Chapter 21 #2
He brightens. “I got updated to the family entrance? Sweet.”
I tap out a quick text in the family chat to let them know we’re coming in the back. We walk past the small break area in the alley that James set up for employees, with a few camping chairs under a string of lights, and I hold the door open for Wolf.
“After you.”
He puts a hand to his chest. “What a gentleman!”
Sure. I’m a gentleman. But also … if he goes in first, I’ll be behind him, blocking the exit. Or, at least, slowing him down.
Why do I so strongly suspect that Wolf’s going to run?
Holding my breath, I follow him down the narrow hallway, past the bathrooms and office door. Though I don’t hear voices, I can practically feel the tension of a whole room full of people, waiting.
Wolf jolts to a stop just inside the doorway into the big main room of the brewery.
Coming up behind him, I put an arm around his shoulders.
When I glance around the room, I see far more people than I even expected.
Probably enough to violate fire codes. Based on the uncomfortable look on Chevy’s face when I see him by the door, I’m right about that.
I catch Rose’s eye from across the room and wink, noting with a little dip in my stomach the three people with her. I barely have time to scan their faces because I feel Wolf stiffen under my arm.
“What is this?” he whispers.
“Surprise,” I say.
And then the room breaks into applause. Which quickly becomes a standing ovation. A few people—notably some of my people—stand up on chairs, whooping and hollering. Hooligans, all of them. In the best way, of course.
I wasn’t sure quite what the plan was. Once I mentioned the idea of having a sort of surprise rally of support for Wolf, Winnie insisted she’d get the town on board, notably some of the ladies who run the Ladies Literary and Libation Society.
My primary job was helping spread the word, which meant going door to door along with Pat and Collin, splitting up to pass out flyers that Val made.
From the looks of it, those people told a friend who told a friend.
I don’t recognize a lot of the faces. But what they all have in common are broad smiles, loud voices, and a clear show of support.
Led by—of course—Pat, they start in on chants of Wolf!
Wolf! Wolf! which quickly starts to sound like dogs barking. It’s all I can do not to laugh.
“They’re all here for me?” Wolf asks, sounding shocked. He has to lean closer so we can hear each other over the din.
“They’re all here for you.”
“But … why?”
I notice Judge Judie helping Lynn Louise to stand up on the bar. James doesn’t look too pleased about someone standing up there, but he doesn’t protest.
Probably a wise move on his part.
“How about we sit down and let them explain,” I suggest, and after a moment, Wolf nods and lets me lead him over to a table where Molly pulls out a chair for him. I stand right behind him, less because he seems like a flight risk and more as a show of support.
Where I really want to be is across the room, standing with Rose, but that will have to wait.
She grins and waves, and a woman who is an uncanny younger version of Rose beams at me.
Chelsea. The dark-haired man with his arm around her is the only one in the room as tall—or taller—than James or me, and I’m relieved when he gives me a nod.
Which leaves John, who must be the young man on the other side of Rose. He has brown hair, neatly brushed back, and the kind of look I can’t read from across the room. I do not get a nod, though, and I tell myself not to worry about it.
At least, not yet.
Maybe I should have thought twice about her bringing her children to this—though I guess it will give them a good sense of the town. Glancing around, I don’t see Harper and Chase yet, though she texted earlier to say they might be getting a late start out of Austin because she wasn’t feeling great.
“Let’s bring this meeting to order!” Lynn Louise shouts, her voice surprisingly strong over the noise in the room. Once everyone sits down, she takes a seat on the bar and Judge Judie hands her a gavel, which she raps on the wooden bar. James winces, and Winnie wraps an arm around his waist.
Reaching up, Lynn Louise pulls a rolled up paper from her white bouffant and unrolls it.
“We are gathered here tonight in honor of Wolf Waters, a resident of Sheet Cake well known and well loved. Partly for his antics and his sometimes questionable choice of clothing.” She pauses for the laughter that follows, then gives Wolf a pointed look.
“And might I just say, young man, we are all grateful that you chose to wear proper pants tonight.”
“You’re welcome?” Wolf says, which earns a bit more laughter.
“But more than that, we know you as a Waters.” She pauses again, and I can’t help but notice Wolf wince beside me.
I drop a hand on his shoulder and squeeze.
“To be clear—the only kind of Waters this town needs. The only kind we want. Now, because of the events of late involving your campaign signs, we as citizens of Sheet Cake wanted to assure you of not only our support, but our love. Now, who would like to go first?”
Judge Judie’s husband, Burt, is the first one to scramble to his feet. “Me! I’d like to go.”
He takes a moment to collect himself, then launches into a story about how when Wolf was just a boy, a kitten got trapped in an old well. Instead of waiting for the fireman, Wolf climbed down into the well before anyone could stop him.
“It was a brave thing you did. Brave, but also stupid.” Burt says this in an affectionate way, and there are more laughs throughout the room. “And I think this perfectly illustrates everything I see about you as a man.”
“Are you calling me stupid?” Wolf says.
“Maybe a little,” Burt says. “But what I really mean is that you’ll put the good of someone or something else—even a little kitten—above your own. Even when you’re putting yourself at risk. That’s the kind of man you are, Wolf Waters.”
Wolf wipes his eyes unabashedly, glancing up at me. “I’m going to owe you one for this,” he says, and I’m not sure if it’s a threat of punishment or a promise of thanks. Maybe both.
“Oh, and one more thing.” Burt lifts a hand to stroke his bristly white mustache. “We all know where you got your inspiration from. You’re welcome.” Burt sits down.
Ashlee Belle, former model turned small-town lawyer, stands and says that when she moved to town, Wolf was the first one who made her feel welcome. “He also invited me to his bunker,” she says with a smile, and this gets some laughs.
It reminds me of a time when I thought Ashlee was the prettiest woman I’d ever seen. And she is beautiful, but I can say it objectively, without any feeling behind the observation.
In a room with Rose in it, no other woman compares.
When Ashlee sits, someone else stands up.
Then someone else and someone else. There is no shortage of anecdotal stories about Wolf, from his childhood til last week, when he helped Kitty Bishop’s daughter, Deedee, when she ran out of gas.
Apparently, he pushed her car a little over a mile to the nearest gas station.
What the stories all have in common is not only heart, but humor. Most of them contain some light roasting, but nothing remotely cruel. Mostly about Wolf’s choice of apparel or even about his facial hair. It feels like a joke we’re all a part of and not made at Wolf’s or anyone else’s expense.
There is laughter; there are tears. After the first few, people start lifting their glasses or their beers at the end, saying, “To Wolf!” followed by the Wolf!
Wolf! Wolf! barking chant that I don’t think he’s going to shake anytime soon.
It’s heartwarming and it’s special, and it’s very, very Sheet Cake.
But I find myself impatient to be with Rose. It’s nothing short of torture to watch her and her family from across the room. More than once, I look over to find Rose and Chelsea grinning at exactly the same time with the same exact smile.
Neither John nor Mason smile. But Chelsea’s husband still seems relaxed, where John carries a visible tension in his shoulders.
He seems to be constantly scanning the room, judging and assessing.
It’s impossible to tell what conclusion he draws from the stories and speeches, which don’t shy away from the quirks of the town.
I try to imagine how this might seem to an outsider, and realize by how difficult it is that I really am no longer an outsider.
Maybe I don’t have a long history here, but sometime over the past year, I’ve become a Sheeter.
One more thing to discuss with Rose—is this little town somewhere she hopes to set down roots in?
I can’t jump to conclusions just based on her business, but it makes me hopeful her plan was long term.