Party Time

Saturday morning brings a welcome relief from the heat we've been experiencing. I say a quick prayer of gratitude. We're planning to hold Everett's party at a park near Lovebird Café, weather permitting, and the cooler temperatures will make it much more enjoyable.

I arrive about an hour before the party is scheduled to start and find Alex already working with Jen to hang a large banner that reads "Congratulations Chef Brodbeck". I put up a folding table that I borrowed from one of my neighbors and set out the main course (a crock pot of homemade meatballs for meatball subs).

I join Alex and Jen to put up decorations. Other employees slowly show up, some with tables and chairs, others with paper plates and plastic utensils, and more with salads, desserts, and drinks.

Finally, we have everything ready. We told Everett to invite all his friends and family. A few unfamiliar men show up and introduce themselves as Wyatt, Carter, and Jerome. An aunt and uncle show up, a few cousins, and even a roommate. I'm surprised that Everett's parents and siblings aren't here. From various comments he's made, I understood that they didn't live too far away. Also, I don't see his girlfriend anywhere. Are they still together?

Those thoughts fade to the background when the man of the hour finally arrives. As soon as Everett steps into the park, he finds himself mobbed by a crowd of friends and family shouting congratulations, slapping him on the back, and hugging him.

He seems a little overwhelmed by all the sudden attention and I find myself laughing at his shock. He adjusts quickly though, and soon my head chef has his confident smile in place as he returns greetings and hugs. I remain next to the food table, knowing that he will eventually end up here.

When he arrives at the food table, he looks at me with a bright smile. "Lace! This is incredible! Did you really throw all of this together for me?"

I laugh. "It was a total team effort! We're all really proud of you!" I reach out and give him a quick hug. Well, it was going to be a quick hug, but he doesn't let go when I loosen my arms and start pulling away, so I just hold on for a little longer. I guess he probably needs a quick breather from all the attention.

When he finally pulls back, he looks a little emotional. "I can't tell you how much I appreciate all your support," he says, his voice breaking a little. "It just means so much to me to know that people care."

"You're a wonderful person and a great chef! Of course people care!" I grab his arm and turn him so he's standing next to me, facing the crowd that has now gathered and is watching us expectantly. "All of these people have benefitted from your friendship, mentorship, or just from knowing you."

I raise my voice and address the group. "We're here today to celebrate a man who we are all proud of and excited for. Everett, Chef Brodbeck, has done an incredible job in his work at Lovebird Café, and his hard work is paying off! Yesterday he interviewed with a reporter from Charlotte Taste and soon they'll be putting out an article about him. Let's hear it for Everett!"

Everyone bursts into cheers and applause while Everett smiles and gets a little rosy. I laugh at his embarrassment. I always find myself surprised by the things that discomfit my confident, easygoing chef.

"Thank you so much," he says. "I can't express how much it means to me to have you all here today." His voice gets a little thick again. "You guys are all so great and it's a pleasure knowing you and working with you." They all cheer and clap again and a few random voices yell various renditions of "you're awesome!"

"Well," I say once the noise has died down, "There's plenty of food here, so dig in!" I gesture to the table and nudge Everett gently. "You should lead the way," I say softly, so only he can hear.

He does as asked and soon everyone is lined up, getting plates full of food and dispersing to the chairs and tables. Everett's table fills up quickly. Since I'm waiting to get food until everyone else has gone, I just watch him laughing with his friends. I keep an eye on all the tables, making sure that everyone looks happy and no one is sitting alone.

By the time I go through the food line, many of the dishes are gone. Thankfully there's still enough for seconds if people are hungry; they'll just have to settle for the less popular sides. I made plenty of meatballs, so the crock pot is still half-full.

Once I have my food, I look around for an empty seat. I see a chair next to one of the waiters I haven't talked to much, so I take it. Ned looks up and nods, then returns his attention to his food. We're alone at the small table, so I follow suit, focusing on my food.

When he's finished eating, he leans back and looks at me. His long, blond hair is hanging in his eyes, but he doesn't seem to mind. "So, boss, this is a nice shindig."

"Thanks. I'm glad you could come," I say with a smile. I put my fork down and turn my attention to him. "How are things going? Are you enjoying work?"

"Yeah. It's a good gig," he answers. "Friendly coworkers, lots of good tips. It pays the bills."

We chat casually for a few minutes. He tells me about the classes he's taking at the local university as he works on his computer science degree. We discuss college life. He's living in a dorm with a few other guys, so he tells me some funny stories about dorm life with men. I listen, laugh, and thank the Lord that I have never had to live with a bunch of men.

Our conversation is winding down when Ned glances at his watch and frowns. Shooting me an apologetic smile, he stands. "I've gotta take off. It was fun though. I'll catch you at work in a few hours."

I stand as well, grabbing his empty plate and stacking it on mine. "I can take this if you want to go talk to Everett before you leave."

Ned smiles his thanks and lopes away, his long legs taking him quickly to Everett's table. I watch them for a moment, then finish gathering up our trash and head to the garbage can.

After I throw away the plates, I head back to the food table to fill a plastic cup with water. Alex joins me and we linger near the table as we drink and talk.

"The decorations look great," I tell her.

"Thanks. Those meatballs were awesome! I thought you didn't cook."

"I can follow a recipe. Pinterest is my best friend! I just can't come up with my own stuff."

"Besides Lacy's Special, of course."

"Of course," I agree with a smile.

We're discussing my date with Henry when our conversation is stopped by a shout of surprise and a wave of cold water splashing over me. I gasp and turn to see Jen looking at us in horror, her hands full of empty cups.

"I'm so sorry, Lacy!" she exclaims, her cheeks turning bright red. "I tripped on a hole in the grass and. . . I'm sorry!"

I laugh. "Don't worry! I'm fine! It's just water, right?"

She nods, but she still looks upset. I go to her and almost hug her from pure instinct, but then I remember that I'm dripping wet. Instead, I put a hand on her arm.

"I promise, I'm okay. Nothing was ruined."

"Oh but. . . your shirt."

"It will dry. Water isn't going to hurt it."

She shakes her head wordlessly and I just give her a reassuring pat. "It's fine. I'll head home soon anyway. Looks like most people are almost finished." I turn and look around to find most of the guests looking at me and laughing.

I smile uncomfortably. Something feels wrong. Usually I would feel like laughing with everyone and just shrugging the mishap off, but the laughter and the looks feel different. . . mocking, maybe, or judgmental.

I don't understand why everyone is looking at me like this. It's not like I did anything to merit this accident. And no one is looking at Jen, judging her for being clumsy.

I can feel tears of embarrassment and frustration welling up in my eyes. I keep looking around, hoping to find a friendly face. When my eyes make it to Everett's table, I lock eyes with one of his friends, Wyatt, who is staring at me with a little half-smile that feels almost predatory. He turns and says something to the table and a couple of the other guys laugh.

Before I can turn and run away, which is quickly sounding like the best option, I hear a familiar, angry voice.

I look back to the table and see Everett, definitely in full rage-monster mode. But for the first time since I met him, his anger is directed at someone else. I watch as he drags Wyatt from his seat and throws him on the ground.

Unsure what's happening, I run towards them. Everett's loud, angry words quickly make the situation more clear.

"-dare you say something like that, you punk! If I ever hear you talk that way about a woman again, so help me, I will-" He cuts off as another of his friends, Jerome, grabs his arm and pulls him back.

I reach Everett's side just as he shakes Jerome off and turns to Wyatt, who is still sitting on the ground and looking at Everett as though Everett is some kind of wild animal on a rampage. Which, now that I consider it, is a pretty accurate way to describe Everett when he loses his temper.

Before Everett can unleash more anger on his friend, I grab his other arm gently.

"Everett," I say softly.

He turns to look at me, his eyes briefly scanning over me, then quickly darting back up to my face. His cheeks are turning red as he reaches for the buttons on his nice, gray plaid button-up.

I watch, frozen in shock, as he swiftly unbuttons his shirt and pulls it off. I'm so focused on his suddenly uncovered torso (and I have to admit, it's a very nice torso) that I don't realize his intentions until he drapes his shirt over me and goes to start fastening the buttons. I pull back a few inches and look up at him in surprise.

"Lacy," he says in a quiet, broken voice. "Please. You've got to cover up. Everyone is looking at you. . . all the men. . . I just can't. . ." He trails off and just looks at me with pleading eyes.

I look down and gasp as I realize why everything felt so off. I'm wearing a white shirt. A very, very wet white shirt, now. And my very pretty, lacey blue bra is completely exposed under the thin, sheer, clingy material. I may as well not be wearing a shirt at this point. Which means everyone was staring because I was giving them an unintentional show. And that probably means that whatever Wyatt said was. . .

Oh no. Oh nonononono. I close my eyes against the tears that are starting to trickle out and grab the sides of Everett's shirt, pulling it around me like a blanket.

I feel gentle hands on my face as Everett wipes my tears. "Shhh, no. Don't cry," he says softly. "It's okay. You're all covered now."

"I d-didn't even r-realize that I wasn't c-covered before," I answer, hiccupping with repressed sobs.

"I know, I know. But no one is really paying any attention to you anymore. Someone else stole the show."

I open my eyes to shoot him a questioning look and realize that he's talking about himself. Now that he is completely shirtless, all the stares and whispers have found a new target.

"I didn't mean to ruin your party," I say apologetically.

"It's not ruined. These are the kinds of things that make a party memorable," he says with a smile. "No one is going to write this off as just another summer potluck in the park."

I can't help but laugh a little at his joke. "That's true," I say, slowly regaining control of my voice as my tears dry up.

"Now put on a smile and get ready to watch me give a bunch of awkward, shirtless hugs. I think people are ready to head out."

I step back and watch as, sure enough, everyone lines up to say their goodbyes and congratulations to Everett. He manages his awkward, shirtless situation like a champ, laughing off the weirdness.

The last person to say goodbye besides a few of our female coworkers who are staying to help me clean up is Wyatt, who approaches Everett tentatively.

"I'm sorry for what I said, man," Wyatt says. "I didn't mean it."

"I know," Everett answers, suddenly very serious. "But I meant what I said. Don't talk about women like that. It's not cool and it's not okay."

"Got it," his friend says, mumbling an added congrats and goodbye before he hurries away.

Everett sighs and looks at me with a frown. "We were roommates in college. I always thought he was a pretty cool guy. Obviously I just didn't know him well enough. I'm really sorry, Lace."

I shake my head. "His actions are not your responsibility. Thank you for defending me. And for lending me your shirt. But you don't need to apologize for someone else's thoughtless words." I place a comforting hand on Everett's arm. "Besides, I didn't hear what he said, so I really have no idea what happened."

"That's probably for the best," Everett says, shifting so he's holding my hand in his and giving it a squeeze. "Now let's get this party cleaned up!"