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“That I have accomplished very little in my life. My dad is this amazing man. He never took his money for granted, and made it his life's mission to give away as much as possible. When he dies, he’ll be recognized around the nation, hell, the world for all his contributions.”
“Hm. But you’re not your father.”
“Yeah, but what have I done? Sold an app, made my money, and sat on a beach wasting time. I have no purpose, nothing to be remembered for. I guess that’s where the script came from. If it makes it to big screen, at least that’ll be something.”
I chewed my cheek. With so much riding on our agreement, and dealing with Cal and whether I ended up with Dream Waves, I couldn’t exactly guarantee Buddy’s movie would make it to the big screen. As I peered into his determined face, though, I vowed I’d try harder.
He stopped for a breather and gently put me down. Doubled over, his hands on his knees, he huffed and puffed. “Even that sounds corny. Dad’s work has saved lives. I pale in comparison to him. I don’t think I could ever fill his shoes, and that’s why I’ve been avoiding him all these years.”
“Then don’t. Be Buddy and do things your way. No one else’s judgement matters. We survived today, so live your life. There’s still so much you can do.” Our eyes met and the way he’d trusted me with this in a very vulnerable time, I couldn’t help but feel so close to him.
I reached out to pat his drenched back, then thought better of it. A nice shower for both of us would be perfect. Mm, how I’d like to lather this man up.
I groaned inwardly. The Buddy Addendum would be a sure thing tonight. The next thing I knew, he straightened and hovered above me, his hands landing on my cheeks.
“Thanks for the words of encouragement. They’re exactly what I needed to hear.” He leaned in and his lips feathered across mine. Sweaty, hot, sticky messes as we were, I desired suddenly to get stickier. My heart bounced out of my chest.
Only the honking of a horn tore us away from each other. I snapped my head toward the sound ahead of us to find a classic, shiny red truck pulling up alongside with the window down.
“My word. What are you two doing out here?” An elderly woman shouted. With gray hair in a bun and bangs across her forehead, wire glasses and rosy cheeks as well, she could have been the spitting image of Mrs. Claus.
“Our plane crashed in a field a couple of miles back. The pilot and the attendant were injured,” Buddy quickly relayed.
“Well, hop in. No time to waste.” She kept talking as we got into the cab. “I’m Betty Sue Waverly. My husband Jack and I own Waverly Place, about the only thing around here for miles and miles. I was just headed out to my quilting circle. We meet once a week. But you kids need help. Good thing I came along when I did.”
An hour later, a helicopter arrived to pick up the injured ones in our party, leaving Buddy and me behind at Waverly Place to figure out how to get home.
Betty Sue’s business ended up being the cutest hole in the wall. Rustic logs and a bar made of solid oak, while worn, had been well-cared for over the years. The tables with red and white checkered cloths provided a homey ambiance. But the black and white photos on the walls were what attracted me most.
While Buddy used the phone to call for a rental car and make arrangements for some place for us to stay the night, I noticed the framed pictures sported a time capsule of days gone by. Crazy to think so many celebrities found their way to this tiny dot on the map.
Then one photo in particular stopped me in my tracks. The entire cavity of air my lungs could hold whooshed right out of me. My mother smiled back at me. She’d been here, seated in this booth right in front of where I stood, holding hands with a man I didn’t recognize.
I knelt on the cushions, scooting in, and focused on every detail. Especially one in the lower corner. My mother signed her name and dated it. One year before I was born.
“No. What the hell?” Could that be my birth father seated with her?
The Groom
BUDDY
Waverly Place turned out to be rather lively as the evening wore on. More local patrons filled the booths and seats, some eating, some drinking. Country music played from a jukebox in the corner. And Betty Sue’s laughter rang out with every customer she spoke with.
Honey and I sat at the bar finishing our meals of comfort food, mine of macaroni, and green beans. Hers the same but with ham added. Our rental car wouldn’t arrive until the morning. The trouble was finding a place to stay for the night with no hotels around in this one stop-light town, if you could call it that. The nearest being two hours away.
Betty Sue stopped behind the bar. “I just heard about your dilemma between the car and a place to stay for the night. But I think I have a solution. You said you’re engaged?”
Honey and I exchanged glances, and she answered. “Yes. We’ll be getting married in a couple of weeks.”
“Oh? Where are you getting married at?” George, her husband and bartender, asked. A talkative chap, he told us his life story in about five minutes. After his military service, which we thanked him for, he bought this land and realized the area needed a place for people to congregate.
Years later, here we were. They had two kids and over time, he’d held almost every job available from postmaster, to mayor, to fire chief, and his latest stint as the judge.
Since we had nowhere else to go right now, I assumed we’d hear more of their life story from this couple all night long.
“We’re not sure of the details yet. It’s all very last minute,” she filled him in.
“Maybe we’d be better off to elope. On the way home, we could detour out to Vegas, sweetie pie.” I winked at her, joking. “Wouldn’t that be hilarious? If we arrived home already having done the deed.”
