2. Rune #3
She nodded. "Yep! I own the space, and I did all the work myself." Duncan cleared his throat ostentatiously, and she rolled her eyes. "Fine. I had some help with the complicated stuff, like using saws."
I shook my head. "So Duncan manages a bar, you own a cafe…are all of you guys, like, super accomplished? Because you're giving me an inferiority complex."
Ella shrugged. "I mean, to one degree or another, yes. Our parents all tend to encourage us to be financially independent." She waves a hand. "Anyway. Welcome to Ella's. What can I make for you?"
Duncan rubbed his hands together, excited. "That one with the bacon aioli and the avocado you made me last time.”
"I have four sandwiches that have those on them," Ellas said, rolling her eyes. "You'll have to be more specific, Donkey."
"The one with the turkey and the spicy cheese." He turned to me. "Ella makes the best sandwiches you'll ever eat. She makes all bread herself in-house."
I scanned the menu—there’s pretty much every combo you can think of, and a few new ones for me—there's one with brie, green apple slices, turkey, and raspberry jam that sounds fucking amazing.
But so does the Elvis—peanut butter, bacon, and banana.
In fact, the longer I looked at the menu, the less I know what I want.
"You know what, it all sounds amazing," I said. "How about you surprise me. I am partial to turkey, though."
"Any food allergies or hated items?"
"No allergies, no olives, and no feet cheese," I said.
"Feet cheese?" she asked, wrinkling her nose in confusion. “The fuck is that?"
"Bleu cheese, gorgonzola, that stuff," I answered.
She made a disgusted face. "Ew, no. On salads, maybe, but on a sandwich? Not in my shop. No ma’am."
"Glad we agree."
"Chips, drinks, cookies?" she asked, then waved. "Why am I asking? You know your way around, Donkey. Help yourself. I'll bring them out to you."
Duncan got an iced tea and a bag of Baked Lays, and I got a diet and Doritos, because I'm still technically on vacation.
It's just a two-month vacation during which I've put on more weight than I did my first year of college; that's an exaggeration, obviously, but not by much.
But I don't give a fuck—I'll go back home and have dad coach it off me; it's one of the luxury perks of having a fitness professional father.
"So. Donkey," I said. "Interesting nickname."
"Nope." He pointed at me with a chip. "Absolutely not. Ella's the only one who can call me that."
"Fine, but where'd it come from? You gotta share that much at least."
He rolled his eyes. "It started out as 'Dunky', like Dunc, but with a Y. Eventually, it became Donkey. I gave up trying to make her stop using it years ago."
"Only because I give you free sandwiches," Ella said from the counter.
"What he's not telling you is that I've called him Donkey since we were twelve, and it still bothers him, which is why I do it.
" She laughed as she sets the halves of a sandwich into a red basket lined with wax paper. “He's adorable when he's pissy."
“I’m a man," Duncan grumbled. "I don't get pissy .”
"And you’re gonna deny you have a man period, too?"
"You're an annoying ass bitch, Ella-Smella," he mumbled.
She just laughed. “He tries to find nicknames he hopes will annoy me as much as Donkey annoys him, but they’re all stupid. Like Ella-Smella.”
He glared at me. "If you call me Donkey, I won't tell you the solution I found for the wedding."
"Wait, solution ? You said you had an update !"
He shrugged. "The update is that I found a solution."
Ella stopped what she was doing at stared at us. "Wedding? You guys aren't…"
Duncan cackled. "Us? God no, we just met a few days ago. We're just friends." He quirked an eyebrow at me. "For now."
I rolled my eyes at him. "Dream on, Bullwinkle." To Ella, then: "It's my friend Raquel and her fiancé, Hamish. They were supposed to be getting married at The Old Toby Inn the day after tomorrow. And they have fifty guests coming."
"Oh," she breathed. "The Old Toby Inn that burned down yesterday?"
“That's the one," I answered.
"Wow, that's…they must be freaking out."
"They are." I glared at Duncan. "I asked Duncan if he had any ideas, and apparently he found a solution…which he hasn’t told me about, yet .”
"It's called dramatic suspense—you may have heard of it," he said.
"It's called my friends are having panic attacks, so maybe don't keep the news to yourself."
"Fine, fine." Duncan took the red basket from Ella as she brought our food to the booth nearest the bar where we're sitting.
"So, you may or may not be aware, but we have locations outside of Ketchikan.
Salient to this discussion is the location in Anchorage, which is now, thanks to Dee and Hunter, a fancy sit-down place.
I called Dee and explained the situation, and she's agreed to let your friends use the back room for the reception.
It can hold at least a hundred people, and they use it for events all the time.
As for the wedding itself, there's a hotel not fifteen minutes from the restaurant, and they do have rooms available, as well as a conference room where the wedding itself can happen.
" He shrugged. "I know it's not ideal, but there's just nothing available in Ketchikan, and I did ask everyone I know. Even the Airbnbs are all booked."
I covered his hand with mine. "Thank you for doing that, Duncan. Let me call my friends and see what they say."
I took my phone outside and called Lindsey, who then added Raquel to the call, with Hamish listening.
"Rune, you said you have a solution?" Lindsey prompted.
“Yeah, I do. Well, Duncan does."
"Who's Duncan?" asked Hamish in his thick Scottish burr.
"My friend. He's a local." I hesitated. "It is a good news, bad news situation, though. The good news he found you a hotel with rooms and a conference room as well as a nice restaurant that can host the reception."
"And the bad news?" asked Raquel.
"It's in Anchorage," I answered.
There were a few moments of silence—I can almost see the couple trading looks, having a silent conversation.
"Anchorage, is it? How far is that from Ketchikan?" Hamish asked.
"Uhhh, I have no idea," I answer. "Hold on." I poked my head inside. "Duncan? How far is it from here to Anchorage?"
"Oh, it's not that far," he answered. “A five-hour flight, or maybe…a day and a half drive? Two if you're taking your time."
I relayed the answer to Hamish, who guffawed. "It's no that far? It's a thousand fecking miles! A two-day drive! You Americans have a bloody fucking warped sense of distance."
"What choice do we have, baby?" Raquel asked in her soft, sweet voice. "We’ve got all our friends coming. We can’t cancel on them, and there ain't a single room available anywhere in Ketchikan."
"I'm no cancelin’ the weddin’ anyway," Hamish grumbled. "I'm marryin' ya, be it in a barn, a bar, or a bog.”
"Baby, nobody knows what a bog is," Raquel said, laughing. "But I agree. Anchorage, it is."
"Guess we need to find a way to Anchorage, then," Hamish said. "I'll not be spendin’ two bloody days in the bloody car, though, so I hope to fuckin’ god there's a flight available."
"Hamish, baby, be positive." Raquel, as always, was the voice of positivity and hope.
"Fine then,” Hamish rumbled. “I’m bloody fuckin’ positive I ain't drivin’ that fat fuckin’ lorry of a hire car a thousand bloody fuckin’ miles."
Raquel just laughs. "It's an SUV, baby. And not even a big one!"
"Aye, and I’ve seen the big ones. Bloody monstrosities, them things are. You could carry a whole footie team in one.”
“Okay, well, I'm gonna go," I said. "I'll talk to Duncan some more, see if we have any options for getting to Anchorage without driving or spending a fortune on last-minute flights."
"Aye, and we'll have to tell everyone to change their tickets, too. Fuckin’ bloody mess, this is."
"Hamish, baby," Raquel said. “You're not being grateful. We have a solution. We can get married. The rest is just details."
"Aye, aye, aye," Hamish said, on a grumbling sigh. "Right you are, love, right you are."
"We owe you big time, Rune," Raquel said. "And your friend Duncan."
"I'll pass along your thanks," I said. "We'll be in touch soon, okay? Love you guys."
I ended the call and went back in—Duncan waited to eat.
I took my seat. "You didn't have to wait, Duncan. You should’ve eaten without me.”
He shrugged. "My mama didn't raise no mannerless oaf." He dug into his sandwich with a groan. "Fucking amazing."
I examined my creation—Ella piled on turkey, cucumbers, cream cheese, provolone, and tomatoes.
"So," Duncan says after he's devoured half of his sandwich. "What'd they say?”
"Well, Hamish is from Scotland, so he was a bit surprised when your 'not that far' turned out to be over a thousand miles. But they're grateful and would like to take you up on it. The only question is how they're getting there from here."
"They’re here in Ketchikan? Or they’re meeting the rest of the wedding party here?” he asks.
"I think they’re here?” I said. “Or maybe they're at a campground in the general area? I'm not sure, to be honest. I haven't actually seen them yet, so I don't know where they are. They're doing their honeymoon first—a backpacking trip. The wedding was the grand finale."
Duncan laughed. "I guess a thousand miles is pretty far to most people, huh?
When you're from Alaska, distances are different.
Everything is farther away up here. To us, Anchorage is pretty close.
Pretty much every decent-sized city is at least twelve hours drive from here, and most are over a day away. "
"Will there be flights available?" I asked.
He frowned, shrugging. "Hell if I know. I don't fly anywhere commercial."
I blinked at this newest revelation. “Um, okay, big spender. Not all of us can afford to fly private."
He cackled at this. “No, no, no. My Uncle Brock is a pilot." His eyes widened, and he smacked his forehead. "Duh. Uncle Brock can fly us there. You, me, and your friends. Well, a few of them. His plane can't hold all fifty guests."
"Would he do that?"
Duncan nodded. "Sure. No problem. I'll call and ask right now.” A few minutes later, he was hanging up.
“We're good. You, me, the bride and groom, and your friend Lindsey.
And Uncle Brock has a friend with a jet big enough to accommodate the rest of the guests, so they don't have to change tickets.
He can't do it for free, the guy with the jet, I mean, but if they all pool their funds, it'll be a fraction of what it would cost them individually to fly here and then to Anchorage, or to change their flights from wherever. Last-minute tickets are gonna be expensive as fuck no matter which way you slice it.”
We finished our sandwiches and drinks, and then Duncan thanked Ella and gave her a hug. I noticed he also slipped a $20 into the tip jar on the counter—I suspect because Ella would have refused it, otherwise.
We strolled lazily back toward my hostel, stopping to sit on a bench together.
I chewed on my lip a moment. “Duncan, thank you."
He had an arm resting across the back of the bench—not quite around me, but nearly. “Hey, you know…what are friends for?"
I laughed at this. “We’re barely friends. For real, though. Seriously. Thank you."
He looked at me, nodding. "You're welcome."
We're close. Kissing close. I can't help but think about this morning, and my thighs clenched.
"Looking at me like that is dangerous, Rune," he murmured, his eyes on my lips.
"Like what?"
"Like you wouldn't mind it if I did this." He leaned closer, slowly, giving me all the time in the world to shy away. When I didn't, he growled wordlessly. "Don't say I didn't warn you," he breathed.
And then he was kissing me.