“I know it’s not what you want to hear,” she said, “but I thought you should know we were… together. Look, Tess. I’m just trying to save you a lot of trouble. Don’t waste your time on Thatcher James. You’re better than that.”
“Thanks for the advice.” My voice was flat.
“No problem,” she chirped. “Anyway, I’ll wait for the check. Bye, Tess.”
I hung up the phone without saying goodbye.
When I called off the wedding, it wasn’t because I was hoping things would somehow work out with Thatcher. It was because I wasn’t right for Logan, and he wasn’t right for me. Not really. This was best for both of us. With or without someone else in the picture, this was for the best.
But after talking to DJ, I could sense there was something left unresolved in my heart. Somewhere deep down, perhaps I had hoped to have a chance at patching things up with Thatcher. But that was gone too, along with the pretty dress, the sparkly ring, and the dream job.
Goodbye small shred of hope.
I couldn’t stay here anymore. I wrestled with the fastenings and zippers on my dress and slid out of it, spreading it over the bed. Then I dug an old pair of gym shorts and a T-shirt out of my suitcase, and left the cottage with the door unlocked. I let myself into the main house and walked right past Jake and Sara, upstairs to the guest room where I flopped myself face-down on the bed.
Jake opened the door a couple minutes later.
“You all right, Tessy?”
I grunted into the pillow.
“Do you need anything?”
I lifted my head to look at him. He held something in his hand. “What’s that?”
“Wedding cake.”
They sliced the cake. I hadn’t even seen it. A fresh wave of pain pierced through my heart. “I want to be alone now. Okay?”
“Okay. I’ll let you rest. If you need me, you know where to find me.”
As he shut the door, I called after him. “Jake?”
“Yeah, Tessy?”
“Leave the cake.”
I heard him put the plate down on the dresser and close the door, leaving me alone to count my goodbyes.
CHAPTER 36
I emerged from the guest room on Monday morning. I spent the whole weekend in a sleepy stupor, letting myself be sad. But the weekend was over, and I decided it was time to move on with my life.
Jake and Sara were seated in the kitchen when I arrived. A strange man sat at the table across from them. He didn’t bother to look up from the stack of paperwork he was engrossed in.
“Morning,” I said.
“Hey there.” Sara peered over her mug cautiously, as if I were a woodland animal, ready to run away if she moved too fast.
“How ya feeling?” Jake looked at me with the same expression as Sara.
“I’m fine. I’ve spent a solid two days moping, and I’m done. I’m moving on. Conquering the world, so to speak.”
They looked at each other, and Jake raised his eyebrows as if to say, would you look at that?
“Way to go, Tessy. So what’s next?”
Hmm. I hadn’t gotten that far yet.
“Um, maybe a shower?”
Jake and Sara clapped their hands with excited smiles, a little too excited maybe, but I appreciated their support.
Sara stood and walked over to me. “Tess, this is Vince Mills.”
The man at the table looked up from the paperwork and smiled.
“Vince is going to be the new owner of Carl’s Creek,” Sara said.
I tried to appear enthused. “Oh. Nice to meet you.”
“Likewise,” he said.
“We won’t bother you today, Tessy,” Jake said, “but do you mind meeting with Vince tomorrow morning? He’s going to keep things moving along on all these weddings we’ve booked, so there’s a lot of information he’ll want. You know, website credentials, what ads you have running, local vendors you’ve worked with. Stuff like that.”
“Yeah. Sure.” I looked at Vince and added, “I know a great caterer.”
He nodded. “Good.”
“You like road kill, right?”
“She’s kidding!” Jake broke in. “She’s always such a kidder. Is nine too early, Tessy?”
“No, that works.”
“Good. Meet us down at the barn.”
“I will. See you guys later. Nice meeting you, Vince.”
My shoulders dropped with the weight of disappointment as I left. Carl’s Creek was as good as gone. That meant I’d need to make a plan to get out of here. And soon.
Back at the cottage, every trace of the wedding was wiped away, except for a wilted rose that fell off its stem and landed under the table. I picked it up and rolled it between my fingers as I waited for my coffee to brew.
I drew a bath, exactly as I’d done on my first day here. But this time I pulled the curtain closed. Sitting in the bathtub and sipping my coffee, I decided it was time to go back home to my apartment. I could start my job search from there. I was sure there were plenty of event planning companies in such a big area. And who knew? Maybe I’d even be able to get my start working on my own.
I rested my head against the bathtub ledge and stared at the curtain. It blocked my view of the window, but it was better that way. Staring at the beautiful view would only remind me of how much I was going to miss this place.
***
My bags were packed and piled by the door. Right after my meeting with Jake and the buyer, I would say my goodbyes and hit the road. No sense hanging around here anymore. The longer I stayed, the harder it would be to leave.
I surveyed the cottage. Once I loaded my bags into the car, there wouldn’t be a single hint of my existence left here.
Except, I remembered, for one thing.
The shoebox.
I bent down to retrieve the box I hid under the bed right after Thatcher gave me the boots. It was still there, right where I’d left it. I picked it up and carried it through the open French doors outside to the back patio.
It was a gorgeous morning, though a bit chilly for early July. I sat down and placed the box on the table, running a hand over the top of the lid to clear off the dust. I would throw the box away, but I wanted to keep the note inside, at least for a little bit.
I lifted the lid and reached into the box. When I pulled out the envelope, a neatly-folded piece of tissue paper came out with it. I let the lid and tissue paper fall onto the table and held the envelope with both hands, staring at his handwriting: Heels.
The corners of my mouth turned up, thinking about how mad I was when he first started calling me Heels. Perhaps I should have stayed mad at him, for leaving the way he did, and for whatever happened with DJ. But I wasn’t. I wanted to remember Thatcher for who he was to me in the good times. Despite everything, I was changed by knowing him.
No, that wasn’t quite right. I’d been un-changed by knowing him. He saw my strengths, encouraged me, and held me accountable to who I was. He didn’t try to make me into someone else. There was something refreshing about the way he saw me and accepted me. I would look for that again, I decided. For someone who challenged me to be the best possible version of… well, me.
I placed the envelope down on the table and picked up the tissue paper, crumpling it into a ball with a sigh. Something caught my eye as I went to toss the tissue paper in the box. I squinted to get a better look. It was a plain white piece of paper, folded once and resting flat on the bottom of the box. I hadn’t noticed it before, because it blended in with the color of the box, and also because it was tucked under the tissue paper.
I picked up the paper and unfolded it to find a page filled with shaky script written in blue ink. It was a letter. But not just any letter. A very personal letter.
A letter from Carl to Thatcher. The letter Sara told me about.
It was none of my business, I knew that. But how could I not read it? It was right here in front of me. And Thatcher had given me the box. Didn’t he know the letter was insi
de? Maybe he wanted me to read it.
It was a stretch, but it was enough to justify giving in to my curiosity. I sat back in the chair and brought my legs up underneath me, pulling the letter close to my face and reading:
Thatcher,
By now you know the vineyard is Sara’s, and I owe it to you to explain why. I want you to know I forgave you a long time ago, son. I was madder than a wet hen for all of an hour, but deep down, I understood. Some seeds are meant to take root where they’re planted, and some aren’t. It’s just the way it is, so don’t beat yourself up for leaving.
I also want you to know I didn’t give this place to Sara to spite you. I thought about it long and hard. In the end, it seemed like the right thing to do. Mostly because I don’t want you to feel burdened or tied down.
I don’t have a lot of money left, and we both know you need another dollar like you need a third armpit. So the only thing I can think to leave you, besides this letter telling you how much I love and forgive you, is this old pair of boots.
I gave the boots to your grandmother, Maisy, on our wedding day. She was wearing them when we bought this place, and when I finished digging the creek. She was wearing them the day you were born, and the day we brought you here to live with us. These boots are special, because she was special.
I’ve lived a long time, and I can tell you with great certainty that love is what matters. A good crop’s important, make no mistake, but a good crop won’t last. Love will, just like these boots. They’re worn out in places and they’ve stepped in some things, but they’re built real solid and the scratches—well the scratches tell a story.
If you find someone special, like my Maisy, you can give her the boots. Don’t go giving them to just anyone, though. And don’t wait around forever to give them to her, either. Even a long life like mine is too short for that nonsense. If she’s the one, you can bet she’ll appreciate them. The way to a decent woman’s heart is usually a good pair of comfortable shoes. And pancakes. Don’t ask me why. It’s just the way it is.
That’s all, son. I love you, I forgive you, and I’ll be seeing you. Remember what I taught you about the grapes. Sometimes you have to get rid of the extra branches to let in the sun. Don’t have too much pride to cut them away. You’ll save yourself a lot of trouble in the long run.
-Grandpop
My eyes filled up with tears halfway through the letter. The tears spilled over now, hard and fast. I gasped for air and sobbed as I read the words a second time, then a third.
I want you to keep the boots. They’re yours.
I thought about the words Thatcher said when I tried to give the boots back to him, remembering that strange look in his eyes. He was trying to tell me something, I realized.
But… why didn’t he come out and say it? I told him how I felt about him, plain and simple. If he meant something more, he had every reason to blurt it out.
So maybe he wasn’t trying to tell me something, after all. Maybe he had never seen the letter in the box, either. Maybe the boots didn’t mean anything special to him. Maybe he just honestly thought I needed a more practical pair of shoes.
No. I shook my head and wiped a tearstained cheek with the back of my hand. This was Thatcher. Everything he said was layered with deeper meaning.
Wasn’t it?
I wouldn’t know unless I asked him. And I couldn’t ask him unless I went after him.
But I wouldn’t be going after him.
Not because I didn’t know where to look. I was sure I could find him if I wanted to. I wasn’t going after him because I wasn’t going to make a fool of myself by chasing him down. Not after he left the way he did.
He made his choice.
I took a staggered breath and folded the letter from Carl along with Thatcher’s note, holding them with both hands. Then I stood up from the table and looked at the boots, which I’d slipped into before finding the letter.
It was strange how far I’d come since first putting them on, and how different I felt. I was a little sadder, but also a lot lighter somehow. What I wanted changed, and yet I was somehow still mourning the loss of what I thought I wanted. It was a complicated feeling, one I couldn’t quite grasp. Then again, I didn’t need to grasp it yet. It would take a while, I supposed, to understand. And that was okay. I was going to be okay. At least, I hoped I would be.
Where to next, boots?
That was the question. I wasn’t quite sure where these boots would take me. The only thing I knew for certain was how they’d go.
One step at a time.
I lifted my foot and took the first step.
CHAPTER 37
I arrived at the barn a few minutes early, expecting to beat Jake there, but he came hustling out the door before I could make my way inside.
“Morning, Tessy.”
“Hey. You’re here early.”
“Yeah, well I can’t stay,” he said. “Sara’s having a craving and she’s making me run to the store so she can make fried chicken.”
“Jake, it’s not even nine in the morning. It can wait.”
“You’re telling me. Sorry, Tessy. I’ve gotta run.” He turned and broke into a jog.
“Wait!”
He stopped and pivoted back around. “We’re having twins. Did I tell you that?”
I softened. “No. You didn’t. But it’s great. It’s really great.”
“It is, isn’t it?” His eyes were shining.
“What about the meeting?” I asked. “Are we going to reschedule?”
“You go on without me. There’s some paperwork inside. Pass it along for me, will ya?” He trotted away, chuckling and shaking his head as he muttered to himself. “Twins.”
“Jake, I can’t do this without you,” I called. “I don’t have any idea what to say to this guy.”
He looked over his shoulder. There was a sly smile on his face. “I’m sure it will come to you.”
“What’s that supposed to—”
And then I saw it, off in the distance: a truck making its way up the drive.
Thatcher’s truck.
Though I’d been fooled by the sight of his truck before, my instincts told me this time was different. It was him. I was sure of it. My heart pounded hard. I looked around for Jake, but he was gone. A part of me wanted to hide, but there was nowhere to go. He’d already seen me. All I could do was stand there, trying to act casual. I was fully dressed, but I could imagine what it felt like to be a nude model posing for an art class; awkward, vulnerable, exposed.
The truck came to a stop and Thatcher sat inside for a moment, staring at me with one hand on the key in the ignition. He looked as surprised as I felt. Maybe a little more, even.
I forced my hand up and waved at him.
He stepped out and walked over to me. “Shouldn’t you be on your honeymoon?”
“Excuse me?”
“I saw the article in the paper,” he said.
I sucked in my breath. The paper. I’d forgotten all about it. How many other people had seen it, too? I wasn’t ready to talk about the wedding. I wanted to forget it ever happened. But it looked like that wasn’t going to be an option.
“Yeah well, I guess the article didn’t mention that I called it off.”
“You what?” It was the first time I’d ever seen Thatcher completely lose his composure. He tugged on his baseball cap to recollect himself.
“I didn’t get married,” I said. “I called it off.”
He looked past me to the mountains in the distance. What was he thinking? I couldn’t read him.
“And shouldn’t you be shacking up with DJ?” I asked.
He winced.
“She told me about how you…”
“I went there because I needed a ride to the airport. And yeah, I needed someone to talk to. It was the night after I said goodbye to you, right before I left town. It was late. Real late. She said she’d seen you that night.”
I nodded. “Yeah. We met up at the restaurant.”
/>
“We talked, and she drove me to the airport. Nothing happened. And even if it did, I thought you were getting married.”
I studied him as he spoke, searching his face for a sign of deceit.
“Honest,” he said, “I probably should have asked someone else for a ride, I’ll admit it, but nothing happened.”
“Wait a minute. You knew?”
“Knew what?”
“About the wedding. You knew?”
He stuffed his hands into his pockets. “Yeah. Well, not at first. But then, yeah. Jake told me. At the time, I don’t think he realized we…”
“Is that why you left? Is that why you said you didn’t love me?”
“I didn’t say that.”
“Yes you did. I asked you if you loved me—”
“And I said I was leaving. I didn’t say I didn’t love you. Jake told me about the wedding, and… I wanted you to be happy, Tess. I didn’t want to get in the way. I thought you’d ride off into the sunset and that’d be the end of it.”
“Well I didn’t. And I wasn’t. Happy, I mean. And you should have told me the truth. You broke my heart, the way you left.”
He nodded, looking down at the ground.
I remembered the letter, which I’d tucked into my purse before leaving the cottage, and a surge of adrenaline pumped through my body as I pulled it out and unfolded it. “Thatcher…” The paper made a soft crinkling sound in my hands. “Did you mean to give this to me?”
He looked up, and his eyes widened at the sight of the letter. I handed it to him, and he held it with both hands, scanning over the words as if he were checking to make sure it was real.
“I thought I lost this.” He cleared his throat. “Where did you find it?”
“In the box with the boots.”
“And you read it? All of it?”
“Yeah.” I nodded. “Maybe I shouldn’t have. I’m sorry.”
He tore his gaze away from the paper and folded it back up. “No. It’s okay. I’m glad you did.”
I chewed on my lip, unsure of what to say next.
“It’s funny,” he said, “I had no idea it was in there.”
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