And Then There Was Her

by Tagan Shepard

  He poked his head in and called, “Can I come in?”

  “Since you already have, I suppose I’ll grant permission,” Madison answered, the sight of him filling her with his infectious energy. “Coffee?”

  “I guess it’s early enough,” he answered, pulling the door shut behind him and wiping his boots on the mat. “Cream and sugar?”

  “Coming right up.”

  Boots carried a pair of bulging canvas shopping bags which he unloaded into the fridge and pantry. Madison watched him curiously.

  “Am I putting things in the wrong place?”

  “That depends. You know you’re not in your own house, right?”

  “Yep.” He tossed a box of sugar-laden cereal at her and swapped the nearly empty milk bottle for a fresh one.

  Madison looked at the cereal. It was the sort of thing with fruity flakes and marshmallows that she hadn’t eaten since grade school. It was also Kacey’s favorite.

  After he unloaded a few more staples, Madison finally asked, “Why are you putting away my groceries?”

  “I have a load of clay that was just delivered for you, I figured you’d feel obligated to help unload it if I put away your girlfriend’s cereal.”

  “Boots!”

  She didn’t mean to stomp her foot, but he was just so aggravating.

  “Okay. Okay. Calm down, Denver.” He grinned at her, pleased with his teasing. “I guess I can handle it myself.”

  “You don’t have to put them away. I can do that. You did the shopping, that’s the least I can do.”

  She traded his coffee for the remaining grocery bag and he made himself comfortable while she unpacked it.

  Madison laughed, shoving the cereal box into a cabinet with crackers and cans of tuna. “I can’t believe she still eats this stuff. I’ve been trying for years to get her to grow up. Hasn’t worked yet.”

  “How many years?”

  “Three.”

  “I’d say you’re stuck with her the way she is then.”

  Madison turned, tossing the empty bag back to Boots. “Fine by me.”

  “How’d you kids end up together?”

  That was a story she was not going to tell. It took her years to confess the sordid details to Jada, and Madison still didn’t know if she’d been disgusted or impressed. Boots would get the edited version.

  “In college.” It was true in a manner of speaking. Madison had been in college. Kacey had been in culinary school. They just hadn’t exactly met in a lecture hall. “How about you? Got anyone special hidden in your apartment?”

  “Just a nice pair of Lucchese crocodile skins.” He winked at her and waggled his dusty work boot. “There’s a reason they call me Boots.”

  His charm reminded her so much of Robert that a sharp sting went straight through her chest. She forced herself to ignore it. “Nothing between you and the cute girl with the undercut?”

  “MMA?” He laughed into his coffee cup. “She’d kick my ass. So would The Gatekeeper.”

  “Oh. It’s like that.”

  “Yep. This place has love pouring out of the earth just as much as wine. Lucky me, I haven’t been infected yet.” He stood, sliding his empty cup across the counter to her. “Thanks for the coffee. Let me know by next Friday if you want different cereal in your next grocery delivery.”

  “There’s no way I’ll change her mind. Can I get my clay? I’ve been dying to work.”

  “Only if you help me unload it.”

  “Fine, but next time you put all the groceries away.”

  Chapter Sixteen

  The clay took so long to unload that it was the next day before Madison had a chance to get back to work. It was a larger delivery than before and Boots certainly let her know how much he disapproved. She needed every scrap of it though. Her work was selling faster than she could make it. She’d seriously underestimated the interest of the winery guests and sold out her inventory within a week. Considering that it took close to that long to go from raw clay to finished product, she struggled to restock. Any time she walked the grounds near the main building, Madison would see the shopkeeper looking pleadingly at her. The look wouldn’t disappear until she delivered another crate of merchandise.

  That look was what kept her wheel spinning all afternoon today, making the same small pot over and over again. It was the best seller and she enjoyed the shape, a cylinder that she expanded to a round, squat belly and a scalloped lip. It was a simple piece, but the proportions were pleasant and, once glazed and fired, it fit perfectly in cupped hands.

  The mudroom shelf was loaded down with pieces in various stages of drying. The only empty shelf was the lowest one meant for her larger gallery pieces. All she’d made for two weeks were things for the shop.

  Seeing the empty shelf took the energy right out of her. Her working hours were done for today. She needed some time away to remind herself that the more she sold, the more proof of her status as a working artist. She just wished it left her more time to do what she loved.

  Dumping her bucket carefully into the mudroom sink, exhaustion washed over Madison. The sun was high overhead and she had been in her studio since dawn. With all the noise outside sleep was harder to come by these days, so she was getting up early to start work.

  Madison gravitated back to her studio. It wasn’t the wheel that called her, but the light. Normally bright and clear, her studio today was suffused with an otherworldly glow. A fine film of reddish dust covered the windows, tinting the sunlight. Everything glowed faintly red. It was like standing on Mars.

  Madison moved over to the windows, leaning against the frame to look out. The harvest was in full swing. There had been no advance warning. No signs or announcement. She just woke up this morning to a small army of young men and women with baskets on their backs and curved little knives in hand descending on the rows. They moved across the fields in a tight pack all day, moving as a swarm through the vineyard, accompanied by a line of horse-drawn carts that were much cruder than those that ferried visitors around.

  Now the swarm was right outside the cottage, working their way through the pinot noir vines. The purple grapes that Madison watched grow and ripen all summer disappeared. The pickers were in constant motion as they harvested, slicing off the bunches with their sickled knives and tossing them over their shoulders into the waiting baskets worn like open backpacks. It was mesmerizing to watch. Their movements were like a perfectly choreographed dance. A tango so precise the movements seemed automatic.

  The serenity of the scene was broken by a horse trotting swiftly up the lane from the main gate. CS sat stiff-backed in Violet’s saddle, her legs wrapped firmly around the horse’s sweating flanks. She rode up to the cart just as a worker came over, swung the large basket off his back and emptied it into a wooden crate.

  CS swung down off the horse to speak to the man. He mopped his brow with a dingy blue bandana while they spoke. His T-shirt was soaked through and his shoulders drooped. CS gestured off to the shadow of the cart and took the basket from him with her free hand. He dropped gratefully to the ground in the shade of the cart and draped the bandana over his face.

  Madison could feel the heat of the sun through the studio’s tinted windows. All the workers were shimmering with perspiration. The intermittent breeze picked up little swirling dust devils of bone-dry earth. It was early October, but still uncomfortably hot for manual labor.

  Boots, always bright and cheerful no matter how tired or hot, came jogging down a row, dodging workers as he went. He moved with more alacrity than anyone else, but Madison noticed that he was the only one in the field not wearing a basket. He ran straight up to CS, who handed over Violet’s reins before his feet even stopped moving. She spoke a few quick words to him, slipping the basket over her shoulders. The man on the ground held out his curved knife, but she already had her own out of the sheath attached to her belt. Just like that she was walking toward the vines, taking her place among the harvesters.

  When Boots passed
close to the studio, he waved at Madison and mouthed a hello. She waved back absently, choosing instead to watch CS move into the swarm of workers. She fell in perfectly with them, her movements just as precise as those around her. Her wrist snapped and a bunch fell into her waiting hand. She tossed it in a perfect arc over her shoulder, not even bothering to see that it fell in place. She was already on to the next clump before Madison saw the basket settle under the weight of the first.

  It seemed CS was full of surprises. Madison hadn’t expected to see her out there laboring. She’d already seen enough to suggest CS was obsessed with her vineyard. Madison had sought out CS every day since the wine tour. She’d had such a good time, and she wanted to express her gratitude, but was never able to pin CS down. The few times she did catch sight of CS, it was from afar. She was always working, either in her office or in the stable at the bottom of the hill. The more she saw CS’s determination, the more she was impressed with her drive.

  Madison walked the fields every day. Part of her hoped that she would run into CS, though she wasn’t quite ready to admit that was the reason. She couldn’t work out in her heart whether she was drawn to the vineyard or to the winemaker, but she couldn’t seem to get either out of her head. Even as the days with Kacey improved, more relaxed now that she’d worked into a successful routine, Madison thought about how she was captured by CS’s eyes. It was the magic of the barrel room, of course, the new sights and the enchanting wine, but it had stuck with her.

  More fascinating was the beauty of the vineyard. The sloping hills and plump grapes. The way the trellises ran in perfect rows along the landscape, accentuating its features. The smell of growing things and the sound of horses hooves clopping along in the distance. The clarity of the air. If there was any woman who would turn Madison’s eye from Kacey, it was Minerva.

  A thump and groan from behind made Madison jump in surprise. She’d been so mesmerized watching CS work her way through the vines, she hadn’t heard Kacey get up. She turned now to see her girlfriend, tousle-haired and bleary eyed, standing in the doorway in a threadbare white undershirt and plaid boxers.

  “Hey.”

  The gravelly, sleepy voice made Madison’s heart beat a little faster and her fingertips tingle. “Hey yourself.”

  “What time is it?”

  “Eleven.”

  “Shit. I’m gonna be late as hell.”

  Madison walked across the room, wrapping her arms around Kacey’s neck and kissing her gently on the lips. “Didn’t sleep well?”

  “Not with this going on,” she said, waving her hand at the window. The closer Madison pressed her body to Kacey, the more clarity she saw in her girlfriend’s eyes. “You got up early.”

  “Couldn’t sleep.”

  “It’s so loud. The dust is killing my sinuses.”

  “I don’t know,” Madison smiled and pressed their foreheads together, “it’s nice to have a little activity. It’s so quiet here normally. I bet the guests are loving it.”

  Kacey slipped out of her arms, dropping a kiss on her forehead as she passed, and went to scowl at the windows. “They won’t like it when they notice the entire patio is covered in red dirt. It’ll take hours to clean up enough for me to serve a decent meal.”

  “I’m sure it’ll be fine.”

  “Yeah.” Kacey stormed back through the kitchen and headed for the stairs. Madison followed her as far as the coffeepot. “I need to get up there or tonight’ll be a disaster.”

  “Don’t forget Jada’s coming for the day. She should be here any minute.”

  “I’ve already got a table booked for you two,” she shouted down from the top of the loft. “I can send someone over to clean the windows in the studio if you want.”

  “No, definitely not,” Madison called back, noticing the same red sheen on the kitchen window. “I like the light.”

  The only response she got was the pound of water against the glass shower door.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Jada arrived not long after Kacey had scurried out, her hair still wet. Boots delivered her, helping her down from the carriage like a princess arriving for a ball. Jada had the confidence to command any space she walked into and, if the dazzled smile in Boots’ eyes was any judge, any person in said space. He hurried back to the harvest but looked over his shoulder more than once at the pair of them hugging their hellos on the deck. The dust cloud had moved off with the workers as they’d made their way down the hill, but Madison took Jada inside in deference to her expensive outfit.

  Jada’s eyebrows arched as they scanned the massive stone fireplace and highly polished bamboo floor. The perfect bow of her mouth twitched up noticeably as she took in the exposed beams of the ceiling and the mismatched pillars, one supporting the corner of the loft, the other stretching up to the central ceiling beam.

  Her real reaction was reserved for the wall of windows looking out onto the sun, over the bare grapevines and the hint of brightly colored roof tiles of the stable. Jana gave a low, long whistle as she scanned the horizon. The view still brought Madison up short, even after all these months—the grandeur of the mountains and the almost limitless sky above them.

  “If I were you, I could get used to this,” Jada said as she turned from the windows and hooked an arm through Madison’s. “But there’ll be time for this later. Let’s see them.”

  Madison hopped and pulled her up the stairs. Madison had set up the loft as a mini-showroom since her studio was too small to display her work.

  “I take back everything I said over Skype. These aren’t really good. They’re breathtaking.”

  Jada had always been prone to exaggeration, but this time, Madison agreed with her, so she accepted the compliment. “I really like them.”

  Jada knelt, quite a feat in her skintight leather miniskirt, to study one of the taller vases. She touched the piece delicately, almost hesitantly, after which her hands roamed freely over the vase, one that Madison had only finished glazing yesterday and her favorite.

  “This relief work is new. I haven’t seen anything like it from you before.”

  “I’ve been trying to stretch since I’ve been here.”

  “It’s working,” Jada said, carefully turning the piece.

  The vase was nearly three feet tall and two feet at its widest. She’d had to fire it all by itself and even then it barely fit in the kiln. The relief work had taken two full workdays. Days when she did not leave her studio except to eat and sleep. Days when Kacey scowled almost as hard at the pottery as she did the potter when the coffeepot was empty and her bowl of cereal her only company.

  “I started on it just after the restaurant opened. It was the first gallery piece I finished in my new studio.”

  “If this is just the start, I’m excited to see the future.” Jada struggled to stand, her knees groaning at the effort, and looked around the loft. “These are the best work you’ve ever done.”

  Despite the compliment, her friend didn’t shift her focus to Madison. She wandered around the bright space, going from one piece to another, examining them with a mercantile eye. There were about a dozen pots, ranging in size from a delicate, ornate bowl that fit into her cupped hands like a baby bird to the vase Jada just finished admiring.

  “You know, Maddie,” Jada turned to her with a smile bursting with pride, “it feels like you’ve turned a corner.”

  “You think so?”

  “Absolutely. Your work…” She turned a loving eye back to the first vase. “It’s shifted to another level. I’ve never seen anything like this from you.”

  Madison smiled so hard she felt tears form in her eyes. “It feels better too, you know? I feel like something woke up inside me when I came here.”

  They left the makeshift gallery and headed to the kitchen for coffee—Jada had brought three bags of beans from her old coffee shop in Denver—and Madison explained Minerva Hills. The way there were no cars allowed, though she had been careful to warn Jada of this before she came to
visit for the day. The way there was so little sound this far from the main building. The lavender and the mint. The horses. The trees in the distance and the smell of boxwoods lining the perimeter.

  She stopped short of telling Jada about the spot on the vineyard that truly spoke to her. The little copse of trees and the clearing inside it. The way the light filtered through the leaves and sometimes, if she stood in just the right spot, came alive the way it had when she was a child. Madison hadn’t found that spot again, not since watching CS at her father’s grave, but she’d gone back often to try. She left each time with a deeper love of the trees and the solitude.

  They took their coffee into the living room to talk. Jada slipped onto the chaise, holding her steaming mug high in the air as, with a long sigh of relief, she kicked off her shoes and wriggled her stocking-clad toes. Madison curled onto the cushion beside her, tucking her bare feet underneath her and resting her cheek on the heel of her hand. She watched Jada take in the magnificent view.

  “No wonder you’re making your best work,” Jada said with a quiet reverence. “This place would inspire anyone. So peaceful. So beautiful.”

  Madison hated to tear her eyes away from the windows, but she could see this view any time and Jada would only be here for a few hours. When she finally looked over, Jada was watching her.

  “I love it here. There’s something in the energy of this place.” She turned back to the windows, as much to avoid the questions in Jada’s eyes as to take in the landscape she’d grown to love so much. “I’ve never felt like this before.”

  Jada gave her a long, quiet moment before asking, in the calm, motherly tone she sometimes used, “Do you think you two’ll be settling down here?”

  “Oh yes.” She sipped her coffee before admitting, “Kacey isn’t as thrilled as I am, but she’ll get used to it.”

  “Will she? I’ve never known Kacey to accept something she doesn’t like. She usually tries to change it instead.”