Chapter Twenty-Nine
Spiccato: distinct, separated; a way of playing the violin or other bowed instruments by bouncing the bow on the string, giving a characteristic staccato effect
Damian
I make an effort to keep things light over dinner after Charlie’s weird freakout in the room, and by the time we’re done, she’s back to her normal self. No more introspective silences or brittle smiles. Sparkling eyes, witty jokes, and quirky thoughts about how the waitstaff handles having the whole resort rented out for a celebrity wedding.
“Do you think they get paid extra?” she wonders aloud, her hand propping up her chin as our waitress walks off after bringing us our bill, which we charged to our room. I feel weird doing that, since Gabby and Jonathan are paying for the room, but Charlie assured me it’s expected. Which makes me realize again that she’s more comfortable in this world than I am.
“I don’t know. It does seem like having the resort closed to the public would put a dent in their tips since there are presumably fewer guests than normal and no one coming just for a meal.”
She nods. “Exactly. Should we tip her extra? Do you think she gets paid overtime for coming in like this?”
Pulling out my wallet, I toss a five dollar bill on the table. It’s not a lot, but it brings our tip up to twenty-five percent. “There. It doesn’t make up for all the tips she’s missing, but it’s a little something. Besides, if it’s a celebrity wedding, won’t there be other celebrities here? Aren’t rich people notoriously extravagant tippers?”
Her acerbic smirk and raised eyebrows make me reconsider my question. “I take it that’s not necessarily true?”
She shakes her head, taking one last bite of our dessert—a decadent chocolate swirl cheesecake that we split—and stands. “Some of the wealthiest people I know are also some of the biggest tightwads. Of course, some are pretty generous with their spending, not just charities, but like you said, being a good tipper, taking the time to treat people in service positions well. It’s definitely not universal, though.”
I blink at her a second before I stand. That’s the most she’s ever mentioned about coming from money. Because it’s clear from that statement that she’s spent time with a variety of rich people. That doesn’t usually happen if you’re not part of their crowd.
She tilts her head toward the lobby after checking her phone. “Come on. Let’s go shower and change. The cocktail party is in an hour, and I don’t want to look like I just rolled out of bed and spent hours on a plane.”
Taking her outstretched hand, I give her a grin. “But you did roll out of bed and spend hours on a plane.”
She purses her lips, but the effect is ruined by her smile. “Yeah, I know. But I don’t want to look like I did.”
“I see. It all makes sense now.”
Back in our room, she unzips her suitcase to retrieve her shower kit and heads into the bathroom. I briefly consider joining her, but since she didn’t throw an inviting look over her shoulder and we’re short on time, I decide that can wait till after the party.
Showered, primped, and changed into cocktail party-appropriate attire, we head back downstairs an hour later. Charlie takes a deep breath and smooths down the front of her scarlet dress that flares out from her hips in a swishy skirt that makes me want to take her dancing again. When the elevator doors slide open, she fixes her fake smile in place and glides out. Perplexed, I follow, catching up to wrap my arm around her waist as we walk to the bar area opposite the café filling with other wedding guests.
Charlie glances at me as I pull her against me, matching my stride to hers, but it’s like she’s a different person. Distant. Lacking her usual warmth and personality. Normally this type of change occurs when conversation enters uncomfortable territory for her. She starts giving one word answers to questions and asking questions in return, and she has that same look on her face. But we weren’t talking. This cocktail party is putting her on edge? Why?
When we pass through the opening into the swirl of people, Lauren waves at us from a corner, a wide smile on her face, and Charlie heads straight for her. They hug, and Charlie says, “You made it. Great. I’m so happy you’re here.”
The words are simple, but they seem to convey some deeper meaning to Lauren that I don’t catch. She gives Charlie a sympathetic smile and pats her arm. “It’ll be fine. Don’t worry. Have you seen Jonathan and Gabby yet? I know they’d love to see you.” She lifts her gaze to include me. “Both of you.”
“Not yet. We literally just walked in. Where are they?” Charlie presses up on her tiptoes, looking around.
They start weaving through the crowd, leaving me to follow behind. Gabby squeals when she sees Charlie and Lauren walk up side by side, with me a step behind. A genuine smile crosses Charlie’s face as Gabby throws her arms around her neck, giving her a big hug and rocking them back and forth.
When she steps back, she keeps her hands on Charlie’s arms. “I’m so glad you made it. Even though you RSVPed, I was worried you’d back out.” Her gaze flicks to me. “And Damian. I’m glad you could come. I wasn’t sure how many of my Marycliff friends would make it.”
I hold out a hand for her to shake, but she steps past it and wraps me in a hug too. I fold my arms around her for a quick hug, and she steps back, her smile radiant. “Congratulations,” I say.
Jonathan gives Charlie an even bigger hug than Gabby. “Thanks for coming. It wouldn’t be the same without you here.”
That statement has me tilting my head to the side in confusion, but before I can figure out what he means by that, Lauren’s chattering about her flight and asking about mine and Charlie’s and what floor we’re staying on.
I let Charlie field her questions while I offer my hand to Jonathan. “Congratulations.”
“Thanks.” He nods, giving my hand a firm shake. “And thanks for coming. I know Gabby was hoping some of her friends from school could make it.”
“We’re happy we could come.” We lapse into silence, and I stuff my hands into my pockets, feeling out of my depth, and wondering about the extent of the relationship between Jonathan and Charlie. She’s mentioned that she knows him before, but she made it sound like a passing acquaintance. But with the way both Gabby and Jonathan greeted her, it seems like more than that.
“So, how long have you and Charlie known each other?”
Jonathan gives me a surprised look. Before he can answer, Charlie’s arm wraps around my waist. “Oh, Jonathan and I met when he was touring with Brash years ago. We’ve seen each other off and on over the years. Right, Jonathan?”
“Uh, right.” His eyes dart between Charlie and me, making me wonder what she’s not telling me, because there’s obviously more to this story. He cocks his head at her, and she molds her lips into that weird smile.
Then she looks up at me, and it morphs into something more genuine. “Come on. Let’s go get drinks. I’ll introduce you around to a few other people I know here.”
Not waiting for me to answer, she starts pulling me toward the bar. I go with her, casting a glance back at Lauren, Gabby, and Jonathan, whose eyes follow us as we move away.