Loving Reese (Tremont Lodge Series Book 2) Page 7

  “Hey! I thought you sold this beauty,” I say, hitting the bed of Murphy’s pick-up truck.

  “Didn’t Finn tell you?”

  “Uh, no.”

  “After today, Finn is the proud owner of a Toyota Tacoma. He’s going to be out to pick it up later in the extended parking lot at the airport. I can’t very well drive this pile of metal all the way to California. Anyway, I’m sure it wouldn’t help me sell myself as meshing with Tinley’s world.” He glances at Tinley who jumps to his defense.

  “Stop it! You could drive a cardboard box with paper plate wheels and still belong in my world. I don’t give a damn what anyone says.” She grabs hold of his shirt and pulls him in front of her where she plants a juicy kiss square on his mouth.

  “Well, I for one love this pile of metal and look forward to cruising around Tremont City in style with Finn.”

  “Thanks, Reese. Take care of yourself…and Finn.” Murphy hugs me goodbye and moves to the side of Tinley so we can say our own goodbyes.

  She grabs my hands and starts talking before I can think of what to say. “I love you like a sister, and there’s not too many people in this world who could stand living with me.” She glances at Murphy. “And I hit the jackpot when I met two of you this summer, but I suck at goodbyes, so I’ll see you later, Reese Prentice. Come to California. You have an open invitation for a visit and for our wedding.” A smile fills her face.

  “Aww, Tinley, I was hoping you’d get married at Tremont Lodge.”

  “Ha! You are hilarious. I’m not stepping foot back in this state again but nice try.” Murphy checks the time on his phone and nods in Tinley’s direction. “Okay, I have a plane to catch with my fiancé. Love you!” She gives me a quick hug and jumps into the pick-up truck before I can say anything more, but when she refuses to look back at me and keeps batting at her face with her hand, it is clear that she is crying. All I can do is wave at the back of the truck as it drives away because I am crying, too.

  Chapter 9:

  My sole purpose today is to make sure that Samantha marries Anthony Warren. Then send them on their merry way to whatever prickly future that awaits. I really don’t care, as long as Samantha can’t get her claws into Finn. It has occurred to me that a wedding ring isn’t a chastity belt when it comes to her faithfulness, but it’s a start. That—and I trust Finn.

  My first stop is the reception hall office where Marge will have a list of items I need to tick off my list. But when I’m hurrying across the lawn to the office, Jeremy stops me by yelling my name from the rec office. “Reese!”

  “What’s up, Jeremy?” I ask, plastering on my fake happy face that I plan on exhibiting all day long, no matter what.

  “I’ve been trying to call you for the last half hour.”

  I reach for my phone. “Oh, yeah, I forgot. Finn has my phone because the screen is cracked. He’s getting it fixed. That reminds me. Do you have any of those cool walkie-talkies lying around that I could borrow today?”

  “Uh, yeah, sure, no problem. But I’ve been trying to reach you because you got a delivery sent to the office that I thought you’d like to know about.”

  “What kind of delivery?”

  “Come see for yourself.” He turns back toward the office, and I follow him through the door. A large bouquet of orange balloons fills the entire counter. I even lose sight of Jeremy when he goes behind the counter for a second. He hands me a small envelope. “Here’s the card.”

  I take it from him, open the envelope, and pull out a small delivery card. I read the card a couple of times because it is about the sweetest thing I have ever read. My cheeks hurt because I can’t smile any wider.

  “Is Finn making me look bad?” Jeremy asks. “Because I doubt I can count on your keeping this a secret from Bree.”

  “You’d better plan something romantic then because I am so not keeping this a secret. Jeremy, I don’t have any time to take the balloons back to my room. My to-do list for this wedding should have started a half hour ago.”

  “If you can get that big orange blob in the back office, that’s fine. If not, you’ll have to pop a few before you go tie bows or whatever you do.”

  “Thanks, Jeremy,” I say, squeezing the mammoth bouquet through the narrow hallway to the tiny break room in the back of the office and wondering why orange was Finn’s color of choice. I don’t recall telling him about my favorite color. “And I do a lot more than tie bows!” I yell as I walk out the back door shaking my head. If only it were going to be that easy.

  At least having a thoughtful boyfriend who understands how tough today is going to be from Tinley leaving to the stupid wedding helps release some of the tension building up as I approach Marge for my orders. She really should be running this operation, not me. When I walk into the office Helen is pouring a cup of tea for Marge from a floral teapot. “Helen! What are you doing here?” She puts down the teapot and hugs me.

  “My little Reese. I would not abandon you on your big day.”

  “I’m not getting married,” I laugh.

  “I know, but it’s a lot of responsibility. That’s why I’m here—to lend support—and, of course, to deliver freshly laundered and pressed uniforms for the wait staff.”

  I smack my forehead. “Oh, my gosh! I totally forgot about the uniforms. Helen, you are a lifesaver.” I give her another hug.

  “While I am here, dear, put me to work. Marge won’t tell me a single thing.” She nods toward Marge.

  “Sorry, Helen, but today is Reese’s show. She calls the shots.”

  “Seriously, the two of you could organize this wedded bliss with your eyes closed.”

  “Organize the wedding, yes,” says Marge, “But ensure happily ever after, well, that’s something no one could orchestrate—at least not after what I witnessed yesterday.”

  “Speaking of yesterday…” I start to tell Helen and Marge about Samantha’s little visit last night to Finn’s room but decide against the value in sharing the disturbing memory. “you’re right about that, but let’s see my list.”

  I take the list of details from Marge and start walking through the ballroom making sure that everything is ready from the table servings for 150 people to the ostentatious floral decorations that will surely curb all conversation at the table by blocking views of the other guests. Helen follows me closely, only offering suggestions when asked and providing the moral support I need.

  I am down to the bottom of the list and feeling rather confident—which is awesome since Bridezilla and her henchmen are due to arrive any moment—when I see Ted Oakley walk in through the door, and all of my confidence deflates faster than a balloon being stabbed with a knife. The cake server slips out of my hand, crashing to the dance floor and echoing off the tall ceiling of the otherwise empty room. Helen bends down and picks it up. “I’ll go wash this for you. Good morning, Mr. Oakley,” she says as she passes my boss…and biological father.

  He stands with his arms crossed, staring at me like I’ve been accused of a crime, and he is sizing up my innocence or guilt. “Everything under control here, Reese?” he asks. Why does his smile always seem fake?

  “Yes, Mr. Oakley. All of the details for the reception seem to be accounted for. The bridal party is due to arrive any time. They will be getting dressed in the back room.”

  He shakes his head as if he is digesting what I’ve said when it’s really not complicated at all. “Reese, are you enjoying this all?” He waves his hands around the room which would look comical to an outside observer.

  “Sure. Wedding planning is fun,” I lie.

  “I mean, do you enjoy all of the responsibilities—of all of the various roles you’ve taken on the last few weeks?”

  I take a deep breath. “Are you trying to imply something?” I ask, paranoid about Jeremy possibly telling Ted about my walking off the job the other day.

  “Not at all. We just haven’t had a heart-to-heart, and I’m checking in.”

  “I think you mean that yo
u’re checking up on me. Look, if you don’t have confidence in my abilities, then I can go back to cleaning rooms. Let me stay until second semester, and I’ll go back to State. I only took a semester off MSU anyway.”

  He puts a hand on my arm. It’s cold, and I draw my arm back instinctively. “I don’t want you to leave. You’re reading this all wrong, Reese. I’m sorry. I suck at this whole father thing.” He presses his shaking hands into his temples and massages his forehead.

  “Do you have a headache?”

  He looks up at me and smiles. “I always have a headache.” He laughs. “It’s this new medication they’re trying, but as you can see,” he looks down at his hands, “it’s not working very well, though at least I can sleep at night now.”

  “Well, I’m glad the medicine allows you to rest.”

  “It’s not the medicine that’s making me sleep at night again—for the first time in years, really.”

  “I don’t understand.” I look at the clock behind Ted’s head and wonder how much longer I have before Samantha arrives, and I wanted to make sure the mini-bar in their preparation room was ready.

  “I can sleep at night now because I know you have things under control and will be able to effectively lead Tremont Lodge someday.”

  I feel like a ton of bricks has just been dropped on my head. I agreed to take on these responsibilities to learn more about the operations at the lodge, to see if I even like being here behind the scenes, and, yes, to see if I could rise to the occasion, but I never promised anyone, not even myself, that I would take over the lodge. Hell, I’ve only taken three business classes at MSU. In fact, my junior year—which I should be experiencing right now—would have been loaded with business classes. But, instead, I’m learning through full immersion, and I’m not sure it’s a path I’m interested in or even capable of, for that matter. “Ted, I never promised you anything,” I say quietly.

  “I know, but you’re an Oakley now. It’s in your blood.”

  “Maybe you should have thought about that a long time ago when you abandoned me. I don’t owe you anything. I never have…and I never will.” I leave him to let himself out of the ballroom alone while I await the wedding party’s arrival in the preparation room. Plus, I won’t let him see me cry.

  Samantha’s bridesmaids are the first to arrive. They pay me no attention as they hang up their dresses and make a beeline for the newly stocked mini-bar where they giggle and gossip as they drink straight from the bottles of liquor. OMG, do you really think he’ll be here? He was so hot in college. He still owes me a kiss that night he promised at Bill’s Tap. But I want a lot more than a kiss after all this time. Samantha said she invited him, but who knows if she’s telling the truth? You can only believe half of what comes out of that girl’s mouth. They laugh more. They drink more. And I smile, knowing that even her “closest friends” don’t think highly of Samantha. What in hell did Finn see in her? Was he really so horny that he was only attracted to her body?

  Right on time, Samantha throws open the door to the preparation room and stomps into the room. The girls hug and fawn over her hair, which is piled up into an impressive mound of ringlets upon the top of her head, capped off with a stunning tiara that holds her sideswept bangs in place. At least she looks the part of a blushing bride. Someone hands her a shot of something that wasn’t provided in the mini-bar. She tips it back and downs the liquid, holding her chest as it melts its way down, I imagine, trying to unfreeze her heart. Then she hiccups.

  “Sam, remember that summer when you swore off alcohol? What were you thinking?” asks one of the bridesmaids.

  Sam’s eyes blaze open wide as she stares down the innocent girl. “I did not give up alcohol. You are wrong.”

  The bridesmaid takes a protective step backward, almost knocking the carefully laid out jewelry gifts off a table. “You did, too. You wouldn’t drink at Cameron Cagle’s twenty-first birthday bash on his dad’s yacht. Don’t you remember?” The room is so silent, I can hear my breathing.

  “I…WAS…SICK!” Samantha highlights her words as if they were spoken with the bold key stuck down.

  “Okay, whatever. Come on. We have a wedding to celebrate.”

  Samantha takes a deep breath as if willing herself to relax. It’s the oddest exchange I’ve witnessed at Tremont Lodge since my arrival, and I’ve seen and heard a lot of crazy things. I wonder if Samantha had an alcohol problem that required a little trip to rehab. “I need to get dressed,” she says.

  The non-offending bridesmaids surround Samantha and cater to her needs. I slip out of the room unnoticed, grateful for the break I caught. Bridezilla has other objects of scorn besides Finn and me.

  After checking that all of the wedding chairs have remained upright and the bows tied in place on the ends of every other row of chairs, I reach for my phone to pull up the radar but remember that I won’t get my phone back from Finn until I see him at the reception. How did people get anything done ten years ago without smart phones? I radio to Luis at the front desk and ask him to give a weather forecast for the next two hours because the first guests will be seated in about ten minutes. All I need is to get the wedding party and guests back inside before the skies let loose. I look up at the dark clouds from the west and say a prayer.

  Luis’s report that pop-up storms are likely within the next two hours is of no comfort to me. The chance we may be taking could be too great. The only responsible choice I’m left with is to move this wedding inside. Breathe in. Breathe out. I bite my cheek to remind myself to not show my frustration no matter how hard it will be when that temptress opens her mouth.

  The bridesmaids are surrounding Samantha when I open the door but part the way when they see me. “Is it time?” one of them asks.

  “Uh, actually I’d like to talk with Samantha about something.”

  The look of astonishment on Samantha’s perfectly made-up face is comical the way she is distorting every feature before setting on an expression of contempt, at best. It’s amazing how ugly such a beautiful person can look. “Anything you have to say to me you can say in front of my bridesmaids.” This isn’t a stand-off but whatever.

  “Okay, fine. I have been watching the weather reports, and, unfortunately, pop-up storms are expected over Tremont Lodge sometime within the next hour. I really don’t think we should take the chance of holding the wedding outside. I’m…sorry.” And I truly am, too, because I want nothing more than to avoid conflict and drama today, get this girl married, and ship her off to whatever golden sand beach she’s jetting to for her honeymoon.

  “This…is…not…happening,” Samantha says with great enunciation.

  “I’m afraid it is,” I say.

  “You are lying to me. You are simply jealous.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “Yes, you are one of those pathetic girls who can’t keep a guy so you spend your whole life consumed with sabotaging the lives of others who can.”

  “Sam!” one of her bridesmaids says, putting her hand on top of Samantha’s.

  In one fluid motion Samantha grabs the girl’s wrist and appears to squeeze it as she speaks. “And you’re one of those girls, too. You’re only in this wedding because I needed symmetry in the wedding party. Anthony has too many stupid brothers. I’d said, Do you have to use them all? And he’d said, It would be like me asking you to choose between your dogs. That, my dear, is how you ended up in this privileged position and you have the balls to side with this low class bitch?” Her eyes are as big as yo-yos as she points in my direction. The poor bridesmaid runs out of the room, but instead of finding the bathroom, presents the first reveal of the bridesmaid dresses to the guests who have been congregating in the ballroom waiting on word as to where to sit.

  “Well, I hope you are happy, Sam. Because everyone just saw my dress now.” She pivots toward the bathroom where she slams the door behind her.

  “This is all your fault,” she says to me. “You are ruining my wedding. Seat my guests outside immedi
ately. There will be no rain. Nobody will ruin this day. It’s the…happiest day of my life.”

  “You sure have a funny way of showing it,” I mumble to myself as I walk back into the ballroom to redirect the guests to the lawn, and, most likely, to the scene of panic that will begin in—I glance toward the sky—approximately a half hour.

  I radio to Marge to have staff stationed near the patio doors so that guests can be rushed inside when the downpour begins. Then I radio Ted who promised to be available if I needed anything today, though I’d sworn off needing his help. And after our encounter this morning, I’m not sure he even wants to talk to me.

  “Reese, what’s the matter?” he asks, the frequency of the radio crackling because of the impending storm.

  “I’m reporting that the bride has been advised to hold the wedding indoors and is refusing to listen to me.” There is a pause on the other end. “Which means, Ted, that in about half an hour two hundred people are going to be running for the lodge in a deluge of rain with bits of thunder and lightning thrown in for fun.”

  “And you advised the bride of this?”

  “Yep.”

  “Then let the party begin. I’ll be down shortly.”

  “No! I’ve got this under control. Trust me.”

  “I do, Reese. I trust you more than you know. Call me if the shit hits the fan.”

  “Thanks,” I say, smiling, because maybe Ted and I are closer to the same page in the book of our intertwined lives than I thought and because he’s probably correct about his assessment of how the next hour is going to go down.

  I have a brief conversation with Anthony, assuring him that when the downpour begins, I will have a plan in place to usher the guests inside as quickly as possible and that his darling betrothed is fully aware of the imminence of the rain. I know I could trump her wishes by insisting, for safety and liability reasons, the wedding be moved inside, but I have a point to prove with the princess, and I can’t wait to catch sight of the first drops of rain and her reaction to them.

  Helen and I move tables in the ballroom to make a clear path for guests entering the room in a hurry. We also call maintenance to have floor mats delivered pronto to lessen the chance of people slipping as they cross the dance floor with wet shoes. I peek outside to see the ushers seating guests. Several guests are carrying small umbrellas. At least they heed the warnings.