Autumn Getaway (Seasons of Love) (19 page)

She shrugged, but her expression had hardened somewhat. “I try.”

Sam watched something in her eyes change, could sense an invisible wall slowly going up around her. She was embarrassed; his guess was that she thought she'd revealed too many things of a negative nature. But he wouldn’t let her seal herself off before the night had even really begun.

He stood and took her hand, pulling her to her feet. “We need caviar,” he said with mock authority. He arched a thick eyebrow with exaggerated swagger. “And drinks. Stiff drinks. Several of them. Let’s go. Caviar first.”

Lydia couldn't help but giggle. She smiled up at him in appreciation, and let herself be led through the crowd.

When they got to where the caviar was being displayed, Sam took a small plate and handed it to her, then took his own. As they filled their plates, they heard a slight commotion; the buzz of the crowd had suddenly gotten louder. They turned to see what was going on. The bride and groom had at last emerged onto the patio to join their guests. People clapped, hooted, and cheered for them. Lydia smiled at the sight of Melanie, who was radiating happiness as she held tightly to Ryan’s hand and greeted relatives and friends.

“They’re a very attractive couple,” Sam said, his eyes following Lydia’s.

“Yes, they are. They just look so happy,” Lydia said, a dreamy look on her face.

“It’s their wedding day, they’re supposed to,” Sam teased. He took in the expression of luminous happiness on her face; it made him smile too. “Let’s find a new place to sit, shall we?”

Lydia snapped back to attention and quickly scanned the veranda, looking for an available spot. “There’s an empty piece of railing over there,” she said, gesturing to a part of the stone barrier by the right staircase.

“Let’s go,” he said. “Lead the way.”

They made their way over and placed their plates on the wide, flat stone railing. Sam asked a passing waiter to bring them a glass of scotch and a glass of red wine.

“Oh my God,” she half moaned after tasting some of the Beluga. “This is divine.”

Sam tasted his own sampling, and his eyes rounded in approval. “Mmm. You’re not kidding,” he agreed. “Score!” He gave her a light high five, and she smiled broadly.

The sun was beginning its descent, casting a magical golden light over the trees, the garden, the guests, everything it touched. Rays washed warmly over Lydia, backlighting her copper mane and bringing out hidden streaks of gold. The glow of the setting sunlight from behind her made her hair seem to ignite and her pale skin gleam, made her seem somehow ethereal, and definitely alluring. Sam tried not to stare too openly as he admired her. He knew how much he wanted her, but didn't want her to know it just yet. There was only so much he was willing to admit to so soon—at least, out loud. In his head, he was wondering how it would feel to kiss her soft mouth, what she tasted like, how those soft curves would feel under his hands… he was yearning to know, and had every intention of finding out before the night was through.

“I’ve been meaning to ask you,” she said, completely unaware of the longings and thoughts Sam was grappling with as he gazed at her. “I noticed yesterday you were reading a book about the Civil War, historical fiction. Do you read a lot of that?”

He blinked, caught off guard by her question that seemed to come out of nowhere. “A lot of what?” he asked. “Historical fiction in general, or about the Civil War specifically?”

“Both, I guess.”

“I really like historical fiction,” he said. “So yeah, I read from that genre fairly often. The Civil War era does interest me, so I may read more about that than other things, other time periods, but I like the whole genre in general.”

“I love historical fiction,” she said. “So it just piqued my curiosity when I saw you were reading some. Something we had in common.”

He smiled broadly, obviously interested. “Really? So what eras are you most likely to read about? What time periods do you like to float back to?”

“Civil War stuff is good,” Lydia said. She carefully spooned more caviar onto a tiny round cracker. “Turn of the century in Europe or America, good stuff. But I like to
really
go back in time, to places far and long ago. Ancient Rome and Greece, the Renaissance… so many things. I usually end up gravitating to any and all things English. Kings and queens, lords and ladies, the Crusades, the Middle Ages, Elizabethan Age, Victorian Age, any and all of that.”

“England has a long and fascinating history,” Sam agreed. “Plenty of material there. Wait—so what were you reading yesterday? Historical fiction?”

“Yes. A fictional autobiography from Queen Elizabeth the First’s point of view,” she answered.

“Who’s the author, what’s the title?” Sam asked.

When she told him, his eyes lit with recognition. “I read that just last year,” he said with enthusiasm, and launched an animated conversation with her about the novel. They barely noticed the waiter bring them their drinks, or that the minutes flew away as they got deeper into discussing details and exchanging opinions. When a soft bell pealed, and an elegantly dressed male employee of the Manor announced that the reception would be starting in the main ballroom, Sam and Lydia looked around them in mutual surprise.

“Well, guess that’s the cocktail hour,” she laughed.

He was staring at her as he finished the last swallow of his drink. “I enjoyed talking about the book with you. I liked your insights.”

She smiled at him, appreciation clear in her gaze. “It was a pleasure talking about it with you too. Really. I don't often get to talk about books with other people. And other than Andy, books are the love of my life.”

“A worthy passion.” He smiled back and stood up.

She rose with him, smoothed out her dress, and gave him a smile.

“I have a feeling I’m at a table with my family,” he said with obvious regret.

Realizing they’d be separating, Lydia felt a wistful pang. “Yeah, you’re probably right. I’m sure I’ll be sitting with Donna and Kathryn. Who both, I just realized, totally disappeared, didn’t they? Some friends they are.”

He chuckled and quickly glanced over the crowd. The guests were making their way towards the French doors on the right side, streaming into the ballroom. He said to Lydia, “I'll find you soon, I'll come looking for you. You promised me a dance, remember?”

“Yes, I did.” She smiled demurely up at him, almost shy, but murmured, “I'm looking forward to it.”

He gazed down at her, feeling something swirl through him that he hadn’t felt in a very, very long time. Without thinking, he reached for her hand, lifted it to his lips, and softly kissed the back of it, his eyes never leaving hers.

Her eyes rounded and set on his face. Their gazes locked for a moment.

He dipped his head and murmured close to her ear, “May I walk you inside?”

She nodded. He lowered her hand and released it, then lightly pressed his hand to the small of her back as he guided her across the patio towards the reception.

They parted ways once they were within the large, ornate ballroom. Tremendous, majestic crystal chandeliers sparkled from the ceiling. Beautiful flowers soared from tall vases on every table, elegant combinations of white, peach, and pale lavender. The round tables, covered in ivory linens, were spread throughout the spacious room and around a large, polished wooden dance floor. A small table, set for two and obviously meant for the bride and groom, was at the front and center, set back a few feet from the edge of the dance floor.

The DJ had set up shop in the corner, and was already spinning an upbeat Motown song to get the mood of the room up as people found their place cards and made their way to their assigned tables.

Sam headed towards the left side of the room to sit at a table with his parents, brother, sister-in-law, and nieces and nephew, just as he’d predicted. Lydia went to the right side of the room, to a table situated closer to the dance floor, where Joann, the matron of honor, was already sitting with her husband, Mike; another couple Lydia recognized as an old friend of Melanie’s with her husband; and Donna and Kathryn, who were standing, obviously waiting for her.

“Sooo?” Kathryn cooed, linking her arm through Lydia’s as she reached them. “You two looked pretty cozy out there.”

“He is a pleasure to talk to,” Lydia replied.

Donna harrumphed. “What are we going to do with you?”

“What?” Lydia laughed. “We were talking. You know, conversation? Getting to know each other? What should I have been doing, climbing onto his lap and tearing his clothes off in front of everyone?”

“I know, I know, I’m being pushy,” Donna admitted. “But I’m just excited for you. He’s a doll.”

“Did you get to see Melanie?” Lydia asked, placing her handbag on the table.

“Yes, we did,” Kathryn said. “It was wonderful. I’m surprised you didn’t hear us screeching from where you were.”

“I’m not.” Donna smirked. “They looked pretty caught up in whatever they were talking about.”

“Queen Elizabeth the First,” Lydia said dryly. “The Elizabethan Age. That’s what we were talking about.”

“Yeah, right,” Donna scoffed, thinking Lydia just wanted to shut her up. “Smartass.”

“No, really,” Lydia insisted. “Go ask him if you don’t believe me.”

“Why on earth would you be talking about that?” Kathryn asked in consternation.

“Yesterday, when we were in the garden together reading, that’s what the book I was reading was about. Turned out he read it last year, and we started talking about it.”

Donna laughed. “So you’re telling me this guy is handsome, nice, single, and smart enough—or at least interested enough—to talk about books with you?” She laughed. “Talk about too good to be true. There’s gotta be a catch.”

“Hey, you said it, not me,” Lydia cracked. “I’ve been thinking that since I met him. You know me, always waiting for the other shoe to drop. Right on my head.” She reached over to the glass of water by her plate, took a long swallow, and set it down again. “I need to use the ladies’ room. Wanna make it a group effort?” She picked up her handbag.

“Now that you mention it…,” Kathryn said.

The three of them exited the ballroom in search of the restroom.

“Listen, we should tell you something,” Kathryn said as they walked down the hallway. “When we saw Melanie, she asked where you were, and we pointed out you sitting with Sam. She got all excited.”

“And?” Lydia said, waiting for the rest.

“And so we asked her to do a quick background check for us,” Donna admitted. “We asked her to just ask Ryan for some info. We were curious. She was all too happy to do it.”

“What? It’s her
wedding
,” Lydia said, wide-eyed and indignant. “You asked her to find out details about some guy for me? Jesus. Don’t you think she has enough going on right now?”

“HEY!” came a shout from midway down the hall, one of the doors they’d just passed. Melanie’s blonde head was craning out of it. “You three! Come here! Hurry up!”

The three friends laughed as they turned to go back to the bride.

“Get in here,” Melanie commanded, pulling them through the door into her bridal suite. She closed the door behind them. They all hugged her, one at a time, before she said, “I only have a few minutes, so sit.”

The three women did as they were told.

“Lydia!” Melanie said with a big smile. “I did a little digging for you, about Sam.”

“Melanie!” Lydia shrieked. “This is your
wedding day
.” She looked in consternation at her friends. “What is
wrong
with you guys? Priorities, people!”

“Listen, you.” Melanie smiled and pointed a finger at Lydia. “Ryan’s gonna be back here in about two minutes to take me to the reception, and then I won’t get another minute alone with you unless I fight for it. So just shut up and let me tell you.” Her smile faded a little. “Do you know that Sam was married before?”

“Yes,” Lydia said. “He told me all about it last night, when he walked me back to my room.”

“What? Back up. You didn’t tell us that!” Donna said, gaping at Lydia.

“You didn’t ask,” Lydia remarked.

“Beeyotch,” Donna shot back. Kathryn laughed and shook her head.

“So, um… you know… how it ended,” Melanie hedged.

“Yes,” Lydia said.

“Well, tell us!” Donna insisted. “Bad divorce?”

“His wife died,” Lydia said quietly, respectfully.

“Oh God,” Kathryn murmured. “That’s horrible.”

Lydia gave her friends a short synopsis of what Sam had told her about his wife and his brief marriage. They were hushed as they listened.

“Well, I’m sorry to say this,” Donna finally said. “But he’s probably still carrying a torch for her. Maybe that’s why he’s great and still single.”

Lydia's stomach did a little flip.

“Actually, no, not according to Ryan,” Melanie said, brightening. “Sam’s had two or three girlfriends since his wife, but they just didn’t work out. He’s a workaholic, he’s been married to his career since Chelsea passed away. He lives and works in Chicago.”

“Yeah, he’s a graphic designer,” Lydia said, repeating what he’d said.

Melanie laughed. “Is that what he told you? He was being modest. He started
out
as a graphic designer, but he got a big promotion a few months ago—he’s the Creative Director at some huge media company. Ryan said the name, and I recognized it, but I don’t remember it now, I have Bride Brain. Sam’s the youngest person ever to be promoted to that position in the history of that company. It was kind of a big deal over there. Ryan said Sam’s parents were so proud they only recently stopped talking about it.”

Lydia frowned slightly as she wondered why Sam would downplay such an achievement to her.

There was a knock on the door, and Ryan entered the suite. He took in the sight of the four women and said, “Oh. Sorry. Looks like a major powwow. Am I interrupting?”

Lydia quickly got to her feet. “Of course not. This is your wedding day, and here is your beautiful bride. We were just leaving.”

Kathryn and Donna stood up. “What she said,” Kathryn smiled.

“Congrats again, kids,” Donna said, and gave quick hugs to the happy couple as she headed for the door. “See you in there.”