by Iris Morland
“Well, I went there last week, but no hot waiter. I guess he moved onto greener pastures.”
Joy smiled at Regina, who smiled back. Memories flooded Joy, and she wished all of sudden to forget the past, to move on. She’d missed her friend. And she obviously hadn’t had a good time of it, either.
“What happened, Regina?” Joy asked quietly. “What happened? To us? To all of us?”
Regina messed with the handles of her purse, curling them about her fingers like a cat’s cradle. “I don’t know. It just…I don’t know. But I’m so sorry for everything. I don’t deserve your forgiveness, but I do want you to know how sorry I am.”
Joy swallowed sudden tears. Seeing Regina’s agitation, Joy reached out and touched her hand. “I know you are. I don’t know when I’ll get there, but I do know I’d like my friend back someday.”
After that, the two of them opened up more than they had earlier. Joy admitted to Jeremy coming to Heron’s Landing, which Regina had known nothing about. Then when she told her about Jeremy betraying her and writing the story about Adam’s wife, Regina looked like she could get up and find Jeremy herself and beat him to a pulp.
“That disgusting little shit!” she hissed. “He has balls made of steel, I will say that.”
“Well, he definitely thought he’d get away with it.”
Regina fidgeted, biting her lip. She looked like she was trying to figure out if she should admit something or not. Then she let out a breath. “I’ll probably get my ass reamed for this, but you should know: there’s been an investigation into some of Jeremy’s stories. There are rumors of plagiarism and scalping other journalists’ stories.” Regina swallowed. “I could lose out on clients for admitting this, though, so, keep it on the down low?”
Joy couldn’t believe what she was hearing. Jeremy, stealing other writers’ work? Then again, he obviously didn’t care about ethics. For the first time in weeks, she saw a light at the end of the tunnel. If she could hurt his credibility, maybe, just maybe, she could repair her own.
And maybe she could convince Adam that she had nothing to do with that story in the first place.
She brushed the thought aside. She had bigger fish to fry right now. Digging through her purse, she pulled out a notebook and pen. Then she smiled. “So what all can you tell me about this, Regina? I promise to keep this anonymous.”
Regina smiled, and then leaned in closer. “Anything to screw him over. Are you ready for all of this?”
Joy flipped to a blank page. “Oh, I’ve been ready. Let’s go.”
17
With October’s arrival came the most important part of the year for River’s Bend: harvest time. Adam had watched the grapes ripen into juicy, purple berries these two months. With the leaves changing to umber and scarlet, the grapes were ready to be picked.
He walked among the rows of the vines, watching workers pluck the grapes by hand and tossing them into baskets and bins. Adam had a feeling they’d finish within a week, when normally it took twice as long, if not three times. The workers chatted amongst themselves, and they consisted of both men and women. Some were locals, while others were immigrants from places like Mexico, Bolivia, and Nicaragua.
Adam was infinitely grateful he had Jaime on staff to assist with the workers who didn’t speak English very well. Adam’s Spanish was okay in a pinch, but it was too rudimentary for more than basic conversations. He also made certain each worker was paid a fair wage, regardless of immigration status, and he collaborated with Jaime to work out ways in which to assist those needing work visas and, eventually, green cards. He knew the harvest would be meager this year, with the excessive rain that had destroyed so many fragile buds in the spring. Bending down, he rifled through a basket, and he sighed when he saw how many of the grapes were unsuitable for wine-making.
Adam already knew the projections, already knew how many grapes it took to make a bottle of wine, already knew that he’d be lucky to make it another year. He knew all of that, but he kept hoping against hope that they’d pull through.
They had to. Because now the vineyard was all he had.
After Joy’s betrayal and subsequent departure, Adam had tried to drink his woes away, but when that had failed, he’d delved even deeper into running River’s Bend. It became his obsession, his only way to make things right. That didn’t mean he didn’t think of Joy what felt like every other moment, or dreamed of her, or wondered how she was. If she’d gotten back with Jeremy. If she felt guilty about what she’d done.
Adam gritted his teeth. He couldn’t keep thinking about that story. He’d known from the beginning that journalists were not to be trusted, and his own instincts had proven right, hadn’t they? He wasn’t happy about it, but it was over. The town had mostly moved on, and Adam had to move on, too.
“How are things going?” Jaime walked up to Adam, nodding and saying hello to the workers as he passed them.
Adam glanced overhead at a hawk circling in the sky. “About as well as expected.”
“So, not great.”
“No, not great.” Lowering his voice, he added, “I’m not sure we’ll make it another year.”
Jaime swore, his hands in his pockets. He’d been as dedicated to River’s Bend as Adam, and had turned its restaurant into a five-star culinary experience when once it had been a dowdy café. Adam didn’t know where Jaime would go if River’s Bend closed—would he stay in Heron’s Landing? Or would he find a job somewhere else? He hated to imagine his friend leaving, but he also couldn’t hope he’d stay in a place with no prospects, either.
“You don’t think adding weddings and events will help?” Jaime asked.
“It’ll help, but I don’t think it’ll be enough. We’re too far in the red. If I’d started doing events a year ago, maybe…” Adam shrugged. He looked out over the acres of land, took in the vines and the grapes and the workers and the smell of the earth and the warmth of the sun above, and he couldn’t imagine not doing this anymore. “We’ll still host Sadie and Robert’s wedding, of course. Maybe have one or two more before the New Year. But unless we get a client who has a million-dollar wedding? Doubtful.”
“You know, when you first hired me,” Jaime began. Then he laughed a little. “When you first hired me, I thought I’d stay here a year, tops. The last place I wanted to be was in some Podunk town in the middle of nowhere. But I ended up falling for this town, this vineyard. Now I can’t imagine being anywhere else.” He looked at Adam, and then he slapped him on the shoulder. “Don’t give up hope yet, man.”
“I’m glad you stayed,” was all Adam said in reply.
The two looked out on the harvest, saying nothing, but already knowing what the other was thinking. Adam had done a lot of stupid things, but at least becoming friends with Jaime Martínez hadn’t been one of them.
Like falling in love with Joy, right? his mind asked. Yes, falling in love with a woman who’d use him for money. That had been stupid. And yet…at times he couldn’t be sorry for loving her, either. She’d brought him out of a dark place, with her laughter and smile. And he chose to believe that she’d loved him, in her own way.
What they’d had had been real, until Joy had chosen to ruin it.
When Adam arrived home later that evening, heart-sore and exhausted, he popped open a bottle of beer and tried to watch a game, but he couldn’t concentrate. He drank another beer. A few hours later, someone knocked on his door.
Opening it, he raised his eyebrows seeing his sister on his front step. “What are you doing here?” he asked.
Grace rolled her eyes. “I’m not even sure. But can I come in?”
Adam opened the door wider. “Be my guest.”
His sister had barely spoken to him since the Joy debacle, choosing to side with Joy and telling Adam he was the stupidest man alive. He knew she and Joy still talked, and although he wished his sister could see his side of things, he hoped Joy didn’t try to hurt Grace like she’d hurt him.
“I’m not stay
ing long,” Grace said, “but I have to say something to you.”
He raised his eyebrows. “Should I sit down?”
“You’re already sitting. No, I’m here to tell you that you’re an idiot, and I have no idea what Joy saw in you in the first place.”
He tipped back his beer. He wished he were drunk.
“Nothing to say?” She put her hands on her hips, her freckles standing out as she frowned at him. “You’re just going to sit there and look at me?”
“Did you want me to say anything?”
She made a frustrated noise. “Why can’t you realize that Joy had nothing to do with that story? That it was her ex that did it? How can you not know how much she loved—still loves!—you?”
“All evidence points to the contrary. Besides, people who love you can do terrible things to you, in case you were unaware.”
“Don't be condescending.” Grace advanced on him and poked him in the shoulder. “You know what your problem is?”
He really, really didn’t want a lecture from his little sister right now. He batted her hand away from his shoulder. “No, but you’ll tell me anyway, right?”
“You’re too scared to be with Joy. Too scared that it’ll end like it did with Carolyn, so you’d rather find some proof that she screwed you over rather than face how you really feel. I know you love her. I see how you look whenever anyone mentions her name.”
Adam gritted his teeth. If only they were kids, he could pull his sister’s hair and tell her to be quiet. Instead, he said quietly, “I don’t need your armchair psychological evaluation, Grace.”
“Maybe not, but I’m tired of this. Don’t you want to be happy?”
When he looked up, he saw tears shimmer in Grace’s eyes. He was torn between pushing her out the door and embracing her. So he stayed put, and drank his beer, and tried to ignore what she’d told him.
Silence filled the room. Adam heard a car drive by, but otherwise, nothing. Only stillness.
“Can you go?” he murmured. “I’m tired.”
Grace looked like she was going to say something else, but she glanced away. She bit her lip. Then she threw her arms around his neck and hugged him; it was awkward, since she was standing and he was sitting. But he patted her arm all the same as she said, “I just want you to be happy.”
“I will be. Now, go. It’s late.” He kissed her cheek.
Grace glanced back at him one last time before she shut the front door.
FAMILY DINNERS HAD GOTTEN AWKWARD, to say the least, since the story broke. Carl had been furious, wanting to sue Joy for slander and drain her of every penny. Julia had wisely told him that they couldn’t sue someone for slander if what they’d said was true, and that it would technically be for libel, anyway. Carl had muttered under his breath, and proceeded to talk to Adam about it far longer than Adam had wanted.
Now that the storm had mostly passed, family dinners were somewhat normal again. Adam, though, had a difficult time listening to the same conversation over and over again. Grace was also rather morose, and it made the rest of the family less cheery, too. Carl grumbled about the squash and wondered why they had to have chicken again, while Julia tried her hardest to cheer everyone up.
“I heard from Gavin today,” Julia said, smiling a brittle smile. She served Adam a heaping pile of roasted butternut squash, which he ate mostly to keep his mom from being unhappy. Adam knew that Gavin’s marriage hadn’t been doing well, but with the vineyard and everything, he’d barely spoken to his brother in ages.
He winced inwardly. He was a selfish jerk, that was for sure.
“Gavin says that he and Emma may move back here to Heron’s Landing. Isn’t that exciting?” Julia unfolded her napkin in neat movements. “Then the whole family will be together.”
Grace frowned. “Aren’t you forgetting someone? Last time I checked, Gavin was still married to Teagan. Or is that over and done with?”
“Hush, Grace,” Julia said. Carl harrumphed. “They aren’t…over. But they’re taking a break. Teagan has some issues she needs to work on, that’s all.”
Adam knew that was code for Teagan had had another nervous breakdown and was probably in a psych ward of some hospital. After Gavin had gotten married, he and Teagan had moved to the east coast, thus removing his family from the day-to-day struggles of their marriage. Teagan was a kind, lovely woman, but she also suffered from severe bipolar disorder. After her first suicide attempt, Gavin had had her committed, and she’d seem to improve. But she also disliked the medication needed to keep her moods stable, and thus the cycle would start all over again.
“How is Emma?” Adam asked quietly. Teagan and Gavin’s daughter Emma was only seven. He couldn’t imagine how she felt about her mom coming and going like this.
“How do you think she is?” Carl barked. “Her mom’s a loony and refuses to do anything about it. Poor kid will never have a normal life.”
“Dad,” Grace hissed.
“That’s enough, Carl,” Julia said. “There’s no reason to call Teagan names. She has a disease.”
Carl snorted, but he didn’t say anything else. The idea that a mental illness couldn’t be cured with willpower didn’t sit with Carl Danvers, and the family had long ago given up trying to convince him otherwise.
“Emma’s starting second grade, isn’t she?” Grace asked.
“That’s right. Gavin thought coming to Heron’s Landing would be a nice change of pace for him and Emma. Emma’s had a hard time making friends, so he thought maybe the school here would be a bitter fit.” Julia took a bite of her chicken, chewing thoughtfully. “She was always a quiet little thing. I think she’s so shy that other children aren’t sure how to talk to her.”
Adam asked when Gavin and Emma would be arriving, but Julia wasn’t sure. It wasn’t finalized, and what with Teagan still in in-patient care, they might not leave at all.
Adam wasn’t sure Gavin leaving his wife, his house, his job—everything—would help him with his demons. But, then again, he didn’t have room to talk. He’d lost the woman he’d loved because she’d sold him out.
After the story broke, Gavin had texted Adam, asking him how he was holding up. Adam’s reply had been brief, and the conversation hadn’t gone further than that. The two brothers had been close when they’d been younger, but after Gavin had moved away and everything had happened—Teagan’s health, Carolyn’s death—they’d drifted apart.
Adam hoped he could get to know his brother again, if he did come to Heron’s Landing. And he’d like to get to know his niece, who he’d seen only a handful of times. He may not have Joy in his life, but he was still lucky to have his family around him.
As Adam was getting ready to leave, Julia came up to him. “How are you, dear?” she asked in her quiet way.
“Fine. Just working, as always.”
“I know you’ve been unhappy lately. But you know you can always talk to me, right? I am your mother.”
Adam smiled a little. He hugged his mom and said into her neatly coiled hair, “I know, Mom. See you later.”
BY THE END OF OCTOBER, with the grapes harvested, Adam sat down on the ground of River’s Bend and looked out at the sunset.
The most recent financial projections had been grim: either they shut down River’s Bend entirely, or find a buyer and sell it. If they were lucky, they’d sell it and break even. More than likely? They’d sell it at a loss.
The numbers floated through Adam’s mind. They were sticky, like cobwebs, and he couldn’t stop thinking of them. He couldn’t stop thinking about Chris’s face, and Leah’s, and Kerry’s. He couldn't get Jaime’s silent, grim expression out of his mind.
But most odd of all? He couldn’t get Joy out of his mind. No matter how hard he tried, she wouldn’t leave.
His phone vibrated in his pocket. He ignored it. It vibrated again, and again. He fished it out, and glanced at a text from Grace. Read this, it said. Adam snorted. The last time he’d read something everything had come cras
hing down around him.
But curiosity killed the cat, and he opened the link. And to his astonishment, it was a retraction from the magazine about Carolyn, citing that they’d used an unverifiable source and that they apologized for the error. And the author? None other than Jeremy Evans.
It was the next text from Grace, though, with another link, that made him glad he was sitting down. He opened the website, and he saw an article written by none other than Joy McGuire. Heron’s Landing and its fields of grapes: a little patch of paradise in the Midwest, the headline said. Adam’s heart pounded. She’d gone ahead and published her story anyway?
But his initial anxiety slowly melted away as he read. It began with Joy moving to Heron’s Landing, and her experience of moving from Chicago to a small town. The story then expanded into a glowing review of River’s Bend, of its restaurant, and included a paragraph about it hosting events, as well. It was the last paragraph, though, that sent his mind into a tailspin:
I never expected to fall for a vineyard, Joy wrote, and certainly not for the tiny town attached to it. Now that I’ve returned to Chicago, I’ve realized something: those months in Heron’s Landing were the happiest of my entire life. Thanks in part to the peace found in a place like Heron’s Landing, and in the happiness I experienced with the owner of River’s Bend. Let’s not be coy, shall we? I fell in love with the vineyard’s owner as much as I fell in love with the vineyard and town itself. I hope—if I can hope for anything—that he knows that.
Adam couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t take in both stories at once, and he could barely comprehend what was on his small phone screen. He knew Joy had loved him, but that she would write and publish an article saying as much? And the retraction—that must have been her doing as well.
He’d been wrong. One-hundred-percent, completely, stupidly wrong. He’d pushed Joy away the second he’d been given a reason, and he’d refused to see what had been right in front of him. He’d known he’d loved her, but he hadn’t realized that that knowledge had scared him so much he’d destroyed what they’d had and then blamed Joy for that destruction.