26. Sable
CHAPTER 26
sable
I came into the Wildflower during the lunch hour as I’d had a mammogram appointment. If men had to have their testicles scanned every year, I was certain a better machine would have been invented instead of one that crushed their balls as the mammogram machines did our boobs.
I froze as soon as I stepped inside my bar, which was packed .
Every table was full, voices filled the air, people were laughing, and servers were hurrying around like this was the hottest spot in Aspen.
These were primarily tourists in sleek ski resort jackets, designer boots, and the kind of watches that screamed money.
“Need your help, Sable.” Casey came to me with a loaded tray and smiled uneasily at a couple standing by the door. “They want to know if we take reservations.”
I raised both eyebrows. “Say what? ”
“Yeah. It’s nuts today.”
“Okay, you go and take care of your customers, and I’ll handle the…ah… reservations .”
Casey gratefully left. I smiled at the couple. “Good afternoon. When do you need a table for? Now?”
I looked around and saw that there was a stool open at the bar. Maybe I could squeeze in another.
“Tomorrow night,” the woman chirped. “I hear you have live jazz on Saturdays.”
“Yeah, we do.”
“See, my family is here, and we’re like twenty people.”
I cleared my throat.
“I know it’s late notice,” she said, panicked, “but the jazz band that’s playing is my father’s favorite from New Orleans, and it’s his sixtieth, so?—”
“Shouldn’t be a problem.” I walked to the hostess’ desk and pulled up the seating system. We could reserve tables, but we didn’t give that option on our website. The Wildflower was a walk-in place, a tavern, for God’s sake.
I wrote down their names and times and reserved a table for twenty near the band. The couple was very grateful, and so was I.
I continued to be grateful when the phone rang, and I had several more reservations for jazz night.
Natasha came in a few hours later. The place was still buzzing.
It was so busy that, for the first time, Elijah told me that he was worried he would run out of bison sliders.
I served Natasha the Chardonnay she liked. “Do you know what’s goin’ on? It’s like every tourist in town is here.”
Natasha grinned. “That’s because there are flyers all over the Royal Hotel about your award-winning sliders and?—”
“The sliders won an award?” I didn’t know that.
Natasha shrugged. “Not sure, but that’s what the flyer says. Plus, every room key comes with one of those vouchers for a drink—advertising jazz night here.”
Resorts often gave out vouchers for drinks or dinners at local establishments around Aspen, but we weren’t usually the kind of place to get those perks. They were reserved for high-end bars and restaurants. The way it worked, the resort that handed out the voucher would cover the tab. Although this system had been in place for years, the Wildflower, a tavern, had never been part of it—until, apparently, now.
“Heath.” It wasn’t a question.
“He’s all in.” She winked at me, looking utterly satisfied.
“All into what?” I asked and smiled at a guest who waved their credit card at me.
“Making it right.”
I looked at her, baffled, and went to help my guest close his tab.
Later, Mackenna told me that Royal Hotels that was how I’d survived my whole life. Yesterday was gone, and tomorrow was not here. All I had was now, and I had to make that work.
I was thinking about how to thank Heath for his help.
Regardless of how he’d treated me, he didn’t have to go this extra mile, and he had, and I was grateful. No one had ever apologized to me for their bad behavior, but he had. And he was trying to make things right, as Natasha said. I appreciated that a lot. I also felt like a complete loser for feeling that way because these were crumbs compared to his emotional assault on me. I’d thank him, yes, but I couldn’t forgive or forget. I’d done too much of that with Jack, and I’d ended up with a husband who cheated on me (and, to my petty pleasure, got cheated on himself).
As if fate were on my side, I bumped into Heath at the pharmacy the following day before I could figure out how to say thank you. I was looking for natural sleep aids, hoping that would help me sleep because nothing else seemed to be working. It had been suggested that I take some edibles, but I was a drug addict’s daughter and afraid as hell of trying chemicals, even weed.
I was checking out a bottle of capsules called Dreamy, which contained melatonin, chamomile, valerian root, and a plethora of other ingredients that should help knock me out when I heard him call out my name.
“Sable.”
For a moment, we stared at each other…deer caught in each other’s headlights. Then he smiled—a small, tentative gesture. I smiled back.
“Hey.” He came closer.
I clutched the bottle of Dreamy. “Hey.”
There was an awkward pause as we waited for something… anything to happen.
“Ah…thank you,” I broke the silence.
He tilted his head.
“For sending half of Aspen’s tourists to the Wildflower last night.”
His smile turned sheepish. “I want to help.
“You have helped.” I surprised myself with the softness in my tone. For all my bravado about not being able to forgive or forget—I was also having trouble forgetting the man who cooked me dinner and tried to teach me to ski. “Thank you.”
He nodded, shoving his hands into his jacket pockets. “Your business was in trouble because of me and?— ”
“It was not you,” I cut him off.
“Your tavern is struggling because you’re inexperienced. You don’t know what you’re doing, and instead of fixing it, you’re blaming everyone else. Do you think this is Alexa’s fault? No, Sable. This is on you.”
“It was,” he continued smoothly. “I refused to believe Daniel or Alexa were involved. I had an inkling that Daniel might be….”
“You knew about…ah, the mayor?” He knew, and yet he blamed me. Yeah, so not forgetting or forgiving.
“He’d approached me earlier about…well, fixing my marriage. I thought he was sticking his foot in. I didn’t think he could do much damage. I was going to talk to him but…things….”
“You got busy.” I gave a self-deprecating laugh. “I was worrying like crazy, and you got too busy to ask your father-in-law if he was fucking with the tavern?”
“Yeah,” he admitted, not looking away. “I fucked up.”
“ I paid for it.”
“Yeah, you did.”
“Well, thank you for…ah…the tourists. But you don’t have to do anything more. You don’t owe me anything.”
“I do.” He stepped closer. I took a step away from him and ignored the pain that flashed in his eyes.
“I owe you an apology, Sable. I owe you more than that.”
I looked down, shaking my head. I didn’t know what to say. I felt like crying, and like hell I’d show him my tears. I didn’t trust Heath anymore. He’d taken what I’d told him about the worst times in my life, and he’d used that to hurt me, and through no fault of my own.
“I made a mistake,” he continued, his voice softer now. “And I don’t expect you to forgive me.”
Big of him , I thought sourly, but I didn’t bother to look up from re-reading the tiny print on the stupid bottle I was holding. It also contained magnesium and something called Tryptophan.
“I need you to know that I am so fucking sorry.”
When I was sure he was done talking, I raised my eyes back to him. The look in his eyes nearly undid me. There was so much there—regret, hope, and guilt. Loads and loads of guilt.
“Okay, Heath. Thank you for….” What? Saying you’re sorry? How did that help me? How did that make me feel better? It did not.
“Sable, if you ever need me, just know that I’m there for you and?—”
I laughed without humor, cutting him off. “You think I’ll ever trust you again to ask you for anything ?”
He looked like I’d stabbed him.
“I asked you for respect and kindness. You gave me neither,” I whispered.
I saw some people walk past our aisle. Fuck! I was making a scene in public. I was no better than Heath.
“I am grateful for your help." I kept my tone neutral. “Say hi to Juno for me, and take care of yourself.”
There, that was polite. The people who were eavesdropping would think that Heath and Sable were now friendly and not at odds with each other. Good .
He opened his mouth to say something else, but before he could, I stepped back.
“People are listening to us,” I murmured. “And I’m done giving this town a show.”
“Sable—”
“Goodnight, Heath.”
I took the herbal sleep aid bottle to the counter and paid for it, glad Heath wasn’t standing behind me in line. I ignored the looks that people gave me, which told me they’d seen us together and that there would be chatter about it.
Maybe it would be better for me to leave town. Then this kind of thing wouldn’t happen.
But was I really ready to leave Aspen and the new people in my life, the women who’d come to my home to drink with me and take care of me?
As I drove home, my heart felt like it was caught in a tug-of-war. No matter how much I tried to fight it, the truth was clear: I was still in love with Heath, and all the wounds he had inflicted were open and bleeding.