“That’s because I agreed to do the night inventory, Kate. I figured you didn’t want to spend your first day back in a dark, dusty wine cave with Randy. I got your back.” Sheila winked.
Kate was grateful she had been spared that trial. “Thank you, Sheila.”
“De nada.”
Kate rolled her weekend bag down the short driveway, past her SUV convertible to her front door. Sheila waved through the clean windshield of her Volvo and was off. Before, it would have been a grinding of gears and a cloud of smoke. Kate was happy for Sheila’s new car.
Glad to be home at last in her own space, she unpacked. The cottage was perfect for her. Built originally as a wine storage building, the thick walls were cozy and warm in the cool months, and on a day like today, when it was hotter than usual, kept the little place cool. She’d left just one window ajar to take the edge off any stuffiness.
First thing she did was put on some satellite music and shed her clothes, heading for the shower just as some sad viola music began. She could barely hear it over the spray of the fresh water as it sluiced over her body and successfully triggered her reset button. With her hair washed and fresh makeup applied, her dirty clothes tossed into the stacking washer-dryer, she poured herself a tall glass of ice water and gulped it like it was the last on earth. Mail had been placed on the dining table, which she thought was odd, since it normally fell all over the floor through the slot. It meant someone had been inside her place, and then she remembered Randy had a key. Today was payday, so she decided to go up to the winery and check her box, go to the bank, and get everything ready for the rest of the week. She’d get her key from Randy, too.
After checking her face in the mirror over the sink, she grabbed her keys, locked the front door and headed for her car.
No one appeared to be home in the big green house when she drove out. She barely saw the couple, who lived there only part time, since they lived in San Francisco and used this place as a weekend getaway. In fact, it seemed like she hadn’t seen them in weeks. They like to go on long overseas travels, so she figured that’s where they had gone. She actually knew their gardener, Jose, better than she knew them.
The ride to the winery was beautiful, winding through vineyards bright green with new growth. There weren’t many tourists, since it was a Monday. Come Friday and all through the weekend, strangers with expensive cameras, sports cars and purses, wearing sweaters tied across their shoulders, shaded by floppy straw hats and winery baseball caps, would casually stroll down the sidewalks and shops of Healdsburg. In their attempts to look local they looked anything but. Their dollars, however, helped keep the town alive, and that was a good thing, especially for a family-owned winery concern. The Hellers were good at entertaining tourists, making them feel they, too, were part of the wine industry family. In a life that seemed distant now, Kate remembered she’d been the top seller of wine club memberships, adding to her already sizeable bonus from telephone wine sales.
She never thought of herself as especially good at selling, but in this arena, when all you had to do was be decent to people and tell them the truth, she excelled. Now she was going to have to do the sell job of her life.
Except it didn’t matter if they let her go. So why was she so nervous? And then it hit her. She was more worried about how things would be if they kept her on.
C
hapter 21
Tyler had agreed to give three newer Team guys a tour of the community grounds and some of their haunts downtown. He’d also agreed to take them to Timmons’s office, where the man was packing up his things, preparing for retirement. His replacement had been posted a month ago, so Timmons had very little to do. After twenty years in the Navy, most people figured he’d be happy to take off the last few days.
But they were wrong. It would have taken Timmons another week to extricate from his office. All the walls were covered in framed pictures and news clippings with some memos attached with yellowing tape. Cloth campaign swags and foreign flags were tacked to the ceiling or screwed into the plaster walls. A tiny Polaroid picture of Saddam Hussein in handcuffs, looking rather scruffy and unkempt, was nearly buried under an Arabic banner with his picture on it. These things chronicled several of the large and small missions SEAL Team 3 had been on. He had Kyle Lansdowne’s graduating class from BUD/S, all ten of them. Three were still serving, and all on his SEAL Team 3.
The new guys, T.J. Talbot, Frank Moore and Ollie Culbertson were fresh out of the Army long course Corps School at Ft. Bragg. They looked like freaked-out baby goats darting into each other, trying to help the Chief and to understand his instructions. Timmons was not very clear, and they weren’t listening much, so it was a giant clusterfuck. Tyler knew how they all felt. Everyone was nervous about the next phase of their deployment: Timmons to a loveless marriage and a wife obsessed with her doll collection, and the new guys to their first encounter with Dr. Death. Though the goals were vastly different, all four of them were distracted as hell.
“So Chief, you want to toss any of this, or are we packing it all up?” he asked Timmons.
“Son, that’s what garages are for. My wife’s informed me that will be where I offload all this shit, and where I get to store it, since none of it will ever find its way into our house.” He’d been emptying a drawer one pencil at a time, checking the length of the pencils and condition of the erasers to see if they were worth keeping. Tyler watched the others try to look busy.
“That’s a shame, sir,” Ollie said stiffly.
“Oh hell,” Timmons said as he straightened and dumped all the pencils into a garbage can, “I’d rather be in my man cave in the garage anyway. At least I don’t have to sit on plastic, and I don’t have to worry about farting or getting crumbs on the floor.”
The new guys chuckled and gave Tyler the checkout look, to be sure it was okay to laugh at the Chief. For just about everyone else, retiring would be heaven and the Navy was hell, but to Timmons it was the other way around. Tyler hoped he’d be able to survive his years away from the base.
The new guys had been trained in that way all the SEALs were. They shut up and just did their jobs. There would be time enough for play, but right now, after the initial awkwardness of packing away Timmons’s life like he was dead and everything was being shipped to Goodwill, the men settled down and took turns doing different things. T.J., the tallest, was pulling things from the wall and upper bookshelves, while Ollie taped together the bottoms of new boxes from a local office supply store. Frankie and Tyler wrapped the glass-framed items in bubble wrap and taped them secure with packing tape. Tyler kept a close eye on the nearly two-foot statue of a frog with the surfboard, the sixth such statue Timmons’s Team boys had bought or replaced for him.
Tyler grabbed the piece. “Timmons, I’m getting nervous watching this thing wobble every time you walk past that file drawer. You mind if I take care of him first?”
“Go ahead. Put him on top after you wrap him.” Timmons pointed to a half-filled box. Tyler could already tell there was no way the statue would fit.
“Sir, I’m going to put this in your car. Toss me your keys,” Tyler said to his Chief. Timmons grumbled something under his breath and did as requested. Ollie came along, carrying a full box taped shut which Timmons had labeled “stuff.”
“Poor dumb shit,” Ollie started, then darted a quick glance at Tyler in alarm. “Sorry, Ty.”
“No worries, Oliver.”
“That’s Ollie, sir. My real name’s worse than that, so I like Ollie, if you don’t mind.”
“Someone play a practical joke when you were born, Ollie?”
“Something like that. I think they took one look at me with my big ears, and said, ‘Nope, doesn’t belong in this family.’ I was adopted.”
“You and T.J. have that in common, it seems.”
“Nah, he was never adopted. Foster care the whole way. Tough way to work it. But made him the man he is.”
They placed the box in Timmons’ truck
, but laid the frog statue on the passenger seat.
“What about Moore?”
“Pretty much Ivy League. Great family. He’s a real gentleman. Got himself a real nice girl who gets him kind of confused, if you know what I mean.”
“I get your drift.” Tyler knew exactly what that felt like. He hoped this weekend would cure some of his trouble concentrating.
They continued filling and carrying out boxes until Timmons’s car was filled to capacity. Then they moved on to T.J’s. pickup, first filling the back, and then stuffing the king cab seat full. Tyler couldn’t believe all this stuff had actually fit in the Chief’s office.
Ollie ran ahead of him back into the two-story office building that had formerly been military housing. Interior bathrooms had been decommissioned to serve as storage closets. Timmons had stuffed his storage closet full as well.
“Think we’re going to need more boxes, fellas,” Timmons barked.
“I’ll go,” Frank volunteered.
Timmons handed him a twenty from his wallet. “Think we’ll need another roll of bubble wrap, too, son.”
Tyler examined the walls. T.J. had just removed the picture frames from the walls, and the stack on Timmons’s desk was nearly two feet high, with two more large moving boxes stacked with unwrapped frames standing up like poster board in an art store. “Geez, Timmons. Had no idea you had all this shit. You’d need to rent a hall to put all this crap up. A Timmons family museum.”
“That’ll fuckin’ never happen.” Timmons looked over the project with fondness, unlike everyone else. “I’ll sort through them and pick one or two to display. But the rest? They’ll just sit there until my wife carts them off to Goodwill or the Salvation Army. If I could, I’d be buried with all this.” He chuckled to himself. “Now wouldn’t that make a movie? A man with this huge burial plot big enough for all his man stuff no one else gave a flying fuck about.”
“Maybe your daughter will want some of these things,” Tyler answered.
“Love her to death, but Cassie’s interest in the military stops and starts with you guys running down the beach. Besides, her apartment is nearly this small,” he said, stretching his arms out to the sides.
“And does she like dolls too?” Tyler asked.
“Hell, no. And she thinks her mom’s nuts, God bless her.”
Tyler let the new guys escort Timmons home with his stash. They’d have to come back tomorrow to finish the details and sweep clean the office. He returned to his sparse apartment and thought about what he should to do to make it cozier. He’d need a couch. A recliner for watching TV. He wondered if Kate ever watched TV. Then he wondered what her favorite programs were. He might need to get cable to entertain her. But not yet. Not until he was back from deployment.
The bed was good, though. King size. He hadn’t scrimped on that one, although it cost nearly a month’s pay to get it and the boxed spring, which sat directly on the ground. The “panther eyes” black fuzzy blanket had seemed just the thing at the time, but now he wanted some new sheets and perhaps a comforter. Girls liked comforters, he thought. Something in a print, not too feminine. Maybe something in a fresh green.
His bathroom towels were a dingy grey and had strings of cotton hanging down that would need to be trimmed. Hell, he needed new, fluffy towels. If she ever visited him, he no way would he allow her lovely flesh to be wiped down by these grimy, scratchy rags. Something again in a light green color would be nice, or ivory. That wouldn’t look too feminine. He also didn’t want to catch hell for decorating from Luke or one of his other best buds. No, solid, neutral colors were the order of the day.
He knew he had lots of adjusting to do, but he’d take it little by little. One thing at a time. Since he’d fallen in love before, everything was new, and when new things came along, it was best to take them one at a time, let each thing settle in.
He didn’t feel like going out tonight, so sat on the bed, propped the pillows and grabbed a bad of paper, and settled down to write Kate a letter he could post tomorrow morning. Maybe she’d get it by Friday night. If not, he’d read it to her on Saturday. He wanted to communicate with her in the intimate way his mind worked when he put words on paper. Somehow, the act of writing softened him, helped him pour out his soul.
Kate,
I’m lying here on my bed thinking about you. Long before you come visit me here, I plan on making some changes so this place doesn’t look so depressing. It’s a typical bachelor pad. My mom would love helping me get some color into this place, and maybe lend me some of her paintings. Funny how I never thought of these things before now.
I’m aching to see you again. You make me feel wonderful, like a high school kid again. I’m noticing couples everywhere and I miss you. I feel your hand in mine, the softness of all those places on your body I love to kiss. I can’t help it, I’m a guy and a certain body part misses you too. Hope that doesn’t offend you. But it’s the truth.
We helped our liaison officer close down his office and move home to retirement today. Was kind of sad, really. The man has been here the entire time I’ve been on the Teams, sort of the guy who kept us out of trouble and helped if we needed any special favors. And we checked in with him, not as much as we do our LPO, that’s our Leading Petty Officer, who goes with us on missions, but he was the guy at home who ran interference for us.
But it is sad that he’s going home to what I feel is an early grave. He has a daughter who doesn’t live with him, but his wife is a complete nut job. We get the impression he won’t have it easy being around that woman so much every day. Hope he can find more time to be with his daughter. Maybe that will happen.
Sorry, didn’t want to write about a downer. But it did make me think about what would be next for me if I ever got off the Teams. None of us like to think about that, and the word is if we start thinking about it, we’re already halfway out. I’m not ready yet to give up this community. There are things I’d miss. Most guys don’t usually stay in very long. Only a handful. But today I don’t have to think about it. All I want to do is dream about what we’ll be doing when I see you Friday night.
I can hardly wait.
Don’t bother writing me back. I want you to tell me in person. LOL. Until then, I’m going to think real hard about what that will feel like and sound like.
Tyler
He quickly scribbled the address Kate had given him on the outside of a small white envelope, found a stamp, ran downstairs and mailed it after making sure the mail hadn’t been picked up yet.
C
hapter 22
There were only three other cars in the visitor parking lot, so Kate pulled in next to one of them instead of going behind the building and parking in the dusty gravel employee lot.
The afternoon had warmed up so much she was grateful her newly-washed hair was still damp, but inside the twelve-foot carved oak doors of the tasting room the air was nearly ice cold. She’d worn a sleeveless silk top over her black skinny jeans, out of respect for the black and white dress code of the winery staff, but now wished she’d worn a sweater. Luckily she didn’t intend to work; she was just going to drop by the office and check her employee box for her check and perhaps a notice of some kind.
She found neither. The Sheila looked up from her books and seemed surprised to see her.
“Oh, Kate! I thought you wouldn’t be in until tomorrow,” she said over the top of her red rhinestone reading glasses. Kate had never noticed she wore them before.
“Changed my mind. You have my check?”
“I’m sorry, Kate. I didn’t—”
“Hello Kate.”
Kate whirled around and there was Randy, leaning against the doorframe. His arms were crossed across his chest, his hands in leather gloves. Over his shoulder Kate saw Sheila’s shake her head from side to side, eyes wide and rolling. “Randy! You scared me to death.”
Randy dropped his arms and walked deliberately toward Kate. “Nice to see you, sweetheart. You look ravishing.�
� His eyes were sparkling, but a little too wild for her. Kate picked up he was nursing some serious pain, and perhaps more than a small amount of anger.
He stopped in front of her and allowed a slight glance up and down her body, just enough to notice she was wearing black and white. One eyebrow rose. The smile that sneaked across his lips was an afterthought. “I thought you’d want the day to recover from your exertions of the weekend.”
Anger flared like a hot poker up her spine. There was only one place he could have gotten the information about her meeting another man: Sheila. Her friend looked down, examining her paperwork, shrugged and sighed without making eye contact.
“I was on the schedule until this morning. So I came in to handle the open enrollment forms and get my paycheck.”
“So you intend to work for me still?”
“Well, ye-es. I didn’t hear otherwise. Forgive me if I’m wrong. I just assumed—”
“I convinced my folks to keep you on until we could get all this sorted out. But that was before I learned you’ve been screwing someone else.”
Sheila straightened her spine and made her rolling office chair squeak, apparently deciding she wanted to be anywhere but in the room between the two ex-lovers.
“That’s not fair, Randy. I’m afraid it’s a little more than that.”
“Really?” he asked. “So you’ve known this guy, what, more than four days, then?”
“I’m not comfortable talking about it right now. Can I just get my check and perhaps we could discuss this when your parents are present? After all, I do work for them.”
Randy and Sheila exchanged a look. “You wouldn’t even have a job here if it wasn’t for me, Kate. You sure as hell know that, don’t you?” Randy’s expression was smug. Not bitter.
Kate didn’t want to pick a fight. “Randy, I’m not here to cause a scene—”
SEAL of My Heart Page 12