by Robyn Carr
He was silent, mouth open slightly. He mulled this over. “You have a great strategy there, Ginger. If he thinks I don’t care about success but just want to share my great music...”
She rolled her eyes.
“I think you’re really onto something there, Ginger. I think Buster will go for it.”
“Good luck,” she said, making to rise again.
“Ginger,” he said. “You’ve always been there for me.”
“I know. I did my best. But that’s in the past, Mick. I have a man in my life and I don’t want you to ask for my help again.”
“Who is this man?” he asked.
“His name is Matt,” she said with a smile. “He’s a farmer.”
“Seriously? A farmer? Wow, I would’ve never seen that coming!”
“The smartest, sexiest man I’ve ever known.”
“Ever?” he asked.
She leaned toward him. “Ever.”
“But hey. We were happy once, weren’t we? I mean, I was happy and I thought you were happy. You loved me. You loved my music.”
“Uh-huh. And you loved you. It was very compact. I was almost superfluous. You always had very big dreams. They didn’t leave much room for anything or anybody else.”
He frowned. “What are you saying? That you loved who you thought I’d become?”
“Not really. But I think I might’ve loved who you thought you would become. And I was pretty young—it might’ve been the way you moved your hips when you sauntered on stage with all that confidence. In the end, it was very lonely. I wish you the best but I’m glad not to be in that relationship anymore. It really wasn’t good for either one of us. I’m going now. Don’t call my mother again—it gets everyone all riled up. My brothers want to beat you up and gee, if one of them broke your jaw, think how inconvenient...”
“Very funny,” he said. “You came, Ginger. Thanks for that. I think your ideas really helped.”
“Right,” she said. Strategy. Not hard work or sincerity or honesty, but strategy to get ahead faster, to make money more quickly, to be the top dog. Not to live a fulfilling life and also make good music.
“And Ginger,” he said, causing her to turn back to him. “I’m really sorry about the way things turned out. You were great. I’m sorry about your baby.”
Your baby.
It was tempting to correct him, remind him it was his baby. Except really, it wasn’t.
“I gotta remember that,” he said. “I’m creating relationships with the people I play for. I’m feeling the emotion. Like method acting, that’ll work.”
She just nodded once and left. When she got to the door of the café she turned to look at him and he was already on his cell phone. He was no doubt calling one of his many contacts to explain how he was now putting all his passion and energy into his music without worrying about fame...
* * *
It surprised Ginger how tired she was after a meeting with Mick that didn’t even last an hour. She was back in Thunder Point before five, just in time to help Grace bring in the sidewalk displays. It took quite a bit longer than usual because Grace was bristling with curiosity about Ginger’s meeting with Mick. Throughout the tale Grace let her indignation fly with comments like, “You’ve got to be kidding me!” and “Unbelievable!” and finally, “Man, you’re lucky you escaped!”
“True,” Ginger said. “Mick and I have nothing in common. But Grace, who knows—he might really take to fame and fortune. He’s pretty shallow. A lot of attention works for Mick.”
“He’ll never know,” Grace said. “Trust me. I’ve been in the trials where being first is everything. You know what? People think it’s luck. And they’re right. It’s down to luck after you’ve done everything humanly possible to sharpen your skill, after you’ve put in more work and time than anyone else, after you’ve established you have the greatest talent and sacrificed everything else for that one goal. Then it’s luck and timing. And then you’ll know if it makes you happy.”
“I already know it wouldn’t make me happy,” Ginger said.
“Didn’t for me, either. I’m happier in this little shop with my hottie schoolteacher than I ever was in competition. And that’s why there’s chocolate and vanilla. Because we all need different things.”
Ginger grabbed herself a to-go burger from the diner, opened a bottle of red wine and looked forward to an evening in her little hideaway—alone. After half a burger and one glass of wine, she just reclined on the couch and let her eyes close.
She awoke to the twittering of her phone and sat up with a start. Matt, she thought. He called every night even though he was so tired. It was pitch-black out. She grabbed for the phone and checked the time. It was so late for him to call; it was after ten. He must be exhausted.
“Matt,” she said, answering.
“Ginger, are you out this evening?”
“Huh? Out? No, I’m home. I fell asleep on the couch. I must’ve been—”
“I knocked. I called and I knocked.”
“You...?” It took her a second and then with a cry she jumped off the couch and ran to her back door, throwing it open. And then she threw herself into his arms. “Oh, God, it’s so late! It’s not the weekend! What are you doing here?”
“I stole a night,” he said, burying his face in her neck. “Let’s not talk too much. Let’s just make love.”
“Good idea. We’ve had enough talks for a while.”
“I need a shower,” he said. “Then I need you.”
She ran her fingers through his hair. It was getting too long and it made her smile. “Then let’s not waste a minute.”
In the end she shared his shower, helped dry him off while he dried her and then fell into bed with him. Oh, how she’d missed him! They hadn’t been together since Portland and even though they had talked, they had both needed this—love that was kind and happy and filled with tenderness. His touch was gentle yet fiery and she responded as though this man was made for her. He whispered words of love that brought tears to her eyes. As she lay satisfied in his arms, gently touching his stubbled cheeks, she whispered, “The grapes let you go?”
“For a little while. I’m going home to check on a few things at the farm, then right back to the vineyard. Another few days and our work with Sal will be done and we’ll start picking in the orchard. On the weekends, in most cases three-day weekends, our cousins will help. Dysart trucks will be parked on our land for three weeks, loaded with pears.”
“Can I come?”
“If you want to, if you feel up to it. It’s hard work.”
“But you have women helping?”
“A few sisters, sisters-in-law and quite a few teenagers who look at it as a way to earn extra money. The temperatures are dropping. Dad and I will stand watch, in case we have to put out smudge pots, but the forecast is good.”
“Will I be in the way? Tell the truth...”
“I’ll take care of you,” he said. “I’ll make sure you know what you’re doing, that you don’t feel awkward. Maybe you want to ask Peyton if she’s coming?”
“I will. I can’t believe you snuck away!”
He kissed her temple. “In a couple of days, when I leave the farm to go back to the vineyard, I’ll be back. I’d rather spend the night with you than some hairy-legged cousin who snores and farts in his sleep. The only problem is, I have to leave so early. Before sunrise.”
“I’ll take anything I can get.”
He squeezed her. He didn’t ask about the phone call, about Mick. She had already decided she would never lie to him. But on that night, so rare and unexpected, she didn’t bring it up. She only loved him with every fiber of her being.
* * *
Two nights later when he snuck back into her bed during the hours of darkness, he did ask. They lay naked, tangled in each other’s arms and legs, and she hoped he didn’t feel her grow tense. If he became angry or upset, it would spoil everything and all she wanted was to be like this with him, trusting an
d confident of his love.
“I talked to him. He was so pathetic and wimpy on the phone I started to worry he might be sick. Maybe dying! I agreed to meet him for coffee in North Bend. I thought I’d better, just for my peace of mind, in case he died or something and my last words were hateful. But he’s fine. He wanted my opinion on his career strategy.”
Matt rose up on an elbow and looked down at her. “You’re making this up.”
She shook her head.
“And did you give him advice?”
“I did. I told him that as long as he applied all his attention to being a huge success and none to being a good musician, a good man, he wasn’t likely to ever make it. And I suggested that all his bragging and name-dropping could be counterproductive. I also told him never to call my mother again because my brothers really want to beat him up and maybe break his jaw and that could impede his meteoric rise to fame and fortune.”
To her great relief, he grinned. “Meteoric, huh?”
“I said it with a great deal of kindness,” she said, smiling at him.
“I’m sure you did.” He brushed her pretty hair away from her face. “I take it he didn’t upset you.”
She shrugged. “Only in the usual way. Those regrets, you know.”
“You have nothing to regret,” he said.
“Oh, I didn’t do bad things. I just wish I’d never been so foolish, so naive. I really have nothing in common with him. I could’ve started picking pears instead and found the man of my dreams long before now.”
“You have things in common with me then?” he asked, twirling a little hair around his finger.
“Everything, though it’s hard to think about practical things when we’re naked together. When we’re naked all I can think about is how well we come together, like I was born for this, to be with you. But when I have my clothes on and can think straight, I realize we like the same things, want the same things. I have no trouble imagining why you love your work, why you love all that dirt and manure...”
“That interfering family?” he asked.
“I get the impression from George’s wife that she makes sure she gives them plenty of respect and attention but she runs her own home,” Ginger said. “She has a career.” She looked away. “I won’t ever have a career, you know. I have some regrets about that, too.”
He kissed her nose. “Be yourself, Ginger. You’re perfect the way you are.”
She smiled at him. “I am good with the flowers.”
“So I’ve noticed.” He rolled with her until she was on top of him. “And you’re good with me.”
“You think so, do you?”
“Oh, yes. You get right into my head and won’t leave.”
“Oh, dear—I’m a nag.”
He slapped her on the rump. “I like it, I think.” He pulled her mouth down to his. He moved his hips beneath her. “Nag me a little more now. Before I have to leave you again.”
She played with his hair, which had grown and begun to curl. “Something’s different about you.”
“I’m tired,” he said with a laugh. “Nothing’s different. Especially the way you rejuvenate me.”
In the predawn when he was leaving her, she clung to him. “I hope we can make things work, Matt. I love you so.”
“Don’t worry about anything. We’re going to make it perfect.”
* * *
Something was different with Matt. Thank the grapes—hours of hard work with very little interaction gave a man time to think things through. He’d been there before. In fact, it wasn’t that long ago when he was trying to figure out if it would be safe to let himself fall in love with Ginger. He’d gathered his answers while he worked, silent and introspective.
But while he was communing with the grapes, he was careful not to withdraw from her. That had been his mistake the first time he’d sought insight in his crops. This time he had called her at the end of every day. He was going to remember that—your woman needs to be talked to and touched every day. When your woman feels you’re moving away, she feels abandoned and alone. And she changes her phone number.
She wanted to marry him but couldn’t be wed to his anger. Well, Basque men were a little on the passionate and possessive side and if they got mad, look out. Even sweet old Paco, who had held ten grandchildren on his lap, had his days. He’d had one yesterday, as Matt remembered with a smile. Something had gone wrong with Sal’s grape harvester and holy shit, Paco was livid.
It passed pretty quickly. That was the other thing about men in their family. That flame would go up fast and hot and then it was over. Doused. Reference an ice bucket on Matt’s head at Peyton’s wedding. And aside from some occasional grumbling over the years, Paco had never turned his anger on his wife. His grown sons had been the recipients here and there, but again, once the anger was expressed Paco could move on.
Matt made a resolution. He would go outside, turn on the hose and drench his head before he would ever again turn that black mood he was capable of on his woman. She must never fear or hate him. Ginger was the kindest, most selfless woman he’d ever known. She was so beautiful in her heart. If his words ever touched her with anything less than the purest love, he would be completely ashamed.
They could start with love and trust and go from there. In the spirit of trust, he would do those things Ginger asked him to do. He wasn’t sure they would work worth a damn, but if it showed her he was really making every effort, maybe she would be more patient with him. And if he could bite off that temper and she could be more patient, he couldn’t think of anything standing in their way. Therefore, he was not going home to dig out the smudge pots or check the fruit, although he would, since he was there. He was going home to work through Ginger’s checklist.
Eighteen
“What has your interest so completely?” Winnie asked Lin Su.
She turned toward Winnie. “Come and see,” she said. “Here, let me help you up. You should take a few steps anyway.”
They made their way together, clumsily but efficiently, to the deck rail. Below them on the beach were two beach chairs under a beach umbrella. Frank sat in one, Charlie in the other, each holding their laptops on their knees.
“Dueling computers,” Lin Su said.
“What do you suppose they’re doing?” Winnie asked.
“Lord only knows. Charting solar systems for all I know. Charlie’s laptop is far less sophisticated than Frank’s, but when they sit side by side like that, Frank turns his screen to show Charlie everything interesting he’s looking at. He’s researching for a paper he has to write when he gets back to MIT. He’s a genius.”
“I think Charlie might be a genius, as well,” Winnie said.
“Nah,” Lin Su said. “He’s very smart, though. Much of that comes from the fact that he was housebound so much as a little kid. We found all kinds of educational programs for him. It took his mind off not being able to run and play with the other kids.”
“We?” Winnie asked.
“Huh? Oh, me and anyone interested, friends or babysitters. Sometimes other nurses or doctors where I was working. A couple of times I had home healthcare patients who encouraged him. He got that laptop from one of my patients when he upgraded his own and gave Charlie the castoff. It’s been a lifesaver.”
“We’ve been looking at new models together,” Winnie informed her.
“You mustn’t do that, Winnie. That computer works very well. It’s got a couple more years in it, for sure.”
“It’s purely selfish, I assure you,” she said, turning from the rail to go back to her chair. “I have my assistant, Virginia, still managing my affairs in San Francisco. I’ve accustomed myself to giving her instructions and projects and then she reports to me. The only thing I’ve ever bothered with is opening her attachments and looking at what she’s done. But Charlie has me going all over the internet, looking at things. I’ve had to borrow Grace’s laptop a few times—it’s more sophisticated than mine. I want to sit with Charlie, our c
omputers in front of us.”
Lin Su helped her into her chair. “You’re not going to see quite as much of him when school starts in a few weeks.”
“I have a few ideas about that, as well. Are you satisfied with his educational program?”
“In what way?”
“Do you like his school?”
“It’s a perfectly good public school,” she said. “Charlie started there last year.”
“Was he satisfied?”
“With his studies, I believe so. He didn’t complain about the work and he had a lot of homework. He got straight As, of course. He always has.”
“Was the rest of his experience good?”
“What do you mean?” Lin Su asked.
“You know perfectly well what I mean. He’s not as robust as other boys his age, though I have to say, a month or so on the beach seems to have given him more color, more stamina. I think we may be in for a growth spurt. So, back to the subject. Does Charlie have good friends at school?”
“He has a few. And if you’re asking if he has conflict from time to time, the answer is yes. I think all small boys in thick glasses have those struggles, which is why I won’t allow things like Facebook. I’ve heard too many horror stories.”
“I think it makes sense for him to consider a change. You should discuss it with him. His opinion counts the most, I think. But—you come to work here every morning and leave every evening. It’s convenient. More important—if Thunder Point can produce an MIT scholarship student they deserve more credit than I’ve given them.”
“But Winnie—I work here. I don’t live here.”
“I’ve spoken with Troy. Charlie would be allowed to attend based on that fact. Now, before you want to discuss that this employment is at best temporary let me suggest that my time might not be as short as people think. That’s my expert opinion.”
Lin Su smiled at her. “And would you mind explaining your wonderful theory?”