He recalled what had just occurred in the Assistant Director of Admissions office. He was just going to walk out and tell her what she could do with her hundred-grand school tuition, when he glanced at pictures posted on Miss Bernstein’s bulletin board behind her. Class of 2018 in bold, scripted letters was the banner above pictures of a couple dozen fresh-faced students dressed in white jackets. At the end of the first row of students was the smiling picture of Remy.
Miss Bernstein verified Remy was a student in the Pastry Chef course. He saw all kinds of things he could do with flour and butter and fruit preserves, even pictured her trussed naked like a suckling pig, waiting for the serrated edge of his KA-BAR knife blade to release the bonds holding the warm lovely flesh beneath his hands. He would punish her for sending his body into fits of need at the thought of her laying even a single finger on him. He’d kiss her until she submitted, until she was ripe with passion and no longer cared about being bound and naked, helpless in front of him. She’d look at him with those eyes, and he’d—
“Mr. Farley, are you serious about attending CCA, or just looking to chase after a girl?” She turned and looked at the name under Remy’s photograph. “After—” She tilted her head. “Remington Bolt?” She followed it up with a dazed and crazy smile. “Sounds like a cartoon character, doesn’t she?” Miss Bernstein giggled.
Derek fumed, but found himself stopped up.
“Pretty little thing, isn’t she?” One of her well-defined and penciled eyebrows rose.
That did it. He’d get even with both of them.
“Give me the forms. You tell me on Monday if I qualify. Because if not, I’m outta here.”
In her smugness, she took a long time putting together the paperwork in a folder. “Why don’t you think about it a bit, Mr. Farley and return these on Monday?” She held the sheaf of papers in the attractive cream folder straight out in front of her, nearly out of his reach.
He grabbed the folder, gripped a pen from her desk cup, opened the pages and began printing hard. She waited all ten minutes while he completed the process, digging into his wallet for his discharge information, his health insurance numbers, and several other of his former Teammates addresses for references.
When he handed the stack back to Miss Bernstein, she separated the pressure-sensitive forms carefully so as not to rip them, and while doing so, asked, “So, what branch of the service were you?”
“Navy.”
“What did you do there?” she said, her head nodding slightly.
“I blew shit up.”
“You made bombs?”
“That too.”
As if there was significance to the quality of the paperwork, her slim fingers were careful as she tediously peeled off his copies of the forms and stapled them together, handing them back to Derek.
“I’ll try to have your answer as quickly as possible. In all likelihood, it will be middle of next week.”
“Nope. Gotta be Monday.”
“Mr. Farley, I told you, I’d do the best I can.”
“Monday, or it’s a no-go.”
CHAPTER 6
REMY INTENDED TO spend her Sunday shopping, reviewing notes from the orientation, and preparing for her first hands-on day at the school on Monday. Before showering, she stretched to the sunlight coming in her lone window. She’d been used to a larger place at home, and then the small apartment she’d shared with Derek when she moved in. Even that was still bigger than this room. Yet, she felt at home here, or was beginning to, anyway.
Touching her toes, she wished she could get some red polish, but had to wait another thirty days before the bank would wire additional funds. Things would be tight. She dared not ask her mother or grandfather for money, as they hadn’t discovered the funds she’d used from her trust.
The jobs at the placement bulletin board were all filled by the time she’d called. There was one she didn’t want to call at the Wine Country Wet N Wild, an animal park just outside of town. One of the students who saw her mark the number down warned her.
“The owner’s a basket case. Usually only guys apply there. He’s scary. Kind of weird end of days survivalist, if you know what I mean? Fancies himself as a trainer of exotic animals.”
“Is this a circus or something?” Remy had asked.
The student whispered, “Trust me. Stay away.” She patted her arm and walked away. So it was back to no job, no money, and now the complication of seeing Derek and hoping he’d leave town so she could think straight.
She resumed her stretches, but the consequences of her actions began to weigh on her. She didn’t like the feeling she was hiding something from her family, from her mother. At the time, she justified it by thinking she had to do something, had to act, to get out of her mental meltdown. The magical, warm sparkly love that had been part of her life and had begun to steer her course was gone. Being perfectly honest, she was grieving. The escape to St. Helena was like a dream come true, at least part of it.
Now that Derek was here, her walls were closing in on her. She was not on her own, because she looked for him everywhere. Even before she actually saw him. Eventually her family was going to find out about the money, and then she’d feel even worse.
Laying back on her mat, staring at the ceiling with her arms over her head, watching the lights dance in circles from drops of dew still dripping from the trees in front of the shop, her eyes welled up and she just let them flow.
Remembering her grandfather’s comment, she decided to call her mother and confess.
She pulled a cream-colored fuzzy blanket from her bed, wrapping herself in it as she occupied the overstuffed chair in the corner, and dialed.
It was truly June Cleaver who answered the phone, “Hallow!”
“Mom, it’s me.” She knew her mother was trying to act casual about the call she was worried would never come. But her mother also could read a screen and knew it was Remy’s phone number.
“Oh, Remy! How nice to hear your voice.” There was that question mark at the end of her statement, the invisible Purple Elephant in the room pointing to their lack of communication. Remy inhaled and decided not to dance around the subject matter.
“Mom. Are you sitting down?”
“Yes, dear.” Remy could visualize her untying the apron she never wore, while Beaver readied himself to tell his mother something she wouldn’t like, but would be patient to hear. In that world, no one argued. Misunderstandings were opportunities for canned laughter to be piped in so nothing was taken seriously.
“Are you all right? Is everything okay?” June Cleaver wanted to know.
“I’m fine. I’m happy up here. Grandpa’s here, and we had a long talk.”
“That’s nice. So glad you two got together. He didn’t call me to say he’d gotten there safely.”
Remy knew this to be a lie. Not a big lie, but she decided to save her mother face and went along with it.
“The reason for my call is this. I’ve done something you should know about, and I’m sorry to have to tell you. Ashamed would be more like it.”
The pleasant repartee was gone. She could tell the silence indicated her mother was genuinely worried.
“I took some of the money from Grandma’s trust to pay for the tuition here at the CCA.”
“What?” The snap was harsh. All the June Cleaver veneer was gone. “How much are we talking about?”
“Five thousand dollars.”
“Good Lord! Five thousand?”
“Yes, Mom.” Remy knew it was only a small part of the total sum, but most of it would be used up by the time she graduated.
“We talked about this, Remy. I mean, it’s your money, but you were supposed to tell me when you wanted to use it.”
“I know, Mom. And I feel terrible about it.”
“Not that I really have any say, but I don’t understand why you didn’t just come to me. I had no idea you wanted to go to school, especially up there.”
“Because I didn’t know mysel
f what was going on. And now I feel horrible about it. I really do.”
“I want you to come home. I don’t want you there all by yourself.”
“That’s not going to happen. Mom, I’ve already been on my own. That’s the way it’s going to stay. I’m asking that you trust me.”
“I don’t think you’ve thought this through.”
“Stop it, Mom. I’m staying here. Don’t do this. I don’t need it.”
Remy could still feel her mother’s resistance, but they ended their conversation, promising to be in touch, and she agreed to contact her grandfather.
She stared at her toes, at the room, at the phone still clutched in her hand, and thought about what she’d just done. She’d stood up to her mother, apologized for her hasty decisions, but in the end, stood by those decisions and asked her mother to trust her. She inhaled deeply and let the breath fall out of her, releasing all the tension.
It’s done. I did it.
She scrambled to the shower, ready to start her day again. Clean. After that, she intended on calling her grandfather.
HARRISON BOLT ARRIVED about an hour later, parking on the sidewalk of the candy shop, nearly decapitating the parking meter. He extricated himself from the speed machine and stared up at the window. Remy knew he didn’t want to climb the long stairway to her apartment. She leaned outside.
“I’ll be right down Grandpa.”
He said something, but was steadying himself on his cane and looking down. Remy grabbed her jacket, slung her purse crosswise over her chest and slipped on her canvas loafers.
His attempts at smiling were hampered by distraction. It wasn’t long before Remy realized he was in quite a bit of pain.
“You okay?”
“None of your concern. I don’t want to talk about it, Remy. How are you? That phone call I got from your nearly incoherent mother almost gave me a heart attack.”
“She told you what I did?”
“Yes, she did. Unfortunately, I think your mother overplays her hand. That money is yours, and I told her so.”
Remy was thrilled. “Thanks, Grandpa.” She hugged his arm and he struggled to keep his balance.
“I’m good. Just give me a minute.”
She released him, not sure he wouldn’t fall, but he adjusted his hips several times, and at last got his balance, clutching his cane for safety.
“Listen, I need to walk this leg out a bit. Would you mind humoring me for a few yards?”
“Grandpa, look, the Bistro is right down the street. Great place for lunch, and—”
“Remy, it’s called brunch if it’s before eleven. If they serve eggs, I’m good.”
“We’ll see, Grandpa.” She tried to help him again with one arm under his, but he shook her off. “You’re as stubborn as I am, Grandpa.”
“Apparently. I’ve heard that before. I can’t remember which wife, though.” He chuckled, which nearly sent him reeling again. Then he started a coughing spell. After finally clearing what had been in his lungs, he continued. “That’s the good and bad of getting old. Half the stuff you don’t remember are things you don’t want to remember, and half are things you want to remember and don’t. In the end, I just take what comes up, and try not to get too upset with any of it. Not like I have to remember missile codes or names of heads of state.”
“They have staff for that.”
“I had wives for that. So, you used my Una’s money to begin cooking school?”
“Yes. Chef. I want to be a pastry chef.”
“You had every right to that money, and always will. But, Remy, why didn’t you just ask your mom first?”
“Because I was afraid of what she’d say. I wasn’t thinking. I just had to go.” She shrugged her shoulders.
Bolt grunted and continued to hobble with the assist of the cane. “We kind of thought you’d come home when you broke up with that SEAL. We were okay with you traveling. But living up here, all on your own?”
“I’m in a community here.” She turned to him. “I would have thought you’d be more concerned about my traveling around California by myself. Now that I’m settled here, I think it’s much safer. I’ll have a schedule, people who know about me and care.” And then she added, “Besides, like I told you earlier, St. Helena isn’t exactly a ghetto, and the police have time to write tickets for jaywalking here.”
“Good to know.” His response was gruff, triggering Remy’s concern for the pain he might be experiencing.
“But I’m fine with you spying on me. I kind of like it. We’re sort of both outliers here, right? Escaping the crazies of Southern California?”
“Never thought of it that way, but you’re right, Remy.” He was breathing hard. The walk was taxing him more than Remy expected. “Ah, your mom just had her heart set on you settling down south. She’s worried you’ll meet someone and put down roots up here.” He winked at her and caught her nose with his thumb and first two fingers like he used to do when she was little. “She’ll get over it.”
In spite of what he’d twice turned down, she grabbed his arm, and walked with him, clutching close to him, liking the strength and resolve her Grandpa had always had for her growing up. He was still a giant of a man. Opinionated, just like the rest of the Bolt family, but warm and loving on the inside.
“So what happened with your SEAL, may I ask?”
“He was injured, as you know. Came home and just had so much to deal with. Maybe I should have tried harder, but I just knew I had to let him go.” She was going to say if I ever hoped to get him back I had to let him go, but she held it in.
“I don’t blame you. Those guys are intense, but then, I guess you’d have to be to do that line of work. Good for you in realizing you couldn’t be part of that. No harm done, then. And no regrets?” He turned to look down on her.
She didn’t want to lie to him. “I loved him, Grandpa. But it’s getting better.”
“Ah, dearie,” he said as he swung his arm around her shoulder. “Love is a bitch sometimes, isn’t it? You get so close and then, well, it just disappears. You can’t worry about it. But I think you did the right thing. Say what you want about your decision to come up here. You were asserting yourself, just like you did with your SEAL fellow. It’s never a bad thing to know where you stand and to take that stand.”
But did she, really? After Derek was gone, really gone, and she was in St. Helena all by herself, moving on like she’d always wanted to do, that’s when the real battle would begin.
CHAPTER 7
DEREK AND KNUDSEN were having a beer, sitting out on the patio at a German eatery, watching the tourists.
“So I guess you’ll be going home tomorrow, then?”
Derek shrugged, then pulled out his cell phone, revealing the black screen. “No calls yet.”
Knudsen gave him one of his legendary horse teeth grins. “Which little lady are you looking to hear from?”
Derek knew what he was saying, but he didn’t dare let on. “Why Miss Bernstein, the Associate Admissions Director.”
Knudsen raised his beer stein. “To being a pastry chef. The school will never be the same.”
Derek clinked his stein against his friend’s, just as his cell phone rang.
“Mr. Farley, I have a path to you attending CCA, but it involves working part-time for one of our benefactors. Before he commits, he’d like to meet you.”
“Seriously?” Derek’s palms were sweating, and he felt himself shake. “I mean, that’s great.”
“Well, thank me afterwards. Mr. Gerson is somewhat of an acquired taste. He himself is a disabled veteran.”
Derek was instantly inflamed. His grip nearly shattered his phone. He ground his teeth so loud even Knudsen heard it and sat up to full attention.
“Discharged. Medically discharged.”
“Well, this program is written for a disabled veteran, like Mr. Gerson. And he wants to meet with you. Today.”
“Today?”
“Yes, Mr. Farley. I’ll t
ext you his address. He’s about a half hour west of town.”
“Okay. So, he’s expecting me?”
“If you want the scholarship. It will require you work for him part-time. But that won’t interfere with your studies.”
“Why would he do this?”
“Mr. Farley, you’re going to have to meet Mr. Gerson and ask him yourself. I’ll let him explain everything to you. But he’s a former military guy, some secret society. Special something.”
“Special Ops?”
“That’s it. Super secret. No one knows anything about them, from what I’ve heard.”
“Okay. What exactly did you tell him about me?”
“He asked me what branch of the military you were and I told him Navy, and I also told him that you made bombs.”
“Holy shit. What is he expecting?”
“That I can’t help you with. He didn’t tell me what you’d be doing there, but I would suspect it involves animals.”
“Animals?
“It’s a game preserve. He runs like an exotic zoo.”
“I didn’t know St. Helena had a zoo.”
“Well, that’s Mr. Gerson’s business. He takes people on safaris. I understand he has beautiful animals.”
Knudsen was still listening intently, his brow curled in concern. Mouthing the word zoo along with a question mark for an expression.
“Okay.” Derek shrugged, and Knudsen returned a look telling him he thought he was crazy.
“Good. Then shall I tell him you’re on your way?”
“I guess so. Does this mean I’m in?”
“If you can get along with Mr. Gerson, yes.”
Derek stared back at the screen on his phone. “I can’t believe it. There’s this guy, ex special ops guy, and he runs an exotic game park.”
“Yea.”
“He wants to meet me today. He might underwrite my tuition here.”
Knudsen studied him hard, his mouth forming a thin line. He finally glanced back at his beer, and without looking at him in the eyes, mumbled, “So, Derek. Just what does this guy have in mind?”
THEY’D TALKED ABOUT IT, argued somewhat, and Knudsen insisted he should come along, since Derek didn’t know the area. Derek pointed out that Knudsen was even more a stranger than he was. Unlike Derek, Knudsen also hadn’t brought any firearms. Derek was loaded up for a small revolution.
St. Helena Vineyard Series: Love Me Tender, Love You Hard (Kindle Worlds Novella) (Cookin' With SEALs Book 1) Page 5