He stood about six feet tall, his frame a mix of stubborn muscle and the softer weight of too many years spent with a bottle in hand. His dark hair, now streaked with gray, was combed back neatly for the occasion, and he was clean-shaven. He seemed filled with a nervous sort of energy and kept pulling on the edges of his suit coat like he wasn’t used to it.
Riley walked with him into the reception hall, making small talk. Refreshment tables lined one wall, with a bartender mixing virgin drinks in the corner. The line was already backing up there. The middle of the room had been left open for dancing, and a dozen tables filled the side closest to them. The centerpieces were a mixture of flowers, candles, and silver star ornaments surrounded by garlands. Brighter lights would haveshown them off, but the requirements of dancing won out—low lights for ambiance.
“I’m starving,” Mr. Travers said, heading to the refreshment tables. “That’s a feast, for sure.”
The smell of food reminded Riley that she hadn’t eaten since the rehearsal dinner last night.
“They never have big enough plates,” Mr. Travers went on, “so then you have to pile food onto two dinky plates and hope you don’t spill anything while you get your drink.” He glanced around and sniffed. “You’d think with all of the money Carson makes, he would’ve hired waiters to?—”
“I can get you a drink,” Riley put in, so she didn’t have to hear about Carson’s shortcomings. “What would you like?”
“It doesn’t matter. Some juice, I guess. Just get me whatever you’re having.”
She hadn’t planned on eating until after the reception, but her hunger was kicking up. Surely some juice and something small to nibble on would be fine. Her dress wasn’tthattight.
As she stood in the drink line, she checked over her shoulder every few seconds to make sure Mr. Travers hadn’t gone anywhere. It would be just her luck if she lost him minutes after her shift started. He filled two plates high with meat, cheese, fruit, mini sandwiches, and several desserts, then took them to an empty corner table and began eating.
He sat alone, which struck Riley as sad. Carson’s parents were surrounded by friends, a stream of people congratulating them and getting caught up. So was Olivia’s mother.
Granted, Mr. Travers had moved to Bozeman when Olivia was in elementary school, so he knew fewer people in Lark Springs, but Riley couldn’t help reading more into his isolation. He’d burned too many bridges here.
She finally reached the front of the line. She’d been too distracted to pay much attention to the beverage choices, sowhen the bartender asked her what she wanted, she just said, “Two juices. Whatever kind you have is fine.” And then in an attempt to save some calories, she added, “Can you mix it with diet sprite?”
The bartender gave her a wide grin. “You want a little fizz with your juice? Would you like to try one of my signature juice mixes? I call it Sunset in Mexico.”
Riley cast another glance at Mr. Travers. He was still there. “Sure.”
The bartender put two medium-sized glasses on the counter, picked up a pitcher, and poured a little juice into each glass. “One-quarter orange, one-quarter mango, one-quarter pineapple, and one-quarter Diet Sprite to top it off.”
He handed the drinks to Riley and winked at her. “Enjoy Mexico.”
“Thanks. I will.” As she left the line, she took a small sip from one glass. The tanginess did bring to mind tropical beaches. It also reminded her how hungry she was. She swerved by the refreshment table to pick up something to nibble on. Broccoli didn’t taste good, so therefore it couldn’t be that fattening. In fact, without the dip, it probably had negative calories.
She put a few on a plate and made her way to the table where Mr. Travers was working his way through his food.
Riley placed the drinks and her plate on the table and sat beside him. She would be chatty until someone stopped by to talk to Mr. Travers. Someone would eventually come over. He must have some old friends or acquaintances here.
Before she could launch into a topic of conversation, he pointed to the opposite side of the room where the refreshment tables sat and asked, “Who’s that woman getting food? She looks familiar.”
Riley turned to check. A dozen women mingled by the refreshment table. “Which one?”
“The one by the chocolate fountain.”
Four women congregated around the chocolate fountain, three dipping fruit into it. One waiting her turn. “Describe her dress.”
“The one with the flowers on it.”
“That’s the pastor’s wife, Rachel Burton.”
“Oh, that’s why she looks familiar. I’ve seen her at church.”
Something was off in his voice, a little forced. Riley returned her gaze to him, trying to see if he was being sarcastic about going to church. He was straightening his suit jacket, his expression carefully blank.
So maybe he was serious about going to church.
Since Riley wasn’t sure what he meant by the comment, she only smiled. Her eyes fell on the juice glasses, and she noticed a smear of lipstick on the glass she’d put in front of Mr. Travers.
Oh dear. That was the glass she’d already drank from. She switched the two, explaining that she’d taken a sip from one already.