19. Grady
CHAPTER 19
GRADY
“You double-checked all the ingredients, right?” I ask Finn, who is busy behind the bar preparing a jug of chilled Earl Grey tea. I’m fidgeting, organizing and reorganizing the recipe cards I printed out for him. They had been arranged in alphabetical order, and now I’ve got them sorted by the alcohol base, with a separate category for mocktails.
“Quadruple-checked. We’re good to go. Relax.” Finn places a hand on my shoulder. The number of cocktail submissions was staggering, and I’m not going to lie, I’m nervous. The reassuring smile on Finn’s open expression eases some of the tension within me. “People are here to have fun, raise a little money. It’ll be great.”
“Yeah, I know. I just want this to go well.” I give him a sheepish look.
“It will. You’ve got this.”
“I just wish I knew what we were raising money for. Spencer still hasn’t filled me in on that part,” I admit.
“Damn. That’s one ambitious woman,” Finn says, placing the jug of iced tea in the mini fridge below the counter.
“She is,” I say, and she’s found some way of rubbing off on me, giving me a voice I never had. Over the last few weeks, she’s shown me a side of myself that I never even knew I possessed. She’s brought out the part of me that is passionate, driven, and wants to get shit done. Maybe I have known that part of me is in there somewhere, but I had let myself neglect it. I’d forgotten that I could go after something and make it happen. I was always making things happen for other people, for my brothers, my family. Doing this now, it’s allowed me to have both. I can be of service to others and still honour the things that matter to me. What matters to me right now is Heartwood. The town where my parents met, where I grew up, where I want my own family to thrive one day.
“You’ve got guests,” Finn says, nodding towards the door. I turn to see Eleanor and Marko arriving first, Winnie close behind them.
Rounding the bar, I weave through the tables to meet them, giving Eleanor and Winnie both a quick kiss on the cheek.
“Ladies,” I say. “Good to see you, Marko.” I shake his hand.
“Where’s Spencer?” Eleanor asks. “I thought for sure she’d be here by now, sneaking in some one-on-one time with you before it starts.” Eleanor winks at me, and I catch the smile playing on Winnie’s face. Eleanor obviously filled her in on Spencer and I’s dynamic at dinner the other night, and Winnie looks like a proud mother hen.
“She’s coming. Her mom is in town, so they’re getting ready together at home.” I catch the way I’ve said home, as if it’s implied that it’s Spencer’s home, too. I clear my throat, trying to stifle the colour that’s flushing my cheeks now. “Go and get yourselves a drink.” I reach into my jeans pocket and pull out six red tickets, handing them each two. “Everyone gets two drink tickets, and then the rest is on you.”
They move towards the bar, making room for the next guests. Mason opens the heavy wooden door for Ally, a protective hand placed on her lower back as she enters, and her face lights up when she sees me.
“Grady! You’ve outdone yourself,” she says. “This place looks incredible!” She gestures around her at the new paint job, the new tables and chairs I brought in, and the bookshelves lining one wall, housing some vintage books and bottles of whiskey. Exactly like Spencer’s design.
“It was Spencer’s idea,” I admit. I know this whole evening is supposed to be about fixing my image, but whatever recognition, compliments, or attention this event and the bar gets tonight, I want it to go to her.
“It’s really …” Mason starts, but as he looks around, I can tell he’s at a loss for words. All he’s able to say is, “Dad would have loved this place.” It hits me in the chest, sending a pang right through me. I’ve never told Mason that the bar is my outlet for my grief, but his assessment skills are astute, and he’s always had a special way of knowing what I need to hear.
I hand him two drink tickets, and as he takes them from me, I clasp my hand around his in a meaningful handshake.
“Ally, your drinks are on me tonight. There’s a decent mocktail menu, too. Elsie made a non-alcoholic cotton candy drink that looks incredible,” I explain.
Ally and Mason head towards the bar as another group of people file in. I recognize one as another city councillor. Suzanne, the chair of the board of education, came with her wife, and a few others that I welcome with handshakes and one-armed hugs.
My line of sight is briefly drawn to the door, and I do a double-take. Spencer and Marla managed to sneak in behind them all, and for a moment, Spencer the only person I see. Standing there in a red dress with white polka dots, the short hemline showing off her beautiful long legs, made even longer by the strappy white heels she’s wearing.
God, she’s stunning. When I glance over at the woman next to her, it’s obvious to everyone in the room where she inherited her looks from.
Spencer’s gaze meets mine, and her mouth widens into an open-mouthed smile when she spots me. She flashes me a wink and lifts the camera from where it’s hanging around her neck, mouthing the words thank you as I’m pulled into another hug by the petite elderly woman who owns the antique shop.
I mouth the words of course back to her, over the woman’s shoulder. Before I’m able to get to Spencer, another group of people have filed in, all wanting my attention, all wanting to say how much they love the idea of the cocktail contest. By the time I’m able to look for Spencer again, she’s gone.
I scan the dimly-lit bar, my gaze catching on that burgundy dress. She’s deep in conversation with Suzanne in the back booth, her hands waving around. By the intent way that Suzanne is listening to her, I get the distinct impression that Spencer is sharing one of her wild, genius plans with her. It piques my curiosity. What business does Spencer have with the board of education? And why are they talking as if they already know each other?
“She’s a lovely girl.” A familiar voice approaches me from behind, catching me in the act of staring at Spencer. Winnie.
“Hey, Mama,” I greet her, having to lean down as I always do to pull her in for a hug. I didn’t get a chance to give her one in the throng of people when she first arrived.
“Eleanor told me you and Spencer were quite the pair,”Winnie says, and my cheeks heat. I adore talking about Spencer like we’re a real couple, but the conversation feels off limits.
“You know how she likes to get ahead of herself.” I dismiss the comment, hoping that it’s enough for Winnie to want to change the subject.
“I don’t know … you wear your feelings pretty close to your chest. If Eleanor picked up on something between you two, I’d be willing to bet there was a reason for it.”Winnie is right, the good-natured exterior I put on is often a mask to hide my true feelings. Spencer is the first person who has seen me through it. My heart flutters. If I believe that what we have is real, and so many others are starting to recognize it, maybe Spencer will start to see it, too.
“It doesn’t matter what I feel, Winnie. She’s just passing through. I doubt there’s anything I could do or say at this point to convince her otherwise. Spencer goes wherever the wind takes her.”
“Sometimes if you want something, you have to go after it. You can’t just sit there and hope that the wind changes direction.” Winnie looks me in the eyes when she says this, and it rings true somewhere deep within me, a new part of myself opening up to the concept. A part of me that’s never truly considered what I want, let alone how to get it. When I was young, people asked me what I wanted to be when I grew up and I never had an answer. Not an astronaut or a professional baseball player. I never dared to let myself dream. When we lost Mom, my life shifted to make sure that my brothers were okay. Now that I have something in my grasp, something I want more than anything, I know it’s worth chasing. I know it’s worth the discomfort of going after it.Even if it means getting my heart broken.
I can’t say all this to Winnie. How could I put into words that I’ve let myself go with the flow my entire life because I never knew anything different, and that I’m only now finding my way back to the shore?
So instead, I shrug, and as I do, I feel a small soft hand wrap around the inside of my bicep.
“What are we talking about?” Spencer says, leaning her weight into me.Winnie excuses herself with a knowing glance, and I turn to face Spencer once she’s walked away.
“Just how incredible you are,” I say, Winnie’s words offering me a bit of courage to say what’s on my mind. I’m even more motivated now to be candid and truthful, and to say how I feel about Spencer in plain language so that there is no more questioning what she means to me. To start saying the things I’ve been feeling for Spencer since she arrived. Longer. Since I saw her for the very first time. “And how well you fit in here, how quickly you’ve made yourself at home here.”
“You’ve made it easy to fall in love with Heartwood.” She smiles as she looks up at me, and I wonder if she could be falling in love with me, too. The way I’ve fallen for her. Looking into her eyes now, an endless sea of green, I realize that I have. Whatever happens, I have to figure out how to keep her. Her eyes roam over my face, and I pray for time to slow down, wanting to bask in her gaze forever. “You changed the name of the bar.”
“I thought about it a lot, what you said.” I consider my next words. “You made a good point.”
“I did what now?” Spencer brings her hand up to her ear and cups it, a cheeky smirk lifting her lips.
“I said you had a point. Several, actually.”
“It sounds like you’re admitting I was right, Landry,” she says, crossing her arms over her puffed-out chest in a show of vindication.
“Fine. Yes. You were right. You’ve been right about all of it,” I say, letting my eyes roll playfully.
“Okay, so keep that in mind for this next part …” Spencer grabs me by the shoulders, her small hands unable to wrap around my biceps, and she turns me toward a microphone set up in the corner. It’s beckoning me in a way that makes my palms sweat. “It’s time to make your speech.”
I whirl back around to her, a please forgive me look on her gorgeous, freckled face.
“Speech?” I stammer. “Spencer, I am not a public speaker.”
“Sure you are. You talk to people at the bar all day. You’re a charmer. Just go be a charmer up there.” She’s dragging me across the bar now, and I feel bile rising in my throat.
“I can talk to people, sure. One on one. Small groups.”
“What about trivia night?”
“That’s different. I have questions prepared. I have nothing prepared.”
“Then it’s a good thing I do.” She shoves a folded piece of paper towards me, and I unfold it, realizing that she has, in fact, written me an entire speech. I just have to say it. Now I don’t have an excuse.
I approach the microphone and give it a couple of taps to make sure it’s on. It is, and I feel about a hundred pairs of eyes on me, waiting for what I have to say. This is it, my moment. The moment that is meant to garner support for me and my cause, to change people’s perception of me. My palms are sweating. The paper in my hand crinkles, the sound amplifies across the bar.
“Good evening, everyone,” I start, scanning the page. The microphone screeches slightly before I start speaking again. “Thank you all for coming and participating in the First Annual Cocktail Contest.”
First annual? I shake my head slightly. I guess this will be a yearly occasion. My eyes find Spencer in the crowd, she’s beaming from ear to ear, her hands clasped in front of her. Since I have no willpower where Spencer is concerned, I keep going.
“The turnout is incredible, and you all put so much time and effort into the cocktails. As you all know, the purpose of this event is two-fold. First and foremost, to highlight all the amazing small businesses that make Heartwood what it is. You are the beating heart of this town. Second, as you are all aware, the winner of the cocktail contest, that is, whoever sells the most cocktails tonight will have their drink featured on the regular menu at the Whi—at Jack’s,” I correct. “Proceeds of tonight, and drink sales for the rest of the year, will go towards supporting up-and-coming entrepreneurs.”
A few people clap at this announcement, and I continue, still unsure of how Spencer has planned on achieving this.
“This support will come in the form of a bursary available to graduating students of Heartwood High, to support them through business school or as a start-up fund for their business idea. Later this week—” I pause as I quickly scan the page ahead and realization dawns on me of what Spencer has planned, the commitment she’s made on my behalf. I can only keep reading now, so I continue, “I will be at the Heartwood High career fair, where the first student to be awarded this bursary will be announced based on nominations from their teachers.”
The bar erupts into applause and hollers, and I look up from the paper, an incontrollable smile taking over my face. I’m starting to get a glimpse of Spencer’s master plan now, and hope blooms inside my chest. This might just work. A flash blinds me momentarily, and I realize it came from Spencer’s camera. She’s beaming with pride, in herself, in me.
I thank everyone one last time and click off the microphone before weaving back through the crowd to find Spencer. I’m about to scoop her up into my arms, twirl her around, and give her a kiss, because I no longer give a fuck about showing my affection for her publicly, but she’s launched into an excited rant before I get the chance.
“Oh my God, Grady, that was amazing!” she cries when I reach her. “I can’t believe that worked! I mean, I can. I put a lot of thought into that speech, and your delivery killed it.” She’s talking about a mile a minute and all I can do is just listen to her with a big, dumb smile plastered on my face. “Wait until I send Mile High the footage of that. I might just be the best damn publicist they will ever see.”
Whatever this newfound wave of confidence is in Spencer, I’m eating up every bit of it. Finally, she recognizes how talented she is, how amazing she is. Though, something she’s said also causes me to pause. This is still about her end goal, not about me or Heartwood, but about how it’s going to get her to where she needs to be.
Spencer has managed to get her way again. She does what needs to be done in order to come out on top. Her entire life, she’s fought for everything she has. Despite the encouragement Winnie gave me earlier, I suddenly feel inadequate for Spencer. A feeling of dread washes over me at the thought that if leaving is what she really wants, then it isn’t going to matter what I say or do. I can be as candid and as transparent as I want, and still, this relationship has been and always will be on Spencer’s terms.