Chapter 18 #3
She needed him to stay, but the inevitability of losing him cast a shadow over her happiness.
The cuff tightened, the quiet hum filling the room. Willa watched the numbers climb, her focus narrowing. She didn’t realize she was holding her breath until the cuff released.
One-forty-two over eighty-eight.
She let the air out slowly. “That’s good, Dad. Really good.”
“Since you’ve taken all the fun out of my life, it better be.”
“You’re much better, and that’s all I care about.” She unwrapped the cuff. “Now put your shoes on and come downstairs with me.”
He pushed to his feet—steady and strong—and bent to pull on his boots.
As she watched, he glanced up. “Look at that. I did it all on my own.”
“If you’re done, can we get going? I’ve got a date tonight.”
“A date, huh?” He tied the laces. “It wouldn’t be with that football guy, would it?” He followed her out of the room. “Don’t think I haven’t noticed you playing footsies under the table. You’re not as sneaky as you think.”
“Dad.” She couldn’t believe he’d call her out on it.
“What? You always had such rotten taste in boys.”
She opened the door to the stairway. “Well, trust me, Decker’s no boy.”
“I know.” He stopped, the humor fading. “I just don’t want you to get hurt.”
“Trust me, neither do I.” She headed down the stairs. “But it’s too late for that.”
“Does it have to be so complicated? Plenty of people make long-distance work.”
As if she hadn’t spent hours going over every possibility.
“Our careers are demanding enough, but add in a child?” She shook her head.
“I already know where I’d fall on his list of priorities.
” She felt the pull of it—toward Decker, toward the possibility—and made herself keep walking anyway.
“But that’s how it should be. Birdie has to come first right now.
” She opened the kitchen door. “Maybe someday our lives will line up. But this…” The words came out smaller than she meant to. “This isn’t the right time for us.”
In the middle of dinner service, it was loud and busy—pans clanging, the sharp hiss of something hitting hot oil, voices calling out orders. The air was thick with the smell of garlic, butter, and searing meat.
“You’re going to love this.” Willa stepped into the dining room. “Can you believe it?”
Thanks to the new pianist, every table was full, and a crowd waited, spilling out onto the sidewalk. His lively tunes and booming voice could be heard a block in either direction.
As her dad broke into a soft grin, her heart swelled with love. What if she’d lost him? She pushed her arm through his. “I love you, Dad. And I’m so glad to be here with you.”
Her dad patted her hand where it rested between them.
He was a man of few words, but she’d never doubted his love or devotion.
The reddening of his cheeks and the mist in his eyes was all the response she needed from him.
He swallowed thickly, then tipped his chin to the saloon.
“You did good, Willa-Bear. I never thought I’d see it like this again. ”
“Yeah, I was worried there for a minute. But this town sure did come through for us.”
“He really learned that songbook.” Her dad took it all in. “Just like it used to be in here, huh?”
“Well, almost. We still need to teach the servers the routines.” When she was growing up, service was choreographed. They knew just the right moment to stop taking orders and break into song and dance. It had been such fun.
The pianist’s sleeves were rolled up, his dark hair falling into his eyes as he sang with energy. The melody was a gold rush drinking song—a favorite from her childhood.
Oh, Clara kept her corset tight,
Said she’d behave till Saturday night,
But whiskey talks and vows don’t sell—
Now she’s the pride of the Barrelhouse Belle!
Right at that line, the servers used to flip their skirts. The guests loved it. She’d have to teach the routines to the new staff.
Do I even remember them?
Who cares! We can make new ones.
She added it to her mental list of jobs for the new general manager. She’d had a few interviews already, but no one stood out. It needed to be someone who understood the vibe of this place. This wasn’t a standard hotel.
“Nice costumes,” her dad said.
The skirts were made of real silk and cotton with structured bodices. The dresses had weight, so when they turned, the fabric whispered against itself. A server breezed past them and left behind the scent of lavender sachets and starch.
She loved this place. She loved everything about it. The antler chandelier overhead glowed amber, the brass rail along the bar shone with fresh polish, and the wall-length mirror behind the bar made the whole saloon look even larger than it was.
When the piano player launched into a new song, she got hit with a burst of something warm. “Remember this one?”
Her dad nodded. “Sure, I do. It was your favorite.” He snugged an arm around her. “Go on. Show them how it’s done.”
Why was she waiting to hire a general manager to get the routines started when she could do it herself right then?
The hit of excitement had her feet moving across the room.
She’d only had enough costumes for the servers, so she’d dipped into her closet to find some of her old ones.
The blue cotton dress she’d chosen fit a lot tighter in the bust, but she could still zip it.
The hem grazed the top of her worn leather boots.
She’d pulled her hair into a ponytail that morning, but a busy day had coaxed it loose, and strands brushed her shoulders.
She stood by the piano and joined the refrain. No one really noticed, but her dad was grinning so wide, she could feel his pleasure like radiant heat.
One of the best things about taking a leave of absence was finally getting to see her dad for who he really was. Shame on her mom for trying to break the bond between them.
Only this time around, she was the caregiver—a total reversal of their roles—and it made her feel so tender toward him.
As her confidence grew, her voice rose, turned bawdier, and heads turned.
People stopped eating. Randy, from housekeeping, hurried down the stairs and joined her.
Darryl, the kitchen manager, who’d been with them for twenty years, practically flew into the room.
More joined, and soon, there were eight of them, acting out the routine.
That song led straight into the next, and Willa dropped all inhibitions. She might not remember every line, but she was having the time of her life. As she swung around, her skirt flared, her hair sprang free of the elastic, and she sang with gusto.
She felt a presence like a tingle at the back of her neck, and when she saw Decker standing beside her dad, arms folded across his chest, ball cap low on his forehead, joy flooded her.
I love him.
A spasm in her chest had her qualifying. I love being with him. I don’t know him well enough to be in love with him.
But that didn’t ring true.
She knew affection. She knew the love of friendship. She knew the love for a parent.
But she’d never felt this depth of emotion for anyone before.
She knew her heart.
And it belonged to him.
She threw herself into the song, and when Darryl popped his hips sharply to the left, then right to punctuate the melody, she laughed. God, this is fun. She’d missed this so much.
As she whirled around, the guests were a blur of clapping, laughing, and bright eyes. They were enthralled.
Except one.
At the back. Near the hostess podium.
One woman didn’t fit.