Entangled

by Melissa Brayden

  Joey took in the information. Advertising was definitely an option. But she had one idea she wanted to explore first. “What about Madison?”

  He whistled low when she brought up her best friend who’d left Willamette for California a few years back and eventually took a cush job off in the Northeast. “She’s a big shot in the Finger Lakes these days, isn’t she? Can’t imagine her coming all the way back home for us.”

  Honestly, Joey wasn’t sure she could either, but Madison was an up-and-comer in the wine world, the kind of innovative winemaker Joey wanted to attract to Tangle Valley. “What’s the worst that could happen if I offered her the job? She’d say no, and we move on.”

  Even though Madison had first moved to Napa and then all the way across the country, she and Joey had still remained in close contact, messaging each other nearly every day and getting together once or twice a year for weekends of wine and long talks, which always served as the best possible reset button. Madison hadn’t been able to make it home for the funeral because she was in the midst of her own harvest at the large syndicate winery where she was head winemaker. She’d called Joey almost daily, though, a loyal friend.

  “Give her a call, then,” Bobby said. “That girl knows what she’s doing. She’d be a steal.”

  Joey shrugged. “It’s a long shot.”

  “Like you said, Chipmunk. Nothing to lose at this point. And you know what? Jack would have liked seeing little Madison take over.”

  She grinned and walked to the edge of the porch where she’d opened a bottle of pinot and left it to breathe. She poured half a glass and lifted it in the air to her father. She’d tasted this vintage a thousand times, but she never tired of it. Her father’s hard work.

  That night she called Madison LeGrange.

  “I might be dead,” Madison said upon answering. She rarely said hello. “You’re talking to a dead person who’s been through four weeks of cruel manual labor.” A pause. “Oh, damn it, JoJo. That’s not even funny right now.”

  “It’s okay,” Joey said, quick to reassure her. “Someone died recently. Doesn’t mean we stop using the English language.”

  Madison sighed into the phone. “You hangin’ in there, buddygirl?” She smiled at the use of the nickname Madison had given her in the fourth grade when buddyboy became popular in their friend group but also didn’t seem like Joey.

  “I am. Strange around here without Jack bossing everyone around, but we’re managing.”

  Madison was quiet for a moment. “I can only imagine.” It’d been thirteen days without her father at this point. One of the most surreal aspects was how she kept finding things—belongings, notes, clothes he’d laid out—exactly as he’d left them. And why wouldn’t he? He’d been a healthy, vibrant sixty-two-year-old when he died. The heart attack that took his life within minutes had been the only real health scare he’d ever had. In many ways, Joey kind of thought that might be the best way to live and die: healthy and happy until the moment you’re not. No suffering, no decline. She remembered him on his last morning, yammering about how nicely the new vintage of dolcetto was coming along, better than he’d hoped, even, but that the chardonnay lacked balance. Projects he wouldn’t ever finish now.

  Joey purposefully moved them out of the conversation as the sadness gathered in an uncomfortable ball in her chest. “So, how’s the East Coast wine?”

  “Well, it’s not from Oregon, but we’re doing okay. The gewürztraminer is turning out to be the star of the show.”

  “Bring me a few bottles next time you’re here.”

  “Deal.” She sighed. “I miss it, you know. The climate, the scenery, and that pull-yourself-up-by-the-bootstraps fiery spirit of the Willamette folks.”

  “Well, we happen to think a lot of our wines and want the whole world to know it. Even if we’re screaming it obnoxiously.”

  “Oh, the good old days.”

  “That’s actually why I wanted to speak with you.”

  “You wanted to debate Oregon and New York varietals? God, let me gear up. Make some notes. Roll my shoulders.”

  “I want to offer you a job.”

  The line went silent. Madison was either deciding how to carefully extract herself from the conversation with an excuse like her house was on fire, or she was actually intrigued. As a logical, calm, and thoughtful individual, Madison was likely waiting for more information. “I’ve already scrubbed the drains at your place as a teenager. Were you guys really that impressed?”

  Joey smiled at the memory. Kids who grew up in wine culture knew the value of hard work from a young age. Madison was no different. She’d always elbowed her way to be near the winemaking process, soaking up methods and techniques like the little sponge she was. “I need your brain.”

  “Are you serious right now? You can’t be. Tangle Valley?”

  Joey heard shuffling in the background and knew Madison was up and moving, something she did when she had a lot on her mind. “Maddie, I need a winemaker, and you’re the best damn winemaker I know. I love your approach to the science. You and I like the same profiles, but most of all, you understand the fruit in a way very few people do. Plus, you’re now semi-famous in the wine world, and we could really use that clout.”

  “Josephine Wilder.”

  “Yes?”

  “Do you really mean it?”

  “I do. I’m praying you say yes.”

  A pause. “I don’t know what to say.” A longer pause. “Yes, I do. I miss it. Home. A lot, and I’ve always had a soft spot for Tangle Valley. I grew up on that vineyard.”

  “And it has a soft spot for you, weirdo.” She smiled. “Let’s do this together, Maddie. You and me.”

  A sigh. “We always dreamed about having our own vineyard when we were kids.”

  Joey thought back warmly to the days they lay between the vines, reading books, talking about cute boys, which was laughable now that they’d both turned out to be gay, and musing about all the things they would do with a vineyard all their own. Hell, Joey still dreamed those dreams, and here she was, with the means to make them all come true. But Madison hadn’t said yes yet.

  “Tell me your thoughts for Tangle Valley and the future.”

  Joey quirked her lips. “Is this a reverse job interview?”

  “No. Yes. I want to make sure that our visions are still aligned.”

  “Fine.” Joey blew a wayward strand of hair off her forehead. “I want to stick with our current varietals: pinot noir, pinot gris, chardonnay and dolcetto.”

  “The Fab Four. I can handle that.”

  “Blends are always optional. Winemaker’s choice.”

  “I like that part,” Madison said.

  “I want to redecorate our tasting room and add a second one for when the place gets busy on the weekends. I’m thinking dark wood, marble countertops. Classy but rustic.”

  “You’ve been trying to get that second tasting room for years.”

  “So why not go for it?”

  “What else?”

  “Reserve tastings in the barrel rooms. Tours every two hours on weekends instead of once a day. And…this is the part I think could really make a difference.”

  “Tell me.”

  “A restaurant on the grounds. One with not just good food, but amazing.” Joey could hear that she was talking fast—she did that when she got excited and her mouth couldn’t keep up with her brain. “I’m thinking Italian but don’t have any more details worked out. I know that old building we used to use for grape sorting would be perfect, and it’s currently just sitting there. We could bring in a contractor and have that place turned around. Hire someone to bring it to life.”

  “Yeah, that all sounds amazing, but Jo, where are you going to get that kind of cash?”

  “Dad had some, and it’s mine now. It’s not a lot, but if I set out to achieve one thing at a time, I’m hopeful the revenue will catch up.” She shook her head, her eyes filling with tears. “Nothing would make Dad happier than seeing
it go to make this place sparkle, you know?”

  “I do.” She heard the strangled quality in Madison’s voice and knew she’d been hit with a surge of emotion herself. She’d been family to the Wilders.

  “My thoughts are a little scattered right now,” Joey explained, “but my vision is a solid one. You can count on me, Maddie, to deliver on my promises. I can’t pay you lavishly, but I can pay you a competitive salary.”

  “Home to Oregon wine country, huh?” After that, Madison didn’t say anything for what felt like a whole minute. Joey didn’t push. She gave Madison space to work it through in that very scientific brain of hers, a practice she’d learned when dealing with her friend years ago. “Can I think about it? It’s a lofty idea and a big decision.”

  “Yes, of course. The fact that you’re even considering the offer is huge.”

  “It’s you, Joey. Of course I’d consider. How could I not?”

  Warmth blossomed in Joey’s chest. Hearing those words from her best friend helped in the midst of such a gut-wrenching stretch of time. “I wouldn’t have been shocked if you’d laughed and promptly declined, so thank you, Mad.”

  The next morning as Joey dressed, she watched through the window as the seasonal workers assembled for another day of harvest. She had an hour until the tasting room would be open to visitors, and she wanted to put out those fresh chocolates she’d picked up from the new chocolatier in town, The Dark Room. She’d negotiated a killer deal with the owner and could sell by the piece. With the fresh wine crackers out, she high-fived Loretta, who was prepping the wine to have it ready to pour.

  “You doing okay, little girl?” Loretta asked as she uncorked fresh bottles from beneath the counter. With gray hair she often wore in a short and neat French braid, Loretta had kind eyes that crinkled at the corners when she smiled, which was a lot. She was a salt of the earth kind of human. Yet despite her motherly disposition, she could drop into conversation a detail about her own sex life that would leave Joey’s cheeks flaming. It was part of her charm.

  “Everyone asks that,” Joey said, knowing she could be perfectly herself with Loretta. No pretense needed. They knew each other that well. “I need to come up with more creative ways to say that my life just took a turn I wasn’t emotionally ready for, but I’m trying to stay focused and put one foot in front of the other. Is there a word for that?”

  “Nope.”

  “Then I’m at a loss.”

  “But your heart hurts,” Loretta said, coming up behind Joey and giving her a squeeze. “Hearts gotta hurt sometimes. Let it happen. You just need time.”

  “Yeah, I know.” Joey’s eyes filled and she immediately pulled out of the soft touch, knowing it would swallow her if she let herself get mired down. Too much farm to run. Too much work to do. She immediately started making a list to help organize her thoughts and prioritize the tasks at hand. She needed to meet with their distribution rep about rolling out last year’s vintage, and then talk with the printer about getting more of those glossy postcards of Tangle Valley to distribute to the bed-and-breakfasts in the area. Her phone rang. She blinked at the readout. Madison.

  “Is this bad news?” Joey asked immediately as she slid onto the call. “I’ve always heard when the jury returns too quickly, that it’s bad news for the defendant, and I don’t want to go to vineyard jail quite yet.”

  A pause, then she heard Madison’s voice. “Did you commit some sort of crime I’m unaware of? Are you heisting grapes from Fable Brook, one farm over?”

  “Why would I steal grapes from Fable Brook?” Joey balked. “The Hollis family is commercializing everything good over there. I don’t want those grapes. Their Riesling is dull and undatable.”

  “Only you date wine.”

  “I have to date someone, Mad, and wine is dependable. Back on track, though. I didn’t expect you to call so soon.” She shoved her list aside, wanting to give this call her full focus.

  “Me neither, if I’m being honest. But I couldn’t sleep last night, so I did that thing where I walk and talk out loud. Sometimes in circles. Remember?”

  “Oh, I remember the circle talking. You still do that?”

  “It’s the only way to make any important decision in life. Out loud, hashing it out, no holds barred. In a circle.”

  “I prefer lists.”

  “Right. You date those, too.”

  “So?” Joey asked, pressing on. Her senses were on high alert, and her stomach tightened uncomfortably. All the sounds around her were extra loud—the machinery in the field, the slight squeaking of the tasting glasses Loretta scrubbed nearby, and the loud thudding of her heart. This was a big moment. “What did you and yourself figure out during your out loud circle conversation?”

  “This is the thing, Jo.” She heard a slow exhale on the other end of the line. “I can’t seem to find a way to say no. I keep trying, too.”

  “Well, stop that.”

  “I’d like to accept the job.”

  “You would?” Joey practically squeaked.

  “I need some time to square things away here and make arrangements for myself in Whisper Wall. But yeah. I guess this means I’m coming home.”

  Joey covered her mouth in shock, elation, and an emotion she couldn’t name. Whatever it was, it had the tears that had appeared in her eyes earlier streaming down her cheeks unexpectedly. It was a release, that’s what it was. Something good was finally happening.

  Madison with her calm brilliance was coming home. She would help keep Tangle Valley afloat. Hell, together they could make it thrive. They were that great of a team. She stared up at the heavens and smiled at her father, who she knew this would please. “Best news ever,” she managed.

  “And Jo? I think I have an idea for someone to run that restaurant.”

  * * *

  The small office that shot off the side of the barrel room had been her father’s. It was small and simple, and comprised a desk, his computer, some coffee mugs, and his favorite tasting glass. Jack would toil away in there for hours on his plans for this year’s wine as well as years’ to come. He’d study climate reports and, along with Bobby, watched the weather like a hawk. Joey had not set foot in there since they’d lost him, but she found her courage. His beat-up denim jacket hung on the back of the chair. She touched the rough fabric on its shoulders. The thing should have been thrown away years ago. Her gaze moved around the room. On top of the smooth wooden desk sat his notebook. She knew it well. Jack Wilder was a note scribbler, and whenever he had a thought about his wine, he wrote it right there in that notebook. She flipped through it, glancing at the dated notations, calculations, and percentages.

  The top desk drawer contained way too many paper clips and pencils. In his bottom drawer she found what resembled a tackle box, though her dad hadn’t been much of a fisherman. She opened the gray metal container and discovered a jumble of curious papers of all shapes and sizes. What in the world? She glanced behind her as if someone there would be able to explain it. Yet she was alone. Post-its, torn-off pieces of notebook paper, ripped file folders, even the back of what looked to be a takeout menu. Each piece of paper held only a sentence or two. Joey sorted through them, slowly at first, then picking up speed when she understood what they were. Jackisms. All about wine, grapes, and his experience with both as they related to life. She blinked in happy wonder at her new treasure trove and then laughed, her hand covering her heart. These were clever little one-liners, words of wisdom left behind in her father’s very distinct handwriting. She picked one up, flipped it over, and read the words.

  Rough day? Wine about it. J.W.

  Joey grinned at the advice that sounded so much like something her dad would say. She closed the box, not wanting to gobble it all up in one sitting, then opened it again to read just one more.

  Chardonnay about you, but I’m ready to unwind with a glass. J.W.

  She both laughed and grimaced because that one could use a little work but was also so very perfect because it w
as him.

  She closed the box a final time, vowing to save the Jackisms and read them one at a time when she needed to. Maybe they’d heal her heart or give her a good chuckle. Either way, she was blessed to have found them. Joey raised her gaze and looked over her shoulder at the vineyard through the open double barn doors. In the meantime, she had a workday ahead of her, and the grapes, now being processed, waited for no one.

  Joey walked to the big open sliding doors to the barrel room and placed her hands on her hips. “Chardonnay about you, but I better get to work.” She laughed. “Nope. That’s still awful.”

  Chapter Two

  Well, well. Whisper Wall, Oregon, was turning out to be a great little town full of shops, cafés, and quaint little benches Becca Crawford simply couldn’t get enough of. She would need to sit on each of them at some point, pop on her shades, and watch the town go by. She’d arrived two weeks prior and was ready to explore all the area had to offer. The fact that she now lived here was almost too much excitement for her to absorb. This was the kind of place she always hoped she’d land. There were so many cute shops to explore, so many people to meet, and the local culture—which she was well aware centered heavily on wine and its creation—to get to know. Wine was what kept the town afloat. Luckily, she was a casual connoisseur of the stuff herself and liked a good glass of red at the end of her workday. Becca knew firsthand how important it would be for a new business like The Jade to assimilate to the town or city, rather than the other way around. She wanted to be a valuable neighbor, and that meant meeting the locals, making friends, and establishing a role in the community for not just herself but the resort, too.

  Becca decided to start with an adorable gift shop in the center of town called The Nifty Nickel. It was a happy-feeling store that smelled of cinnamon, and she secretly liked getting to say the word nifty. As she perused the room of seasonal wares, she picked up an autumn wreath that had been hand assembled and marveled at the detail. The price tag, a whopping sixty-five dollars, was a shocker, but worth it for the well-made product. She carried it happily to the front of the store and imagined it greeting her guests at her newly rented home. Well, once she had guests, at least. The idea made her smile, and she was struck with a burst of energy. Step one would be meeting some friends, which could prove to be an uphill battle given her long workdays. As Director of Resort Operations, it was up to her to oversee the running of Elite Resorts’ newest crown jewel, The Jade. Even though The Jade wasn’t up and running yet, Becca still had a myriad of tasks in front of her that she’d been chipping away at, the most important being staffing the resort in its entirety. Luckily, she was well-suited for the job.