Chương 20: Oh, the Place You’ll Go

Back in my room, I changed into the best clothes I had. On my shopping trip, I'd also snagged something for myself. I'd finally coughed up a few coins to get myself some duds nicer by degrees than the loaners Wynnie had been supplying me since my arrival. They still weren't actually all that nice. Not by Earth standards, anyway, although I would likely have turned a few heads at a Renaissance Faire. There were a bit more ruffles than I'd normally go for, and button-up shirts always made me think of work.

Even so, they looked passably good on me. They actually fit and, more importantly, had been gentle on my coin purse. No sense blowing our bankroll on drip just yet. I wondered if Wynnie found the dress I stashed in her closet. Had I sized it correctly? It was almost time to find out. The buzz of anticipation screamed through every nerve ending. I made it back out to the front path of the Breakwater before Wynnie. The cool evening breeze whipped in off the ocean while I waited. She wasn't far behind.

After a few minutes, I heard the door open and close, and I turned to find the pretty innkeeper standing on the steps above me, wringing her hands nervously. The messiness of her perpetually unkempt hair bun had been tamed somewhat. Speckles of paint that previously dotted her hands and arms were washed away. In place of the pigment-crusted work clothes, Wynnie wore her new dress. She'd found it, alright. The only other times I'd seen it had been on the wire mannequin at the store. This was… different.

The orange light of early sunset lit her tan skin with a healthy glow. The new dress complemented her brown skin and hair with emerald greens and cream tones. It draped around her generous proportions, highlighting her curves. A fresh breath of breeze from the sea caught the hem and flipped it just high enough to give me an even better look at her voluptuous thighs. I swallowed a sudden lump in my throat. Voluptuous wasn't a word that friends typically used to describe each other.

I'd wanted this to be a casual thing. It was shaping up to be anything but. I needed to stay cool. Not push things. Let everything flow. Whatever we were doing, I needed to do it right.

"Cheese and crackers," Wynnie said, breaking me from my thoughts.

"Are you going to say anything? Or just stare?" What else could I say?

"You look absolutely beautiful." A wavering grin fought its way onto her face.

"Beautiful as a friend," she said.

"Right?" The question hung heavy in the air. How could I answer in a way that built a solid foundation for something that would last, without erecting a hasty Jenga tower that would topple on a whim?

"Just beautiful," I said. I held out my hand to her, and she took it. It felt equal parts intimate and holding on for dear life. Maybe I was still working on myself the way people did after a heavy breakup. I'd just been dumped by my former life on Earth, after all. Whatever. This needed to happen either way. It was finally time to grab adventure by the horns and hang on for dear life. It was just my luck that I gave Wynnie an occasion to wear that dress. She deserved every good thing coming her way.

My steps felt simultaneously rushed, yet apprehensive. For a small town, there was plenty of sprawl and winding pathways. The trek was longer than I'd expected. The Good Inn sat higher up in the hills above the bay. Its view reached out in all directions, exposing countless miles of surf, sea, and surrounding area. If the view from outside was spectacular, the interior was every bit as impressive.

"No wonder they call it The Good Inn," I muttered. Sturdy wooden chairs with ornate carvings and luxurious cushions decked the dining area. They were polished to a gleaming finish, just like the floors. Crystal glasses caught the candlelight, casting tiny rainbows across white tablecloths. A few patrons sat together, talking quietly amongst themselves. They were dressed in respectable garb.

Clean clothes, fine textures, and well-appointed layers gave them an aristocratic air, which felt almost out of place in the blue-collar seaside town we were in. They swirled glasses of wine and looked at us curiously as we entered.

"It doesn't get rowdy until later in the evening," Wynnie explained. The scent of lavender curled up from her soft hair as she leaned in.

"Right now, these are the travelers coming through town. They get a food and wine service before the riffraff shows up."

"Wait, I'm confused. Are we welcome here for this?" Did you know this text is from a different site? Read the official version to support the creator.

"I don't see why not. We're looking for food and wine service, right?" I nodded.

"I was also hoping to qualify as riffraff, if I'm being honest."

"Give it an hour and a couple glasses of wine. I'm sure you'll fit right in." She gave me that cheeky smile that I was getting addicted to. She seemed more her normal self again. The nerves and odd tension between us from earlier lifted as we pushed deeper into the establishment. She straightened her glasses and waved at another elf who busied herself nearby with a platter filled with wine glasses and a bottle.

"Wynnie! What a surprise! So... interesting to see you here." The elf had a polished air. A crisp white apron covered her black service attire, and barely a hair on her blonde head was out of place.

"Hi, Mel. We're hoping to do dinner for two."

"We don't usually see townfolk in for the early service. It's a bit, um, posh for local coin." She looked at the two of us, eyeing me up and down. She seemed to think about something for a moment, then pursed her lips and relented.

"I guess we can seat you though. We wouldn't want to turn away someone else from the industry, now would we?"

"Thanks, Mel." The server excused herself and stopped by a table to deliver her charge. I watched her hurried form, barely a foot out of place. She'd walked these routes a few thousand times, and probably under a good deal of pressure, too. A minute later, she reappeared by our side and showed us to a table near the window. The view of the bay was admittedly stunning. Much better than anything we could offer.

"Just drinks tonight? Or would you like to see a menu as well?"

"Full menu, please," Wynnie said, sounding both excited and proud.

"And just checking—do you have enough coin to pay? Or should we start a tab? I'm sure you'd be good for it. Eventually." Wynnie flushed and bit her lip. She glanced at me nervously, hoping that I hadn't picked up on the nuances of the offer. I had.

"We're good for it. In fact, we should have enough to cover a room for the night, too. We may need one," I assured her. Then, so it wouldn't sound like I was treating Wynnie like an escort, I added an explanation.

"We just painted the Breakwater. Wouldn't mind a night away from the fumes." Wynnie gave me a thankful look, and Mel blinked back surprise. Just as quickly, a gracious smile curled her lips, and she left us to procure a menu.

"So, you know each other, huh?"

"I mean, yeah. We're in the same industry. So, professional acquaintances."

"I got kind of a weird vibe between the two of you."

"When I first got into town, she was really friendly and nice. When I wasn't able to immediately turn the inn around and make it a success, she sort of distanced herself." I cocked a brow.

"Oh, so she's too fancy for you?" Wynnie looked around and then swept an arm to reveal our location.

"I mean, yeah. Way too fancy. Have you seen this place?"

"Does she own it?"

"No, but she's worked here for a while, so she basically comes with the building." I laughed.

"Wynnie, there's no comparison between the two of you." Her eyes sparkled at the bare hint of a compliment.

"She merely works at one spot, while you own your own. The best she could hope for is to one day buy her own place. You already have yours." The beautiful brunette elf nodded in agreement, as though she were just realizing it herself. A fire grew in her energy, intensifying as though someone had just opened a flue.

"You know what? You're right, gosh darn it. And it's not like this place is so great, either."

"Yeah, it's kind of boring, to be honest." I didn't mention that it reminded me a lot of where I'd worked, which was much less exciting than the music bar I'd cut my teeth at.

"I seriously expected this to be a bit more, I don't know, lively."

"Oh, it may be hoity-toity now, but it will get rowdy once guests finish eating. And Mel may seem a bit stiff currently, but she likes to drink just as much as I do. When the rest of the town shows up, she'll act more like the Mel I met when I first arrived here."

"You mean, nicer?" Wynnie giggled.

"Yeah. Much nicer. Especially to guys, if you know what I mean." Speak of the devil, and she'll appear, apparently. Mel reappeared in a flash of service blacks and white apron. She placed two pieces of parchment in front of us.

"Here are your menus!" She lingered for a few moments, tossing a glance my way.

"If you have any questions, I'd be happy to help."

"What's good here?" I asked. Dumb question. I already knew what she was going to say. I could have answered at the same time as her, jinxed her, and made her owe me a Coke—or whatever the equivalent was here.

"Oh, everything is delicious. It's so hard to choose." Of course.

"Any specials tonight?"

"Farmer Cal found a few pigeons dead in his barn. Said maybe they ate poison?" She shrugged.

"So we're doing squab." Poisoned barn meat, huh? At least I knew what not to order. I shook my head at Wynnie almost imperceptibly, letting her know we should avoid it. I'd seen enough 90s thrillers and zombie movies to worry about being patient zero of an outbreak. I thanked Mel, and she excused herself with a surprisingly gushing smile. Wynnie and I shared an amused look before picking up the pulpy parchments in front of us. The menus were small, and the prices were relatively steep, but acceptable.

I glanced at the ornate script, then at Wynnie. She looked completely engrossed, as if she were reading a juicy bit of gossip on social media. I scanned it quickly. It looked like a standard two or three courses, plus dessert. Some of the words were unrecognizable, though that was par for the course in most upscale restaurants. They were pushing the boundaries of good taste with multiple listings for Catch of the day. Where I was from, we called that an unbalanced menu.

The lack of roughage merely added to that sense. Unless some of those mystery words were greenery, this place looked allergic to vegetables. No matter. I was here for the meat. Wynnie's mouth was agape, still taking it all in.

"See anything good?" Her reverie snapped, and she looked up at me over the top of her glasses.

"Oh, my goodness gracious. Everything looks amazing. What are you getting?" A few things stood out to me. But we were in a fire mage's territory. It was time to see what "the perfect sear" looked like on a steak. I couldn't wait.