Christmas in Wine Country

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Christmas in Wine Country Page 21

by Addison Westlake


  Placing his dish in the sink, Jake looked up. “So, why didn’t you ever call me back?”

  “Call you back?”

  “I called you at the bookstore a couple of weeks ago. A few days after you came out to the vineyard.”

  “Really?” Lila’s question came out breathless and high-pitched.

  “I left a message with a guy. Said I’d be out of town for a few weeks but wanted to see you when I got back. I left my cell phone number, email address. Kind-of pathetic, really.”

  “I never got the message.” Lila knew one slender, emo boy whose neck was about to get wrung.

  “Really?” Jake asked. “He was very thorough. Asked me to repeat my email. And asked if I had a blog.”

  “That’s Godfrey,” Lila laughed. After a pause, they both began talking, Jake with “So you didn’t get—” and Lila with, “Sorry I didn’t get—”. Looking down into the sink with their dishes, Lila knew she should move to start washing them. Somehow, though, she seemed to lack the power to do so.

  Taking a step closer, Jake said, “Well, it turns out all I had to do to get you to hang out with me was take you down on the running path.” Lila laughed; he came closer. “It’s great you have such bad balance. I was about to resort to bringing my niece by the bookstore again for story time. It’s not good when you have to use a three-year-old to see the girl you like.”

  Swallowing shyly, Lila wondered if she understood him correctly. Was she having an aneurism, or had he just said something about liking her? “You wanted to see me?”

  “I don’t know why I didn’t think of it earlier. It’s so simple. Knock you down and here you are, helpless at my house.”

  Wouldn’t it be nice if she could think of something witty to say? But Lila wasn’t even managing to breathe well. Especially when Jake brought his hand to the small of her back. Tracing his thumb gently down the side of her cheek, he slowly bent down and gave her a much-anticipated-though-still-even-better-in-reality kiss.

  Chapter 10: Hearts Broken in Two. Two. Two.

  Reaching her arms overhead in a big, lazy stretch, Lila slowly opened her eyes and broke into a huge smile at the ceiling. She wondered if this was the new her, the smiling Lila. At first, people would find it charming. Then she’d slowly grow so annoying that no one could bear it. But that was a worry for another day. Right now, she had some pure joy to radiate.

  Shifting in bed, Lila felt her cheek, remembering Jake’s stubble last night. She bet her skin looked somewhat pink, a casualty she’d gladly endure for kissing and then more kissing. It really had to be one of the best ways to pass time. Free. No calories. Stress-reducing. She twirled a strand of hair in her finger—remembering as she did it how delicious it felt when Jake had done the same—and wondered if anyone had ever done a study of the benefits of kissing. Clearly, it would cure the world’s ills, but making out was such a temperamental, tricky beast. That delicious, warm, forget all your worries melt into someone magic? Frankly, it took a near-impossible blend of elements. Take the Man Smell, for example. Out of context, the concept conjured up locker rooms or worse. But Jake had that yummy musky smell that was like clean laundry or a woodpile or… at a loss, Lila recalled this was why she’d been no good at the creative side of advertising. She couldn’t come up with the right metaphor, but whatever it was Old Spice had spent a fortune marketing it.

  They’d left his cottage around midnight. He’d responded to her reluctant ‘I should probably think about getting home’ with a gentlemanly escort to his car. She didn’t really want to go, but more than that she knew it wasn’t the best idea to sleep with him right then and there. Their goodbye had taken another hour.

  Making out in a car. It seemed to be her thing now. She hadn’t been thinking it was unromantic, though. If a thought had made its way into her head it had been along the lines of ‘yum’ and, occasionally, ‘more please.’ When she’d finally left his car around 1AM there was no better way to describe her ascent up the stairs to her attic apartment than floating. Some clichés existed for a reason.

  After more lolling in bed, lazy and content as a cat in the sunshine, Lila glided to work. She was in such a good mood that she didn’t even light into Godfrey when she asked him about Jake’s message. Casually, before the storytime crowd started arriving, she asked him, “So what’s this I hear about Jake leaving a message for me a few weeks ago?”

  “Jake Endicott,” Godfrey nodded, confirming the receipt of the message. He was doing some tidying in the dark arts/magic section of the store, prone to disarray from the local teens who liked rummaging around in search of various spells.

  “You never told me about it?”

  “I did not,” Godfrey agreed, setting aside a book on potions no doubt for his own use.

  “Did you forget?” Lila asked, having a hard time believing this was the case since he seemed to remember the call just fine.

  “No, I did not.”

  “So, why didn’t you give me the message?”

  “I was thickening the plot.” He continued sorting the shelf, as if that explained it.

  “Sorry, Godfrey, what?”

  With a sigh, Godfrey turned to her with the air of a veteran professor addressing a Freshman whelp. “Where would Ahab have been if Moby Dick had simply come swimming up to shore, flapping his fins like a show dolphin?” Distracted and a bit disturbed by the sight of Godfrey flapping his pale hands along either side of his head, Lila wasn’t following. “We wouldn’t even know about Queequeg today and his songs of triumph,” Godfrey continued, animated.

  “Which one was Queequeg again?” Lila asked. She didn’t have perfect recall of Moby Dick from her Sophomore Am Lit survey course, but she was fairly sure she didn’t remember his songs of triumph.

  “Lila.” Godfrey closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose with impatience and tried again. “Ahab is on a quest. He’s engaged in a relentless pursuit—of what, it’s difficult to say, exactly. Ferocious, enigmatic. The hunt defines his essence as man.”

  “Wait, didn’t the whale eat his leg?” Lila suddenly remembered. “Or is that the crocodile and Captain Hook?”

  “I believe Hook lost a hand, but, yes, the protagonists do have that in common.” Recognizing the need to dumb it down, Godfrey tried again. “Ahab, like Captain Hook from Peter Pan, is on a quest. Men like quests. Men need quests.”

  “Wait, am I supposed to be the great white whale?” Lila wondered, Godfrey’s analogy slowly starting to register.

  “You are the whale,” Godfrey confirmed.

  “And so you didn’t give me the message because—”

  “Thickening the plot.” Godfrey tapped his head signaling how clever he’d been and returned to his shelving. “Another obstacle for Jake to overcome.”

  Deciding that that was about as much as she was going to get out of Godfrey, Lila retreated, thankful she could laugh and enjoy the insanity in the aftermath of the day with Jake.

  Her cell phone, so frequently her enemy with no new messages, rang at three o’clock. It was Jake. A quick call, things were busy. Endicott was hosting the Sonoma County annual charity auction in a few weeks and he was heading into the city with his father to meet some people or other. Lila couldn’t hear much past her ear-to-ear smile into her cell phone. She caught the important stuff, though. Like when he said in his deep and scratchy voice “I had a great time yesterday.” It was the same voice she could remember whispering in her ear that she was beautiful.

  Her favorite part was how the call ended. No abrupt ‘gotta go’ accompanied by a mystery girl laughing in the background. No vague ‘let’s catch up soon’ or ‘I’ll see you later.” He stepped right up to the plate and asked if he could take her out Saturday night. To which she replied a casual “sure”, meaning ‘The hounds of hell couldn’t keep me away.’

  Even protective Annie got excited at the news. The three of them hung out after work in the back of the chocolate shop. Annie excused Lila from her usual helper’s role sinc
e she was far too blissed out to accomplish anything as focused as pouring chocolate into moulds or be trusted with a knife.

  Zoe wasn’t much help either. Staying seated proved difficult as she listened to Lila recount the day, interrupting frequently for more detail, settling down on a stool to listen only to hop up again in delight. Lila couldn’t ask for a better audience. When she told them about Jake’s years working at vineyards in France and Italy, Zoe nodded knowingly, explaining “You can totally sense that in his energy.”

  Annie was a less participatory listener, but every now and then she expressed deep approval. Like when Lila recounted how Jake had insisted on cooking her dinner while she took a hot shower. Turning to Lila, eyebrows raised, Annie said with feeling, “That’s good.”

  “It’s not bad,” Lila agreed with that smile she wondered if she’d now wear permanently.

  The next morning began much the same way. Dreamy. Blissed-out. Corduroy, Lila decided, looking out upon the foggy mid-October morning. Maybe her hunter green skirt with her boots and a sweater. A scarf in her hair to tie it back, some hot tea in travel mug, she grabbed her bag and traipsed the few blocks walk to work. Enjoying the mystery the fog lent the town as she walked, she counted her blessings. They were just a couple days away from closing on the café. Jake, natch. And the Red Sox were in the playoffs! They’d advanced into the American League Championships. Last night they’d won the second of two games. Not a bad start.

  Inside the store, Geoffrey stood behind the register. He turned toward Lila looking even more grim and pale than usual.

  “Marion wants you to go see her in back,” he said in form on greeting.

  With a brief, baseless flash of guilt—had she shoplifted without realizing it? Spilled water all over new inventory?—Lila headed out back to find out what was the matter.

  Back in the staff room, Marion sat at the steel gray folding table without a book or magazine, without a bite to eat, and most disturbingly, without a cup of tea. Looking up as Lila entered, Lila felt a distinct queasiness in her gut, much like a parole violator on a visit to his probation officer. Only hardened criminals probably wouldn’t feel guilty, Lila thought realizing the flaw in her analogy. That and she hadn’t actually done anything wrong.

  “Why don’t you sit down,” Marion said, gesturing to one of the folding metal chairs.

  “What’s wrong?” Lila asked, doing as she was told.

  “It’s about the store.” Marion looked down at her fingers spread against the table. “We didn’t get it.”

  “What? But we’re all set to close on Friday.”

  “We were,” Marion agreed, “until another party made an offer 10% higher with half down in cash.”

  “But the store sat vacant for months!” Lila exclaimed with disbelief. “Now someone swoops down just when we’re about to close? That doesn’t make sense.”

  Marion shrugged, not happy but not looking as shocked. “A deal’s never done until the last paper’s signed. I didn’t see it coming, either, but that’s the way things work sometimes.”

  Bringing her fingers to her temples as if trying to channel brain power, Lila said, “Wait, there’s got to be something we can do. It’s not over.” The queasiness she’d felt a minute ago progressed rapidly into cold nausea.

  “I think it is,” Marion said, matter-of-fact. “We can’t counter. There’s nothing else we can offer—waiving contingencies, closing early, that sort of thing. Martin and I discussed it this morning when he called to break the news. He speculated that this deal might have been in the works all along without our knowing.”

  “Does this happen a lot in real estate?” Lila asked incredulously, recognizing that she knew nothing of the business. “Like on eBay when you think you’re about to get something and then someone bids it right out from under you?”

  There was that shrug again, a mixture of defeat and complacency. “Martin’s been doing this for years and he didn’t seem to find it that strange.”

  Lila decided that she’d never liked Martin. Sure, he was the town’s go-to commercial real estate broker, but he’d always struck her as too slick. Though not slick enough to close the deal, apparently. Pressing her palms into her eye sockets, she groaned. “Does Annie know yet?”

  “No,” Marion responded, sounding a bit more sad. “I thought you might want to tell her.”

  With a deep sigh, she looked up at Marion and tried, “Is this really happening? Maybe it’s all just a misunderstanding?”

  “It’s really happening,” Marion confirmed. “I’m sorry, Lila, I know you and Annie had your hearts set on it. Joyce and I had gotten excited as well. But sometimes things just don’t work out.”

  But things had been working out lately, Lila thought as she rose from her seat. Things had really been coming together. Maybe there was still something they could do? Annie would know.

  Turning with a brief, “Can I head out?”

  “Yes,” Marion nodded, knowing what she was asking. “Tell her I’m very sorry things didn’t work out.”

  Grabbing her purse and whisking through the shop, Lila met Godfrey’s questioning look with a brief, “Be back soon.” She made it to the chocolate shop in less than a minute.

  Annie stood behind the counter working on an intricate centerpiece involving rose petals and chocolate hearts on tiers.

  “Little early for lunch, isn’t it?” Annie looked up at the clock on the wall. “Though I am a bit peckish.”

  “It’s the shop,” Lila said, out of breath. Though she’d sped there, she still felt as if she were moving in slow motion or watching herself talking to Annie, as if in a dream.

  Annie looked up, the first flicker of concern showing in her brown eyes.

  “Marion got a call this morning from Martin,” Lila started, thinking that if this were just a dream it would be a good time to wake up. In lieu of that, she continued, “We’ve lost the shop. We got outbid.”

  “Outbid?” Annie repeated as if trying out a new word and not liking the taste of it. “What exactly does that mean?”

  “More money. Half in cash.” Lila fingers found their way up to her temples again.

  “No,” Annie said dismissively, deflecting the truth. “We’re about to close. I’m sure Martin wouldn’t do that to us.”

  “I don’t think it’s up to Martin.” Lila didn’t know much about real estate, but she could grasp the concept that if an owner was offered a sweeter deal before closing, the owner was free to take it. Even if the broker threw himself across the tracks to stop it from going down, which Lila guessed hadn’t happened.

  “No,” Annie repeated in the same tone, firmly refusing to let the news register. “Where’s my phone,” she asked herself, giving her apron pockets a pat-down and then heading back into the kitchen.

  Guessing Annie was about to call Martin, Lila slid onto one of the stools in back, groaning as she rested her forehead on her fingertips. Staring at her forest green skirt she remembered how when she’d picked it that morning she’d felt fresh and bright and ready for adventure. Now she wondered if she was going to throw up all over it. Annie stood a few feet away with the phone to her ear.

  A brief surge of hope lifted the heaviness descending on her chest for a moment. Maybe it had all been a mistake? A mix-up, innocent and silly. Maybe Martin’s assistant had given him file A when he was supposed to have file B. All that was required was a simple call to straighten everything out.

  Lila listened, holding her breath, as Annie began talking with an authoritative bent to her voice, recapping what she’d been told. Only party to Annie’s side of the conversation, Lila could still tell it wasn’t going well. Reduced to one word interjections like “What?” and “How?”, Annie was rapidly assuming Lila’s pale and sick sheen.

  “What’s he saying?” Lila asked, unsure if she was really better off knowing yet unable to not want the details. Annie took the phone from her ear and put it on speakerphone.

  “—just how things happen.” L
ila could tell from the tone of his voice that Martin was giving them the same bunk she’d heard from Marion about how things sometimes happened with business deals. “Don’t take it personally, girls,” Martin added. “It’s just business. And, listen, I was told a couple of days ago about another space that’s about to open up a couple blocks away on Walker. You know the yarn shop?”

  “No! Next to the bookstore! That’s our space!” Annie interrupted, starting to get that wild-eyed insanely pissed look Lila had seen exactly twice before: sophomore year when a trainer tending to her shoulder had made an off-hand remark about her having to miss the rest of the swim season, and junior year when Pete had confessed he’d cheated on her. It never boded well. “What do we need to do to get it back?”

  “Annie,” Martin assumed a soothing, parental tone Lila knew would just work Annie up even more. “You can’t come up with more money.”

  “We might be able to,” Annie insisted, though Lila knew they’d squeezed every rock they could find to add a tiny bit to what was essentially Marion’s down payment.

  “That’s not what Marion had to say. And this party would counter. Endicott Vineyards isn’t exactly strapped for cash.”

  The breath knocked out of her, Lila’s mouth opened as if gasping for air. After a pause, Annie spoke for them both, asking, “Endicott Vineyards bought the store?”

  “Yes. So, really, how could you be expected to compete?”

  “Endicott Vineyards.” Annie repeated it, an angry edge to her voice. She turned to look at Lila through narrowed eyes.

  “For what it’s worth, it sounds like they have some nice plans,” Martin offered, ever the upbeat salesman. “I hear they’re going to call it Endicott Emporium. Nice ring to it. It’s going to be like their stand at the Farmer’s Market. Plus a fully stocked tasting room.” As Martin cataloged the lovely offerings from Endicott, Lila could almost see the steam starting to rise from Annie’s head.

 

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