by Donna Ball
“The priest is running late,” Lori said, “but Aunt Bridget isn’t ready to bring out the food yet. So how drunk do people generally get at these things? I say we hold off on pouring more wine.”
Dominic looked at her ruefully. “I say the first rule of a good wine tasting is never to run out of wine. I’m going to bring up another case.”
“I’ll mind the bar,” Lori volunteered. “But I’m not pouring the good stuff.”
“Chérie,” Dominic assured her, giving her cheek a quick pat as he passed, “it’s all good stuff.”
Lori returned a grin and moved behind the lace-covered table that served as a bar. “I really like Dominic,” she said, and slid Lindsay a sly look. “Or should I start calling him Uncle Dominic?”
Lindsay fought with amusement as she rolled her eyes. “I’m sure I don’t know what you’re talking about, you obnoxious child.”
Lori poured herself a glass of wine. “He’s awfully good-looking, too. I mean, if you go for that type.”
Lindsay replied, “Hmm.” But the softening of her eyes as she tried to hide a smile gave her away.
Lori came around the table, leaning against it casually, and sipped her wine. “This place is fantastic,” she said, gazing around. “Even better than I pictured. Look how those floors shined up. Noah said you guys worked till midnight on them.”
“That was Dominic’s idea. We used marble sealer. I was afraid it wouldn’t dry in time, but he turned on the big fans in the loft overnight. Perfect.”
“I love that cream color on the walls. Everything looks so bright and cheerful. And the mural! Unbelievable.”
“It’s not exactly like the one Dominic remembers,” Lindsay admitted, “but we all thought we should update it to make it Ladybug Farm, not Blackwell Farms.”
“So.” Lori smiled at Lindsay over the rim of her glass and bumped her shoulder with her own. “You and Dominic. Tell all.”
Lindsay’s expression was a study in complacency as she sipped her wine. “Tell what?”
“Oh, come on, Aunt Lindsay. It’s not as though you haven’t found a way to get his name into every sentence you’ve spoken all day. That’s the first sign.”
“I have not.” She looked at her with a frown. “The first sign of what?”
“You know. Are you and he …?” She grinned a little. “Doing the deed?”
Lindsay’s eyes flew open wide, whether with real or feigned shock, and color tinted her cheeks. “In the first place, that’s an incredibly rude question,” she replied in her school-teacher voice, “and in the second, it’s none of your business.”
“That means the answer is yes.” Lori fought bubbling delight.
“It does not!”
“Then it means you want to.”
Lindsay looked at her warily. “You,” she told her, “are much older than I remember.” She sipped her wine and tried a quick change of subject. “Your mother said you’ve picked your bridesmaids. Anyone we know?”
She shrugged. “Probably not. Just some girls from school, and Mark has two sisters. I think four bridesmaids are enough, don’t you?”
“I think it’s your wedding and you should choose. But four sounds like plenty.”
Lori glanced at her curiously. “Why did you never get married, Aunt Lindsay? I always wondered.”
“I was married,” Lindsay reminded her, “and didn’t like it enough to try it again.” She shrugged. “I don’t know. I think over the years you get used to being your own person and making your own decisions. I never met a man I cared for enough to put his needs before my own.”
Lori was thoughtful, gazing into her glass. “Don’t you think,” she offered in a moment, “that the right man wouldn’t ask you to?”
Lindsay looked at her, a question forming on her lips, but just then, Dominic returned with the case of wine. “Everyone seems to be heading toward the vineyard,” he said, “so the problem of the tardy priest must have been solved. Either that, or the crowd is growing impatient.” He slid the box under the table and straightened up, smiling at the two ladies. “Shall we join them for the ceremony?”
“Oh good!” exclaimed Lori. “This will be my first vine-blessing. You’ll have to explain everything to me.” And then, catching the expression on Lindsay’s face, she added quickly, “Maybe I’ll just meet you there.”
She hurried off and Lindsay laughed softly to herself. She and Dominic followed, at a much slower pace.
~*~
“Darling, I’m wretched, just wretched,” declared Paul as he followed Bridget into the kitchen, and the emotion on his face was genuine. “Derrick said we should’ve waited and driven down with Father Mike this morning, and he was right. This is my fault, all of it. How can I ever make it up to you?”
Bridget chewed her bottom lip and glanced around the kitchen distractedly, as though a solution might be plucked from the air. “Don’t be silly, Paul. It’s not your fault the poor man had a flat tire.”
“Who had a flat tire?” Noah came through the back door with a tray full of glasses. “You need somebody to go fix it?”
“Thank you, Noah, but someone is already fixing it. The problem is that the priest is still two hours away.”
“Biggest bunch of foolishness I ever heard, anyway,” Ida Mae grumbled, “having a preacher incant over grape vines. You’re not going to let that shrimp sit out like that much longer, are you?”
Noah sighed heavily and slid the glasses into a sink filled with soapy water. “Too bad. I’m a lot better at fixing tires than I am at washing glasses. ‘The Lord gave, and the Lord has taken away. Blessed be the name of the Lord.’ Job 1:21.”
Bridget whirled on him, her eyes alight with a kind of fierce determination. “You!” she exclaimed. “You can do it!”
“Do what?”
She caught his arm, tugging him away from the sink. “The blessing!”
Noah dug his heels in and his eyes went big. “Me? Talk in front of all those people? Why me? I’m not a preacher!”
“Well, you’re practically one. And you will be as soon as you finish seminary. May as well get some practice in now.”
He stared at her. “Seminary? What seminary?”
“Oh, Noah.” Her expression was torn between impatience and tenderness. “I don’t mean to spoil your surprise, but it’s pretty obvious. All the Bible verses, the secrecy about college … It’s okay if you’d rather go to seminary than art school, really, and I know Lindsay would agree. So don’t you see, this is a heaven-sent opportunity.”
He looked at her for a moment as though she were speaking a foreign language. “The Bible verses were for a contest,” he said. “I don’t want to go to seminary. I just wanted to go to the rodeo. And …” He took a step back from her, shaking his head adamantly. “I’m not giving any blessing.”
While Bridget was struggling to absorb this, Paul volunteered quickly, “Fear not, fair lady, I’ll be delighted to step up. I’ve been told I have an excellent orator’s voice. And I’m sure there’s something you can pull off the Internet that would be appropriate …”
Bridget looked at him distractedly. “I appreciate it, Paul, but I think it only works if the person who says the blessing is ordained. Or …” she glanced at Noah. “At least, you know, called.”
Noah turned quickly back to washing the glasses.
Ida Mae gave a disgusted shake of her head and put the shrimp back in the refrigerator.
There was a tap on the open back door and Farley poked his head inside. For the occasion, he wore his Sunday jacket over his work shirt and the camouflage print cap without the stains on it. He had also temporarily left the tobacco behind, which he often did when he knew he’d be seeing Bridget in a social context.
He said, “‘Scuse me, Miss Bridget, but I was wondering, didn’t y’all keep any guns up here at the house?”
“Guns?” Bridget looked blank, and Noah turned away from the sink with interest.
“What kind of guns?” he wanted
to know, and Bridget shot him an alarmed look.
“Don’t have to be nothing fancy,” allowed Farley. “A .22 ought to do her. Don’t want to kill anything, it being out of season and all.”
“Kill?” exclaimed Bridget, and now she could hear, faintly, the sound of distant excited voices through the door. “What are you trying to kill?”
“Reckon it’d be that deer down yonder eating your grape vines,” Ida Mae said sourly, gazing out the back window.
“Deer!”
“Bambi!” Noah bounded out the back door, shouting, “Hey! Hey!”
Paul looked at Bridget in alarm. “In the grape vines?”
Bridget started to run after Noah, but stopped when Farley inquired, “Did I hear y’all was looking for a preacher? Somebody getting married?”
She said, “Um, no, not married. We just need someone to say a blessing over our grape vines.”
She touched his arm urgently to move past him, and he nodded thoughtfully. “Reckon I could do that. Got me one of them mail order certifications to do weddings and funerals. Guess it’s good for blessings, too. Cost you ten dollar,” he added.
Bridget gazed at him for a moment in disbelief, shared an incredulous look with Paul, and then was distracted by the shouting from the vineyard. “You’re hired!” she cried, and raced to help the others save the unblessed vines from the appetite of a pet deer.
~*~
“All in all,” declared Derrick, watching the dust of the last vehicle disappear down the drive, “one of the most memorable blessings of the vines it has ever been my pleasure to attend.” He gave Bridget’s shoulders a squeeze and kissed her cheek. “Well done, my dear.”
She looked uncertain, pushing back a damp strand of hair from her face. “Well,” she admitted, “I suppose we did pull it off.”
“My favorite part,” put in Lori, “I mean my absolutely favorite part, was when Farley raised his hands like Moses and said, ‘I declare thee vines to be blessed …’”
Even Bridget, who hadn’t found it the least bit funny at the time, had to grin at that. “Who would’ve guessed?” she admitted. “Farley, a mail order minister.”
They’d gathered outside the entrance to The Tasting Room to say good-bye to the guests, who, as the sun sank low behind the mountains, had finally departed. Paul, with his sleeves rolled up above the elbows, volunteered to carry the dishes to the dishwasher—his way of atoning—and Lindsay and Cici bundled up the tablecloths while Noah swept out the room.
“Really, Bridget,” Cici assured her, stuffing tablecloths into an oversized laundry bag, “I thought it was fabulous. And everyone loved the The Tasting Room.”
“Who wouldn’t?” Paul was quick to put in. “The food was to die for, and who could ask for more charm?”
“And you heard Carlene say she was going to do a special write up about it in the next Chamber of Commerce bulletin,” Lindsay added, stuffing another handful of napkins into the laundry bag.
Bridget smiled, pleased. “She did, didn’t she?”
“Of course she did, darling,” Paul said, moving past her with a plastic tub filled with dishes. “This kind of upscale establishment is exactly what this community needs to bring in a little class. Note for future, however: an onsite dishwasher wouldn’t hurt.”
“And really,” Derrick added, “the whole thing with the deer was just local color.”
Noah said anxiously, “I would’ve locked him in the barn, but I couldn’t find him. I thought he was out in the woods, you know, like he is most of the time. I’m really sorry.”
Dominic said, “It’s okay, he didn’t have a chance to do much damage. But …” He cast a glance around the three women that looked serious. “We need to do something about deer fencing.”
“Fencing?” Cici looked dismayed. “For the whole vineyard? How much will that cost?”
“You should count on about $1.50 a linear foot,” he said.
The three women exchanged a disheartened look. “Well, Bridge,” said Lindsay, “guess you’d better start planning some really spectacular menus for The Tasting Table, because we’re going to need the customers.”
Cici thrust the laundry bag to Noah to carry, and they started walking back toward the house. “Seriously,” said Lori, “the only thing you missed was press. If you had a radio station broadcasting from here, or at the very least, someone from the newspaper …”
As one, the ladies groaned out loud.
“She has a point,” Paul said. “The whole deer debacle was a missed opportunity, from a journalist’s standpoint …”
Dominic touched Lindsay’s arm and the others moved ahead, laughing and talking, as she turned a questioning gaze on him. “I know it’s been a long day,” he said, “and you’re probably tired. But if you could spare a few minutes, I’d like to show you something.”
She tilted her head toward him, smiling. “Well, given that the alternative is washing dishes, maybe I could take a minute or two.”
While the others walked toward the house, he guided her around the barn and down the path that led through the vineyard. “Oh!” she exclaimed softly, noting the mulch-lined path that encircled the vines. “This is what Farley was doing with the tractor this past week. I was so busy getting the restaurant ready I didn’t even notice.”
Dominic laughed quietly. “It’s amazing how much you can sneak past a busy woman,” he said. He lifted his arm and pointed the way down the path. She responded with amazement.
“Oh my goodness,” she said on a breath. “Did you do what I think you did?”
She quickened her step and started to run down the path that led into the woods. He called, “Mind your step in those shoes!”
Lindsay clapped her hands and laughed out loud with delight when she came upon the folly. The tractor path had been extended to a cleared circular area landscaped with pine straw and pink azaleas that were just coming into bloom. And the folly had been brought back to life. The broken glass was repaired in the windows, and a new yellow door had replaced the sagging, rotting one. The missing floorboards were replaced and the circular porch had been painted a bright, shiny white. The folly itself was restored to its original forest-green color, and the lacy gingerbread trim that decorated the eaves had been painted white to match the porch.
Lindsay turned to him, her hands pressed to her flushed cheeks, her eyes shining. “It’s like going back in time. It’s just like it used to be! How did you do that? You must have looked in the book.”
He smiled and tapped his head. “No. I just looked in here.”
“Oh. I—of course you did!” She looked around in amazement, her eyes hardly knowing where to turn next. “I had no idea—I thought you might’ve cleared out the weeds with the tractor, but this! How did you do it? How could you possibly have found the time?”
“It wasn’t that much,” he admitted modestly. “Noah helped a lot, until you called him away to work on your project. The old place was still solid. It was just a matter of replacing a few boards and some glass, and we brought a compressor down here to paint that day you all thought we were spraying the vines.”
He reached for her hand. “Come look at the inside. But first …”
He bent down and for the first time Lindsay noticed a green extension cord lying along the mulched ground. He plugged it in and the octagonal outline of the building sprang to life with a thousand miniature white lights. Lindsay gave a cry of astonishment and pleasure, and her words came out in a gasp of delight. “It’s a fairy house in the woods.” Then she turned to him, laughing. “So this is what happened to all those Christmas lights we put up in the barn.”
“Farley did the wiring,” he cautioned. “So—”
“We’ll have it checked out by a licensed electrician,” she assured him.
He took her hand and guided her up the one step to the porch, then opened the door and gestured her inside. Lindsay walked into the room and stood there for a long moment, too overwhelmed to speak.
; Though a deep-woods twilight pressed against the windows that encircled the little house, the lights from outside shed a sparkling glow over everything. The marble floor glistened with a subtle hue, and all of the old, broken furniture had been removed. The cherub-flanked fireplace had been scrubbed clean of years of smoke damage and firewood was laid neatly inside, waiting to be lit. On one wall was a wicker daybed, piled high with cushions and soft throws and next to it a matching wicker rocking chair. In the center of the room, a small round table with two ice-cream parlor chairs held a candle, a bottle of wine, and two glasses. But the thing that caused moisture to spring to Lindsay’s eyes was the easel that was set up before the window that overlooked the spring, with one of her blank canvases on it. She bit down hard on her lip.
Dominic came up behind her. “What you did for your friend was beautiful,” he said simply. “But I thought it might be good for you to have a place of your own, to come and paint when you wanted to.”
Lindsay blinked hard and walked over to the daybed, absently touching the soft woven throw that was draped over one arm. “I can’t believe you did all this,” she said thickly.
“Actually,” he admitted ruefully, “the fluff and feathers were supplied by little Miss Lori. I asked her for some ideas, and she drove down with a car full of this stuff this morning. That’s why I needed to get the tractor path cleared, so we could get vehicles in and out.”
Lindsay choked on a laugh. “That girl is an imp. But she has a nice flair.”
“The wine, however …” she heard the slide of a cork from its bottle, “was all my idea.”
She turned, eyes wet, her face aching with smiles. “Are you real? I mean, can you possibly be for real?”
“Funny,” he said, and the tenderness in his eyes took her breath away. “I often ask myself the same thing about you.”
He handed her a glass of wine and raised his own in a salute. “To the rest of your life, Lindsay Sue Wright. May it only get happier.”
She said, “Right now, I don’t see how that’s possible.” They drank, and her heart felt as though it was filling up her entire chest. If she had ever known this kind of sheer, simple pleasure in the presence of another person, she couldn’t remember it. It was a lovely, peaceful feeling, a feeling of rightness with the condition of the world and all those in it.