by Tawna Fenske
“Hey, honey,” June answered in a chirpy voice. “What’s up?”
“Larissa and I just finished up the e-newsletter. She also put together a little direct-mail piece for the wine club to explain the whole wine-down-the-drain thing.”
“Did we lose any more members?”
Reese looked at the spreadsheet on her laptop and tried not to feel grim. “Three more today. They were all really pissed about the Pinot.”
“Well, these things happen.”
Her voice was upbeat, but Reese could hear the tension. They were all worried—about money, about the vineyard’s reputation, about the event coming up next week. She sighed and forced herself to adopt a business-as-usual tone. “Do you want to see the newsletter and the direct-mail piece before they go out?”
“You know I trust you, sweetie.”
“I know you do,” Reese said. “You still want to see it, though, right?”
“If it’s not too much trouble. We’re down at your grandfather’s old house right now doing some cleaning. Could you bring it over here?”
“I’ll be there in five.”
Reese hung up the phone and shoved the papers in a file. She closed her office door and passed Eric as she made her way past the stacks of barrels in the winery. “I’m heading out,” she called. “Can you lock up when you leave?”
“No sweat. So you’ve got a hot date?”
Reese rolled her eyes. “Are there families where relatives don’t inform ex-husbands about every detail of the ex-wife’s love life? Because if there are, I’d like to join one.”
“I think it’s great,” he said as he clapped her on the shoulder. “It’s about time you got out of your rut and got serious about dating again.”
“Have you always sounded like a self-help book or is this a new thing?”
“You know you love me.”
“Not especially, but that didn’t stop me from marrying you.” She grinned to show she was teasing but stopped grinning when Eric regarded her with a serious expression.
“It’s not just about love, you know.”
Reese stopped walking. “What isn’t?”
“Marriage.”
She snorted. “Since I don’t ever plan to do that again, I don’t see why it matters.”
“I’m just saying. Relationships are a lot of work. Look at me and Sheila. Not a day goes by that we don’t work at it.”
“Please don’t feel you need to share the details of how you work at it.”
Eric laughed. “Have a good date, Riesling.”
“Piss off,” she replied without venom. She headed out the door and down the hill toward Axl’s old place.
The front door stood wide open, and Reese could hear voices near the back of the house. The smell of popcorn drifted from the kitchen, and Reese hesitated in the doorway.
“Mom? Dad?”
“We’re back here, honey! You’ll never guess what we found in a box in Grandpa’s old linen closet.”
“I’m afraid to ask,” she muttered, moving through the entryway past a long row of photographs. There were several shots of Axl as a young man working at a vineyard in Italy, followed by one of her grandparents on their honeymoon in Mexico sporting matching tattoos. She kept walking, her gaze drifting past images of Larissa’s parents in Bali and some shots of June as a young girl.
Toward the end of the hall her mom had grouped another set of images, these more recent—one of her parents on a beach in Maui, arms wrapped around each other as the sun set over the ocean; another of her mom perched on her dad’s shoulders plucking apples from the orchard; another shot showed June and Jed beaming at each other as they twirled jump ropes in double-Dutch fashion while Larissa and Reese spun in giddy circles between them.
Reese ran a finger over the frames, wondering what it would be like to collect a lifetime of memories with the person you knew with absolute certainty had been put on the Earth just for you.
“We’re in the family room, honey,” her mom called, and Reese tore her gaze off the photos.
She moved toward the back of the house where the scent of fresh popcorn and citrus furniture polish was heavy in the air. Stumbling over something in the hall, she looked down to see her old tricycle there. She toed the front wheel, remembering her parents walking hand in hand behind her as she pedaled as fast as her chubby legs could go trying to keep up with Axl on his motorcycle.
She stepped around the trike and halted in the doorway to the family room. Her parents were curled up on Axl’s old sofa, a shared blanket and a bowl of popcorn between them. The flicker of the TV drew her attention to a grainy video that was all too familiar.
“Look, sweetie,” her mom said, smiling up at her from the couch. “It’s our wedding video. Have you seen this since we had the old film reels digitized?”
Reese leaned against the doorframe and smiled back. “Only about two hundred times, but I think it’s been a few months.”
“Smart aleck,” her mom replied, tossing a piece of popcorn at her. “Want some of this?”
“I’m good, thanks.” Reese held out the folder she’d brought with her, and her mom reached out to take it. “We’ve got a printout of the e-newsletter, a direct-mail postcard, and a second press release about the Memorial Day event.”
June flipped open the cover of the folder and whistled low between her teeth. “Wow, this looks nice. I like the font you used here.”
“That’s all Larissa. She’s got a real eye for the branding stuff.”
“Hmm, I see that. Gimme a sec to read this.”
“No problem.” Reese’s gaze drifted to her dad as he sat riveted to the television screen, so Reese turned her attention there, too. She watched as her youthful father lifted her mom’s veil and kissed her with an intensity that made Reese want to look away.
She didn’t, though. She might have seen this a million times, but she could never stop staring, or stop wondering about a union with such absolute certainty, such devotion, such love.
“My favorite part is coming up,” her father said.
Reese bit her lip, disgusted with herself for feeling envious of her own parents. “You mean the part where Axl uses the unity candle to light farts at the reception?”
Her dad laughed. “No, that’s not for a few more minutes. It’s the part where your mom sees the inscription on her wedding band for the first time.”
Reese nodded, picturing the words in her mind and remembering the way she used to trace her finger over them as a little girl.
I call dibs.
Her parents’ private joke. She’d heard it before, the way June had called dibs on the cherry on Jed’s banana split during their very first date. Jed had spooned up the cherry, offering it in exchange for dibs on June’s evening plans the next night. And the night after that.
They’d laid claim to each other again and again, drifting into the blissful ease of knowing they belonged to one another. With each shared breath, they radiated it. I am yours and you are mine for as long as we both live.
Reese watched the screen as her mother’s gaze slid over the words, then filled with tears. As Reese looked on, newlywed June looked up at her new husband with an adoration that took Reese’s breath away.
They make it look so easy, she thought as she gripped the back of the sofa. Then and now.
Her mom patted her hand, and Reese looked down to see June watching the screen, her finger resting on the newsletter to hold her place. “Aren’t you a handsome thing!” June exclaimed, moving her hand from the page to squeeze her husband’s knee. “Honey, isn’t your father a handsome thing?”
“My father is a handsome thing,” Reese parroted, earning herself a good-natured swat from her mom. She kept her gaze on the TV, watching as the scene shifted to the reception and to her father dropping to one knee and hitching up the hem of her mom
’s wedding dress.
“I still have that garter in my cedar chest somewhere,” June mused. “The guy who caught it gave it back to me after the reception. Said he felt awkward about having it.”
Reese snorted. “What could possibly be awkward about pocketing the undergarments of another man’s new wife?”
“Oh, stop,” June said, laughing. “You never were very sentimental.”
“Maybe that’s why I’m divorced, huh?” Reese said, struggling to keep her tone light. “I never got schmoopy over garters.”
“Honey—”
“You always had the best legs,” Jed said, oblivious to the conversation going on around him. “Still do.”
June beamed at him and planted a kiss on his temple before returning her gaze to the paperwork. Reese kept her eyes on the screen, unable to look away. Her mom, barefoot in the grass, wore a ring of daisies in her hair and a white dress that barely concealed the fact that she was already three months pregnant with Reese.
God, they were young. So young, so in love.
On the sofa, her dad shifted the popcorn bowl so he could put his arm around her mom. Her mom snuggled into the embrace and kept reading.
“Hmm,” June said, still flipping through the folder of printouts. She tapped the edge of the newsletter and smiled up at Reese. “This looks great. Did you do this part?”
“Nope, that’s Larissa. She’s turning into a pretty serious copywriter.”
“That’s great,” June said. “Speaking of getting serious, we hear you have a date.”
Reese sighed. “For crying out loud, did Larissa call you?”
“No, Axl. He ran into Eric in the winery barn.”
She shook her head, not sure whether to feel irritated or loved. Funny how often the two sentiments intertwined when it came to her family. “Did you already call it in to the newspaper, or should I do that in the morning?”
“We think it’s great, honey,” June said. “We just want you to be happy. Love is such a wonderful human experience.”
“I am happy,” Reese said, trying not to notice the on-screen image of her father scooping her mother into his arms and twirling her around so her wedding dress fluttered in the breeze. She looked away, hating the rawness in her throat. “Mom, are you worried about our meeting with the bank?”
Two frown lines appeared between her mother’s eyebrows. “A little. I think we’ve got our ducks in a row, but—”
“It’s a lot of money,” Reese said softly. “And if they won’t lend it to us, I don’t know what we’ll do.”
Her father shook his head and looked away from the TV. “We could always delay the expansion. Maybe in a few years—”
“No!” Reese snapped, panic rising in her chest. “We’ve already been shouting about it for months on our website and in the press. We’ll look like idiots if we cancel now. Like idiots who don’t know how to run a business.”
“She’s right, hon,” June said. “Besides that, we’ve already got a ton of special events booked for the new space. Most of them have already put down deposits.”
Reese shook her head. “God, can you even imagine having to give all those back?”
“Or call couples to tell them their dream-wedding venue won’t be ready in time,” June said, her gaze drifting back to the TV screen.
“Okay, okay,” Jed said, holding up his hands. “It was just a suggestion. I’m sure things will go fine tomorrow.”
He turned back to the TV and squeezed June’s knee. “We should make that chicken dish tonight. The one we served at the wedding?”
“Oooh, with the mushrooms and that little hint of—”
“Rosemary, yes! You know, our ’14 Pinot Gris would be perfect with it. Do we have any—”
“—artichoke hearts? Yes, I just grabbed some the other day.” June leaned forward and kissed him on the temple while Reese took a step back, then another.
“So, guys—I need to head out to the field to check the nitrate levels before I get ready for my date. Everything look okay with the communication pieces?”
“They look great, sweetie,” her mom said, closing the folder and setting it on the coffee table. “You’re doing such a nice job with everything. Oh, look—I love this part!”
Reese watched as the video cut to a scene of her parents slow dancing to “Unchained Melody.” She stared for a few beats, wondering if she’d ever stop feeling like she forgot to get in line when the universe handed out soul mates. She turned away, letting the notes of the love song fade behind her as she crept down the hallway and out the front door.
It had started to drizzle, and she thought about heading back to the winery barn for rain gear but decided against it. Not like she wasn’t used to working in soggy conditions.
Out in the fields, she lost track of time as she gathered soil samples and snipped small pieces of the vines. She breathed in the heady smell of damp earth and crushed grass, aware that her hair and clothes were getting drenched but not minding much.
By the time she returned to the winery barn with the samples, her clothes were soaked through. The pale-pink T-shirt beneath her flannel overshirt had turned transparent.
Dripping as she went, she moved into the tiny kitchen where she kept her test kit. The barn was silent, except for the distant tinny sound of NPR on the radio Eric must’ve forgotten to switch off when he left.
Reese was straddling a puddle of muddy rainwater bent low over her test tubes when she heard a voice behind her.
“You’re still here.”
She whirled to see Clay in the doorway. For the briefest instant, his gaze fell to where the wet T-shirt hugged her breasts. It returned quickly to her face.
“Sorry,” he said. “I didn’t mean to scare you. I didn’t know anyone was here.”
“I just came back to finish some testing,” she said, blaming her shortness of breath on the startle instead of the magnificent, muscular sight of him. “I thought you were gone already.”
“I left some paperwork on the counter there. Can I sneak by you and grab it?”
Reese nodded and stepped to one side. Clay seemed to hesitate. Then he edged past, his bare forearm brushing the damp front of her T-shirt. Reese felt her nipples contract.
The papers fluttered to the floor.
“Oh, shit,” Reese said, kneeling down. “The ground’s all wet. I hope these aren’t your only copies.”
“It’s okay, really, you don’t have to—”
“No, let me get them.”
He crouched down beside her, scrambling to grab the mud-speckled sheets of paper. Reese’s hand trembled as she grabbed one piece, then another. They both reached for a page at the same time, and Clay’s hand closed over hers.
A surge of heat pulsed up her arm and her heart slammed hard against her rib cage. Reese stared at his hand, transfixed by the sight of those long fingers engulfing hers. Then she looked at his face. He was watching her, pupils dilated in those root-beer-brown depths. He didn’t blink.
Clay looked down at her hand. “God, you’re freezing.”
“My hands are always cold.”
“I remember.”
He didn’t let go of her hand. Reese swallowed as her stomach clenched in a tight, fizzy ball.
They stayed frozen like that for what seemed like minutes, Clay’s huge palm warm against the ridges of her knuckles. The smell of rainwater and wine and damp earth hung heavy in the air between them, along with something else Reese couldn’t name. His breath ruffled the damp hair pasted to her cheek. Outside, the rain drummed the roof in a slow, heavy beat.
“You’re getting wet,” he murmured.
Reese blinked. “What?”
“The floor. You’re kneeling in a puddle.”
She looked down, her face warming. “Right. I was already wet. I mean, I was out there in the rain a
nd—”
She stopped talking, her cheeks flaming despite the chill in the room. She looked up in time to see Clay close his eyes for just an instant. When he reopened them, they locked on hers. He moved his hand and Reese felt a pang of disappointment at the loss of his warmth.
Then he reached up and grazed her cheek with his fingertips. He pushed a few strands of damp hair from her face, his gaze holding hers. Reese held her breath as her pulse pounded in her ears.
Before she could register what was happening, Clay leaned forward and brushed his lips over hers, tentative at first, testing.
Reese clutched the front of his shirt and pulled him to her. He kissed her harder then, his palms cupping her face as his mouth explored hers. He tasted cool, like he’d been nibbling the rain-soaked mint leaves beside the barn.
The heavy spatter of droplets on the roof and the soft rush of their breath filled Reese’s ears, fighting for space with the pounding of blood in her head.
Clay deepened the kiss, his lips warm and soft and so very, very good at what they were doing. Reese gasped at the delicious scrape of his stubbled cheek against her chilled one.
She wanted to devour him, to explore every inch of his mouth, of his body. Clay kissed her harder, responding to her need or maybe his own. His hand cupped her face, holding her against him while his other hand slid up her side. She felt his fingertips graze the side of her breast and she pressed into him, craving more. He slid his thumb over her nipple as the rest of the fingers cupped her breast, testing the weight. His lips moved from hers and down her jaw, planting a trail of kisses in the hollow of her throat. His thumb stroked her nipple again and Reese cried out, wanting all of him at once.
At the sound of her whimper, Clay drew back. His eyes flashed from desire to alarm, like she’d bitten him.
He dropped his hands to his sides and pulled away. “Reese, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to do that.”
She blinked at him, her breath still coming fast. “It’s okay. Really—”
“No, it’s not okay. God, my best friend’s wife—”
“Ex-wife.”
“And my employer—”
“I haven’t actually paid you.”