Page 104 of This Thing Between Us

Again, something we hadn’t done before, but would be doing again.

We had three hours until guests arrived, and they went by quickly. I gave Whitney a wide berth, although I’d catch her watching me at times.

Just as she caught me watching her back.

When Barb arrived, she immediately pulled me outside into the cold to ask how things had gone. Fortunately, Whitney was downstairs still attending to the finishing touches and didn’t see us leave together.

I quickly filled Barb in.

“Did she give you any indication if she would forgive you or not?” Barb asked.

I shook my head solemnly. “None.” I shoved my hands in my pockets to keep warm. “I’m letting her do her thing for now, but later this evening, once everything is over and her job here is done, I plan to find her and make her tell me what happens next.”

Barb patted my cheek. “That’s a good boy. I hope you can find your way back to each other again.”

We walked back inside, chatting with the other donors who decided to come early. It was that shuttle that had brought Barb here with her husband, the chief, who soon pulled me away to talk more about the Ramstrom case.

Since the news broke about Coach Ramstrom’s illicit activities, the precinct had fielded a dozen or so press calls looking for a quote. We ended up involving the mayor when the story gained attention across the state.

The privacy and protection of the players was paramount.

We media-trained the students, so they were prepared in case anyone approached them off the street to ask questions.

It had been a hell of a week.

Suddenly Whitney’s voice called throughout the tasting room. “If everyone can join me by the bar for a few minutes,” she requested, sending donors and servers alike to orbit around her. Someone had found her a step stool, giving her a few extra inches, allowing the gathering group to easily see her. I remained toward the back, but our eyes connected before she opened her mouth to speak, stalling ever so slightly.

She clasped her hands together. “First of all, thank you so much for being here at the Haver’s Creek Police Officer’s Gala. You all have played a role in this coming together so quickly and for executing the event.” She spared a quick glance at Penelope and the other winery staff on hand. “Without you this wouldn’t be possible, and we wouldn’t be on our way to a record-breaking fundraiser.” Whitney smiled as people clapped. “But that doesn’t mean that we still don’t have lots of work to do. We have our donors who are going to sweet talk others into donating.” She winked at one of the older bigwigs playfully. “And we have a presentation of honorarium we need to give out to the service men and women who protect our town.”

She quickly glanced over at me before looking away at her watch. “We have ten minutes until the first shuttle bus arrives. You all know your roles and are ready for this. If anything comes up, you either find me or you find Penelope. Penelope, raise your hand.” She did. “Everyone got that?”

The small sea of people nodded in unison. Whitney’s grin was genuine. “Now for my favorite part of any event.” She turned to the bartender standing behind her. “We all are going to do a shot to kick off the night. But since we are at a winery, we are going to drink shots of red wine rather than hard liquor.”

Everyone laughed, delighted as tiny red solo cup shot glasses were passed around. I took one, completely charmed by the simplicity of it. We weren’t doing anything fancy, but we were all doing something together. From the people who basically funded the event, to those who would make sure all the guests were happy.

Whitney held up her tiny solo cup. “To the gala!”

“To the gala!” everyone cheered in return before downing the shot of wine. People started passing them back to the bartender who threw the cups away.

“Places everyone!” Whitney shouted while clapping her hands in dismissal.

Guests started arriving right on time. As part of my role, I ushered them from the check-in table to the staircase leading them to the main event space.

I loved watching everyone’s reaction as they entered the tasting room and couldn’t help myself when I told them about the events we hosted there on a weekly basis and the half-price tasting fees on Wednesdays.

Of course, many people shook my hand, partly because of my football fame, but mostly because of the uniform I wore most days.

Most of my colleagues wore their blues to the event, a subtle reminder of why everyone was there in the first place. Most of the proceeds would go toward our efforts to recruit and train people that reflect the diverse community.

When the last shuttle bus arrived, I took up residence downstairs in the cellar. People were drinking, mingling, and enjoying the string quartet Whitney had insisted on.

The music was hauntingly beautiful. Combined with the ambiance of the room, the tone had been set perfectly.

My role tonight was straightforward: mingle and make people happy. Between Whitney and Penelope, little backup was needed, but that didn’t mean I didn’t try to help here and there.

With things running smoothly, I found myself walking up to Whitney, pulled in by her gravitational force.

Whitney crossed her arms and closed off her face. “Come to kidnap me again?”

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