"Now, Keller," Norman said, before Maisy or Agatha had a chance to retort, "You're not being fair, you know that. I can vouch for Maisy; she's not an experienced drinker at all. The only thing she's in the habit of drinking too much of is Diet Coke." Norman punctuated his statement with a laugh. "It was my bright idea to come here and sample those wines, not Maisy's. I had to practically drag the woman in here kicking and screaming for God's sake." He laughed again. "We had already had a bit of beer over at Bavaria Haus," Norman held up his hands, "again, at my suggestion--and I should have had more sense than to insist that Maisy drink wine on top of that."
"Norman Stanley, I most certainly do not need you, of all people, defending me," Maisy said. "If it wasn't for you, I wouldn't even be in this mess, would I?"
"If you had been paying attention, you'd realize that that's exactly the point I was trying to make, Maisy," Norman said.
"First, you take me to a place that plies me with free German beer, and then you insist that I partake in a wine tasting. Hah!" Maisy pulled her fingers through her curls. "Oh, let's have a little lunch out in Naperville," Maisy said, mocking Norman. "Oh gee, look, here's Keller's Cellars, what a surprise. He won't be here--I promise. Trust me, you said. Hah!" She dropped her head into her hands and talked through spread fingers. "Oooh, Norman, sometimes, I swear, I could just strangle you--in fact, after this fiasco, I just might."
The sound of rapid footsteps on the stairs was followed by Sharon's face, peeking through the doorway. "Good grief, what in the world is going on up here? Maisy, for chrissakes, control yourself and stop screaming like a drunken banshee. This is a place of business . . . there are customers downstairs."
Horrified, Maisy looked from Sharon to Norman to Agatha and finally to Keller. Her eyes filling with tears, she said, just above a whisper, "I'm . . . I'm sorry. I'm so embarrassed, please forgive me." Steadying herself, Maisy stood up, placing one hand to her head and the other to her stomach. "Please, can someone show me to the bathroom. I think I'm going to be sick."
Brushing Keller's helping hand from Maisy's arm, Agatha stepped between them, "I think you've helped quite enough for now, Keller. Come along, dear, I'll show you to the bathroom."
As soon as her mother left the room, Sharon said, "Okay, big brother, Mama's not here to protect or defend you and it's high time you gave me an explanation." Indignant, she flipped her long red locks from her shoulder and folded her spindly arms across her chest. "What's going on between you and that pig?"
Keller looked for all the world as if he were about to haul off and give his sister a solid punch in the nose. Gritting his teeth and pointing a threatening finger, he said, "Don't you ever call Maisy that again, do you hear me, Sharon? Ever! Or you'll have me to answer to, is that clear?"
Mocking her brother, Sharon dangled her hands in a jittery fashion. "Ohhh, look at me, I'm shaking. I'm so scared." She rolled her eyes and laughed. "Good Lord, Keller, don't tell me you're fucking that bitch?"
As Keller moved rapidly towards his sister, with a lethal look in his eyes, Norman quickly stepped between them. Addressing Sharon, he said, "Excuse me, but, didn't I hear you say you had some customers downstairs? Maybe it would be a good idea for you to go back down there and see how they're doing."
"Hey, I couldn't care less. After all, this isn't my winery, it's his." Pointing at her brother with a bony finger, Sharon said the word his as if Keller were nothing more than a bug underfoot. "I am not moving from this spot until I get some answers. And, besides, who the hell do you think you are anyway, telling me what to do, huh?" Sharon gave Norman a loathsome once-over. "Oh yeah, you're the bitch's faggot boss, aren't you?"
"Sharon!" Keller belted out in anger.
Jutting his chin out and holding his head high, Norman worked hard to maintain his composure and keep his temper in check. "Now I see why Maisy got sick right after you came into the room." Curling his lip, he returned Sharon's distasteful once-over. "It's certainly clear that Maisy wasn't exaggerating one bit when she described what you were like."
Advancing towards Norman with a menacing look, Sharon boomed, "Oh yeah? Well let me show you exactly what I'm made of, you fuckin'--"
"Oh no you don't," Keller interrupted, grasping his sister's arm and holding firm as she tried in vain to tug it away. "Norman, I'm sorry you had to get in the middle of this. I'm going to take Madame Big Mouth," he shot Sharon a lethal look, "downstairs so we can talk. And . . . take care of Maisy for me, will ya?"
***
"Will you fuckin' let go of my arm," Sharon insisted as Keller all but dragged her down the stairs."Keep quiet, you foul-mouthed little trouble maker," Keller said through clenched teeth. "I don't want the customers to hear you." Intent on remaining level headed, it was increasingly difficult with all the raw emotion simmering inside his brain. Aside from being totally mixed up about his feelings for Maisy, he was positively seething at his sister and her utter lack of tact.
Once at the bottom of the stairs, Keller loosened his grip and Sharon yanked her arm away. "Ow, you brute." She rubbed her arm. "I'm going to be black and blue--you know how easily I bruise." Keller just threw a narrow eyed glare her way. "Anyway, there's nothing to worry about, there aren't any customers here. I just said that for Maisy's benefit."
"What?" Keller threw his hands into the air and mumbled something unintelligible. "You know, Sharon, you are really one fine piece of work."
"Thank you." She fluffed her hair.
Keller shot his sister a noxious look. "It wasn't a compliment."
Arching her brow and offering a calculated sneer, Sharon slid past Keller to retrieve her coat and purse from the back room. When she returned, she draped her things over the banister and faced Keller, arms folded across her chest. "So, are you going to tell me about you and whatzerface or not?"
"Not if I can help it." Keller scratched his head and laughed. He'd had thousands of run-ins with his sister over the years, but this one . . . this one was different. "Actually, Sharon, it's really none of your business."
"It most certainly is," Sharon said, stamping her foot against the floor. "How can you say that? She's the bitch that made John's life a living hell for ten years. She's the last person on earth I want to see you tied up with. Ugh, men," she bellowed, stamping her foot against the floor again. "I swear, Keller, sometimes you are such a lamebrained idiot."
Keller cringed as he looked down at the spot on the floor where Sharon had twice punctuated her point with the metal-tipped heel of her shoe. "Jeez, do you have to do that? Do you have any idea how many back-breaking hours I put into finishing this wood floor?"
"Don't try to change the subject, creep."
As a man who made a point of avoiding clichéd terms as far as differences between the sexes were concerned, Keller was dismayed at the fact that the words bitch, and bimbo insisted on flashing across his mind as he looked at his sister. "Look, Sharon, I really don't want to get into this with you," he held up his hand to keep his sister from interrupting, "but, since you're being so damned obstinate about it . . ." he took a deep breath and shook his head.
"Go ahead, I'm waiting," Sharon impatiently tapped her foot on the floor.
"Okay, you asked for it." Keller pointed an implicating finger towards his sister. "Are you forgetting that I knew that rotten son-of-a-bitch you were married to?" He held up his hand again to silence his sister's impending protest. "Before you say another word, Sharon, remember that I'm the one you called when you first discovered that John Morganfield, your wonderful new husband, was sleeping through the entire roster of female real estate agents in the Northwest suburbs. You were nearly hysterical, remember?" Sharon opened her mouth and Keller motioned again for her to be silent. "And, I remember when that bastard pummeled you so badly that you were covered with black and blue marks, had a fat lip and your eye swollen shut. You had to practically tie me down to prevent me from killing that scum-bag myself." The recollection of seeing his sister in that condition and realizing that J
ohn was responsible was still an all too lucid memory. Now, he found himself wondering if John had used Maisy as a battering bag, too. The thought was blood curdling. Clenching his jaw, Keller pounded his fist against the wall.
Heaving a shrug, Sharon sighed. "Yes, I remember."
"And, I'll tell you something else," Keller continued, wagging a finger at Sharon, "I still can't come to terms with the fact that you actually chose to go back to that sub-human piece of shit after what he did to you. So don't even try talking to me about how Maisy made his life miserable. I rather doubt that that's an accurate accounting, Sharon."
Wearing a guilty pout, Sharon gave her brother a hesitant hug. "All right, yes, everything you said is true . . . and yes, you were wonderful about it when I needed help, but don't you see, Keller, that's besides the point. We're not talking about me . . . we're talking about whatzername upstairs," Sharon jerked her head with disdain towards the second floor. "If only you could have seen Maisy a year and a half ago. She was . . . she was . . ." Sharon sputtered, searching for the right words as she made a wide circle with her hands and bloated out her cheeks. "She was huge, Keller. A whale, a pig . . . a fucking warthog for chrissakes. How the hell could you possibly be attracted to something like that?"
"Damn." Keller pounded his fist against the wall again, causing Sharon to flinch and back away. "What the hell does that have to do with anything? Don't you understand . . . I don't give a damn what Maisy looked like then, it doesn't make any difference to me. That asshole husband of hers obviously drove Maisy to overeat. It must have been the only temporary respite she had from his physical and emotional brutality. It was probably either that or--"
"Or become a lush, brother dear?" Happily plastering a smirk across her face, Sharon motioned towards the second floor with her thumb.
"Uh-uh, Sharon . . . don't go there." Keller wagged a threatening finger. "That's definitely a case of the pot calling the kettle black. If memory serves, dear sister, you were mighty dependent on the old vino, as well as your close pals, Jack Daniels and Johnny Walker, for a long while during your marriage to that rotten SOB." Arching a brow, and firmly planting his tongue in his cheek, Keller bobbed his head up and down with a devilish smile. "Hell, you, alone, sucked back most of Keller's Cellar's profits last year."
Gasping, Sharon stamped her heel against the floor again, making Keller wince. "Are you implying that I'm an alcoholic?"
Folding his arms across his chest, Keller leaned back against the rich mahogany paneling, sporting a smirk. "Now that you mention it, your insides have been in contact with so much alcohol, I think I'm gonna start calling you Pickles." He burst into laughter.
"You know, Keller," Sharon said through a sneer, "that questionable charisma and cloying sense of humor may work on desperate bimbos like Maisy Morganfield, but I'm above falling for your boyish charms, so put a lid on it, will ya?"
"Why do you hate Maisy so much anyway?" Keller scratched his head as he began to pace. "I mean, what did she ever do to you personally?"
"She has this nasty habit of breathing," Sharon said, sarcastically.
"Real mature, Sharon." Keller huffed. "The way I hear it, Maisy caught you and John fooling around in her own bed." He abruptly stopped pacing and turned on his heel to face Sharon. "Which, by the way, brings me to an interesting and perplexing question."
"Oh yeah?" Sharon said, defiantly jutting out her chin.
"Yeah." Keller mimicked his sister's challenging posture. "How come you conveniently failed to mention that interesting little tidbit about your illicit dalliance with another woman's husband when you first told me about you and John and Maisy, huh? How come in your version, you were the poor, innocent, virtuous, woman?"
Sharon shrugged and waved her hand nonchalantly. "Okay, so what? Maisy deserved everything that happened to her because she let herself grow into a big fat pig. She couldn't honestly expect John to still find her attractive at that horrendous weight. I mean, come on, Keller, of course John was going to seek satisfaction elsewhere. What man wouldn't?"
"And my sweet, accommodating little sister was more than willing to oblige John in his quest, right?"
She shrugged again and offered a wicked smile. "Yeah, I guess you could say that. Jesus H. Christ, what's the big deal? It's not like I committed a crime or something because I had sex with a married man. These aren't the dark ages, you know?" She waved her hand through the air and fluffed her hair. "Let's just say I was there to give the poor, sex-starved man a little sympathy and understanding when he needed it, that's all." She flashed that same wicked smile again.
"Well, it's like they say, I guess. What goes around comes around."
Sharon shot her brother a suspicious glance. "Just what is that supposed to mean?"
"Every dog has their day . . . what's good for the gander . . ." Keller said indifferently as a slow smile crossed his features.
"I don't like this one little bit," Sharon said, stamping her heel against the highly polished wood floor again, making Keller cringe. "Spit it out, Keller, just what exactly are you trying to say?"
"Don't you think Maisy was just as devastated to find you humping her husband as you were to find John humping that twenty-something bimbo from the office? Remember how you felt when you walked in on that, Sharon?"
"Well, of course I was devastated. I mean, look at me," she brushed her hands up and down her slender frame. "I can think of at least a dozen guys who'd give their eye teeth to spend just one night with me. There wasn't a single goddamned reason in hell why John should have had to go elsewhere with me in his bed."
"Maybe so, ego-queen, but," Keller held his finger aloft and smiled, "apparently, your dearly beloved husband felt otherwise. I mean, after all, Sharon, the man had a heart attack and croaked while he was boffing some sexy little piece of jail-bait, didn't he?"
"Oooh, Keller, you make me so damned angry sometimes." Sharon grasped her hair with both hands and yanked. "What the hell do you want me to say? Okay, yes, it's true. John was a philandering piece-of-shit-bastard-fuck and the longer we were married, the more I grew to hate everything about him. And furthermore . . . I'm fucking glad he's dead--it's like a blessed reprieve. There, is that what you were waiting to hear?" Sharon's face contorted with a mixture of rage and hurt as she wiped away the tears that trickled down her flushed cheeks.
"Yeah, I guess so," Keller said softly, his posture deflating, "but somehow it doesn't give me the satisfaction I hoped for." He smiled sympathetically as he drew his flustered sister into a hug. "I'm sorry, sis. I didn't mean to dredge up all that crap, it's just that you make me so . . ." Expelling a great sigh, he shook his head and laughed. "Never mind." Holding his sister at arms length, he offered a warm smile. "So tell me, doesn't any of that stuff we just talked about make you feel just a little bit of sympathy for Maisy and what she went through with that jerk?"
Shrugging Keller's hands from her shoulders, Sharon looked at her brother as if he were an imbecile. "Well, of course not. Honestly, Keller. Sometimes I think you're from a different planet. What does one thing have to do with the other? Like I said before, Maisy Morganfield was a fat pig who got exactly what she deserved." Sharon laughed incredulously. "Like you could even try to make a comparison between her circumstance and mine. Hah! Get real, will ya, Keller." Tapping her finger against his temple, she grabbed her coat and purse and headed for the door. "That's it, I'm out of here." With that, she made a rapid exit, slamming the door behind her.
"You may as well just give up, buddy," Keller said aloud to himself. "She's hopeless." Rolling his eyes skyward, he shook his head and huffed a laugh. "That girl is just never going to get it."
The door opened again and a party of five strolled into the winery's store, telling Keller they were there for a wine tasting. As Keller led them into the tasting room, Maisy came down the stairs with Norman and Agatha.
After making her umpteenth apology to Agatha, and thanking her again for her kindness, Maisy and Norman headed towards
the exit. Maisy stopped briefly to cast a regretful look towards Keller who was pouring out samples of wine. As he looked up and focused on Maisy, he overfilled the small glass and quickly attended to the spill, watching out of the corner of his eye as Maisy walked out the door. Following Maisy, Norman paused, nodding in Keller's direction with a sympathetic wink.
Continuing to dispense wine samples, all Keller could think about was sampling Maisy Morganfield's succulent curves.
* * *
Chapter Nine
After the last customer of the day left the winery, and his mother had gone home, Keller locked up and headed upstairs to his apartment, glad to finally be alone with his thoughts. It had been one hell of a day, compounded, no doubt, by the fact that he was fighting the affects of jet lag after his unexpected flight back from California that afternoon. The last thing in the world he expected was to find Maisy Morganfield at his winery--especially after what had transpired between them the day of their ill-fated picnic. Keller had written her off that day--plain and simple--she was out of his life forever. Nope, no way was he going to subject himself to another bout of that twisted female logic of Maisy's ever again, regardless of how fascinating and desirable she was. At least, that's how he felt until he saw her again this afternoon--sitting on the steps with her head between her knees and belting out polka songs. Raking his hand through his hair, Keller laughed at the recollection.Not only was his encounter with Maisy less than idyllic today--again--but, to make things even worse, Keller had to contend with his self-serving, addle-brained sister and then sit through a probing, accusatory third-degree from his mother that would have driven a lesser man to drink. With that thought in mind, a chuckle surfaced as Keller glanced towards the glass of deep, heady cabernet that he'd just placed on his nightstand. Heaving a sigh and a shrug of the shoulders, he reached over and took a purposeful sip of the earthy liquid.
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