Chapter Twelve
Duncan
“Are you sure I look all right?” I studied myself in the mirror, seeing someone I barely recognized. “I haven’t worn a suit in years.” So many, I didn’t even have one, had donated the last version two moves ago. “The collar is tight.”
“I told you you didn’t have to wear a tie. You can go open collar. No one will care.” Ocean ran a brush through his hair and set it on the sink.
“You’re wearing a tie.”
“I’m giving a speech. The guy giving a speech has to dress up more than the hot date waiting at the table.”
I reached for the tie then let my hand drop. “If I’m supposed to be the hot date, I’d better go all the way. It’s not going to kill me for one night.”
“You do look good. Eye candy.” He winked. “Ready?”
“As I’ll ever be.” It had taken some convincing to get me to agree to attend this dinner.
When I pointed out the lack of appropriate attire in my wardrobe, I found myself in his tailor’s little shop on some exclusive street I didn’t even know existed, having one of my brother’s suits fitted for me.
He was a little taller and about twenty pounds heavier, but Ocean was shorter and more muscular, making the alterations less possible.
He wanted to buy me something new, but the quality in either of their closets was so much better than off the rack.
I could only hope Bob would forgive me. And that it wasn’t one of his favorites.
Once he’d gone to all that trouble and pointed out that he didn’t want to be the only one at the table without a date or spouse, I had to cave. His past daddy had refused to go to anything work related, saying there was no need for him to work at all.
After he handed the keys to his hybrid to the valet, I asked, “Ocean? Your ex…what did he do for a living? I mean, if he wanted you to be a stay-at-home spouse, he must have had a good job.”
He snorted. “Gas station manager.”
“With an ego.” He reached out for my hand, and we strolled into the lobby.
“I see that now. And this place. Wow.”
“It’s nice enough. There’s the sign for our event. Ready to meet my work friends?”
“You’re sure you want me to?”
He stopped and looked me in the eye. “I want you here. If you feel uncomfortable, we’ll both leave. I’ll have one of the other VPs give my speech.”
“I would never ask that of you. But I’m also not going to ask you to be alone, and I’ll do my best to represent.”
“Just be yourself, Duncan. I’m proud to be with you.” He looked past me and smiled. “George, you made it. Come and meet Duncan.”
The fellow he addressed came level with us. He was as polished as Ocean, as was the man on his arm. “Duncan.” He shook my hand. “This is Stewart, my better half. It’s nice to finally meet you.”
I shook the other man’s hand as well, a little surprised. Ocean had told people about me? I mean, sure, everyone knew him at my restaurant where he’d come in to join me on meal breaks, but somehow I hadn’t thought about him talking to the people at his corporate job about me.
The four of us walked together into the ballroom and found our table.
We were shortly joined by two other couples and a waiter came to take our drink orders.
The room filled quickly, and the conversation at our table was both lively and interesting.
I thought it would be all shop talk, but those who accompanied Ocean’s coworkers had their own careers, and I found myself discussing archaeology of all things with Stewart.
He had just returned from a dig and was very excited to show off the pictures on his phone.
I’d never met someone who did that work before.
There was also a doctor, a stock market analyst, and a long-haul truck driver, Tony.
He also had great stories about crisscrossing the country in all weathers, carrying the most interesting cargo.
Although he didn’t have as fancy a job as the others, he was so fun to talk to.
And then, George said, “That’s the restaurant Duncan works at? Why didn’t you say anything. We go there all the time, don’t we, Stewart? It’s our favorite.”
“That’s right. Good food, fair prices, and it’s open at the odd hours when we want to grab a bite. I guess we just haven’t happened in when you’re working. How did you ever get a chef that good?”
For a solid fifteen minutes, everyone at the table wanted to hear all about my work.
As if it was no different than any of the others.
I didn’t have a college degree or search for artifacts.
I didn’t haul a gigantic sculpture from Maine to Portland for an exhibit.
I ran a good restaurant that served good food at good prices.
Basic, simple, and I never realized how much that mattered, not just to people with an average income but everyone.
Food mattered.
Ocean beamed.
Dinner was no different from any other banquet I’d ever been to, certainly not up to the standards of our restaurant, and somehow that was comforting as well.
I sat with people who came from different worlds than me, but we were all finding things in common, being interested in one another’s lives.
My first jump into Ocean’s work life, and all my worries about feeling less than, maybe even embarrassing him, were coming to nothing.
It was unusual for me to be so lacking in confidence, but this man meant so much to me, I’d allowed myself to think in a negative way. Not going to happen again. For the first time, I thought that maybe it could work despite how different we were.
After dessert and coffee were served, the lights dimmed and the speeches began.
I toyed with my carrot cake and didn’t really pay attention until Ocean stood up and moved to the podium.
Then I sat up straight, listening to him discuss the person being honored this evening.
He spoke for about ten minutes, and by the time he was done, I had no doubt the elderly man who was helped up on the stage deserved to be honored on the occasion of his retirement.
I looked around the room, seeing the others paying full attention to what my date had to say. That had not been the case for some of the other speakers. Could be because he was the one introducing the honoree, but it was also because he spoke so well.
I could listen to him speak all night. Yet, he knew how not to go on too long, whereas others had not.
He had charisma and knew his subject. He was respected by his colleagues.
Anyone who wanted him to give this up and do a job like stay-at-home spouse, when he so clearly loved his work and those he worked with—was an asshole.
On the way home, we both took off our ties and talked about the evening. He told me lots of bits of gossip about the others who’d been present, and now that I could put names to faces, it was interesting.
And it had been fun. In the end, going to a stuffie work event had been a great time because of who I was with. Just the way it ought to be.