Chapter 18
DINNER PARTY
My mother was never one for hosting. She was a self-proclaimed hermit, and that trait seemed to pass along to me with ease.
However, I find my excitement about having a friend come over is palpable.
In preparation, I made all the things I hoped would make for an enjoyable meal.
A cheese plate with olives. Spaghetti with meatballs and dark chocolate brownies for dessert, because if I know how to do one thing, it’s bake.
The oven goes off right as the doorbell rings and sounds through the thick walls of the relic estate that I now call a home. It must be an old Southern house quirk. The way sound reverberates through everything, but it still spooks me every time.
I hurry to the door after pulling the warm treats out of the oven so they have time to cool.
The moment I open it, I am greeted by an overly bright smile from Cher.
Her smile holds an ounce of apology, because behind her stands a very tall and very amused man.
Que. And the smirk on his face tells me he is very pleased to have found his way in on our dinner date.
“We’re here!” Cher sings brightly.
“Ah, yes, we’re…” I say as I dart my eyes to Que, but look away instantly because his eyes were already on me.
“I found Que wandering the streets on my way here, and he just looked so pitiful. I hope you don’t mind my dragging him along.
He could really use a dinner among friends instead of one of his late-night ladies for a change.
” Que clears his throat at her bluntness, and I nearly trip over my next words.
“Oh,” I blush and speak again, “Uh, yes, that’s no problem. We should have plenty of food.”
Earning a sideways glance from Cher’s uninvited friend, I walk them to the library and hand them each a glass of red wine.
Apart from the liquor, the wine was a little harder to come across at the estate.
A couple of bottles sat undisturbed in the bottom cupboard of the pantry with a note most likely written by my uncle.
The writing is neat and clear—unexpected from someone said to suffer from mental ailments.
It read, ‘must retrieve more,’ but retrieve from where is the question. My first guess would be the basement, but a resounding no is all I hear when I think of traveling down those cold, damp steps. I made a unanimous decision that the bottles up here would have to do for the night.
“The wine is quite good,” a nonchalant male voice breaks the silence. “I’m detecting notes of oak,” Que grins. Any other man saying that statement would make me cringe, but he says it rather mockingly, like a one-sided joke only he gets.
“Que knows his way around a wine cellar,” chimes Cher. “He actually traveled the world and brought back a bottle from each place he has visited. He let me tag along for a couple. Quite an adventure. We traveled all along the Balkan Mountains, France…oh, and Scotland.”
“Wow, that sounds like quite an adventure indeed. So, you two are a couple then?” I ask, hoping not to come off too nosy. Cher’s eyes widen in horror, and then her boisterous laughter rings through the room. Making my question sound like one of the funniest things she has heard in her life.
“Oh God, no!!” Cher voices through tears of laughter.
Que is looking at Cher with a smirk of adoration and then to me, but I turn my eyes quickly toward Cher as she continues, “Que is just my oldest, dearest friend. We grew up together. We’ve been through a lot of life’s big events, so we have a bit of an unwritten pact of sorts.
Like—siblings, I guess.” She ponders that for a moment before she continues,
“Although I think if we were siblings, we would’ve killed each other a long time ago.” And with that, she bursts out laughing again. Her laugh is infectious, and I find myself pulled into it, smiling along.
“So, what is your favorite part of this house so far, Jade?” Que pulls my attention away as he looks me dead on. “I hear this place makes quite an impression on people. Your uncle being one of them. Mad as a hatter, they would say.” Que says it as if it were a fact.
“I’m not sure about my uncle. To be honest, I didn’t know him.” I look to Que, trying to get a read on him. I would expect to take offense at his comment about the uncle I never knew, but he says it as if it were just a natural occurrence.
“I suppose the property is my favorite part. There is an old willow by the water I’m quite fond of. But mostly, I like the stillness of it all here. The house. The property. It just…is.” I admit, realizing my tongue led me to be more sincere that I would like.
I look around, bashful at my openness. But I am not met with judgement. As I look at these two dinner guests, who are strangers really, only empathy sits at this dinner table. Especially Que, who eyes me with intention. The spell is broken quickly.
“Let’s hear more of your thoughts about the other trees.
I bet there is quite a variety here, including a famed oak.
Rumor has it, it’s well over five hundred years old.
Right, Cher?” And they look at each other in an oddly deceiving way.
I find it hard to believe that a tree on the estate would be on anyone’s radar for town gossip. But, this is a strange place.
“There is a big, old oak. Massive really. A large limb broke the other day. It took out one of the other trees near it during the storm last week.” With my declaration of that fact, or maybe it was when the word ‘oak’ came out of my mouth, Que’s moon-colored ring around his iris flashed an iridescent twinkle impossible to miss.
“Imagine that.” Que says, looking at me intensely. Cher breaks the silence by smacking her red lips together. A sure hint to keep the mood light.
We change the topic to Cher’s work at the record shop. It’s a lighter conversation, and I find out she has just moved back to town from an extended vacation. Her record shop being on a bit of a sabbatical until now.
Hungry and sightly tipsy, we make our way to the dinner table, piling food high on our plates. Charm oozes from both of them as if they’ve practiced wooing newcomers their whole lives. And every once in a while, I find Que’s eyes locked on mine, which makes my skin tingle.
I could go without that added reaction, having enough on my plate with Ry’s confusing advances. I don’t want to like it, but he is exceptionally handsome. It would be odd if I didn’t find it at least a little pleasing.
By the time we finish eating, we are feeling quite good from the two bottles of wine that now sit empty, littered across the dining table.
“Oh, shoot. Looks like we are out of wine,” Cher pouts, her mouth making somewhat of a dramatic statement with full lips stained a wine-colored cherry hue.
“I could only find the two bottles upstairs. I’m sure there are more somewhere around here, but I haven’t had the nerve to venture around to look very hard for them.” I say, and I realize the wine is making my lips looser than I would like.
I am loving this company, but something sets me on edge about the way Cher and Que seem to know things about the property and even about my uncle, for that matter. All dinner they’ve been spilling little facts and secrets like they know more than the average towny.
And then, Que stands with mischief in his eyes.
“Well, shall we?” He holds his hand out to me.
“Shall we what?” I ask a bit confused and off balance by the sudden change of sitting down version of Que, to him towering over me in his full height.
He isn’t the tallest man, maybe six foot at best, but charisma oozes off him and must add at least two feet of allure.
An allure that he knows most women respond eagerly to.
“Well, we are out of wine, and I imagine there is a wine cellar is this massive estate. So, shall we have a look around?” He says to me in such a casual way, you would think we’ve known each other for years.
“Oh, yes, please!” Cher declares, looking to me, her eyes ecstatic.
“I am in need of more libations!” She stands up, but wobbles a bit, obviously feeling the effects of the numerous glasses she has drunk already.
I find her choice of words humorous, coming from a time that doesn’t quite fit this one.
“Well, I guess maybe I should sit this one out. I’ll stay here with the brownies while you two look. Please and thank you!” I giggle at how she speaks, or maybe it is from the fact that I too have had more than a few glasses.
Because of this giggle, I almost miss the look Cher directs toward the charming man beside me.
It’s an omniscient look that passes between the two of them.
And before I can make much of it, I am whisked out of my chair by my arm and dragged toward the basement—feeling pleased that I slipped off my heels under the table before I was stolen out of my seat to look for the lost wine.
Otherwise, I would be tripping all over myself even more so than I already am.
Que keeps dragging me forward hand in hand and looks back every once in a while to shoot a mischievous look. I’m feeling overly bubbly and welcoming of his overwhelming presence. His manner having a way of slowly growing on me.
That is until we come to the basement door.
“Oh no, I don’t think they would be down there.” I exclaim, knowing my words taste untruthful and are based more in fear than anything else.
“You do know that most wine cellars are in basements. I truly doubt you are that dense,” Que says and crooks his eyebrow at me like he can see through my facade.
“True, but not in Louisiana…In fact, I’m very curious how there is even one here at all. It can’t be safe. Probably flooded…” I say, trying to sound like I know what I’m talking about.
“Ah, yes. But this is a very curious house. Things that shouldn’t be—are. Or so I’ve heard…” After his unsettling remark, Que opens the door.