Aspen in Moonlight

by Kelly Wacker

  Melissa took a deep breath and let it out. “I believe it’s time for that cocktail you promised me.”

  Sula glanced at her silver watch. “They’ll be done with tea in the atrium by now, and we can have a drink there or in the Ship Tavern.”

  “I’m intrigued by the sound of a ship’s tavern.”

  “Tavern it is.”

  Located on the first floor, past a dark-wood-paneled lounge illuminated by stained-glass windows with more griffins, the Ship Tavern was marked by a neon sign in the shape of a schooner with the wind in its sails. The bar was cozy, and the tapered room and curving wall even made the space feel a bit like being in the prow of a ship. They took a seat at one of the tables with a blue leather couch in the center of the room. Behind the couch, a thick wooden mast complete with a rigged crow’s nest rose to just below the timber-and-plaster ceiling. Melissa looked around, taking in the decor—thick ropes, old maps, anchors embossed on the stools at the bar, and the numerous scale models of sailing ships mounted high on the walls all the way around the room.

  “This is an unexpected theme for the Rocky Mountain West,” Melissa said.

  A waitress appeared and handed them menus. Apparently, she had overheard Melissa’s comment. “There’s a funny story. You don’t know it?” Both Sula and Melissa shook their heads. “Well, C.K. Boettcher, who co-owned the hotel with his father in the 30s, bought a collection of these model ships. Don’t ask me why. His wife, Edna, hated them and suggested they’d look a whole lot better at the hotel than in their house. Prohibition had just ended, and C.K. and his dad decided to redesign this space as a bar with a ship theme, and voilà—a new bar and a happy wife.” She waved her hand. “Not much has changed in the last eighty years.”

  “This is considered one of Denver’s classic bars,” Sula said. “There would be protests if they tried to renovate it.”

  The waitress nodded in agreement. “What can I get for you?”

  After a cursory glance at the menu, Sula ordered the blackberry bramble. Melissa looked at the ingredient list—gin, muddled blackberries, honey, and lemon on the rocks—and asked for the same thing. When the waitress returned with the drinks, Melissa admired the plump blackberry floating on top of the ice before picking up her glass.

  “Cheers,” Sula said.

  Melissa tapped her glass against Sula’s and tasted her drink. “Oh…this is so refreshing.” She took another sip. It was well-balanced and fruity, but not too sweet.

  “I’m glad you like it,” Sula said. Using her lips, she delicately nabbed the berry from her glass and ate it.

  “You chose a great drink. Do you have any suggestions for dinner?”

  “I do, actually.”

  Melissa took another sip and gestured for Sula to continue.

  “Well,” Sula said, “you mentioned that you don’t have good Mexican food where you live and you miss it.”

  “Very true. I think I might like where this conversation is going.”

  “I’d like to suggest a restaurant called Oso Verde. They do traditional Mexican food and have house specials that put a new spin on the standards.”

  “That sounds good. I haven’t had a decent enchilada in over a year.” Melissa laughed, picked the blackberry out of her glass with her fingers, and popped it into her mouth. Observing that Sula was watching her, she rolled it around on her tongue before slowly biting into it. The gin was starting to go to her head.

  “I was hoping you’d say that, because I made a reservation there for us.”

  Melissa narrowed her eyes at Sula. She’d made a good call on the restaurant, but she hadn’t revealed her plans until she was sure it would be well received. She was so careful that Melissa wanted to knock down those self-imposed, perhaps overprotective, walls.

  Talking about the hotel while they enjoyed their drinks, Melissa explained what she knew about the style of architecture. The large atrium, made possible by the new building materials of cast iron and steel, was an engineering marvel at the time. Sula listened with interest and asked good questions.

  “You’d be an excellent student,” Melissa said.

  “Really?” Sula signed the receipt for the drinks that the waitress had quietly left and pushed it to the edge of the table. “Why?”

  “Your questions reveal that you’re not just paying attention, but that you’re also thinking.”

  “What can I say?” Sula shrugged. “I like to think.”

  “Which is why you’d make a good student.” Melissa laughed and drained what remained in her glass. It was probably good that Sula had reservations; otherwise she’d be tempted to order a second one.

  Sula glanced at her watch. “We should head to the restaurant.”

  While leaving the Ship Tavern, Melissa fished around in her purse for her car keys and realized that she was a little tipsy and probably shouldn’t drive. When she didn’t calculate the speed of the revolving door correctly and it caught her heel as she stepped into it, her suspicion was confirmed. In contrast, Sula walked through the door as though completely unaffected. And she probably wasn’t. She was bigger and used to the altitude. Just as Melissa was about to ask Sula if she’d drive, Sula gestured to a woman dressed in a black suit and tie standing next to an impossibly shiny black BMW sedan.

  “Our driver is ready for us,” Sula said with a grin.

  Melissa arched an eyebrow and dropped her keys into her purse. “Our driver?”

  The driver nodded to Sula. “Good evening, Ms. Johansen.” She turned to Melissa while opening the back door. “Dr. Warren.” She smiled warmly. “Where can I take you?”

  Melissa slid across the soft leather seat and watched Sula as she got in next to her while talking with the driver, who seemed familiar with the restaurant. Sula leaned back, placing her hand gently on top of Melissa’s leg, her fingers resting on the inside of her thigh. Such a light touch, but it instantly sent a tingle that worked its way farther up the inside of her leg, making Melissa catch her breath when it reached its destination. Oh…this is definitely a date.

  Getting out of the car, Melissa looked up at the neon sign for the restaurant, a green silhouette in the shape of a bear with “Oso Verde” in a fluid script next to it. She smiled to herself, realizing she had misunderstood the name of the restaurant when Sula first suggested it.

  The restaurant was charming, the ambient lighting from three-dimensional perforated tin stars hanging from the ceiling almost magical. Candlelit tables were covered with striped fabric in warm, earthy colors. The hostess seated them immediately in a quiet corner, and after the waiter arrived and Melissa ordered a margarita, Sula asked for a tequila sunrise and guacamole as an appetizer.

  “This menu is amazing.” Melissa looked back and forth at both sides of the long card. “I think I’m going to have to order everything.”

  “We could order à la carte and share.”

  “Mmm…I like how you think.”

  The waiter returned with the drinks and said he’d be back in a moment with the guacamole. Melissa took a sip of hers and admired the cheerful colors of Sula’s cocktail, garnished with thin slices of pineapple and a cherry.

  “I’m so glad you hired a driver.” Melissa laughed as she set the glass down on the table. It was the best margarita she’d ever had. The balance of sweet, tart, and salty was perfect, and she planned to savor it. Sula regarded her with a hint of a smile. The candlelight, softly illuminating her from below, flickered in her eyes and made her amber jewelry glow. Struck by Sula’s beauty in that moment, Melissa didn’t want to say or do anything that would make her move and break the spell that had been cast.

  Instead, it was the waiter who prompted Sula to sit back, away from the light, when he arrived with a cart laden with avocado, finely chopped tomato, garlic, cilantro, spices, and a molcajete, a stone bowl made from gray basalt. Melissa must have had a look of surprise on her face.

  “Tableside guacamole is our specialty here,” the waiter explained as he expertly scooped t
he avocado out of its skin and, with a large wooden spoon, mashed and stirred everything together efficiently, placing it on the table alongside some freshly made tortilla chips. He said he’d give them a few minutes before taking their orders and wheeled the empty cart away.

  Nibbling on chips and guacamole, they discussed their options and then settled on what they wanted. The waiter slipped in, took their order, and glided off again. The service was impeccable.

  “So…your day. You still haven’t told me how your day went.” Sula took a sip of her drink and picked out the cherry with her fingers, plucking it from the stem with her lips.

  “My day was very interesting.” Melissa paused, watching Sula’s mouth. The way her lips held the cherry was unexpectedly sensual, and the sight distracted her for a moment. “I think I’ve developed a thing for bears.”

  Sula coughed, her face turning red as she put her hand up to cover her mouth.

  “Are you okay?”

  “Yeah.” Sula tucked her chin and cleared her voice, looking up at Melissa from under arched eyebrows. “I, uh, just inhaled the cherry…I’ll be fine…go on.”

  “Well, bears were definitely the theme of the day. I got a little turned around downtown. I thought I could navigate my way to the museum without GPS, but I found out my memory isn’t what I thought it was. It’s been years since I’ve been in Denver, and I never came here that much when I still lived in the state. Anyway, I ended up driving around the convention center and saw the big blue bear.”

  “I see what you mean.”

  “Hm?”

  “I See What You Mean,” Sula said with a laugh. “It’s the name of the sculpture. It’s become an icon of the city.”

  “Oh.” Melissa laughed with her. “That’s an odd title, don’t you think? I thought it was very whimsical—a forty-foot-tall indigo-blue bear peering through the plate-glass windows of the convention center.”

  “I guess the title is about as whimsical as the sculpture.”

  “That’s a good response. Bonus points for you.”

  “Thank you, Professor.” Sula grinned.

  “You’re welcome. And just so you know, those points aren’t easy to get.” Melissa paused, biting her lower lip, and then couldn’t resist. “You can cash them in later, if you like.”

  Sula cleared her throat again and smiled shyly. “So noted.”

  When their meal arrived, the table was covered in bowls and plates—freshly made tortillas, enchiladas smothered in both spicy green chile and dark-red chile Colorado, and the brazo de reina, which was a kind of tamale made with ground pumpkin seeds that gave it a distinctive flavor and pale-green color. In between bites, Melissa described her day at the art museum. She had been surprised to find that the older North Building, Gio Ponti’s fortress-like design completed in the early seventies, was under total renovation and that construction had begun on a new grand entrance designed to connect it with Daniel Libeskind’s newer Hamilton Building. The two buildings were so very different—Ponti’s castle covered in a revetment of gray glass tiles next to Libeskind’s pointy titanium, steel-clad structure that looked like a massive crystal had popped up out of the street.

  “I love your descriptions,” Sula said when Melissa paused to take a bite. “You said you saw bears, more than just the big blue one. Where were the others?”

  “The bears were inside. Since the other building is closed, the work on view from the museum’s collection is much smaller, and they organized it around the theme of animals in art. To be honest, it included a lot more animals than bears, but they kept getting my attention.”

  “Such as?”

  “Where to begin?” Melissa took the last bite of her enchilada and thought about it while she chewed. “Let’s see…there was the northwest coast Native American door panel that was basically a standing bear, and the actual doorway was the bear’s vagina.”

  Melissa thought that would make Sula laugh, but her expression remained serious, and she said, “People of the bear.”

  “There was a contemporary painting of a creature with the body of a bear, the head of a coyote, and wearing a cape made of vulture feathers. A sort of shaman figure, I think.”

  “Sounds like it.” Sula nodded. “A powerful body, a cunning brain—though I think a bear is smarter than a coyote—and feathers for flying.”

  “An astute observation. You might have just earned an extra point. Though you do have a bias towards bears.”

  “True. I’ll admit that,” Sula said.

  “Oh, the third bear was very interesting, but it wasn’t in the regular collection. It was part of a small exhibition of paintings by a nineteenth-century artist I didn’t know—William Henry Beard.” Melissa purposefully pronounced his last name like bear. “He painted landscapes and anthropomorphized animals. Apparently, he was best known for his bears.”

  “Anthropo…what?”

  “Anthropomorphized. It means animals behaving like humans. A painting of a bear party in the forest depicted them dancing. It was amazing. Here. I’ll show you.” Melissa grabbed her cell phone from her purse and scrolled through her photos to show Sula the whole painting and then a detail of two bears facing each other, each balanced with one foot on the ground and the other in the air, holding the opposing front paw of their partner. Bent forward but leaning back, the bears’ poses evoked the energy of dancing and were comical.

  Sula had an amused expression. “That’s what I look like when I dance.”

  “Oh, I bet you’re much more graceful than that.”

  “You think so?”

  “Yeah. I’ve seen the way you move in the forest and your agility climbing rocks. I bet you’re a good dancer.”

  Sula’s eyes remained on the painting on the screen of her phone, and she rubbed her thumb across her lower lip thoughtfully. “I wonder what inspired him to make paintings like that.”

  “That’s a good question. I’ll have to do a little research.” Melissa put her phone away. “Oh, and there is one more bear. I encountered it just before dinner.”

  “Really? Where?”

  “Here.”

  Sula raised her eyebrows in a silent question.

  “This restaurant, Oso Verde—the Green Bear. When you suggested it, I thought you said ‘oh, so verde.’” Melissa laughed. “I thought the name referred to fresh produce or green chile, not a green bear.”

  “I hadn’t thought of it that way. That’s funny.” Sula laughed softly. “But you missed a bear.”

  “Did I?” Melissa looked around. Had she not seen some decoration?

  “Yes, you did, Goldie.”

  “Oh,” the realization hit her, “you mean you.” Melissa reached out and touched Sula, running her index and middle finger slowly along the edge of her hand. “I’m Goldie, and you’re the bear.” She rested her fingers on Sula’s wrist and spoke slowly. “My bear.”

  Sula made a sound, a quiet moan, or was it a low growl? Either way it made Melissa’s pulse quicken. The waiter interrupted with the dessert menu and suggested the Mexican chocolate torte or the almond cake.

  “Both, please,” Sula said, not breaking eye contact with Melissa.

  “To go,” Melissa said.

  Sula did not resist.

  Chapter Seventeen

  “I think the driver was a little surprised when you said we were coming back to the hotel after dinner.” Melissa grinned as she trailed her fingers along Sula’s cheek. Focused on the sensation, Sula dropped the keycard. Laughing at herself, she picked it up off the floor and waved it across the door lock.

  “She was so professional, though,” Sula said, opening the door. “She barely raised an eyebrow.”

  “Yes, but that one eyebrow spoke volumes, don’t you think?” Melissa followed Sula into the sitting room of the suite and put her purse and the boxes containing their desserts on the cabinet near the minibar. She picked up a card and, after reading it, walked toward the television and removed a tablet from a charging dock below the large flat-
screen. “This suite has a media system.”

  Sula stood behind Melissa and looked over her shoulder, her cheek very close to Melissa’s but not touching. “You want to play a video game?”

  “No. I want to play some music.” Melissa laughed, focusing on the screen of the tablet. She turned her head and looked at Sula. “And then I want to play with you.”

  As if the air had suddenly evacuated from the room, Sula took a breath so quickly it caught in her throat, sounding like a hiccup. Music with a sexy downtempo beat suddenly filled the hotel suite.

  Melissa put the tablet down and turned to face Sula. “Would you like to dance, Bear?”

  “I’d love to dance with you, Goldie.” Sula put her hands out and shrugged. “But I don’t really know how.”

  “What?” Melissa looked at her skeptically and stepped forward. Slowly, she slid the palm of her hand, soft and warm, against Sula’s and wrapped her arm sinuously around Sula’s waist.

  “I told you I look like that bear in the painting when I dance.” Sula laughed, feeling an old anxiety creep up her. Melissa was so close to her now, her sweet, tantalizing scent filled her nostrils. “I can dance at a club where you get lost in the crowd, but like this…no, not really.” Sula was telling the truth. Big boned and tall, she avoided situations that drew unwanted attention to her size, and she was always afraid of stepping on her dance partner’s feet.

  “Hm…so you’re a shy bear who likes to hide in the forest.” Melissa leaned back and regarded Sula. “Just follow how I move.” Melissa swayed her hips back and forth. Sula mimicked her movements, surprised at how easy it was to match her smooth cadence. “Yes. Just like that,” Melissa said softly. She stepped back, and with gentle pressure from her hand on the small of Sula’s back, she guided her around the room, moving in time with the music.

  As Sula picked up on the pattern, they swept in slow circles like an eddy in a gentle stream. She was surprisingly relaxed and was actually enjoying herself. “You’re a good teacher.”