stay with me forever, I would’ve bought you a house the day we met.”
Sandy turned towards him and stood on tiptoe to brush a kiss against his lips. “I love it almost as much as I love you.”
“Hurry it up, you guys!” a familiar voice called up the stairs.
“Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do with a house full of people,” Misty said.
“That is not as limiting as I’d like,” Jezebel complained.
“Is our house full of psychics?” Vincent asked.
“Is this part of the surprise?”
“I’m certainly surprised,” he muttered.
“I heard that,” Drew said. “Come on down. We haven’t seen Sandy in ages, and since you wouldn’t share her with us last night, you have to give us today.”
Vincent grumbled, but a smile played around his lips. “I guess there’s no use trying to hide my plans from this group.”
They headed downstairs. Everyone was in the living room. “We brought the wine!” Misty said. “I hope you don’t mind, but I grabbed the wine we’d brought over before when I was cleaning up your shop.”
“That was you?” Sandy asked. “Thank you so much. That made it less hard to go in.”
“If you want to move to a different building on Main Street, we can make that work,”
Misty said. “There’s a couple empty storefronts, and I’ll transfer your lease from your current building to one of them. It only makes sense, since you’ll no longer need the apartment.”
“No, I don’t think that’s what I want,” Sandy said. “It’s harder than I thought it would be to be in the shop, but it also feels like home. I swear I could almost see out that window, and the door was barely squeaky at all.”
“It must be taking to you. That can happen. We’ll leave everything as is, but let me know if you change your mind. Now, let’s have some wine, you can tell us all about your dramatic divorce, and then we’ll go to The Pour House for happy hour and more drinks. We’ve got to have our fun while we can, before everything falls apart.”
“What do you mean?” Vincent asked.
“Oh!” Sandy said. “I’d almost forgotten. I probably should’ve told you before you closed on the house I didn’t know you were buying, but I got shot and completely forgot.”
“That was oddly rhyming,” Drew commented. “You can fill him in on the coming storm later. Right now, let’s pour some wine.”
Sandy squeezed into the back corner of alcove they’d sat in the week before, careful to keep her injured shoulder away from everyone else and the wall. Brandy was working again tonight, and she brought over three large platters of nachos and a few pitchers of the new seasonal Purgatory Porter. “On the house,” Brandy said. “In fact, Andy says that for the foreseeable future, none of your money is good here.”
Sandy leaned back but didn’t say anything.
“Thank you,” Morgana said. “It’s not necessary.”
“You’ll have to take that up with the boss,” Brandy said. “I just work here.” She winked and left.
“This worries me,” Jezebel said. “I wish we had a better idea of what was going to happen.” She looked at Ceri.
“Not yet,” she said. “There are too many secrets tied to Andy, and I promised to keep them as long as I could.”
“You’re too honorable by half,” Drew grumbled. “If it’s going to affect us all, we should get a heads up as to what ‘it’ will be.”
“If he waits too long to tell you, I’ll share. But for now, he needs a little more time to process, and I can give it to him. The rest of you are welcome to try your own divinations and learn the truth your own way.”
“Ceridwen is right,” Paska said. “We need to wait for him to reveal the truth to us, rather than force the issue. If we wait, the outcome is better. Trust is established on both sides. He will trust us because we didn’t pry into his background until he was ready and because Ceri didn’t reveal the secrets she learned. We will trust him because he will share with us what we need to know before it is too late for us to act. Everyone wins.”
“Do they, though?” Andy asked, striding into the alcove. “We won’t know who’s going to win until it’s over.” He set a drink down in front of Sandy. “Here’s the French 75 I promised you. I hope it’s good. I typically don’t serve anything but beer and simple mixed drinks.”
“Thank you!” Sandy took an experimental taste. “This is fantastic! It might be the best one I’ve had yet.”
“Hey!” Drew protested. “What about the ones I’ve made you?”
“Try it.” She slid the drink over to him and watched him take a sip.
“You’re right. This is amazing.” He passed it back to Sandy. “Andy, if you ever decide to branch out into specialty cocktails, you’ll have a loyal following in no time.”
He smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “I’ll keep that in mind.” He turned to go, but before he took a step, the entire bar started shaking. It was a slow back-and-forth jerking that went on for what felt like forever but was, in reality, less than a minute.
“Was that an earthquake?” Vincent asked once the shaking subsided.
“I think it was,” Paska replied. “I haven’t felt one of those in a while, at least not one that strong.”
“That wasn’t too bad,” Ceri said. “Maybe a four, if the epicenter is close.”
“I’d better go turn on the radio to make sure it wasn’t something bigger.” Andy glanced towards the wall of windows that overlooked the Pacific Ocean.
“Good idea.”
Andy strode into the middle of the bar. “Looks like everything’s okay, folks,” he announced. “I’m just gonna turn on the radio to make sure we don’t need to remember the tsunami evacuation route.”
There was a round of nervous laughter, and a few people stood up.
“If you all hang on, I’ll cover the next round. Let’s not rush out of here until we know if there’s a reason to start rushing.”
Before he got to the radio behind the bar, a flash of light lit up the room as lightning struck the ocean. The crack of thunder was immediate and deafening. A few people screamed, and several dropped bills on the table and ran out. The lights flickered and went out, and everything was black for a moment before the dim light of a few dozen cell phones screens made a dent in the darkness.
“There’s no tsunami danger,” someone announced. “The earthquake was a shallow one and registered as a three point eight.”
“Where was the epicenter?” Misty asked.
“I think we already know the answer, don’t we?” Morgana said.
“Oracle Bay,” was the response.
“It’s starting,” Ceri said.
Epilogue
Vincent squeezed Sandy’s hand and handed her a French 75. They walked out onto the deck overlooking the ocean and sat in the matching Adirondack chairs. The cold wind and salt spray stung their faces, but the setting sun was beautiful.
“Do you like it?” Vincent asked.
“More than anything,” Sandy replied. “I never dreamed I’d live in a place where I could see the ocean whenever I wanted.”
“So you’re moving in?”
“Yes. Soon. I need a little more time to find myself, a little more time to reclaim what’s mine, and a little more time to make sure you’re sure of us. But once I get there, you bet your sweet bippy I’m moving in with you. Have you seen this view?”
“It’s our first night here. I want you to be happy.”
“I’m with you. Of course I’m happy.” Sandy leaned over to kiss him on the cheek.
“Are you? I know we moved fast. I don’t want you to feel obligated to be with me.”
Sandy tilted her head and looked at the man beside her. “Why are you being weird? We’re dating. We’re cohabitating—eventually. You’re meeting my mom next week. She’s actually flying home from Greece to meet you. There is no one else I’d rather be with right now.”
“I’m nervous,” Vincent admitted, running his fingers through his hair.
“About my mom?”
“And your step-dad.”
“They’re fantastic people. They’ll love you, and you’ll probably think they’re okay.”
“I’m nothing like Aaron.”
“That’s one of your many positive qualities. My mom hated him. The fact that he also wronged you, and you’re the complete opposite are marks in your favor.”
“If she hated him so much, why’d you marry him?”
Sandy shrugged, uncomfortable. “I was stupid then, I guess. When we met, he was handsome and charming, and I was an awkward photography major. Sometimes you don’t realize something is wrong until it’s too late. My mom didn’t tell me her true feelings about him. She thought that’d push me even further into his arms. It didn’t matter. I married him. We’re divorced. He’s hopefully going to end up in jail for a long, long time. That chapter of my life is over.”
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to sound accusatory. I know it’s not simple.”
“I’m not mad at you. I’m mad at myself.”
“You should be a lot less mad at yourself than me. You were conned. You figured it out and left him. You are so strong—and you amaze me. When you take the stand to testify against him, I will be there for you, and I will be continually in
awe of your strength, your grace, and your capacity to love, even after all life’s given you. I love you, Cassandra Franklin.”
She framed his face with her palms, kissed him softly, and said, “This is one of my ten most perfect days.”
“What are the other nine?”
Sandy smiled, leaned back in the chair, picked up her drink, and took a long sip. “I might tell you if you have another one of these up your sleeve?”
“I’m beginning to think you’re using me for my bartending skills.”
Sandy smirked, waggled her eyebrows, and said, “Those aren’t the only skills I want to use you for.”
Vincent grinned. “I’ll get you another drink, but then I expect a recounting of your ten best days, and if I don’t feature in at least three of them, I’m going to…”
“Going to what?” Sandy laughed. “Punish me? Spank me?”
He paused, cocked his head to one side, and said, “Someone’s at the door. I’ll be right back.”
Sandy tensed. Even though Aaron was ostensibly still in jail awaiting trial, she still jumped at unexpected noises and encounters with strangers—which made her job more difficult than usual these days. Phone calls and knocks at the door rated highly on the freak-out scale. Her doctor, her therapist—recently acquired—her friends, and her fiancé all said that being shot definitely was a reason to suffer from post-traumatic stress disorder. She hated it, though. She just wanted to feel normal again.
“Sandy,” Vincent called. “It’s for you.”
If he was calling her in, it was safe. Vincent wouldn’t put her in danger. She got up, drained her drink, and walked into the house.
Misty was standing in the entryway. Mascara stains ran down her cheeks, and her eyes were red from tears.
Sandy rushed forward and pulled her into her arms. “What’s wrong? What’s happened? Are you okay?” She turned her head to look behind her. “Can you get Misty a French 75? Another for me, too, please.” She led Misty into the living room, and they sat down on the sofa. “Misty. Please. What’s wrong?”
