Any relaxation her kayak ride had brought her was quickly eclipsed by work stress. Her day was a flurry of meetings and covert texts and subtle looks between a handful of coworkers. There had been rumors of a merger for nearly a year. Rumors that her company was going to be taken over by a much larger conglomeration. Those rumors had solidified into truth about three months ago, but the company poised to take over was reputable and successful and known. Suddenly, the merger details had shifted, it seemed.
“Harbinger?” she whispered quietly to Ian, hand in front of her mouth, as they sat in yet another meeting. “Seriously? What happened to Curtis and Company?”
“Harbinger came in with a better offer, apparently,” Ian said, just as quietly. Like Piper, he was young to be in the upper management position he occupied. But also like Piper, he worked his ass off and was excellent at his job.
“Let’s hope we don’t have to take their name literally.”
“We could get lucky. Curtis could up their offer.”
Piper spared a glance at Ian and quirked an eyebrow.
He sighed. “I know. I know.”
The hardest part of all of this for Piper, aside from the not knowing anything for sure, was that her people most likely didn’t know at all. She had over a dozen beneath her and, though they may have heard an occasional whisper of a rumor, they most likely had no idea their workplace was going to be purchased by another. Upper management had been sworn to secrecy.
The day was a whirlwind. It also felt like it lasted for a week. Piper didn’t understand it, but thanked God it was Friday. When she finally turned her office lights off and closed the door, it was nearly seven, and she wanted a glass of wine. She had a lovely Sauvignon Blanc at home, already chilled, but she found herself driving to the lake path instead. Took her a while to find a parking spot—not unusual for a Friday in late May—but it was a nice night and she didn’t mind walking a bit.
She’d thought about calling Matthew. She’d toyed with texting Gina. In the end, she did neither, deciding to go by herself. Why, she wasn’t quite sure, but by the time she reached for the handle of Vineyard’s door, she felt almost content. This was always where she’d go when she had work issues: to see her father and talk them through. The fact that he wasn’t here—and never would be again—slapped at her like a toddler trying to get her attention, but she was getting used to it. She ignored it and pulled the door open.
Vineyard was about half-full. Good for Vineyard in general, but should be better for a Friday night. The last stool near the wall was open at the bar, and Piper took it. She hung her purse on the hook underneath, shed her spring rain coat, and made herself comfortable.
The Pandora station on the sound system filled the space with soft jazz as Kevin Short bustled around, a black apron tied around his waist and a smile on his face. He was of average height, despite what his name announced, and a little husky. He kept his dark hair cropped close because, Piper once overheard him explain to her dad, his hair didn’t get long, it got big. The memory made her grin. Her father had liked Kevin a lot.
“Hey, what are you doing here?”
Lindsay’s voice pulled Piper’s attention and she turned to look at the face of a person who was, if Piper was reading it correctly, happy to see her. She’d worn the same expression this morning at the lake, though now, there was a shadow of hesitation.
“We said Monday, right? Did I screw up?”
“You didn’t. I had a rough day at work and decided I wanted a glass of wine.”
“You’re in luck. We have that here. Lots of it.” Lindsay tucked some hair behind her ear, leaned on her forearms so she was closer to Piper, and Piper was pretty sure nobody could hear but her. “Tell me what you want.”
Piper was woefully out of practice when it came to the art of seduction. She was pretty sure she wouldn’t know somebody was flirting with her even if they came right out and said, “Hey, you. I’m flirting with you.” But the little tightening low in her body told her that flirting might be exactly what Lindsay was doing. She was close. Her eye contact was intense. She wet her lips, and that was all Piper needed. All of a sudden, it was like riding a bike, something you never really forgot how to do. So she held that green-eyed gaze of Lindsay’s, leaned a bit closer, and cocked her head ever so slightly before answering, “Surprise me.”
The little mischievous half-grin and eyebrow quirk Lindsay sent back at her as she left to get the wine was so damn sexy right then, that Piper decided yeah, she was totally flirting.
Right?
This was so weird.
You don’t like her, remember? her brain scolded her, and she tried hard to recall why. Weirdly, she drew a complete blank.
“Okay, try this.” Lindsay set a glass of white wine in front of her, then rested her elbows on the bar and her chin in her hands as she waited.
“You’re going to watch me drink?” Piper asked, amused.
“Yep.”
“Well, okay then. Enjoy.” Piper lifted her glass in a salute, then took a sip. The wine was chilled and danced on her tongue immediately. She glanced up and her gaze was caught, Lindsay’s eyes sparkling as she watched. “It’s got some zip,” Piper said, as she focused on the taste left in her mouth. “But then it smooths out on the finish.”
Lindsay was nodding, her face open and interested. “What do you taste?”
Piper squinted, took another sip, let it roll around before swallowing. “Peaches.”
Lindsay’s smile grew wide. “I got apricots, yes. Similar.”
“Is this a blend?” Piper asked.
“Maybe it is, maybe it’s not.”
Piper shook her head with a chuckle. “Where’s it from? Can you at least tell me that?”
“Sonoma.” A couple entered the door and Lindsay held up a finger to Piper. “Be right back.”
Piper could literally feel herself relax. She wasn’t sure what to do with that, so she chose to tuck it away and not deal with it at the moment. Instead, she picked up her wine and spun a bit on her stool so she could look at the expanse of the wine bar. There were six occupied tables, and a couple of the parties were more than three people. Kevin was making a table of three couples laugh as Lindsay passed him with the couple trailing behind her. She got them seated, left them the menu of wines and cheeses, and returned behind the bar. Catching Piper’s eye as she went by, she gave her a wink.
Piper’s stomach fluttered. She closed her eyes and gave her head an almost imperceptible shake, then took another sip of the delicious California probably-blend as Lindsay delivered water to the new customers and took their order. Piper watched her return, watched the back of her as she poured wine. She was wearing her usual jeans. These were light rather than dark, and looked soft and worn, a few spots of near white telling Piper holes were imminent. One at the bottom corner of a back pocket held her attention for a beat.
She’s got a great ass.
Piper’s eyes flew open wide as the thought blasted through her head, and she had difficulty pulling her eyes away from said ass. Lindsay chose that moment to turn around, and Piper was pretty sure she failed to yank her own gaze up fast enough. Lindsay had a funky metal flight carrier in each hand. One held three glasses of red, the other, two whites and a rosé. Again, Lindsay quirked one eyebrow and Piper was pretty sure she’d been busted. Once Lindsay left with her flights, Piper let out a low groan and dropped her chin to her chest.
A few moments later, Lindsay was back. She resumed her previous position of leaning her forearms on the bar and focusing her attention directly on Piper. “So, why was your workday a rough one?”
Piper waved her off. “You don’t want to hear about that.” When she glanced up, Lindsay’s gaze was intent on her.
“Tell me.”
Something about her tone—something about the open kindness in her eyes—they made Piper feel oddly safe in Lindsay’s presence. A brief thought of what is happening here? ran through her brain before she took a big breath in, then
let it out. A sip of wine. A meeting of eyes once more, and Piper spilled like she had no choice. “I’ve been at my company for nearly ten years, and I’ve been a manager for almost four of those. As a manager in a corporation, you’re privy to certain information that the rest of the employees may not be.”
Lindsay nodded and seemed riveted by Piper’s story.
“There’s been a merger happening behind the scenes for a few months now. We’re supposed to be bought by a place called Curtis and Company.”
“And what happens to you? To your people?” Lindsay asked, zeroing right in on the important part.
“Well, Curtis and Company has a great reputation, and they’ve promised to do their best to keep everything as is. It would be a merger in appearance only. No firings.”
Lindsay nodded, still engrossed.
“Today, we found out that a company called Harbinger put in a better offer.”
“Harbinger? Like, Harbinger of Doom?”
“Right?” Piper said with a bitter chuckle. “I thought the same thing. Anyway, Harbinger’s reputation is quite the opposite of Curtis’s.”
“And you’re worried about your job.”
“Not mine, no. I’ll be fine. I’m worried about my people.”
Lindsay’s expression softened even more. “I bet.”
Piper finished her wine. Lindsay reached for the bottle without taking her eyes off Piper and refilled it wordlessly.
“I mean, with Curtis and Company, there was the promise of no employee turnover, like I said.” Piper sipped the wine, took a beat to savor the taste before she went on. “Not right away, at least. Obviously, there’s no way to guarantee that, and my people aren’t stupid. Curtis has their own people they’d bring in, but they promised the current owner that the staff would remain, as would their benefits.”
“And that made you feel okay about the merger.”
“Yes. But Harbinger…” Piper shook her head and let a rumble come up from her throat.
“Doesn’t offer the same assurances.”
“None. I did some research on them today.” She stopped her glass halfway to her lips. “It wasn’t pretty.”
Lindsay reached out and closed a warm hand over Piper’s forearm. “I’m so sorry you’re having to deal with this.”
It was exactly the right thing to say, and Piper felt whatever tension remained slowly drain from her shoulders. Lindsay didn’t try to fix anything. She didn’t try to tell Piper what to do or how to solve her issues. She didn’t present solutions. She simply listened and offered her sympathy. It was just what Piper needed.
“Thanks,” she said. “It’s…stressful.”
“I can imagine. Stress is why God made wine. I’m sure of it.”
“Amen to that.”
Lindsay squeezed her forearm. “I’ll be right back.”
A realization hit Piper right then. As she sat, sipping delicious wine and watching others doing the same while laughing and conversing, the thought entered her mind, made itself at home, and sat there.
I like it here.
It might not last. She knew that. It had been a long time since she’d been able to say that about Vineyard, and the feeling might be temporary. But for now? She’d take it. Hell, she needed it. Today had been a hell of a day, nerve-wracking and a little sad, so Piper decided she’d hold on to this feeling for as long as she could.
Lindsay was talking with a table of customers. One of them laughed heartily and Lindsay looked up, met Piper’s gaze across the room.
Piper lifted her glass in a subtle salute.
I like her here.
Chapter Nine
“No. Absolutely not.” Lindsay shook her head as she refilled Maya’s coffee mug. “And I cannot stress that enough, so let me say it one more time. Ab. Solutely. Not.”
“Told you,” Bert said as she sipped from her cup of tea.
Maya made a face and her shoulders dropped in defeat. “But why not?”
Lindsay took a seat at her kitchen table with her two best friends in the world besides Angela and met Maya’s deep brown gaze. She reached out and clasped Maya’s hand. “I love you. I do. Very much. But nothing good has ever come out of you saying to me, ‘we have somebody we want you to meet.’”
Maya pulled her hand away and pressed it to her chest as she let out a little mock-gasp of hurt. “That’s not true.”
Lindsay gave her a look that said, Really? “The barista with seventeen cats in her apartment? Literally seventeen?”
“The cop with mommy issues?” Bert added.
“Not helping,” Maya shot back at her wife. Bert pretended to cower, but her grin said otherwise.
“Your architect friend who wanted to use whips on me?” Lindsay raised her eyebrows to punctuate.
Maya grimaced. “Yeah, that was unexpected.”
Lindsay snorted. “You should’ve been there.”
Bert chuckled into her coffee mug and Maya pretended to pout. Lindsay smiled as she looked at the two of them. They tried to do Sunday brunch at least once a month, and today had been Lindsay’s turn to host. She’d known the couple for about five years now and they were her lifeline. They kept her grounded, especially when Angela was away. They smacked her when she needed it. They had big shoulders to help her carry a burden or to let her cry on. She loved them with all her heart.
“I just want what you guys have, you know?” Lindsay said, a serious note inching into her voice.
“Two student loan payments and not enough sex?” Bert asked. She was unable to duck away before Maya’s napkin hit her in the face.
“Roberta!”
“I’m teasing, baby. You know I am.” Bert leaned over and kissed her wife.
“That,” Lindsay said, pointing to the kiss. “That right there is what I want.”
“And you’ll have it,” Maya said. At Lindsay’s sigh, she said, “You will. I promise.” There was a beat of silence that wasn’t totally uncomfortable before Maya went on with, “How’s being the Wine Bar Boss? Going okay?”
Happy for the change of subject, Lindsay smiled and nodded. “It is, actually. We have our first band on Friday, so that’ll be fun. You guys should come.”
Maya looked to Bert. “I think we could. Yes?”
Bert had her phone out and was scrolling. “I think we’re clear.”
“Awesome,” Lindsay said. “I could use extra bodies in there, just in case. It’s a jazz duo. They just call themselves Smooth. Keyboards and bass. Should be pretty cool.”
Bert finished punching info into her phone. “There. You’re officially in the calendar. We’ll be there.”
“Great.” Rocket took that opportunity to remind Lindsay he was there by setting his head on her thigh and whining softly.
“Somebody wants bacon,” Bert said.
Lindsay grabbed half a strip off a plate and took it to Rocket’s dish.
“How has the owner’s daughter been with the changes?” Maya asked, picking up half a donut from the decimated plate on the table.
“It started off a little rocky,” Lindsay told her. “But I feel like she’s coming around. I’m meeting with her tomorrow night about the patio.”
“What’s her name again?” Maya furrowed her brow.
“Piper. She’s some bigwig manager type at a big company that does…I have no idea what.”
“Wow. You are full of helpful information,” Bert commented.
“I know, right?” Lindsay said.
“Will she be there on Friday?” Maya asked, grabbing the last strip of bacon.
With a shrug, Lindsay said, “Not a clue. She seems to pop in when I least expect her to.”
It was true, and a thought that came back to her a bit later when she let herself into Vineyard and locked the door behind her just as fat drops of rain began to fall. When Mrs. B. had initially told Lindsay of her plans, Lindsay hadn’t expected to see much of Piper. She got the impression Mrs. B. had the same idea, that Piper would be a partner in name only, but sh
e’d proven them both wrong. This wine bar seemed to be—and it sounded totally corny, Lindsay knew—changing people. Mrs. B. loved the place, but she’d obviously lost her passion after Mr. B. had died, no longer had the desire to put in the effort needed to increase sales, was fine with just keeping it afloat. Totally understandable, but hard to watch. Piper had rarely made an appearance at Vineyard in the entire time Lindsay had worked there. And now? She popped in a couple times a week, mostly unannounced and without a specific reason. Completely unexpected behavior as far as Lindsay was concerned. And Lindsay herself had been changed by the place, arriving as an untethered soul looking for something temporary to grab onto and ending up never wanting to leave.
How could one place—and a place of business to boot; it wasn’t like Vineyard was a church or a park or a mountaintop—have such an effect on so many people? It was weird and strangely comforting.
Aside from when it was full of customers, this was Lindsay’s favorite time being in Vineyard: when it was quiet and empty and the day was laid out before her. The chairs were all up on the tabletops, the floor was clean, the marble bar gleamed under the small pendulum lighting. The wine coolers behind the bar hummed steadily. Bottles of unopened wine were lined up with the precision of a marching band on black shelving and stacked on their sides in the diamond-shape spaces next to them. On the wall, a square painting hung. It was canvas-colored, and in black lettering, different wine varietals were listed in fonts of varying sizes and styles. It looked fantastic on the newly painted wall, and one of Lindsay’s things to do today was to search the internet for a few similar pieces. They were fun and stylish, and while everything in Vineyard was tidy and organized, Lindsay also thought it was important to have that element of fun, of playfulness. Wine was no longer stuffy. She wanted to help crush that myth. Wine was hip and cool and trendy and she wanted to run with those things in this small town. She wanted people to walk into Vineyard and relax, not worry about ordering the wrong thing. She wanted them to try all different kinds of wine, test all the varietals and decide for themselves what they liked and what they didn’t, not what they were supposed to like. The residents around Black Cherry Lake could get stuck in their ways. Lindsay wanted to unstick them.
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