Chapter 32
Over the next few days, Drew had little else to report. According to his father, the seamen in the boat slip next to his were making a terrible racket trying to get their new equipment up and running. But so far, they hadn’t sailed out of the marina with it.
“In Dad’s opinion,” said Drew, “these guys couldn’t map their way to their own asses.”
So, it seemed unlikely they’d be able to map their way to a magical underwater portal.
I relaxed. Xander did too—or I thought he did, anyway. And we both threw ourselves into preparations for the long holiday weekend, finalizing our plans with the rest of our team.
* * *
Throughout the day on Friday, the Sunny Side’s guests began to arrive. As I checked them in, I handed each couple a flyer for a special wine tasting that evening at Sips.
“You won’t want to miss it,” I told June and Karen, here from nearby Collingswood, New Jersey.
“Wills is incredibly knowledgeable, and he always pairs the wines with a fantastic selection of cheeses and charcuterie.” They looked interested, so I moved in to close the deal.
“The tasting is totally free. And if you tell him you’re staying at the Sunny Side,” I added, “he’ll give you ten percent off any purchase. ”
Just past 5:00 p.m., Wills texted to confirm that June, Karen, and the B and B’s other registered guests were sampling a crisp, light-bodied pinot grigio. And Xander hit the hot tub without fear of discovery.
As I took breakfast orders the next morning—which also happened to be Valentine’s Day—I served up invitations to a free dessert-making class for couples.
“It’s right next door, at Kneadful Things,” I told Diana and Tim, who were enjoying a getaway from the Philadelphia suburbs.
“The pastry chef, Garth Witherspoon-Baldwin, is a friend of mine, so he’s agreed to do a private session.
For guests of the Sunny Side only.” I leaned in closer.
“Trust me, there is no better way to celebrate Valentine’s Day than with his red velvet cake. It is seriously to die for.”
A little after 3:30 p.m., Drew texted: 8 guests present and accounted for. Baking class underway. All clear for hot tub use. Repeat, all clear for hot tub use.
I smiled at his Mission-Impossible-sounding message. Roger that, I texted back, thinking we should be communicating over walkie-talkies instead of the recently expanded Xander Watch group text. I followed my reply with a few laughing emojis.
I was still grinning when I headed out back to give Xander the “all clear.” It did almost feel like we were in a movie, pulling off some elaborately choreographed mission.
Even if we weren’t exactly a team of elite specialists, the Atlantic Avenue Block Association was certainly pitching in as a team. Or, as Angie had said, like family.
This was the kind of cooperation I’d envisioned when I’d first organized the group.
I knew working together could be to everyone’s benefit.
Already, Wills had sold a ton of wine to the B and B guests after last night’s tasting.
And I had no doubt the same guests would return from the dessert-making class with bakery boxes from Kneadful Things.
Granted, I’d never imagined the benefit I’d get out of it all would be a merman safely and surreptitiously rejuvenating in my Jacuzzi—but hey, I wasn’t complaining. Far from it.
* * *
“We’re here,” called Rita a few hours later as she maneuvered her way through the front door. She had Mavis in her arms and the diaper bag backpack slung around her shoulders. “Mavis and Rita, reporting for duty.”
I looked at her blankly from my position behind the desk. “Did I ask you to do something?” I asked.
“No,” said Xander, coming down the stairs. “I did.”
I turned my blank look on him. “I don’t understand.”
“I asked Rita to cover the front desk for a little while tonight,” he said.
“I still don’t understand,” I said.
“It’s Valentine’s Day,” he said. “Couples go out together on Valentine’s Day. So, I thought we would go out.”
“Oh,” I said. Obviously, I knew it was Valentine’s Day.
My guests had just returned from Kneadful Things with the red velvet cupcakes they’d baked and decorated with candy hearts to mark the occasion.
But with everything going on, I hadn’t even thought about celebrating the day myself.
And here was Xander, with his hair already tucked up under his cap, ready to go out on the town.
“I’m so sorry,” I said, hating to disappoint him like this.
“I didn’t plan anything. And without a reservation—”
“We don’t need a reservation,” said Xander. “Not where we’re going.”
My brain was still playing catch-up. “So…you planned something?” I asked.
“Ding-ding-ding-ding-ding,” said Rita, grinning. “We have a winner, folks.”
Just then, I noticed Xander was looking particularly fetching in jeans and a seafoam-colored button-down. Running a hand through my unruly hair, I peered down at the okay-but-nothing-special sweater and jeans I was wearing. “Do I need to change?” I asked.
“Never,” he said. Then, his eyes lit up with mischief. “Unless you wanted to stop hogging the bed.”
I gasped with mock outrage. “I do not hog the bed.”
“You do.”
“Do not.”
“You’re always on my side,” he teased.
“Oh, yeah?” I teased back. “Well, I didn’t hear you complaining this morning when I—”
“Okay, stop,” said Rita. “I’m missing Darnell enough today without having to watch you two and your goo-goo eyes and your lovey-dovey nonsense. Get out of here.”
I smiled at my friend, hoping to communicate a combination of I’m sorry and Thanks. “Are you sure you’re okay with this arrangement?” I asked her.
“I wouldn’t be here if I wasn’t,” said Rita. Which sounded about right.
“Okay then,” I said. “I’ll go get my wallet.”
“No need,” said Xander.
I blinked at him. I didn’t want to be crass by bringing up money, but I wasn’t paying him to work at the Sunny Side. Wherever we were going, I was pretty sure they wouldn’t accept shells and beads as a form of payment. “But then, how…?”
“Hannah,” said Xander, raising his brows at me in jest, “do you think you’re the only one who knows how to barter?”
“And I’ll do anything for free babysitting,” added Rita.
Huh. This was getting curiouser and curiouser.
“And you’re sure I don’t need to change?” I asked.
“Nope,” piped in Rita. “But somebody needs a change,” she said in a singsong voice to Mavis, who was starting to fuss.
She put the baby down on the sofa. Then, unslinging the backpack, she eyed Xander and me.
“And if you two know what’s good for you, you’ll get out of here now.
Trust me. Toxic waste has nothing on a full diaper. ”
* * *
Xander led me down the street, stopping in front of Sips. It was after business hours, and the shop was closed, but he pulled out a set of keys and unlocked the door.
“So…this is where we’re going for Valentine’s Day?” I asked.
He smiled. “After you,” he said, ushering me inside.
Entering, I looked around the shop. I’d been here many times before, but that was either in the daytime when it was bright with sunlight, or on a tasting night when it was packed with people.
Tonight, with the lights low and the customers absent and the moonlight glinting off the racks and racks of bottles, the place had a moody, romantic vibe.
“I believe our table is over here,” said Xander.
With his hand on the small of my back, he guided me over to the tasting area, where there were several tables made from old wine barrels with stools crowded around them.
Xander lit the votive candle on the wine-barrel table where two empty glasses and an uncorked bottle of red already stood. An expensive red, from the looks of it.
“What did you have to trade Wills to get all this?” I asked.
“Just a little help unloading cases of wine on delivery day,” he said.
“That’s all?” I asked.
He shrugged. “After my encounter with those hunters,” he said, “I’m happy to have discovered that not all dry-landers are interested in exploiting me.”
We shared a smile, and the two of us sat down.
Xander picked up the bottle of wine and began to fill our glasses.
“This evening,” he said as he poured, “we’ll also be enjoying dinner from Matzo-Rella, in exchange for repairing the leak in their beverage dispenser, and dessert from Kneadful Things, in exchange for not slapping Drew in the face with my tail fin again. ”
I laughed. “You drive a mean bargain,” I told him.
“As do you,” he returned. He put the wine bottle down and lifted his glass, fixing me with a penetrating gaze. The candlelight was making his green eyes dance. “Here’s to the best deal I ever made.”
Suddenly, my emotions felt too big to express with words. Not that I could even get many words out around the growing lump in my throat. Maybe I’d bartered for repair services, but I’d gotten so much more than I’d bargained for. So. Much. More.
“S-same,” I barely choked out.
“Happy Valentine’s Day, Hannah,” he said, clinking his glass against mine.
“Happy Valentine’s Day, Xander.”
* * *
Having polished off a couple of Matzo-Rella’s subs—the side of pickled beets courtesy Miles, no doubt—we were lingering over the last of our wine and Garth’s ridiculously delicious flourless chocolate cake for two.
“I could get used to this kind of wining and dining,” I said with a contented sigh, fingering the stem of my glass.
Xander smiled at that, but the smile didn’t quite reach his eyes. That was unusual.
As if on cue, the flame of the votive candle on our table flickered before extinguishing in a wisp of smoke, its wick having burned all the way down. Maybe I was being silly, but it was hard not to take it as some kind of bad omen. The hairs on my arms and on the back of my neck stood on end.
“What?” I asked, my voice betraying my rising concern. “What is it?”
Xander shook his head. “Nothing bad,” he said, trying to reassure me. “However, there is something I need to tell you. And something I want to ask you.”
Nothing bad…? I wondered.
If it really was “nothing bad,” wouldn’t he have said it was “something good?” Or simply “nothing?” Why even bring “bad” into the mix?
Maybe it was just an unfortunate word choice. A quirk of the translation charm. We’d certainly had our share of miscommunications before.
Though, not lately…
And while words could be misunderstood, there was no mistaking the gravity in Xander’s eyes. Whatever he wanted to discuss, I could tell it was serious.
Nothing bad, I told myself, hanging on to the phrase like a lifeline.
My gaze drifted down to our dessert. I was glad we hadn’t finished it yet—and doubly glad it was chocolate. Depending on where this conversation was going, I might be needing it.
I looked back up at Xander. “Okay,” I said. “I’m listening.”