One Perfect Year

by Melinda Curtis

  “It’s...nice,” Shelby allowed, finally coming forward. She moved to the kitchen nook, opened the ancient refrigerator and immediately closed it, backing away. “There’s something growing inside there.”

  Gage checked it out, grimacing. “I think it was a carton of milk once.” He shut the fridge just as quickly as she had. “It’s like something Mrs. Bernhardt had us experiment with in science class. Your mold was always the worst smelling, remember?”

  She did. It’d smelled awful.

  They exchanged smiles. His was full-wattage charming, plus something that hadn’t been in his expression in the past. Something almost...flirtatious. That couldn’t be.

  Whatever it was, it unnerved her. She blinked, and suddenly the something was gone. And the awkwardness she’d been feeling dissipated.

  But she continued studying him.

  Why had she never noticed how perfect his lips were before? He smiled, but it was the smile he used to disguise what he was really thinking. She didn’t know enough about what was going on in his life to pinpoint whatever he was concealing. Was he still grieving? Was he overwhelmed, as she was, by Harmony Valley memories? Was he regretting abandoning her two years ago?

  Don’t open the door to caring. He was Dead Gage. And he was leaving soon. “We’ll outfit the space with all new appliances,” Christine was saying. “This is the Taj Mahal compared to the condition of the sheriff’s apartment when he moved in above the station.”

  “On a clear day, if you stand on your tip-toes, you can see the bend in the river.” Mae spoke in a faraway tone, more to herself than anyone else.

  Quirking an eyebrow at the senior, Gage then entered the bedroom. As if magnetized, Shelby followed, pausing in the doorway and hearing Christine come up behind her.

  “They used to hold dances in the town square on summer nights.” Mae continued to speak as if drifting between memories. “It used to be a privilege to live downtown, didn’t it, Oliver?”

  “Who?” Christine whispered.

  “Uh, she means Gage, I think.” At least, Shelby hoped so. “Gage, did it used to be cool to live downtown?”

  “How would he know?” Mae coughed deeply, reaching in her pocket for a crumpled tissue and spitting in it. “This place has always brought me luck in love. If Shelby lived here, she’d be engaged again in no time, perhaps to that young man right there. You two would make beautiful babies. His midnight hair. Her sky-blue eyes.”

  The man under question was scanning the perimeter of the room, hopefully unaware of the heat collecting in Shelby’s cheeks. He pointed to the baseboards. “Mice droppings. You’ll need a good mouser.”

  “Ew.” Shelby backed out of the doorway, bumping into Christine, making a mental note to ask her grandfather about Mae’s mental health.

  “Give me a month.” Christine took in the bedroom with an assessing glance. “An exterminator, new appliances, new countertops, a new shine to the floors and windows, and you won’t recognize the place.” She turned to Shelby expectantly. When Shelby didn’t immediately jump at the offer, her boss added, “Hurry, before I change my mind and offer it to Ryan.”

  “Whether it has Mae’s love karma or not, you should take it.” Gage gave Shelby a small smile. “As your friend, I’m advising you to at least consider living here.”

  Her friend? Shelby refrained from pointing out friends came when you called. She refrained from commenting at all.

  Her silence grew until it bordered on rudeness. She didn’t want to offend Christine. It was a generous offer. But the building and its faded optimism...

  Living here would make her feel like a hypocrite.

  Years ago, anything had seemed possible—an interesting career, happiness, everlasting friendship and love. Shelby knew better now. She had to keep her head down, her gaze firmly on the path beneath her feet, and protect what little joy she had left.

  Not that she could say that to anyone without being considered as out of touch with reality as Mae. They all stared at Shelby, waiting for her to answer. Mae with her unflinching expression. Christine with curiosity. Dead Gage with understanding.

  She wanted to tell Gage he understood nothing. How could he know where she was emotionally after two years of ignoring her?

  They continued to wait for her response.

  The weight of their scrutiny finally broke her. “Sure. Of course. I’ll consider it,” Shelby blurted, feeling as fake as a two-dollar wine paired with a filet mignon.

  She’d consider it the same way Gage was considering her grandfather’s proposition to stay in Harmony Valley.

  Not at all.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  “DON’T BE DISCOURAGED by the dust and age of the basic equipment.” Dr. Wentworth unlocked the door to his office. “It’s the insight of a vet that makes a practice thrive, not the age of your exam table.”

  It was pointless to allow Doc to show him the practice. Gage didn’t plan on staying in Harmony Valley for two more days, much less two more months. An image of Shelby a few minutes earlier rankled him—her arms were crossed, expression barnacled at the sight of the apartment above the bridal shop. She’d looked so determined to be unhappy. He’d wanted to shake her, to embrace her, to kiss her unhappiness away.

  Dangerous thought, that.

  Her lack of friendship and easy forgiveness was harder to take than he’d anticipated. So much for being the unflappable horse-whispering vet.

  Dr. Wentworth flipped the wall switch off and on, squinting expectantly at the non-working light fixture in the lobby ceiling. “We’ll need to get the electricity turned on. And the phones.”

  Gage gave the rotary phone at the reception desk a disparaging glance, imagining he looked much as Shelby had in the bridal shop apartment.

  “All my old equipment is here, which should be good enough to get us up and running.” Dr. Wentworth’s haystack hair seemed to quiver with excitement.

  They walked past reception, through one of two exam rooms, into a back room that branched into surgery and X-ray, and past a wall of empty cages. The equipment was protected by plastic covers with a thick layer of dust. The dust wasn’t the worst of it. There were cobwebs across doorways, and an unclean smell that made Gage want to bolt. “I’ve still got a small paddock and the kennels in back.” Dr. Wentworth led Gage out the rear door. Weeds as tall as Shelby grew in the large corral. Dandelions thrust through cracks in the pavement. Dr. Wentworth studied it all in silence for a moment. “It needs a bit of work, doesn’t it?”

  A bit? Compared to the state-of-the-art equipment at the university and the Thomason Equine Hospital, even with a good scrubbing and weeding, a vet operating out of this office would be in the dark ages.

  Gage approached the metal fence that surrounded the paddock. Harmony Valley was a small town even when he’d grown up here. There’d been about thirty kids in each class at high school. So when Shelby moved into her grandparents’ place the weekend before school started, everyone knew she was coming. But Gage had an in with her, as he lived next door, had been working for Dr. Wentworth for several years and had been assigned as her lab partner on the first day of school.

  Dressed in a pair of jeans and a T-shirt, wearing minimal makeup—not even shiny lip gloss—she didn’t emulate rock stars or fashion models. He’d taken one look at Shelby and that sunshiny hair, and felt the beginnings of something wonderfully awful in his stomach. The girls in school had latched on to her that first week, giving Gage time to explore the strange, tongue-tied feeling he got just by looking at her. For days, he’d studied Shelby as completely as he’d studied his lab notes, afraid to act on his new feelings even as they deepened.

  At Doc’s office after school that first Friday, she’d helped him clean the paddock, shoveling manure without so much as a wrinkle in her nose. They’d been talking about careers in science
when Nick showed up. Gage trusted that Shelby wasn’t Nick’s type, only to watch in amazement as Nick asked Shelby out, easy as one, two, three. Meanwhile, Gage’s heart sank as Shelby blushed and accepted.

  She’d chosen Nick.

  Nick who had been a shooting star—good-looking, quick with a comeback, captain of every sport and club he joined, always assuming Gage would be his second.

  Gage had watched the couple mature and fall in love. He’d told himself he was too late, gave his feelings a cease-and-desist order, tried to contain his reaction to Shelby. He explained away his feelings with logic, just as he would have explained the outcome of a science experiment.

  Over the years, he’d put on a good front, keeping up a friendship with the two. He’d dated—although never seriously—and tried to get on with his life.

  Staying in Harmony Valley now, even for two months, would be a serious mistake. If anything, Shelby’s affect on him was more powerful than before. Staying meant acknowledging that little spark that refused to give up hope. Staying meant more sleepless nights, more days spent wondering how things would have been different if he would’ve asked her out first.

  In other words, it’d be the same sweet old torture.

  This was where Gage thanked Doc for the offer. This was where Gage told his mentor he couldn’t stay. This was where—

  Doc. He had to find Doc and tell him. Harmony Valley? He couldn’t stay. He’d have to be firm with the old man and—Gage’s phone buzzed, alerting him to a text message. It was from Shelby: When are you leaving?

  She expected him to disappear again. It was like a knife to his gut, but in his case, it felt as if he’d been dying for years.

  If he turned down Dr. Wentworth, he’d have no excuse to stay. No excuse to reconnect with Shelby. He didn’t answer Shelby. He couldn’t.

  Leaving would be torture. Staying would be torture.

  And so he listened to Dr. Wentworth as he rattled on about supplies and insurance, feeling undecided, and knowing only torture loomed nearby.

  * * *

  DEAD GAGE. DEAD GAGE. Dead Gage.

  Shelby felt her private moniker for her former best friend needed repeating.

  She couldn’t fathom the sad look in his eyes. She couldn’t decipher the reasoning behind his emphasis of friend in the bridal shop apartment. She couldn’t understand how it seemed as if no time at all had passed.

  But it had. And still, thoughts of Gage filled up her lonely, empty spaces like a gentle incoming tide.

  Gage didn’t exist to her, not by her actions, but his. Any feelings of connection were dangerous to the equilibrium she’d fought hard to achieve.

  Dead Gage. Dead Gage. Dead Gage. Repeating her inner mantra became a way to fortify the defenses she’d erected against the inevitable anguish when friends moved on.

  “No, I’m not going to let you walk home,” Christine was saying to Mae. She opened her truck’s passenger door and gestured to the older woman to get inside. “What would my grandmother say if I did that?”

  “Agnes would say I’m stubborn.” Mae paused to cough deeply. She produced a clean tissue from the pocket of her purple polyester pants. “I like to walk. Everyone knows it. Who needs gyms? I used to walk all over this town. In heels.”

  Christine was smiling, but hers wasn’t the smile Gage wielded. And hers was chipping around the edges. They’d been arguing with Mae about a ride since Gage and Shelby’s grandfather left.

  Shelby had been dealing with Grandpa long enough to know the pressure points of the elderly. “It’s chilly out today, Mae.”

  And the older woman didn’t have a coat on. “I like the fresh air.” She crumpled her tissue and tossed it into the trash can next to the bench.

  A gust of wind blew past them, billowing Mae’s blouse. It was a brisk wind. Mae’s shoulders hunched. Shelby shoved her hands deeper into her jacket pockets, and moved to the curb in front of the older woman.

  “I bet you watch the evening news.” Back to Mae, Shelby met Christine’s gaze reassuringly. She had this. “My grandfather does. He watches the news while he takes his pre-dinner pills.” Shelby faced Mae, trying to smile as easy as Christine despite another gust of wind sweeping past them. “When do you take your pills?”

  Mae worked her jaw, studied Shelby’s face, then began a slow walk toward the truck, cane striking the pavement angrily. “Don’t think you’ve got my number. I’ve got your number, young lady. I see your clothes. Don’t think I don’t.”

  Shelby glanced down at her black sweater and blue jeans. Whatever number Mae thought she had, Shelby was certain it was her mind wandering again.

  “Pale and covered up. No wonder your ring finger is bare.” Mae stopped in front of the truck door. “Well, help me up.”

  Christine and Shelby hurried to do just that.

  “My daughters are both happily married,” Mae said as Christine pulled away from the curb. “I like to see people happy.”

  “I’m happy,” Christine and Shelby chimed in.

  “One of you is happy.” Mae patted Christine’s shoulder. “The other needs a man. You had a perfectly good one upstairs. Why waste time?”

  Shelby knew Mae meant well, but she still didn’t want to have this conversation. Feeling compelled to tell her something she said, “Gage was my...is my...” Might be my... “Friend.”

  “Friends make the best husbands.”

  Christine laughed.

  Mae crossed her arms over her chest and harumphed. She was silent for the rest of the drive.

  “What was that all about?” Christine asked after Shelby escorted the older woman to her red door.

  Shelby couldn’t seem to look away from the bright purple house. “I struck a nerve, but I have no idea what nerve that was.”

  They returned to the winery where Christine called Slade to discuss an offer for Mae’s building. Shelby joined Ryan with quality checks and final cleanup of the night’s harvest.

  Shelby was grateful for the physical work. It kept her mind off Gage and Mae. The Chardonnay grapes they’d harvested had been transferred directly from the picking bins to the crusher and de-stemmer. While initial fermentation occurred during the next week, they’d be taking samples from each tank several times a day. When the juice reached a certain level of distillation, they’d transfer the wine to barrels. And when the wine cellar was built, they’d transfer the barrels there for temperature controlled aging.

  “The weather’s helped us out lately. We had such a warm July, and then it was mild all the way up to this weekend.” Ryan examined the circulation equipment on the tanks to make sure it was functioning properly.

  Shelby swept out the last of the debris from the night before with a push broom. “All we need is an Indian Summer to ripen the Cabernet grapes.” A cool breeze slipped through the winery’s open double doors, as if to blow away any idea of a warming trend.

  “And pray harvest falls on another weekend so we’ll get all those volunteers back.” Christine sounded stressed. She was bench testing crushed juice samples from every tank. “Ryan, can you take the Cab sugar readings?”

  “I live for my lab kit.” Ryan shrugged into a lightweight jacket, grabbed his test kit and headed for the Cabernet grapes still ripening on the vine.

  “I wish I had his energy.” Christine slid off her stool and stretched her back. She headed toward the massive barn-like doors.

  Shelby racked her broom. “Give him another three years and give yourself another three cups of coffee. It’ll all equal out.”

  “He won’t be here three years from now.” Christine leaned against the door frame, looking out on the vineyards and, presumably, Ryan. “He’s young and there’s nothing here for him.”

  “By nothing here, you mean women his age?”

  She nodded, glancing over he
r shoulder to survey Shelby. “You won’t stay either.”

  “Don’t start on Mae’s lucky-in-love apartment.” Shelby shook her head. “I was married before. I don’t aspire to it again. Besides, lightning only strikes once.”

  Christine chuckled. “This is wine country. I know several people who’ve been struck by lightning three or more times. Mae Gardner, for one.” She sobered. “Are you sure there’s no lightning between you and Gage?”

  “We were friends once and...” Shelby paused, blaming her lack of sleep and the increased stress of a new job for her off-kilter sensory meter. Gage was handsome, wicked smart and caring. On paper, he was any girl’s dream. Too bad she was no longer any girl.

  “If you two are only friends...” Christine smiled. “Sheriff Nate’s single.”

  Shelby held up a hand.

  “I’m sorry. That was out of line, especially after all the things Mae said today.” Christine smiled graciously. “Slade and the other owners promised the town council they’d bring business here, along with people. But it’s a slow process. Not only is the dating pool here nearly non-existent, there aren’t many people our age to hang out with apart from our gang.” Christine fiddled with her engagement ring. The diamond was impressively large and glinted in the sunlight. She didn’t often wear it to the vineyard. Something else flashed across the yard. Something large. Larger than Christine’s ring.

  Shelby ran to Christine’s side and pointed. “What was that?”

  “I didn’t see it. Was it a skunk?” Christine turned to look out on the vineyard again. “We’ve had problems with skunks.”

  “It was too large to be a skunk.” Shelby peeked past her. The grapevines swayed in the cool breeze, leaves rustling.

  “Coyote?”

  “It was bigger than a coyote.” Much bigger. The kind of bigger that got the adrenaline pumping. She’d thought it was a dog. Roaming dogs weren’t always the friendliest of creatures and Ryan was out there unaware of the potential danger. “Do any of the neighbors have dogs?”

  “The closest is Abby. Truman’s dog. Big, she’s not.” Christine stepped outside and called for Ryan.