Page 102 of Bellini's Christmas Burlesque Show
It broke her heart when he left, but she had made the right decision in pushing him away.
She would like to see him again, but what could she say? “Hey, we have a daughter, and here she is. Ta da!” He would be, understandably, angry and hurt. She had kept Bellini from him. That would be unforgivable in his eyes. Inexcusable. She absolutely saw his point of view. She would never, ever have risked losing Bellini, raising her only half-time if custody was split, but if their positions had been reversed? Well, she would have lost her damn head at being denied the opportunity to know and nurture her own child.
She sighed.
Life was complicated.
She felt a wave of sadness. She was older and she was alone. She told herself to buck up and stop being self-pitying. No one liked a sulker. She was so glad that her prickly uterus had been stolen. It had brought Bellini back home. It had been the only thing that had lured Bellini home for an extended period of time—and how could she get Logan and Bellini back together without time? She’d had to matchmake. She’d had to get them dancing together. She’d had to invite them to share the Christmas spirit as a couple and to make sure they were forced together again and again. It was a plan Mrs. Claus would appreciate.
She raised her glass and cheered herself. “Cheers, Whiskey. Well done, you cool ol’ lady.”
She counted her blessings—she got to a hundred—and smiled.
The next day, Whiskey received an email from the producers ofMarry Me. They would like to come and interview her in person.
She laughed.
She said yes.
42
Curtis
At the same time, on an island near Seattle, a man named Curtis Wisniewski stared out the window at Puget Sound.
His wife had died three years ago, and he was alone. Their three grown children and grandchildren had returned to their own homes after the holidays. He had lived in this sprawling home, very Northwest in style, with a one-hundred-eighty-degree view of Seattle and the water, for almost thirty years. He and his wife had bought it together.
He had had a successful career in computer software and had retired six months ago. Now, he was taking stock of his life, trying to be grateful for all the happy times and trying to be hopeful about the future.
He went way back in time, over thirty years ago, to a woman he’d had a brief fling with. Her name was Whiskey O’Donnell. Actually, it was Margaret Marie. She owned a bar called Lady Whiskey’s. She was intriguing, interesting, way smarter than he was, honest, creative, and strong. She was so easy to talk to, to trust. He found she was much bolder and more outrageous at the bar than she was out of it. As she’d told him, “It’s my schtick.”
Outside of the bar, she was thoughtful, contemplative, sometimes quiet. She liked to be home. She liked to garden. She liked to read books and play Scrabble. She liked to bake and knit. She liked to take care of her indoor plants. She loved The Sisters so much.
He had never forgotten those light blue eyes. They always seemed to smile at him. It had been three of the best weeks of his life.
He wondered about her. She had broken up with him, told him to “go home and take care of your mother.”
He had pleaded with her to try a long-distance relationship, to stay together, but Whiskey had been adamant. “We have different lives,” she’d said.
She wouldn’t leave Kalulell. She had her sisters, her business. She believed a long-distance relationship wouldn’t work. He argued with her, begged her to “try it,” but she would not budge. He cried as he biked back out of town. He could feel her blue eyes on him as he rode down Main Street. She had cried, too.
Curtis started dating his wife about two years later, after he finally got over Whiskey and after his mother passed on. He and Nadine had been in love, and they’d had a wonderful family and life together. He missed Nadine, but he was trying to move forward.
He had not kept track of Whiskey over the years—that would have been disloyal to his wife. And he tried not to think of her much, as that, too, would have been disloyal to Nadine. Plus, many years had passed. However, the memory of Whiskey popped up now and then whenever someone said the wordsMontanaorwhiskey.
He opened his computer, typed in Whiskey O’Donnell’s name. And there she was. Smiling back at him.
She still owned the bar. She was still beautiful, a light emanating from her, energy and humor radiating. No mention of a husband for Whiskey. Didn’t mean there wasn’t one, though. Ah! She had a daughter. Bellini. He smiled. What a name, but it fit her. Bellini had her mother’s thick hair, the shape of her face, the huge smile and dimples, but not her blue eyes. Bellini’s eyes were dark brown.
Curtis hadn’t been to Kalulell since he’d biked on out that heartbreaking day. Maybe it was time he went back. He could goto Lady Whiskey’s Bar and Grill and say hello. Ask Whiskey to dinner.
Finally, after years, a tiny bit of golden hope swelled in his chest. Yes, he would go and see Whiskey and say hello. If she wasn’t interested in dinner, he would respect that, he would understand, and he would go visit Glacier National Park and Flathead Lake. He wouldn’t bike this time, though. He would fly, then rent a car. His hip was not very good anymore.
He booked a flight and a rental car for tomorrow. He started packing.
What the heck? He wasn’t getting any younger.
