Sugar Plum Serenade (Seawolf Beach #2)

Chapter 3

CHAPTER 3

It wasn’t a date, Olive told herself as she stored Tuck’s purchases behind the counter. He was a friend, a neighbor. That was it. She’d only be in Seawolf Beach for a couple of weeks, so it would be foolish to date anyone. So, it wasn’t a date.

The weather was a little chilly, but still, the walk was pleasant. It was nice to move forward instead of walking in circles in the limited space of the boutique. Tuck asked about her day; she shared only the good. Pleasant customers. Sales. It was just her second day, but she was learning her way around. She asked about his day, but he didn’t share much. Good business for a Tuesday afternoon at the bar and no fires to call out the Seawolf Beach Volunteer Fire Department had made for his own good day.

They didn’t have far to walk. Tuck led her to a small, white, one-story house just beyond what was considered downtown. The only sign that it was a restaurant was the hand-painted placard on the front porch. Maggie’s . Dawn had never mentioned this place, and Olive was certain she never would’ve found it on her own.

They stepped inside, and she immediately realized why Dawn had never said anything about Maggie’s. White tablecloths. Waiters in dark suits and pristine white aprons. Soft, unobtrusive music playing in the background. This was not the place to bring two little girls. There were probably no chicken nuggets or mac and cheese on the menu.

She started to tell Tuck that she was underdressed for a place like this, but a glance proved her wrong. Every customer in the restaurant was as casually dressed as she and Tuck were.

Her escort approached the wait stand. “I don’t have a reservation, but I thought maybe on a Tuesday it would be safe to take a chance.”

The pretty young blonde smiled at him, the way women probably did on a daily basis. “We always have a place for you, Tuck.” The hostess grabbed two menus and led them to a back corner. As they walked through the restaurant, Olive glanced through a couple of doorways into other rooms. Maggie’s was bigger than it appeared to be from outside.

This wasn’t a place you brought a neighbor for a friendly meal, but was the perfect place for a date .

They were seated at a corner table that would’ve been great for a romantic dinner. It was almost private. A new itch crawled up her spine. A warning? Maybe.

Olive studied the menu. Maggie’s wasn’t cheap by any means, but it wasn’t as expensive as she’d expected. As she perused her choices, she said, “I’ll be paying for my own meal.”

“No, no, I invited you…”

She lowered the menu just enough to glare at Tuck over the top. “You tricked me. This is not a date. We’re just friends having dinner together. That’s it.”

“Are we?” he asked. “Friends?”

“I suppose.” She turned her attention to the menu. So many choices! After a long day of retail, she was starving.

“Can’t one friend buy the other one dinner? ”

“Not tonight,” she said without looking at him again.

“Fine. Be that way. If you change your mind, let me know.”

She wasn’t going to change her mind.

She chose shrimp and grits; Tuck ordered a steak. Fresh baked bread and salads were placed before them, and again, Olive was reminded of how hungry she was. Maybe if she attacked her food like a starving dog, Tuck would be glad this wasn’t a date. He could definitely have a steady girlfriend or a wife if he wanted one, so he must be particular. Did this laid-back, easygoing guy have high standards? Would a little crude behavior in a nice restaurant make him back off?

Did she want him to back off?

Not really. Besides, she couldn’t make herself misbehave in public.

Over bread and salad, he quizzed her. What do you do when you’re not helping your sister? Do you enjoy being an event planner? Is there a boyfriend at home? He already knew where she lived, from their past brief encounters at Dawn’s house. She knew it was coming, but she still twitched a little when he said, “Mike tells me you used to be a ballerina. That’s cool.”

“Enough about me,” she responded without addressing that issue. “What do you do with yourself in Seawolf Beach?”

He narrowed one eye but didn’t press her about her old vocation. “You know everything there is to know about me. I’m a simple man living a simple life. I’m thirty-four years old and have all my teeth. No cavities. I own The Magnolia, the bar Uncle Houston left to me when he passed a few years back. In case you’re not aware, the place isn’t as fancy as the name implies. I’m also a volunteer firefighter, but thank goodness that doesn’t take a lot of time. Though we do train on a regular basis. There was a big fire a couple months back but nothing since, not even a dumpster fire. We have to stay sharp, prepared for anything. ”

“I had no idea about your excellent dental health,” she said with a smile. “I guess I did know the rest, or most of it. And no girlfriend?”

“I already answered that question. No. Not at the moment.”

She wanted to ask why not , but she didn’t. Was there a recent heartbreak? Was he difficult in a way she hadn’t yet seen? “The Magnolia must be open tonight. Why aren’t you there?”

“I’d rather be here, with my friend .”

Olive glanced down at her salad.

He continued. “I have employees who can handle the place if I need a night off, especially on a weeknight. I’m always there weekends, though, that’s when the place is busiest.” He looked at her in a disturbingly direct way. “We have live bands several nights a week. Music brings in the crowds. Some come to listen, others to dance the night away. You were a ballerina, so why don’t you dance?”

She was saved from answering when a waiter appeared to take away her salad plate and deposit shrimp and grits before her. The bowl was massive! She’d never finish it all. Tuck’s steak, baked potato, and green beans were placed before him. He didn’t even look at the plate; he waited for her to answer.

Fine. Why not? “I thought maybe Mike told you that, too. I had an accident. My hip was messed up big-time, and that was that.”

“Car?”

“No.”

“What happened?”

She looked him in the eye. Sometimes blunt was the way to go. “I was dancing the Sugar Plum pas de deux at the annual production of The Nutcracker. My partner, who was also my fiancé at the time, dropped me mid-lift. I landed badly.”

He winced, then shook it off. “So, who killed him for you?”

The question made her smile. “Sadly, no one. ”

“Does it hurt?”

“No, though on occasion I can tell you when rain’s coming, like an eighty-year-old with bad knees.”

“If it doesn’t hurt, why don’t you dance? Not ballet, maybe, I can see that, but… for fun.”

He was relentless! Olive sighed and wagged her fork in his direction. “Eat before your food gets cold. That’s what I’m going to do.” She dug into her shrimp and grits and almost moaned in pleasure, it was so good.

Tuck ate his own meal, dropping the interrogation. Olive’s mind continued to spin. His questions stirred up thoughts best left buried. Stefan. The injury. Why didn’t she dance anymore? Saying it aloud did make the ban sound silly. She loved music, and it was only natural to move, to embrace music fully, to let it flow through her.

The answer was simple enough. She didn’t dance because she was always afraid someone would drop her again.

Tuck walked her home, which made sense since they were neighbors. It was a pleasant night, for December. Chilly, but not cold. Their street was quiet, peaceful, so unlike her own neighborhood. Tonight she even liked the Christmas tree lights that twinkled in other neighbors’ windows.

She was only a little annoyed that he’d slipped his credit card to the waiter while she’d been distracted. It was a nice gesture. She’d return the favor at some point while she was in town.

Her new friend didn’t turn and wave when they reached his house; he stayed beside her, escorting her all the way home. He even walked up the steps to the front door and stood there while she fished the key out of her purse and unlocked the door. Then she turned to face him, intending to offer a simple thanks.

“If this was a date, I’d kiss you good night,” he said .

Her stomach fluttered. She did not have time for butterflies! “Good thing it wasn’t a date, then.”

He didn’t move in, but he didn’t turn away, either. “Is it though? Is it a good thing?”

“Friends, right?” she whispered.

“I already have plenty of friends.”

That simple statement made Olive hold her breath for a long second. He wanted more. So did she, though she was reluctant to admit it even to herself. She could lean in and up and kiss him, but she waited too long.

“Good night, Olive,” he said as he turned and walked away.

The moment was gone before she even realized it was a moment.

Tuck glanced at Olive’s house as he cranked up his truck and headed out. She’d already be at the boutique. He’d stop by Dawn’s Radiance this afternoon and pick up the scarves he’d bought, maybe ask her to dinner again. Before that he had work to do at The Magnolia. Running a bar was more than playing bartender when he felt like it. It was ordering, remodeling, paperwork, maintenance, organizing entertainment, managing his handful of employees, cleaning when the housekeeping crew didn’t do a good job of it. There was always something.

He liked Olive; he’d thought about her all night. There might’ve even been a dream that had faded as he’d come fully awake. She was different from the other women he’d dated in the past few years. Even though she’d insisted last night wasn’t a date, it had sure felt like one.

In the past three or four years he’d met a few women in The Magnolia and had started relationships that didn’t go anywhere. He’d bet his last dollar Olive had never set foot in a bar like his. She was quiet most of the time, almost reserved. It was unlikely she’d ask him out to dinner, or for anything else. Olive Carson wasn’t one to make the first move. She was a stubborn “I can do it myself” person, through and through.

She wouldn’t be here long. When Christmas was over, she’d be gone. Obsessing about her was stupid. He should know better. It was a waste of time to think about a kiss, a dance, and to be honest a whole lot more.

He hadn’t yet reached the highway when his cell rang. The phone was in a holder on the dash, so it was easy to check out the caller. Hmm. The only time Colt ever called him was about business owner’s association crap. A problem, an election, a code violation. This close to Christmas everyone was swamped, so he couldn’t imagine why Colt would call.

There was only one way to find out. He punched the green button to answer. “What’s up?”

“Are you busy?” Colt asked.

“On my way to work.”

“Could you swing by before or maybe after…” There was a pause. Colt whispered in the background, but Tuck could make out a couple of words. Patient . And a disgusted fine . “Before work would be best,” Colt said when he returned his attention to Tuck. “If you can make it.”

“Sure. I’ll be right there.” He changed course and headed for the depot, which wasn’t much more than a block away, parking in the back near the railroad tracks to leave the premium street parking for paying customers. The back door was sure to be locked, so he walked around the building, down the sidewalk, and through the front door.

Quite a few customers browsed, flipping through albums, excited when they found what they were looking for, disappointed when they didn’t. Today it was Colt’s girlfriend, Anna, who ran the coffee bar. Benny would be in school this time of day. Anna looked Tuck’s way and her smile faded, then came back again a bit brighter than before. Maybe a bit too bright.

“Colt’s in the back,” she said. Which meant she knew he’d come in because his presence had been requested.

The back half of the depot was almost as large as the front, but it wasn’t nearly as interesting or as organized. The lights were dimmer; the floor and the walls were plainer; the doorways to offices or storage rooms were mostly closed. To be honest, it was kind of a mess back here. Tuck liked his own storerooms tidier than this. Even though he’d discovered early on that he wasn’t suited to the military, his time in the Army had drummed a sense of order into him, he supposed. That desire for order helped him run his business in ways he’d never expected.

Colt waited by an old depot bench that was in need of repair and a good sanding and coat of varnish. Three cases of bottled water had been stored on that bench.

Judging by the expression on the depot owner’s face, this wasn’t going to be a fun conversation.

“What’s up?”

Colt sighed. “I really don’t know how to say this. I don’t know where to start.”

“At the beginning?”

“People keep telling me that,” Colt mumbled. “Let me be clear. I don’t want to do this, but she won’t give me a moment’s peace until I do.”

“Anna?”

Colt looked to the side, shushed the air to his right, and then looked squarely at Tuck. “I see ghosts. Your grandmother is here.”