Harvest Moon

by Sharon Struth

  She stared, silently willing him to stop yelling. Hysteria never solved anything.

  “Help! Anybody?” He waited a few seconds and turned to her. “I can’t believe this. I’ve spent the past ten hours at airports, left my cell phone in the car, unless I mistakenly left it back at the United Airlines lounge at O’Hare. And now...now this.”

  He turned around and made a fist, one step from giving the door another pounding. Veronica searched the recesses of her memory for the details from an article she’d read online about elevator safety.

  “You should relax. Once you push the emergency button, there’s not much more we can do.”

  He glanced back and chuffed a disagreeable sound, right before hitting the door several times. After a moment, he gave up and paced in the small space.

  She fiddled with the smooth beads of her pearl necklace, but they didn’t bring their usual sense of calm. The stranger continued his random patrol, his thoughts his own.

  Veronica recalled the article details. She stepped to the door and peeked through the crack. “There’s light up there.” She glanced up to see where they had gotten stuck and returned to the crack, hoping to gauge how close they were to signs of life. “We’re close to the fifth floor. Someone should be here soon.”

  He moved behind her, too close for her comfort. In the space above her head, he pressed his eye to the crack.

  She gritted her teeth and stepped aside. “I’d be happy to move.”

  He didn’t respond, only banged on the door again and yelled, “Can anybody hear us?”

  She sighed, loudly, hoping to make a point. He continued banging. When he stopped, she cleared her throat.

  He turned, raised his brows. “Yes?”

  “Relaxing in a crisis lets you think clearly. You might want to give it a try.”

  His mouth slackened and eyebrows rose, as if nobody had ever asked him to chill. Looking up, he studied the ceiling. “I’ll bet that panel pops out. I could help you shimmy up there.” His gaze dropped to the lower half of her dress, and he wrestled with a smile. “Or you help me up.”

  “I’m not doing either. Want to know the first rule of elevator safety?” She tipped her head but didn’t wait for his answer. “Stay put. Climbing out is the last thing you should do. So save your energy, Bruce Willis. We could be in here a while.”

  “Bruce Willis?”

  “In Die Hard. Wasn’t he in an elevator when he fought those terrorist?” She again brushed at the toothpaste remains. “Not that I typically watch his movies.”

  He chuckled and the frustration evident on his face slipped away as he considered her for a moment. He took a step toward her. “Sorry. I’ll calm down. You’re ri—”

  The elevator lurched. Veronica grabbed his arms at the same time he reached for hers. They steadied themselves for a few seconds, their eyes locked. The elevator smoothed and each let go.

  She leaned over and picked her purse up from the floor just as the doors opened at the fourth floor.

  He motioned with a sweep of his hand. “Ladies first.”

  She nodded and hurried out, greeted by a short man wearing maintenance overalls.

  “You two okay?” he asked.

  She hoisted her purse over her shoulder. “I am, thank you. Which way to the stairs?”

  He pointed down the hallway.

  “Thanks.” She hurried down the hall. If she dropped Duncan’s package off fast, she might still catch the keynote speaker’s address.

  “Hey?”

  She stopped and turned at the sound of her fellow passenger’s voice.

  He studied her with a curious stare, then grinned, kind of sweet, as if they’d become best buddies during their quest for elevator survival. “Bye. Nice to meet you.”

  “Oh, right. Good-bye.” She rushed inside the stairwell, flustered but not really sure why. What else could go wrong today?

  * * * *

  Trent Jamieson wedged his fingers alongside the passenger seat of his car and breathed a relieved sigh when they brushed against the smooth edges of his cell phone. How it ended up there during his drive to the office from Bradley Airport he’d never know.

  He retrieved the device and hit the “on” button, but nothing happened. Well, a phone with a dead battery was better than one sitting at O’Hare. He tucked it in his pocket and got on the elevator, despite what just happened. Even in his crappy life, with all his crappy luck, he didn’t think he’d get stuck twice in one day.

  Maybe the stalled elevator was a foreshadowing of his future. The powers above hinting he should be glad this was his last day working at RGI. Or maybe the message was he should stay here, in a steel box for the rest of his life, not even try to make a fresh start.

  Duncan had pushed for him to leave the company when RGI sold and wanted him to join him at Litchfield Hills Vineyard as VP of Marketing. Having his brother nearly beg him to make the change made him consider it more seriously. Only a few years ago, his brother had almost fired him from RGI, but Trent mended his ways. This new offer was quite generous.

  The steel doors parted. He headed down the hallway to his office, the brunette he’d been stuck with making him smile. The cute way she’d played with her pearl necklace was revealing and the honesty of her comments refreshing. A bit uptight, and yet, there was something about her he liked but couldn’t pinpoint. The perplexed look she’d given him when he said good-bye made his ego deflate, but if their time together was any longer, he’d have bet he could change her view of him. He loved a challenge. She, on the other hand, didn’t seem to want one.

  He entered his office, catching a nice view of downtown Hartford from his window. Empty bookcases and cardboard boxes stacked in the corner meant his secretary had done some packing. She’d even cleared the top of his desk, except for a note.

  He searched through his briefcase for his phone charger, plugged in the phone, then read the note.

  Welcome back. I’m at lunch. You’re packed except for some personal items in your lower drawer.

  Back by one. T.

  P.S. You’re very messy.

  He opened the drawer. No wonder Tina passed on this one.

  One by one, he lifted items from the pile, a potpourri of things he had no other place to store. Notes he’d saved from women he’d met in his travels were tossed into the nearby trash can, along with some paperbacks used to entertain him while flying around the globe. He smiled as he removed a small statue of a hula dancer given to him by the resort manager at their Maui location. Exotic Luanne, who’d taken him to see the sights when they weren’t working. He pushed the dancer to the keeper pile.

  At the bottom he came across a framed photo of Gemma, one he’d tossed in the drawer the day he’d been served the divorce papers. A gentle ache pressed to his heart, an ache for everything that had gone wrong in their marriage. She’d taken no interest in following him on the road to sobriety. A journey she needed as badly as he had. He’d tried to get her to join him in rehab, but she wouldn’t. Her request for a divorce had blown him away. All so she could marry a man Trent had witnessed dabbling in the world of cocaine, the same bad place he’d successfully left several years ago.

  One thing he’d learned in rehab was you couldn’t help someone who didn’t want to help themselves. Sometimes, keeping himself afloat was all he could bear.

  “Knock, knock.” Duncan stood at the doorway dressed in khakis, his new casual style in the office since he’d announced the sale of his firm. “Tina said you survived an airport nightmare.”

  “Barely. My first flight was delayed. I missed my connection. They canceled my second connection, and the rest is history. Another reason to be thankful my traveling days are over. When is the big powwow to sign the papers on the sale?”

  “Two.” Duncan frowned and ran a hand through his sandy curls. “I hope the new owners will stick to their word and keep most of the current staff.”

  Trent nodded. “Me, too. He
y, be glad you’re getting out of this building. The damn elevator got stuck again. Second time this year it’s happened to me.”

  The mahogany eyes of the dark-haired beauty from the elevator teased his thoughts, making it hard for him to let go.

  “Damn shame,” Trent mumbled.

  “What?” His brother laughed, shaking Trent loose from those long, lovely legs.

  “What?”

  “You’re talking to yourself.”

  “Am I?”

  The brothers laughed together now, yet the woman he’d never see again didn’t dodge his thoughts. Instead, a part of her settled inside him, in a vulnerable place he rarely visited. His own laughter died down, and he wished he’d introduced himself.

  “Penny for your thoughts,” Duncan said.

  Only then did Trent realize he’d fallen silent again. “A penny won’t cut it.”

  “Okay, a dollar.”

  “I got stuck in the elevator with a woman. A sexy, rule abiding number.” Trent tried to sound cavalier, as if those long legs didn’t haunt him.

  “Rule abiding, huh? Sounds just like what the doctor ordered for you. Did you get her number?”

  “She ran off before I could ask.”

  “Oh. Well, aren’t you seeing…Ruby?”

  “I dated her last summer. I’m seeing Angie now.”

  “Oh.”

  Duncan looked confused, so Trent changed the subject. “Listen, before I left on this last site visit, did you see I moved myself into the cottage at the farm?”

  “I did.”

  “The place is a far cry from the shack you showed me last spring. I’d never have known it was the same place. Thanks for fixing it up.”

  “Sophie handled renovations. She did a great job.” Duncan’s face softened when he said his fiancée’s name. “Will you stay up there tonight?”

  “Maybe. I have a date later today in Hartford. So I’m not making any promises.”

  “With Ru… I mean, Angie? So how long have you been dating her?”

  Trent turned in the chair, pressed the cell phone “on” switch, and the phone came to life. “Guess it’s been about a month now.”

  “I can’t keep up. You need to settle down.”

  Trent only laughed. Settling down again didn’t seem in his cards these days, only he couldn’t quite get a pulse on what left him so unsatisfied with the women he dated.

  “Oh, don’t forget, at four the staff is having a going away party for us.”

  “I didn’t.” Trent searched for his contact list for Angie’s number.

  “One other thing.”

  He looked up, met Duncan’s stare, more serious than a moment ago.

  “I’m really glad you’re joining me on the vineyard. Having some family with me as I get this new business off the ground means a lot.”

  Trent’s heart filled with a love he found hard to express. He and Duncan hadn’t been close while growing up. A long and winding trail of bad choices made by Trent had left everyone else in his family with the notion he was a screw up. But not Duncan.

  “Thanks. I’ll do everything in my power to help make the vineyard a success.”

  Duncan studied his feet for a few seconds before looking back up. “Sometimes you’ve got to shake up your life a bit to find the gold. I know this will be different for you, but Northbridge is a special place.”

  Trent nodded, even though he worried about how he’d be received in the close-knit community. “Part of the reason I said yes.”

  “Bring Angie to Sophie’s party on Saturday night, so I can meet her.”

  “I’ll see.”

  Trent returned to his search for Angie’s number but couldn’t ignore the nervous tug at his gut, rocking the confidence it took to make a move to the small Connecticut town. Confidence easily shaken by the stupid things he’d done there many years ago, acts capable of threatening his chance for a fresh start.

  Chapter 2

  Veronica scooped up the remaining shards of shredded magazine and stuffed them into the garbage pail under the sink. Her mother always said, “Keep a clean house. You don’t want folks whispering about your sloppy habits at your funeral,” as if such a trivial matter would be anybody’s biggest concern while they paid their last respects.

  Boomer’s ears perked as the lid on the metal can shut.

  “Listen, big boy, this paper obsession has to stop. You might get sick. And don’t ever do this at Grandma’s house. I promise, it’ll be your last visit there.”

  His tail wagged and he panted, a sure sign of agreement.

  She stroked the dog’s furry neck, thinking about her mother’s obsession with the family’s outward appearances. The day her mother learned Veronica’s father had left her for his secretary, she and her siblings were told not to discuss the matter with outsiders. Ever. Veronica believed her mother’s attitude unnecessary, yet to this day still abided by Mom’s mantra to keep things private.

  Disgust for her own silence over what happened with Gary Tishman back in college took hold, along with the sad realization she’d turned into her mother. Northbridge gossip had the momentum of a ball rolling down a steep hill, though, and she still didn’t want anybody knowing what happened to her back then.

  Veronica changed out of her work clothes and slipped on shorts with a striped tank top. Ten minutes later, she was back inside the car and cruising along Lake Shore Drive, Wednesday night dinner at her sister’s place something she rarely missed. Boomer’s head hogged the space between the VW Passat’s bucket seats, making the rearview mirror useless for navigation. He eyed the two KitKat bars on the front passenger seat.

  “Those aren’t for you, Boom-boom.”

  He sniffed near her ear and licked her cheek, making her laugh and forget about any small flaws he possessed.

  She followed the road and enjoyed a gentle lake breeze drifting through the open window, lifting the soft curls stuck to the back of her neck. For the first time today, she relaxed. Playing phone tag with Gail, who hadn’t come to the luncheon, had made her jump each time she received an incoming call at the library. Maybe she really didn’t want to know why Gary ended up marrying their old college friend. Didn’t Carin see the dark side he possessed?

  She forced Gary from her head and, instead, concentrated on how happy she’d been to finally get an e-mail from Ry this morning. For the past six months, they’d talked nearly every day. Hard as she tried, she couldn’t find a single thing wrong with the guy. Well, there might be one little thing; she wouldn’t recognize him if she walked right into him.

  Theirs was a modern day pen pal relationship, all via the Internet. Ry’s e-mails dominated her thoughts like a teenage crush. Not quite online dating—or really even a relationship—the simpatico flow of their conversations always lifted her spirits and allowed her to converse with an openness and ease she hadn’t had with a man in far too long.

  The winding road narrowed at a bend. She slowed the car and turned up a hill near a nineteenth century schoolhouse, a town landmark. A few minutes later, she pulled into the subdivision where her sister lived and parked on the street in front of Emily’s raised ranch.

  The new siding job, started five weeks ago, was finally complete and left a clean white exterior, a vast improvement over peeling gray shingles. Boomer bolted from the car and beelined for the open garage. She followed and pushed open the inside door, ambushed by a delicious garlicky scent. The dog went into the family room, where the television set blasted louder than necessary.

  “Guess who?” Veronica yelled over the noise, while Boomer jumped on the sofa between her nieces, who sprawled all over the brown sectional sofa, their legs overlapping in the center.

  “Boom-boom!” the girls cried.

  “Gee, thanks. What about me?”

  Cassidy giggled as Boomer’s pink tongue lapped her cheek. She pushed him away. “Hi, Aunt Ronnie.”

  At Cassidy’s thirteenth birthday last
month, Veronica had noted some real signs of maturity in the eighth grader. Girlish features had disappeared, replaced by subtle curves and the outline of a chest. Her maturing features also showed how she bore a striking resemblance to Veronica, both with the same pert nose and dark eyes. They could pass for mother and daughter, a fact people loved to point out, often making Veronica’s sister silently scowl.

  Eleven-year-old Missy hugged Boomer, her strawberry-blond flyaway hair a real contrast against the dog’s dark fur. She smiled, showcasing new turquoise colored rubber bands on her braces. “Did you bring us anything?”

  “Am I that predictable?” Veronica dangled the candy bars over their heads, and their eyes widened, arms stretched to grab the candy. “Promise you won’t eat these until after dinner?”

  “Thank you! I swear.” Cassidy nodded.

  Veronica raised a brow at the younger girl. “You either. Okay?”

  “I promise and thank you.”

  “I’ve got an idea.” Veronica walked over to a bookshelf and put the candy on top. “I’m putting these up high, so Boomer can’t get them. Okeydokey?”

  They both nodded but seemed more interested in Boomer’s attempt to wedge a decent space for himself on the sofa between them.

  Veronica went upstairs to the kitchen. The ceiling fan spun on high and made a clicking sound. A new wooden sign hanging above the sink read, “Happiness is Homemade.” One of many little reminders that Emily worked four days a week at Homestead House, a downtown retailer specializing in décor for those who loved the country ambiance.

  “More candy?” Emily stood at the counter near the sink, dumping a bag of pre-cut lettuce into a bowl. She glanced over her shoulder.

  “Come on. Doesn’t an aunt have a right to share her love of chocolate with her nieces? It’s like grandparent privileges.”

  “Even Mom knows better than to bring them candy, and she has real grandmother privileges.” Emily went to the trashcan and tossed out the plastic bag. “Oh, Mom texted me. They arrived in Paris. And the month-long tour begins.”