From Bags to Riches. Sandra D. Bricker
and bag, and Danny guided the way to Steph’s dad’s boat—the one they’d taken out for a cruise the day they met Steph’s fiancé. They’d had such a wonderful and relaxing afternoon on the water, and it seemed to Jessie now like a lifetime ago.
Strings of white lights outlined the deck of the fifty-some-foot yacht, and soft blue electric candles flickered from a table set with linen napkins, fine china, and shimmering crystal. When they spotted a uniformed waiter conversing with Vince, Danny turned to Jessie and quietly asked, “Am I underdressed?”
She giggled as Steph emerged—wearing denim shorts and a pullover sweater—and waved at them. “Welcome aboard,” she exclaimed, and she planted a kiss on Danny’s cheek before tugging Jessie into an enthusiastic hug. “Good to see you guys.”
“You too,” she replied, reaching into her bag for the CD she’d burned with their dinner in mind. “I didn’t know what to bring, so I made dinner music.”
Steph snatched the CD case out of her hand. “It’s perfect.”
“Welcome aboard,” Vince repeated his wife’s greeting. “Callahan and Hart, party of two. Your table is waiting.”
“Hi, Vince,” Jessie said, embracing him.
“Glad you guys could come,” he said, and he reached out to share a handshake with Danny.
“Honey, Jessie made us some music. Can you queue it up while I get them something to drink?”
“You betcha.”
She took Jessie’s hand and led her to where a small bar had been set up. “Name your poison, Jessie. Then tell me all about this ex-nutcase of yours.”
She chuckled. “Ah. Okay. Mineral water with lime?” Steph nodded. “And about Jack, I wish I had some insight for you.”
“It looks like he has a pretty impressive team of attorneys. Any idea how he’s affording that?”
“Does he?” She took a gulp from the glass as soon as Steph handed it to her. “I think you know more about him than I do then. Honestly, I don’t know anything except that he keeps defying a court order to keep his distance from me.”
“He’s like one of those Super Balls Frank likes to chase,” Danny said as Steph handed him a glass. “He bounces higher every time, but he always comes back afterward.”
Jessie smiled at Steph. “Isn’t there something we can do about that?”
As they strolled toward the table, Steph looped her arm through Jessie’s. “What, you mean you’re not enjoying the return of the prodigal husband?”
“What husband? I don’t have a husband.”
Steph chuckled. Leaning closer, she softly remarked, “But I hear you could if you really wanted one.”
Her heart thumped. “He told you.”
“Marg told me he stopped over and got the family ring. So I inquired.”
Jessie giggled. “There are no secrets among you people, are there?”
“Afraid not.” Just as Jessie pulled out a chair, Steph tightened the lock on her arm. “I don’t suppose I need to tell you what an amazing guy he is.”
“No need,” she replied with a grin. “I am aware.”
“Can I just add one thing?”
Like I have a choice?
Jessie nodded. “Of course.”
“You’ve changed him, Jessie. He adores you. And I promise you: he doesn’t have a Jack-like bone in his body.”
The two women stared into each other’s eyes, and Jessie softened. “Thank you, Steph.”
“For what?” Danny asked out of nowhere. They turned like choreographed swimmers, both of them smiling at him as he approached.
“Girl talk, Callahan,” Steph cracked. “Mind your own beeswax.”
“My beeswax?” he repeated, slipping his arm loosely around Jessie’s shoulder. “What are you, ninety? Who says that?”
“You just compared my mother to a ninety-year-old woman. I’m telling!”
Danny sniffed. “Please don’t.”
On the first note of the first song on the CD Jessie had brought along—“Play Me” by Neil Diamond—Vince emerged from the stairs and clapped his hands once before rubbing them together.
“Oldies that are older than we are,” he exclaimed. “Nice work, Jessie.”
Steph greeted him with an open arm. “My husband loves him some classic oldies. If his car radio has ever been tuned away from K-Earth, I don’t know when it was.”
“That’s the station I was listening to when I decided to burn the CD,” Jessie stated. “The music was so good that the mood just struck me to share.”
“And I’ll bet there’s some James Taylor somewhere on that CD,” Danny said.
“You’d win that bet,” she replied, carefully guarding the flutter of emotions behind her own casual smile.
“Why don’t we sit down and have some grub to go with our Neil Diamond,” Vince suggested.
Danny pulled out a chair for Jessie, kissing her temple once she was seated. The simple act sent a flush of warmth through her entire body, kicking up the pace of her heartbeat several notches.
“After dinner, we thought we might hit the open seas for a bit if anyone’s interested,” Vince said as two waiters appeared with domed plates they set before each of them.
“Sounds like a plan,” Danny commented.
As the domes lifted, the sweet aroma of the food beneath wafted quickly past Jessie’s nose like a thick ribbon floating on a passing breeze.
“Maple-glazed salmon filets,” the waiter announced. “Asparagus spears and red potato wedges garnished with diced scallions and halved grape tomatoes.”
“Oh, guys,” Jessie whimpered. “This looks amazing.”
“Well, it should,” Vince said. “I’ve been slaving over the stove all afternoon.”
“And by stove,” Steph cut in, “he means phone.”
“Hey, it took a lot of energy and focus to do all this ordering.”
“Cheddar biscuits,” the second waiter added as he placed a metal basket at the center of the table. He’d barely peeled back the linen cloth before Danny reached in and grabbed two biscuits, one for himself and one that he deposited on Jessie’s plate.
“Pace yourself, Danny,” Steph teased. “There’s plenty of food.”
“Sure, but how many cheddar biscuits are there?” Danny followed his reply with a soft moan at first bite, not caring in the least as his dinner companions laughed at him.
A few moments later, as the first guitar chords of a familiar song plucked Jessie’s heart, she turned toward Danny to find his eyes already fixed on her. She knew they shared one train of thought. He’d revealed to her recently that “Something in the Way She Moves” by James Taylor had been their unofficial song—“At least in my mind,” he’d told her—ever since the first time they’d heard it together while riding in his Jeep. Even after the dozen or more times she’d listened to the song since his revelation—analyzing every lyric, imagining his reaction to it—her heart still beat in unison with the rhythm of the song. She wondered if he felt it too, but the fire ablaze in his eyes now told her he shared the same exhilaration at first note. She had to admit—if only to herself—she’d added this particular song to the CD with hope for just such a reaction.
“Pretty song,” she muttered,