Page 7

Chapter Seven

I contemplate Ines and Lincoln across the table. They’ve pulled their chairs close so that their shoulders rub as they sit. Lincoln’s hand rests in Ines’s lap, their fingers entwined. They are both glowing, and I don’t think it’s just because of the propane fire crackling merrily in the center of our table. I look at Bridget and rethink it. She looks rather glowing too. Maybe the firelight is complimentary.

It's a warm night. The fire is set on the lowest setting, barely giving off any heat. It’s basically a huge candle in the middle of the dining table of the rooftop restaurant where we’ve gathered. We sit under the stars, ready to taste-test food for the happy couple’s wedding reception. I’m so hungry, I want to tuck my napkin into my collar and hold my utensils like I’m going to stab someone if they don’t serve me soon.

The caterer and her assistant bring out our first selections. Plates are set in front of each of us with five choices of appetizers.

“You will be choosing three appetizers,” the caterer explains. She tells us what each of them is and gives details about the fancy ingredients or preparation that is involved in each of them.

My stomach growls loudly, and Bridget snorts and pushes me. I open my mouth widely and pretend I’m going to eat the entire plate in a single bite, which makes my sister snort a second time. Mom lifts an eyebrow at us, but I see the side of her lips twitch. She’s fighting a smile and is probably as hungry as I am.

We’re finally allowed to eat. I scarf down all five choices, barely taking time to notice if I like them or not. Let’s be honest here. It isn’t like I have a discerning palate. I’m just here to enjoy the food. This is totally up Mom’s and Dad’s alley. I’m pretty sure that’s why Ines and Lincoln invited them both. Lincoln’s mom is here as well. She might be the sweetest mother ever in the history of the world. I totally get why Lincoln is so fun and easy-going. I have zero complaints about my parents, but that doesn’t mean I don’t admire qualities other parents have that mine don’t, and Lincoln’s mom’s sweet, nurturing way is definitely enviable to a girl raised by parents who considered her independent and capable by my second birthday.

Mom asks the caterer a question about the mushroom stuffed pastry – which has a much fancier name than that. It’s one of those questions that makes Bridget, Ines, and I exchange a look that says, “What the heck is she even talking about?” However, I’m surprised when the caterer doesn’t do a back flip, she’s so excited to share the answer with Mom. The entire conversation is over my head, but Mom is duly impressed by whatever it is the caterer is going on about. Mom’s eyebrows are arched, her head is cocked, and she’s nodding. All strong acceptance cues from Amanda Jones, restaurant connoisseur and foodie. Dad is explaining some of the nuances of each appetizer to Ines, Lincoln, and his mom. Bridget and I giggle when Ines looks at us as if to say, “Save me now.”

Next, we are served plates with an arrangement of three different salads. I scowl at it and Bridget snorts again. Her fork is already poised and ready to stab the lettuce on her plate while I’m wondering if it would be insulting for me to pass altogether.

Something the caterer says catches my attention. “Wait, did you say there are anchovies in one of these salads?”

The caterer nods.

I look at Ines. “Please don’t pick that one. Bek probably won’t even walk into the room if she knows there is an anchovy under the same roof. She has a fish allergy and she takes every opportunity to remind me.”

Ines squints. “How often do you eat anchovies?”

“Never. I don’t even know what they taste like, but for some reason, that little fish is a trigger for her.”

“Is Bek still as flighty as she was when she was little?” Ines asks.

Dad snorts and says, “More so, I think.”

“Dad!” I scold.

Ines grins and looks up at the caterer. “Which one has the anchovies?”

The woman points.

“Please make note that we won’t be choosing this one and that there cannot be any anchovies in the building the night of our wedding.”

The caterer nods. “Then you’ll choose one of the remaining two, or I can prepare the third without the anchovy.”

She leaves and I thank my sister. I think it’s super sweet of Ines and Lincoln to be inviting our best friends to the wedding too. She knows Cisco’s and Justice’s friends better than mine because Ava, Bek, and I were only ten years old when she moved out. Bridget doesn’t even have the same friends she had then, so Ines doesn’t know them at all, but she’s including them anyway.

I sigh and decide to at least try a bite from each salad. It’s official, anchovies are disgusting. When I’m finished, I shrug and swap my plate with Bridget’s empty one. She grins at me and scarfs up my salad as well.

Next, we get to try the main dishes. I’m in heaven as I eat my way through the filet mignon, chicken marsala, butternut squash ravioli, and the seared scallops. We’ve already ruled out the seafood dish, though it was scrumptious. When Ines and Lincoln can’t decide which dish not to offer, Mom tells them to choose them all and ask people to rsvp with their meal choice. The caterer confirms they can accommodate that and explains what that does to the price structure, but Mom and Dad both wave that concern away.

“Your lovely dishes need to be enjoyed, dear.” Mom pats the caterer on the arm. “If you can accommodate it then so can we.”

“Thank you so much, Mom and Dad,” Ines gushes. “That will be so nice to be able to offer such a strong selection of foods.”

Bridget leans toward me and pitches her voice low. “Are you bringing a date to the wedding?”

I look at her. “Can I?”

She sits up. “Ines, are we allowed to bring a date?”

Lincoln answers. “Absolutely. Your friends can as well.”

An image of Brent wearing a suit forms in my mind and will not go away. Oh, my goodness-golly, I can only imagine what it would feel like to be on his arm when he’s dressed up. I picture us entering the reception hall, him gliding like a panther.

Bridget clears her throat. “Does that look indicate a yes?”

“What look?” I make sure my expression is all innocence when I meet her gaze.

“You were definitely thinking of someone just then. It looked like you wanted to pounce.”

I sigh. “Oh my gosh, Bridge. I’m developing a huge crush on this guy, and he doesn’t even know I exist.”

“I have a hard time believing that.”

“Well, he knows I exist, he’s just not the least bit interested in me. I have no idea how to get his attention.”

Bridget taps a finger on the table as she contemplates my situation. “What is he into? Have you tried showing interest in it?”

I close my eyes and nod, then tell her about the visit to the bookstore for a book for Ava.

I brighten. “But I get to go back this week to pick up a copy of a magazine he and I both like. So maybe that’ll help?”

“Start a conversation with him this time that doesn’t have to do with books.”

“Like what?” I slap a hand on the table, rattling the silverware. “I told the girls that Brent and I wouldn’t have anything in common, and I was right.”

Bridget cocks her head. “Really? It doesn’t sound like you know that yet. You need to get him talking so that you can discover what you do have in common.”

I nod. “Okay. I’ll try. Thanks, Bridge.” Then I ask hesitantly, “Are you seeing anyone new?”

Her smile is sad. “Not yet. But I can feel that I’m getting closer.”

I squeeze her hand. “I’m glad. You deserve happiness.”

“Thanks, sis. You do too!”

“Do you think Justice or Cisco will bring dates?”

“Justice might. He’s been seeing Layla for a couple months now. But Cisco?” Bridget makes a funny face. “He’d have to pay for her airfare to get her here, and I can’t see him doing that for someone he’s only been on two or three dates with.”

She’s right. It’s hard to imagine a serial dater having anyone to bring to the wedding. I bite my lip. She might say the same of me though. But, if I get to see Brent in a suit, maybe I’ll finally be willing to go past that second date.

A selection of desserts is set in front of me, and I squeal. “My favorite part of dinner.”

My sisters chorus at the same time, “Dessert!”