Not Quite Over You

by Susan Mallery

  She set up the folding tables and chairs. The ones she used were slatted black faux wood. They were lightweight, durable and could fit into nearly any theme.

  She only put out six tables with four chairs each. They were there for quick conversations, not to be a gathering place away from the main party. Silver placed them on the far side of the bar so they wouldn’t impede the flow of traffic, then opened the boxes of decorations.

  The casual beach wedding theme was easy. She put woven mats on the grass by the trailer. There was a mason jar candle in the bride’s colors for every table. She placed faux coral around the mason jars and made sure there were a couple of long gas lighters behind the bar. Once the wedding had started, she and Drew would light all the candles so they would be burning nicely by the time the guests came out for the reception.

  She stacked driftwood by the bar and strung twinkle lights around the entrance to the trailer before stepping inside to check on Drew.

  “How’s it going?” she asked, moving beside him to inspect his work.

  “Great.”

  He’d filled four bowls with cut-up honeydew and was working on the fifth.

  “You work fast,” she said.

  “Speed isn’t always important but today I want to impress the boss.”

  She ignored the speed comment, not sure exactly how he meant it. Regardless, she had to stay focused on the job at hand. “So far, I’m impressed.”

  “Good to know.”

  She had to reach around him to pull glass pitchers from an overhead cupboard. Despite her best efforts, she brushed against him. It was worse with the stainless steel beverage dispenser. She had to shimmy and bend down, only to end up rubbing her butt against his.

  “Sorry,” she said, avoiding his gaze. “Small space.”

  “I don’t mind.”

  She didn’t mind, exactly, either; it was just so unnecessary. They were working. Focus, she told herself. Be strong. Businesslike. Pretend he’s Georgiana. Because with Georgiana, she never noticed the tight space. They just did what had to be done without any fuss.

  “Done,” Drew said.

  “Good. Rinse your hands, then get out the Vitamix. We’ll work in small batches.”

  She showed him how to fill the container with ice, sugar and honeydew.

  “You want to make sure the mixture is completely liquefied. No lumps. Then you’ll taste each batch to make sure it’s sweet enough.”

  “How will I know?”

  “I’ll taste the first couple with you so you can learn what we need.”

  He looked at her. “You’re good at this.”

  “It’s my job.”

  “No, it’s more than that. You like this and it shows. The people who hire you are lucky to have your expertise and dedication.”

  The unexpected compliment left her flustered. What on earth was wrong with her?

  “Thank you.”

  “Welcome. Now I’m going to master the Vitamix.”

  While he worked, she pulled out a three-gallon open container and poured in rosé, Burgundy, pineapple juice and fruit punch, along with the juice of both lemons and limes. She used a big, long-handled spoon to mix everything together, then tasted its result. Not her thing, but good, she thought. She’d started with chilled ingredients, so the Sangria was already cold.

  The large container went into the industrial refrigerator that took up nearly a quarter of the trailer. She would fill the beverage dispenser right before the wedding started and set it outside on the bar. There was a built-in compartment for ice, which kept the drink cold without diluting it.

  As she worked, Drew liquefied batch after batch of honeydew. She made random checks on the sweetness, then put the filled pitchers into the refrigerator. The mimosas were a combination of the honeydew mix and champagne. She would pour into the glass from each hand, creating a bit of entertainment along with the cocktail.

  A smooth event was all about prep work, she thought as she grabbed both a champagne flute and a wineglass. She poured water into each, added a drop of purple food color from the bottle she kept tucked in a drawer and left the glasses on the counter.

  “If you have to pour, that’s how much,” she told him, pointing to the glasses. “Sangria in the wineglass, mimosas in the champagne flute. If they ask for you to add more, tell them we’ll be here all night.”

  Renee hurried over, clipboard and tablet in hand. “We’re nearly ready. Are you ready? Is everything okay?”

  Silver waved to the tables, the decorations, then opened the refrigerator to show her the pitchers filled with liquefied honeydew and the giant container of Sangria.

  Renee visibly relaxed. “Thank you. I can always count on you to give me one thing to check off my list. You’re the best, Silver. Have a good wedding.”

  “You, too. Good wedding.”

  When she’d scurried away to check on yet another detail, Drew finished filling the last pitcher.

  “She’s a little tense,” he said.

  “Weddings are a big deal for the entire wedding party. There’s rarely a chance to get a do-over so it has to be perfect the first time. Plus the whole getting married thing is always stressful. That’s a lot of pressure. Renee wants each bride and groom to have exactly what they want.”

  “You like her.”

  “She’s growing on me. I can respect someone who always gives their best.”

  He looked at her. “Was that a general comment or were you specifically aiming it at me?”

  She frowned. “Why would you ask that? We weren’t talking about you.”

  “Just checking.”

  “You thought I was taking a dig at you? Why? You earn a living.”

  “In a bank, and I suspect you have no idea if there’s actual work involved.”

  He was right about that. What did he do to fill his day? Meetings? Reading reports? Telling others what to do?

  That summer they’d dated, he’d always been so physical—going and doing. She couldn’t imagine him sitting behind a desk all day.

  “Point taken,” she said, then smiled. “But I wasn’t talking about you at all.”

  “Good to know.”

  They looked at each other. Silver felt something grow between them. More than awareness, although that was there. Maybe it was the past, she thought, reminding herself she was over him and not interested in starting something up again. That would be stupid. Only he’d always appealed to her and—

  “I think the guests are starting to arrive,” he said, distracting her.

  She turned and saw that people were making their way inside. She watched for wayward invitees. The bride and groom didn’t want beverage service before the wedding, so when people approached, Silver guided them toward the building where the ceremony would take place.

  “Do you always have to do that?” Drew asked. “Fend off those looking to get drunk early?”

  “Not all the time, but it happens. As for getting drunk, we do our best to prevent that. There are things to look for.”

  “I know. I’ve been reading up on being a bartender.” He ticked off points on his fingers. “No doubles, no two drinks at a time. If you think someone’s having too much, give them water and suggest they eat. At an event like this where there are likely to be parents paying or at least contributing, getting help can be useful, unless the person drinking too much is the parent.”

  Silver raised her eyebrows. “You have been doing your homework.”

  “I told you I would.” He moved toward her. “Silver, I’m serious about being a partner in the company. I don’t want to take over and I don’t want to run things. I want to be a part of the business. A minority partner.”

  “Barely,” she grumbled, trying to ignore the faint hunger that seemed to be growing inside of her. “You want a practically even split.”

&nb
sp; “What do you want?”

  To have enough money that she didn’t need anyone—not even Drew. But as that was unlikely to happen...

  She thought about what he was offering her and how much she wanted to grow the business. She thought about all the weddings and parties she had to turn down and how much she really liked what she did.

  “I want a sixty-forty split,” she said, bracing herself for instant regret. There wasn’t any. Instead she felt a sense of relief and anticipation. Drew had him some fine-looking trailers.

  For a second he didn’t say anything, then slowly, he started to smile. “Sixty-forty. I’m assuming you’re the sixty.”

  “You would be correct.”

  Their gazes locked. For a second she felt the same flutter in her stomach that had always accompanied her Drew-time. She firmly squashed the sensation, reminding herself that had been a million years ago. They were totally different people now.

  He flashed her a grin, then held out his hand. “Done. I’ll have my lawyer draw up the paperwork and get it to you this week. We need to figure out what we want to do with the trailers. They’re in great shape and have so much potential.”

  They shook hands. She ignored the tingles when they touched.

  “I already have plans,” she told him. “I’ve been working on them for a while. You can look them over and we can talk about them.”

  “This is going to be great,” he told her. “You have a strong business plan and plenty of experience. I have a fresh eye and lots of contacts. We’re going to be a good team.”

  “We are.”

  Renee hurried out of the building and waved at her. Silver waved back.

  “That means the ceremony is nearly over,” Silver told Drew. “Get ready for the crowd. The first rush is always the big one.”

  While Drew opened bottles of champagne, she filled the stainless core of the beverage dispenser with ice and put on the cap. Once it was secure, she set the beverage dispenser on the cart by the bar before carefully pouring in the Sangria mixture. She poured ice into the galvanized tubs and added bottles of beer. Drew had already brought out three pitchers of the honeydew mixture.

  She set two large trays on top of the bar. “You start filling the wineglasses with Sangria,” she told him. “I’ll take care of the mimosas.”

  After filling one tray with champagne flutes, she poured in the honeydew mixture and topped it with champagne. By the time they’d filled a tray with each drink, there was a crowd of people walking toward them.

  Silver smiled as the first guests approached. “Good evening. We have two signature drinks today, along with beer. The honeydew mimosa is really delicious, if you’d like to try that.”

  “I’ll take a beer,” the man said.

  “I want the mimosa.”

  Drew pulled a beer out of the ice, wiped the bottle, then used a bottle opener to pop off the cap. Silver handed a flute to the woman and the beer to the man before turning to the next couple.

  She calculated the number of people waiting and figured they would have a twenty-minute rush then a steady stream for the next two hours. Things would slow down after that.

  She and Drew worked well together. When the mimosas got low, he handled the guests while she poured more. It was only when the initial crowd had dwindled that she realized she’d forgotten to tell Drew one very important thing—that she had a relationship with their daughter and that Autumn would be coming to town.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  MONDAY MORNINGS SILVER usually slept in late. Weekends were always busy with two or three bookings. This past weekend, there had been a wedding Sunday afternoon—this after the Saturday night event. The beach wedding had gone until two in the morning while the Sunday afternoon wedding hadn’t ended until nearly ten at night. But despite the opportunity to stay in bed, she’d awakened at dawn.

  She knew that Drew was the reason she hadn’t been able to indulge in her Monday morning ritual. Between the new partnership, Leigh’s upcoming wedding and the reality of Autumn, she had too much on her mind.

  She got up and decided to take advantage of her extra time by cleaning her loft apartment. Then she placed her orders for the upcoming weekend and tried to figure out what to take to the girlfriend lunch.

  Nearly every Monday or Tuesday she and her friends met for lunch. In a town where weddings dominated the calendar, the locals treated Monday and Tuesday as their weekend. Silver and her friends rotated hosting duties for their lunch. Whoever hosted provided the entrée while everyone else brought another dish. Silver was toying with the idea of making a salad when she realized she had a couple of leftover honeydew melons.

  She cut them up, then pureed them with ice but didn’t add any sugar. She put the sealed container into a cooler along with a few cans of lemon-lime soda, plastic glasses and spoons. Before she left for the lunch, she called in an order to her favorite Mexican restaurant. She picked up chips, salsa, guacamole and a dozen chicken taquitos, then drove out to the animal preserve.

  In addition to being a wedding destination town, Happily Inc was the proud home of one of the most awarded recycling centers in the country. Theirs was a town that recycled and composted in earnest. There were even competitions where residents on different blocks tried to have the least amount of trash each week.

  The owners of the Happily Inc Landfill and Recycling Center had also purchased hundreds of adjoining acres where they’d started an animal preserve. The nonpredatory residents—zebras, gazelles, a water buffalo and a new-to-them herd of giraffes grazed, played and added a charming element to the already-quirky town.

  Carol Lund-Mitchell ran the animal preserve. Her father and uncle owned the landfill and the surrounding land, and she took care of the animals. When it was Carol’s turn to host and the weather was nice, they ate outside in the preserve.

  Silver followed another small pickup into the parking area by the main office, then waved as Bethany climbed out.

  “Tell me you didn’t bring salad,” the pretty blonde called as she lifted a bakery bag off the seat next to her. “I’m very stressed these days and in desperate need of sugar and carbs.”

  “I brought both.”

  “That’s why I love you.” Bethany laughed. “Pallas texted to say she was bringing Renee to lunch today.”

  “I know. I heard from her, too.”

  Renee had moved to town a few months ago. Pallas had talked to Silver about adding her new employee to the girlfriend lunch. Given how tense Renee could be, Pallas hadn’t been sure, but Silver had given her a thumbs-up. Renee had loosened up in recent weeks and there had been hints of a wicked sense of humor.

  “I’m excited not to be the new girl,” Bethany confessed.

  “We can’t all have been born here,” Silver teased. “Some of us got lucky and some of us didn’t. But even us transplants become family.”

  They walked onto the path leading into the preserve. After passing through a double set of gates, they made their way to the big tree where Carol usually set up lunch. She’d spread out a half dozen blankets and brought in big pillows for lounging.

  Silver stared at the familiar arrangement. Carol, a sensible-looking redhead wearing khakis and work boots, looked at her.

  “What? Did I forget something?”

  Silver smiled. “I was just wondering how much longer we can have lunch out here. We try to get together at least three times a month and with us rotating the location through all six or seven of us, we won’t be back here for at least two months.” She eyed her friend’s rounded belly. “I’m not sure you and Pallas will be physically capable of sprawling on the ground then.”

  Carol and Pallas were both pregnant. They were married to brothers, and Natalie, newly engaged to yet another Mitchell brother, had confessed to being incredibly vigilant when it came to birth control. She didn’t want any surprises until after the
wedding.

  Carol lightly touched her stomach. “We’ll move to the house when that happens. I’m not giving up my girlfriend lunches for anything.”

  “Labor,” Bethany teased. “You might have to give up one or two when you have the baby.”

  “We’ll see.”

  Wynn and Natalie arrived, followed by Pallas and Renee. Everyone settled on the blankets.

  “I have chicken salad sandwiches,” Carol said, pointing to a pink bakery box. “On croissants.”

  Pallas moaned. “Sounds delicious.”

  Silver explained about her wedding cocktail and how she had modified a nonalcoholic version for the lunch. Everyone helped themselves to food and Silver poured drinks. Bethany filled her plate, and then looked at Pallas.

  “Thank you for still being my friend.”

  Pallas rolled her eyes. “You’re marrying my brother. I don’t really have a choice in the matter, but even if I did, I would still like you. I swear.”

  Bethany hung her head and sighed. “I hate my life.”

  “You don’t,” Wynn told her. “You’re in love with a great guy.”

  “There is that, but everything else.” She turned to Renee. “Do you know who I am?”

  Renee put down her sandwich and cleared her throat. “Bethany Archer?”

  Everyone laughed.

  Pallas hugged Renee. “I think what Bethany is means is do you—” she made air quotes “—know who she is, as in her parents are the king and queen of El Bahar.”

  Renee’s green eyes widened. “I didn’t know that. Am I supposed to call you something like ma’am or Your Highness?”

  “No. Just Bethany.” She groaned and explained how her mother, an American schoolteacher, had gone to El Bahar to teach at the international school and had met and fallen in love with then–Crown Prince Malik.