Page 42 of An Island Summer
That didn’t seem like someone who had his heart in the business. “The staff barely knows you,” she pointed out, trying to get a handle on what, exactly, his motivation was with the inn.
“I’m not really involved with that end of things a whole lot. I’ve hired great people to do the nitty gritty for me. And I’ve been busy with plans for expansion.”
Did he really plan to sell it and run off with the money? With his hands-off approach, it sure seemed like it. Her hopes were dashed. She didn’t want to admit it to herself, but she’d been holding out for Toby, silently convincing herself that he wasn’t the person everyone thought he was. “You don’t want to be involved?” she asked, grasping for something—anything—to explain his behavior. “Work behind the counter, meet the guests, get to know your employees…?”
He clenched his jaw as if he were holding back the real answer, and her stomach plummeted. He didn’t seem interested in even one of the things she’d just listed. Which meant, to her utter disappointment, that the rumors were probably true.
Tess’s impression of him the other night came back to her:He’s got issues.“I should go find Tess at the food table,” Meghan suggested.
Toby met her gaze. “All right,” he said.
As she walked away, she glanced over her shoulder to find him turning toward a tray of champagne. He picked up one of the flutes and downed it like a shot.
“Oh my goodness! I won!” Tess cried, before leaving Meghan at their table and rushing up to the DJ to get her beach gift basket full of starfish-shaped soaps and beachy candles that had become hers when her raffle number had been called. Tess held it above her head like a trophy as she made her way back and plopped down. She set the cellophane-wrapped basket on the glittery table, turning it around so Meghan could see.
“Very nice,” Meghan said.
“Next up is the Guest Dance,” the DJ announced. “A great way to network, meet new people, or at the very least, get the blood flowing for a two-minute song. Men’s numbers are in the bowl to my right and women’s are to my left.”
“The DJ’s got a point. We’ll never meet new people unless we put ourselves out there,” Tess said, pushing her basket to the center of the table and standing up. “Grab us each a drink and I’ll go get you a number.”
Tess thought everything had some grand purpose, and they’d magically get a number that would propel them into some kind of fated moment with the person they were meant to connect with. But the truth of the matter was that, deep down, while Meghan didn’t really believe those kinds of things were true, she hoped Tess was right.
“I’ll probably end up getting matching numbers withthatguy,” Meghan said, pointing to a hunched-over elderly gentleman wiping his nose with his hanky.
“Well, you seem to like hanging out with old guys,” Tess said. “Maybe he’ll be your next project.” With a wink, her friend got up and nearly skipped to the DJ’s table to grab them both a slip of paper with a number. Before Meghan could even get them a drink, she returned and held out both her fists. “Which one is yours?” Tess asked.
“It doesn’t matter,” Meghan said with a laugh. “Just give me one.”
“No.” Tess wriggled her fists and closed her eyes. “Think about it. Which one is pulling you toward it?”
Meghan stared at Tess’s hands, not feeling anything at all, wondering if she were missing some sort of cosmic connection to the universe. “Left,” she said, randomly picking one.
Tess opened up her hand, revealing a slip of paper with the number thirty-two printed on it. Meghan plucked it out of her friend’s palm.
Tess opened her own number. “Fifty-eight,” she said, looking around excitedly.
“Over the next song,” the DJ called into the microphone above the buzzing crowd, “find the other person with your number to pair off for the dance.” Then, with the kick of a drumbeat, another song began to play.
“I’ll be back with my partner!” Tess hurried into the crowd, holding out her number happily while Meghan hung back, wondering why she’d let her friend talk her into doing the Guest Dance at all. The truth was that Meghan did want to enjoy herself, but it was difficult to do after talking to Toby. She wanted to retreat back to Pappy’s where she didn’t have to put herself out there. It was as if she had to relearn how to be social, like some long-lost skill, while Tess excelled at it.
Then, her breath caught as Toby walked onto the dance floor. He seemed slightly less anxious than he had, and he moved through the crowd, shaking hands and nodding in polite conversation. Tess ran over to him and flashed her number, but Toby shook his head before the two of them started talking for a second. As she watched the exchange, Meghan thought again about how she’d had almost the same life as Tess, the two of them following a nearly identical path, yet Tess was perfectly content, while Meghan’s life was a complete mess.
She snapped out of her thoughts as Toby began walking toward her.
“What’s your number?” Toby asked tentatively, once he’d reached her table.
“Thirty-two.”
He showed her his slip of paper with a thirty-two on it. “Looks like we’re dance partners.”
All the oxygen left her lungs. She looked over at Tess, just knowing she’d have to endure some sort of comment about how the stars had aligned, but Tess was happily chatting with a waiter named Russ.
“What are the odds?” she asked, forcing a smile to cover her nerves, her heart hammering at the idea that Toby would seek her out, her hopes getting the better of her, despite her concerns over the rumors.
“Pretty bad, actually,” he replied. “I traded my slip of paper with that guy,” he said, pointing to a man in a three-piece suit who was laughing hysterically at something his dance partner was saying, while wiping the sweat from his forehead. “So he could pair up with the woman he’s talking to.”
Her hopes fell yet again. She couldn’t really think he’d have actually tried to dance with her. The urge to run out of the inn and down the street toward Pappy’s was strong, but she knew it would only cause questions from Tess and her coworkers.
