Matter of Choice (11 page)

“Shy? Do you feel okay? We can hold off if you’re not feeling well.”

“No, I’m fine.” Clearing her throat, she shifted focus out the side window, watching people come and go, thankful none paid attention to her or the fool she was making of herself. “I’ll give you one thing. You definitely keep the car a whole lot cleaner than when we were in high school.”

“See? Some things do change.” He backed out of space and headed onto Oceanview Trail.

“I suppose so. But some things are harder to change than others.”

He groaned theatrically. “Just let me prove it to you, Shy. You’ll be surprised. Pleasantly. I promise.”

“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves, okay? I’m still married, in some form, and right now I’m here only as a tour guide, dinner and friend.”

Triston smiled, squeezing the steering wheel, eyes fixated on the road ahead.  “Yes, ma’am. By the way, if it’s not too out of bounds, or even if it is - I don’t care - I want to say, before we go anywhere, you’re beautiful. You take my breath away.”

She tried to answer, to thank him, to say anything resembling coherent speech, but all she co
uld muster was a smile and nod.

He nodded and head north along the shore. Shannon watched the blue of the sky whisked with thin clouds race by, birds soared and dipped alongside the river, and she thrilled at the crisp air playing in her hair just as she imagined moments ago. Laying her head against the headrest, she closed her eyes, elated as the silent motor of the engine raced them across the stretch upriver, the feelin
g of flight so easily imagined.

Triston’s cologne rode the breeze to her nostrils, clipping her wings as she crashed back into the moment. Opening her eyes, she looked over at him to spy the smile etched on his lips. Clove and nutmeg, hints of other scents, she fought against the tremors it shot through every pore of her being.

“I think this
is
the happiest I’ve seen you since I arrived.”

She sighed. “I think it is the happiest I’ve been in years.” She bit her lip and turned back to the river. Revelations like that could get her in trouble.

He reached across the seat to touch her hand. “You’ve done some amazing things, Shy. I always knew you would. But what you’ve accomplished, it’s really impressive.”

Staring down at his fingers, she wondered what it would be like to feel them hold her, and squeezed her eyelids together, chasing the thought away
.
Keep it light, keep it light.

“That’s quite a line, Triston.” She forced a chuckle. “
I guess I should say thank you."

His hands tightened on the steering wheel and he sighed. “I know I hurt you, Shy, but can you lay off the judgments. Give me a chance, will you?”

She smiled, and looked out the window. The flutters were gone, the threatening flames extinguished. Success was sweet. She pushed a couple of stray strands away from her eyes before regarding him again.

Maybe giving him a chance to be a frien
d wouldn’t be so bad after all.

Chapter Sixteen

They turned into a bistro restaurant set high above the Hudson, famous for seafood and hard to come by reservations. Shannon had dined a time or two before, and the food was exquisite. The exterior was as she recalled - the gray octagonal building perched high above the waters below, with a circling white patio and three hundred sixty degree views. The rising terrain, hinting of the lead into the Adirondacks in the distance, decorated the area with a rich splendor of trees, grasses and rising slopes providing the northern, southern, and western views, the river and its banks below to the east. The last time she ate there, it was summer, three years ago, with Greg and another couple. Good memories. Ones she was surprised meant very little to her. That was then, this was now, and a new set of choices were about to be made.

A near empty parking lot boded well, though a bit unusual to her best recollection, but Shannon found herself sucking in a breath as she reached for the door handle. Whatever this dinner was, it still felt like a date, and the word left a strange taste in her
mouth. Sweet, bitter, enticing.

She felt a brush against her shoulder and turned to see Triston smilin
g. “Please, allow me.”

He jumped out of the car, trotting alongside the hood to her door, and removed the barrier between them with a hand waiting.

She smiled and rested her fingers in the expectant palm. “This is beginning to dangerously resemble a date.” With the word hanging in the air, her mind relaxed. It was said, and now could be refuted, adjusted as needed.

She stepped out of the car, and pressed against the gleaming metal when Triston didn’t allow her
passage. “We have rules, sir.”

“Yes, we do. And my favorite rule is to treat you like the lady you are.”

She shook her head, and waited until he widened the berth and generously dropped her hand. No misconstrued appearances. As they drew near the front door, she glanced at his grinning face. He looked like a school boy escorting the class beauty. They were neither, and the expression made her laugh. “What am I going to do with you?”

His lips tilted into a lopsided smile. “There are so many wonderful ways I could answer that, but, you know, we have th
ese rules, and …”

Before she had time to consider the rules, or appearances, or what anyone might say, she reached out and playfully punched his shoulder. He roared with laughter and opened to the restaurant. “After you, my lady.”

“Not quite, Triston. Not quite.”

Inside, the décor was tastefully done in blue and green hues, touched off by blond oak, a leather sofa and striped straight back chairs. No fishermen nets hanging from the walls, no plastic lobsters or seaside signage. Just simple pastel paintings depicting seashore scenes of lazy days gazing at tides coming in, and romantic evenings walking barefoot in the sand. Hardwood floors expertly shined completed the seaside feel of the restaurant, the soft instrumental music filtered through hidden speakers inviting. Patronage was low, the bar to the left vacant, and as far as Shannon could see, so was the restaurant. Strange, but then, it was also the middle of the afternoon. It’d been so long since her last visit, she realized she knew nothing of their cu
stomer patterns.

Shannon eased into an armchair as Triston checked in and joined her, reclining comfortably with a foot resting on his knee in a nearby sofa. She was just about to thank him for bringing her when a waitress passed by and did a double take. Shannon shuddered. Maybe the girl knew her, or Greg. No, probably not, she didn’t recognize her. Yet, she couldn’t swallow
the unease tickling her tongue.

She turned to Triston. “I don’t know. I don’t think this is a good idea,” she said as she stood. “I should go.”

His face elongated, his jaw dropped without opening, eyebrows shot upward. He stood and gently grabbed her forearm. “Don’t, Shy. There’s no reason to feel self-conscious, or embarrassed. We’re having dinner. That’s all. And after all that man put you through, what’s the harm in dinner?”

She stepped closer, her voice hushed. “It doesn’t matter what
he’s
done. It matters what I’m doing. And I don’t want to do something that will be … misconstrued … as indecent. I’m trying to be
right
, Triston. And not the kind of right that, you know, he’s wrong, and I’m right; but the kind of right that I didn’t do anything out of line regardless of what he’s done.” She sighed as his lips tightened into a tender smile. “That doesn’t make sense?”

“Shannon, it makes all the sense in the world. And, I’ve got to say, you have got to be the most patient, incredible, self-sacrificing woman I have ever met.” He dropped his hand and tucked it in a pocket. “If you want, I’ll take you back to the hotel. No hard feelings. But, if you stay, I promise not to give anyone a reason to think anything of you, or of us. We’ll eat. We’ll enjoy the views.” He shrugged. “And maybe even each other’s company.”

She smiled a soft line and shook her head in tremors. “Of course we’ll enjoy each other’s company. That was never the problem.” She glanced down at the floor. A couple walked by, Shannon lifted her gaze, cognizant they were oblivious of her standing next to Triston. Of course they would be. She and Greg were well-known in certain circles, but hardly famous. Why would anyone think twice of her being with Triston? Conscience pricked her, self-importance raining guilt over her.
You’re being silly
. She nodded once. “Okay. You’re right. Dinner doesn’t matter. Especially not now.” Sadness threatened to engulf her, tears glistening at the edge of their abyss. Why she should even care anymore was beyond her, her husband didn’t.

Triston reached out and
patted her knee. “That-a girl.”

“Triston Keyes. Your table is ready,” the college-aged man a
t the concierge desk announced.

Triston stood and nodded, and Shannon scrutinized him as he spoke to the attendant. So different from the boy she knew. He wasn’t from money, that she knew. His family was blue-collar, work
ing class, real people. No showmanship. No airs. Just down to earth, and sometimes rough around the edges. She loved his family when she was younger, she remembered, and raised an eyebrow. Perhaps she would now, too.

But all that taken into consideration, she saw something in Triston she hadn’t before. He was still … Triston … but the air about him, the confidence.  And something else. He fit in the strangest sort of way. Not high power, not rich money, but the command he took. She glanced at the attendant and realized she wasn’t the only one noticing his presence. The boy wasn’t studying him, and would have if he sensed Triston didn’t fit in. That’s how it was among the wealthy and those who waited on them, Shannon had been in upper-crust level long enough to recognize it. It was one of those things people liked so well about the Grande Marquis: no preconceived notions, every
one treated generally the same.

She tilted her head to the side, more curious than before. And wondered why this was the first t
ime she noticed the difference.

“You ready?” he asked, breaking through her t
houghts, his hand outstretched.

She nodded, smiled and stood up with her fingers resting in his grasp. The moment her skin touched his, an electrifying smile lit up his face, the heat flushing Shannon’s cheeks.
It shouldn’t feel this nice
.

Her throat constricted as they walked hand in hand down the ramp towards the back of the restaurant, following the attendant past the main dining area, bar and kitchen. Her brows furrowed and she looked to Triston’s carefully stoic expression. With an arm wrapped around his elbow, she began to whisper the question as the attendant stopped outside one of the private rooms. Shannon raised an eyebrow and looked to the man at her side,
surely there was some mistake.

“Your private room as requested, Mr. Keyes.” The attendant held out an opened palm towards the intimate space Shannon knew was expensive to reserve. “Your waiter will be with you momentarily. In the meantime, is there anything I can get for you?”

Triston retrieved his wallet from the inside of his suit coat and peeled a fifty dollar bill from the fold, handed it to the attendant. “No, but I thank you for your assistance with this special reservation.”

He took the bill without hesitation, wished them both a nice evening and
retreated up the ramp.

Shannon stared hard at Triston. “I don’t understand, I thought we had
an agreement. Why all of this?”

One hand nestled in the small of her back as the other gestured to the private two top table. Shannon’s eyes dropped forward, fighting against bubbling joy, and slowly took a step forward. With his hand never straying from its perch on her back, he sidled forward and pulled out a lattice arm chair. She folded her
hand, gaze lifting to meet his.

“Please.”

She considered for a moment and settled in the cherry oak, laying an eggshell linen napkin across the contrasting black of her dress as Triston eased the chair forward. Her eyes followed him as he rounded the table and sat down, then resting both elbows on the table. “Our agreement still stands intact. But the way I see it, the one thing you need is to be treated like a lady again.”

“But, Triston, this is expensive to do, I know. You didn’t …”

He reached across the table and covered her hand. “Nothing is too expensive for you. So no more protests, okay? Just enjoy.”

Sliding the hand back, she ignored the pang of hurt in his eyes which faded nearly as quickly as it appeared. She pulled her lips over her teeth and looked over the room. White walls were trimmed in cherry oaks, floors darker than those in the main part of the building. Twin floor-to-ceiling slate water fountains decorated in copper stretched against the wall behind Triston, the trickle nearly silent except for the occasional gurgle as the water edged gently over the backdrop. Windows stretched the length of wall to Shannon’s right with an unsurpassable vista of the valley and river, a glass door led to a private patio. Music played low in the background, the light dim enough to be romantic accompanied by candles flickering with invitation.

She squirmed a little, glancing across the table into the enticing green of his eyes. It’s dinner, Shannon, just dinner. A cozy, romantic, private dinner. With Triston. It couldn’t be more wrong. Her breath caught as she realized, it couldn’t feel more right.

She smiled. “This is beautiful, Triston. I don’t why you did this, or how,” she giggled. “But it couldn’t be any more wonderful. I think this is what I needed. Away from Greg, away from the hotel, away from everything. Thank you.”

“Any time, sweetie. I think that’s what I’ve been trying to tell you all along.”

The corners of her mouth pinched tightly into a smile. “So, aside from dating anyone whose head you could turn, what have you been doing since we were together?”

He sighed and sat back. “What have I been doing? Back to the small talk, huh?”

She giggled. “No, I didn’t mean it like that. I just mean, what’s been going on? It’s been so long.”

Arms folded against his chest, a thumb pressed against his lips, Triston smiled. “Now that I can agree with you on.” With a hard blink and heavy sigh, he appeared to contemplate subjects. “Well, I own my own business.”

“You do?” She failed to inhibit the widening eyes or inflection in her voice from pitching highe
r.

He laughed. “Don’t look so surprised.”

“Well, no, I didn’t mean, I didn’t mean it like that.”

He reached across the table again, patting her hand. “Of course you didn’t. And it’s nothing as glamorous as running the Grande, I can assure you. It’s an employee management company. I do well, turned over a six digit profit last year for the first time.”

Her lips curled softly upwards,
That explains the difference in him.
Shannon never imagined him owning a white-collar business. He had more interest in shop and sports than marketing and books in high school. “That’s wonderful. Congratulations.”

“Thanks. It’s been a tough road, building it, getting the name out there, but you know, the blood, sweat and tears are rewarding.” He winked. “Almost as much as the money. But then, I guess I don’t have to tell you that.”

She toyed with the glass of water before her. “It was different for me, I guess. Easier, maybe. You know, Greg’s family had all this money backing them, the Grande was really their investment, and his present to me. Because of that, I didn’t have the struggles most businesses have at start up. Things just fell into place, guests came. The Winters’ name was attached to it,” she shrugged. “They trusted that without question right out of the starting gate. I know what you fought your way through must have been much tougher than what I did.”

Triston raised an eyebrow. “You sell yourself short. You’ve built more than just a business or hotel. Those guests love you, outside of the Winters’ name. They respect you.”

She chuckled, but the scorn was unmistakable. “They won’t if Greg continues to make scenes like he has been. He doesn’t understand how that hurts not just me, but the hotel.”

He shook his head. “That man understands more than you think he does. You make it too easy. But no, he’s not hurting the hotel. The guests aren’t as oblivious as they act, and they feel badly for you.”