“This meal was absolutely delicious,”my mother said, dabbing her napkin to the corner of her lips.“I’m stuffed.”
I glanced down at my empty plate.Mom was right.The food was excellent, but we had both ordered the same dish—broiled scallops on a bed of asparagus and field greens.While it was definitely delicious, I could already tell that later tonight, I’d be raiding my freezer for a large bowl of ice cream.And maybe some cookies.I had a sweet tooth.
“I’m glad you enjoyed it,” Cameron said, pleased.“I actually brought in a chef from Boston for the weekend, but he created the whole menu and I’ll hire someone local to take over.But I did ask Chef Joubert to be here this weekend.I wanted to be sure we made a bit of a splash for the grand opening.”
“A bit of a splash.That certainly happened,” Oliver said under his breath.
I nudged him with my foot under the table, which I instantly regretted as my toe bells jingled again.
Dad chuckled.Mom nudged him, but not under the table.
“That was rude of me to laugh, wasn’t it?”my father asked ruefully.
“Yeah, maybe too soon, Dad,” I said—although I wasn’t sure there would ever be a good timeline to make light of a man falling to his death.
“What time are we going to Bar Harbor tomorrow?”Mom asked me, clearly trying to steer the conversation away from the topic of Peanut and his untimely demise.
Except I had no idea what she was talking about.“Bar Harbor?”
“Oh,” Cameron said, realizing yet again I wasn’t in the loop of the weekend’s plans.“I forgot to tell you.I made a tee time for your father, Henry and I to play golf, and I thought you and your mother could spend time checking out the shops in Bar Harbor.Then we could all meet for a late lunch.”
That sounded like a great plan.I just wished I had been included in making it.But rather than show my frustration, I smiled.“How about noon?”
“That sounds perfect,” Mom said, trying to stifle a yawn.“I don’t want to have to get up too early.I’m feeling the effects of that flight.”
“Is a ten o’clock tee time too early, Mr.Bieber?”Cameron asked.
“That is always my tee time,” Dad said with a pleased grin.“And please call me Will.”
“You are helping my father maintain his perfect track record for Sunday golf,” I told Cameron.
“Oliver, you didn’t want to join us?”my dad asked.
Oliver smiled, but shook his head.“I actually have plans tomorrow morning, but I appreciate you thinking of me.”I saw the quick annoyed glance he flicked toward Henry.Henry, however, did not notice as he refilled my mother’s wine glass and asked her about some restaurant in LA.
Apparently we had both been left out of the planning by the Winstead Brothers.But I didn’t get much of a chance to fixate on our exclusion because the sound of voices and raucous laughter from the hallway outside the dining room distracted me.
Moments later, a group of two couples waltzed into the room, led by our server, a local young man I recognized from the occasional trivia night at Steamy’s.His team rarely won, but for what he lacked in trivia knowledge, he made up for in serving skills.He’d been fantastic while waiting on us.
He gestured to a table for four near the fireplace, offering the new guests a genuinely affable smile.
“Swanky,” a woman with shaggy blonde hair and artfully applied fake lashes said.She had a high-pitched voice that reminded me of the actress in Rocky Horror Picture Show.I couldn’t remember the character’s name.
One of the men pulled out a chair for the woman.
“Thank you, kind sir,” the blonde said, still affecting her British accent from today.Unless she really was British.She twittered, her laugh somewhere between quirkily cute and mildly irritating.
The man bowed with flourish, and the blonde giggled again.
I immediately recognized the bowing man as the juggler from today.Even out of his villainous Dickens’ costume, he still had a dastardly look with unruly dark hair and a Van Dyke goatee.
Another woman with shiny, straight black hair and vivid blue eyes also took a seat at the table.She looked up with open adoration at the man who held her chair for her.
I studied the man, trying to place whether he’d also been one of the actors.His tall and broad-shouldered build seemed familiar, but I didn’t recognize his salt and pepper hair coiffed in a fashionable style or the neatly groomed beard that suited his jawline.
He glanced over at our table as if he could feel my gaze on him.Our eyes met.
He smiled—an arrogant twist of his lips, and I realized he hadn’t felt my look, he’d expected it.And I now recognized him.Saint Nick.
