Chapter 20: Fortune Inn - Ambiguity
1487 Words
That night at The Rusty Anchor, even a few elderly ladies had come for the gathering.
They enjoyed dinner and casual chatter, and by eight o’clock, the older women left for home, leaving the younger ones behind to drink and continue the evening.
Clara Hayes sat in a cozy corner, flanked by Abu and the house singer Rue White. Across from her sat Elliot Vance, Shawn Rayne, and Sid.
Kyle, having just served a few cocktails, brought over a fresh drink for Clara. “Try this, sis. It’s a new fruit mix I just made.”
Clara took a sip, lifted her thumb approvingly. “Not a trace of alcohol burn. Light peach, crisp and sweet. Really good.”
Sid teased, “Hey, Kyle, what gives? Just a drink for Fortune and nothing for us? Playing favorites much?”
Kyle’s face instantly flushed red.
Clara picked up a peanut and tossed it at Sid. “You talk too damn much. Say another word and I’ll have Kyle dock your pay.”
Sid grinned. “Come on, sis. Kyle listens to you more than anyone. If you say dock it, he won’t even hesitate.”
Kyle rolled his eyes. “Sid, go sing something for Mr. Rayne. He’s leaving tomorrow.”
Despite all the joking, Sid took singing seriously. He set down his sunflower seeds, stood, and cracked his knuckles dramatically. “Time for me to shine.”
He stepped onto the small stage, picked up a guitar, and waved toward Shawn. “This one’s for you, Mr. Rayne—‘See You Again’. Same time next year in Willowbrook!”
“See you then!” Clara clapped, leading the room in applause.
The other guests joined in enthusiastically.
As the gentle intro of “See You Again” filled the bar, Clara caught sight of Sid’s focused expression as he strummed. She drained her drink in one go, then leaned toward Rue White. “I’m gonna run to the restroom.”
Rue shifted to give her space. As Clara slipped past Elliot, her shoulder nearly brushed his.
A soft jasmine scent drifted past. Elliot instinctively turned his head, just in time to see her lift a cigarette and lighter from Kyle’s bar tray.
The guitar notes faded behind her. From the stage, Sid’s deep, soulful voice rose:
🎶 It’s been a long day without you, my friend
And I’ll tell you all about it when I see you again… 🎶
Clara reached the restroom, lit the cigarette between her lips and took a few slow puffs—but even then, the air felt stifling.
She stepped outside, turning a corner toward the smoking area, only to find Elliot already there, exhaling a stream of smoke.
“Evening, Mr. Vance.” Her tone was unbothered, as if nothing intimate had ever passed between them.
She flicked ash into the metal tray, took another slow drag, then noticed him watching her.
“I’m smoking a cigarette, not doing heroin,” she said with a teasing smirk, “Why are you looking at me like that?”
Everyone at The Rusty Anchor knew she smoked. She didn’t have a nicotine addiction—never touched a cigarette at the Fortune Inn. She only smoked here, at the bar.
“Enjoy your cigarette,” she said softly, stubbing out the last of it in the ashtray.
She twisted open the back door and stepped outside.
The door shut behind her. Clara lit another cigarette, tilted her head back, and blew a perfect ring of smoke into the snowy air.
Snowflakes drifted down, dissolving against her lashes.
Beautiful. The thought came unbidden.
Through the glass, Elliot watched her: the cigarette poised between her lips, the quiet reverence in her face as she admired the snowfall.
He’d seen plenty of women smoke—some sensual, some provocative—but Clara felt different. He couldn’t describe why.
All he knew was that when he saw her tilt her head, lips parting to release smoke into the sky, he had the sudden, inexplicable urge to pull her into his arms.
She felt his eyes. Turned her head.
Their gazes met through the glass.
She smiled.
That careless, effortless smile only made his chest feel tighter.
Clara finished her second cigarette before heading back in. In front of Elliot, she sprayed breath freshener into her mouth, then pulled a tiny perfume bottle from her pocket and misted herself head to toe.
Only after sniffing her sleeve and confirming the scent covered any trace of smoke, did she return.
A few minutes later, Elliot heard applause from the front room.
The crowd was chanting, “Fortune! Fortune!”
The intro to “Wildest Dreams” began on the guitar.
Following the music, he walked in and heard her voice:
🎶 He said, "Let’s get out of this town
Drive out of the city, away from the crowds…” 🎶
Elliot turned toward the stage.
Clara Hayes stood with a guitar in her arms, smiling as she played and sang.
Her voice was warm, magnetic. The guests stilled, listening.
Then she sang,
🎶 Nothing lasts forever
But this is getting good now… 🎶
Elliot’s mind drifted to Daniel Shaw.
Daniel came from a powerful family. If Clara hadn't been born into something more modest, the Shaws would never have forced them apart.
His phone buzzed in his pocket.
It was a forwarded message from his older brother:
"My son’s wedding has been postponed indefinitely. Apologies for any inconvenience..."
A second message came quickly after:
"Dad says the Shaws are being watched too. Odds are the engagement’s off."
Elliot looked up at Clara onstage.
She was still smiling as if she'd truly let go of it all.
When the final note ended, the room erupted in cheers.
Clara bowed, stepped off the stage, returned Kyle’s lighter and smokes, and slid onto a stool. “Make me something strong,” she said. “Something that’ll wipe me clean out.”
Kyle studied her face. “Sis, maybe you should take a few days off.”
“The more I rest, the more tired I feel.” Clara ruffled his hair with a smile. “I’m fine, really.”
He hesitated. “Why don’t you go to Federal Cross with Mr. Rayne? Clear your head.”
“I don’t like big cities. They don’t feel like home.” She accepted the drink and took a sip. “I like it here in Willowbrook. It makes me feel grounded.”
Kyle looked at her. “Do you think you’ll ever leave Willowbrook?”
“I don’t know.” Clara tilted her head back and downed the drink. “There are a million possibilities in life. Who knows what’s next?”
Just like Daniel Shaw—his wedding was suddenly postponed.
No warning.
…
Clara was drunk. Her mind was clear, but her steps wavered.
She refused Shawn’s help, leaning instead on Rue White.
Walking through the snow, she murmured, “Who says you can’t own Mount Fuji? It’s private property to begin with.”
Rue chuckled, indulging her. “You’re right. It’s always been private.”
Shawn, heart aching, turned to Elliot. “Watch her for me after I’m gone, will you? Don’t let her drink like this.”
Elliot, supporting his shoulder, replied coolly, “Worry about yourself first.”
Shawn opened his mouth, then shut it. He knew he had no comeback—he was a lightweight, and everyone knew it.
Back at the inn, Clara collapsed into bed. Only then did Rue and Kyle leave.
The snow fell heavier that night. After checking on Shawn, Elliot stepped outside to close the gate.
Looking up, he saw a warm light flicker to life in Clara’s upstairs room.
She emerged, bundled in a down coat, quietly descending the outdoor staircase to fetch a bottle of water. Careful with each step, she held the rail tightly.
Almost at the bottom, she spotted Elliot.
He extended a hand. “It’s slippery.”
“Thanks.” She took his wrist, steadying herself as she stepped down.
She went to the storage room, grabbed two bottles of water, and twisted one open. She drank greedily, finishing it before realizing he was still standing there.
“I’m not drunk,” she told him. “Go back to bed. I’ll sweep the stairs in a bit, so it won’t be slippery anymore.”
“Daniel Shaw’s wedding has been postponed indefinitely,” Elliot said flatly. “You already knew, didn’t you?”
“Found out this afternoon. My best friend told me.” Clara screwed the cap back on, her face calm. “You got the message too?”
“When are you going back to Crestwood?”
“Why would I go back to Crestwood?” Her voice cooled, a bitter smile pulling at her lips. “Don't you think you’re meddling a bit much, boss?”
- Writer
