The Vineyard at Painted Moon

by Susan Mallery

  “I’m sorry,” he repeated.

  “Stop saying that. You don’t have to be. You’re right—it is over. I’ve known it somewhere inside, I just never articulated it, even to myself.”

  “I don’t want to hurt you.”

  “You didn’t.”

  “I did. I meant what I said before. I love you, Mackenzie.”

  She looked into his eyes. “But it’s not enough anymore, is it? Our love is different. It’s not what your mother has with Giorgio.”

  His mouth twisted. “You saw that, too?”

  “How in love they are? Yes, and while I was happy for them, being around them made me feel sad.”

  He nodded. “The contrast. It made everything clear for me.” He hesitated. “We don’t have to do anything right away. We can take our time figuring it out. You know that a divorce won’t change your position at Bel Après.” He gave her a faint smile. “If my mother has to choose between the two of us, she’s going to pick you. We both know that.”

  Divorce? Her position at Bel Après?

  Reality gave her the second blow of the evening and she was no more prepared this time. If their marriage was over, of course they would be getting a divorce. That was what people did. And if she and Rhys weren’t married, then she would have to move out and...and...

  “Don’t,” he said quickly. “Nothing has to change.”

  “Everything has to change,” she told him, feeling her chest tighten. “Everything.”

  He took her hand in his. “It doesn’t. We don’t have to decide anything tonight. Let’s pretend we didn’t talk about it.”

  “We can’t.” She looked at their hands, the familiar way they were clasped, then carefully pulled free. “You want a divorce.”

  He hesitated before nodding slowly.

  She braced herself for the logical question. No, not the question. The answer.

  “Is there someone else?”

  Rhys drew back, his eyes wide. “Did I cheat? God, no. I wouldn’t do that. I’ve never done that.”

  She believed him because of who he was. “But you wanted to.”

  “Haven’t you?” He motioned to the space between them. “We haven’t had sex in years. We’re roommates, not a married couple. Yes, I’ve wanted to meet someone and fall in love. Hell, at this point, I would be happy just to have regular sex with pretty much anyone.”

  The words rained down like shards of glass, slicing her heart with wounds so deep, they would never heal.

  “I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I didn’t know you were that unhappy.”

  “It’s not your fault. We did this together. We’re both to blame. Somehow everything we had got lost.”

  She nodded because her throat hurt too much for her to speak. Not just her throat—every part of her. She was shaking and sick and broken. Desperately broken.

  “I can’t talk about this anymore,” she whispered. “I can’t. Maybe tomorrow, if that’s okay.”

  “Not tomorrow,” he told her. “Take a few days, a few weeks. Like I said, nothing has to change, Mackenzie.”

  “You’re wrong. Nothing can stay the same. We can’t unsee this. What we’ve said... There’s no going back. I just need some time to figure out what moving forward is going to look like.”

  He nodded. “What can I do to help?”

  She shook her head and got out of bed. For the first time in sixteen years, she was uncomfortable being naked in front of him. She quickly pulled on her clothes, feeling the seeping dampness between her thighs—proof of the sex.

  This had been their last time, she thought grimly, as she put on her bra. They would never do it again. Pain and regret clutched at her, making her wish she’d let him bring her to orgasm. Not because she wanted the release but because it would have been something good they would have shared. It would have connected them, at least for a moment.

  Afterward he would have smiled at her the way he always did—that totally male “I’m the man” smile. A combination of pride and happiness that came with knowing he’d pleased his partner. She wanted to see that smile just once more and now she wouldn’t.

  After pulling on her shirt and fastening her jeans, she picked up her socks. “I’m going to go to my room.”

  “Don’t you want dinner?”

  “I’m not hungry.” She held up a hand. “I’m all right. I just need some time alone.”

  “Okay. I’ll be here if you need me.”

  They looked at each other. Tears filled Rhys’s eyes again. Her own burned.

  She wanted to throw herself at him, to have him hold her and tell her everything was going to be fine. Only she couldn’t. Not anymore. And if he said the words, he would be lying. So instead, she hurried out into the hallway and made her way to her own bedroom. Once inside, she carefully closed the door behind her, then collapsed onto the floor and gave in to the pain. Cries turned to sobs, shaking her entire body as, deep in her chest, her shattered heart broke into a thousand pieces.

  seven

  Stephanie pulled the small glass jar of ginger-infused simple syrup from the refrigerator. She and Mackenzie went all out when it came to their monthly Girls’ Nights. Drinks, snacks and plenty of honest talk. Tonight she would be confessing the interview debacle and letting her best friend’s sympathy and caring help heal the lingering disappointment. Mackenzie would tell her she wasn’t trapped and right now she needed to hear that.

  “So you’re going out but I can’t?”

  Stephanie looked up as her daughter walked into the kitchen. Avery had always been a pretty child, but in the past couple of years, she’d turned into a real beauty. She had dark hair and big brown eyes. Apparently the Barcellona chubby-female curse had skipped a generation because Avery was thinner than either of her aunts.

  Not that she would say any of that. Avery had been nothing but annoying all week.

  “You know the rules,” she said instead. “No boy-girl parties unless I talk to the parents and confirm there will be supervision.”

  “That’s not fair.”

  “It is to me.”

  Avery flipped her long hair over her shoulder and glared. “You’re a terrible mother.”

  “You used to be a wonderful kid. I really miss your My Little Pony stage. You were so sweet and we had so much fun together.” She smiled. “Disappointment is multigenerational. That should give you comfort.”

  “Not enough. I want to go to the party. Alexander said it’s going to be the best party of the summer.”

  Alexander was Avery’s current boyfriend. They’d lasted past two months, so it was serious. Something else Stephanie got to worry about.

  “No party unless I talk to the parents. Give me their number or resign yourself to staying home.” She picked up the small tote with the drink supplies. “I’ll be back by eleven.”

  “Whatever.”

  Avery flounced out of the room. Stephanie sighed, knowing it wasn’t the last time she would have to say no to a party. It was going to be a very long, difficult summer. She could only hope that her daughter would be distracted by her new job working on the retail side of the Bel Après gift shop.

  She carried her small tote through the house and out the front door. From there it was only a few steps to Mackenzie’s house, where they had their evenings. The kid-free zone made it easy, and while Rhys was usually home, he pretty much stayed in his office.

  She let herself in the unlocked door and called, “It’s me.”

  “In the kitchen.”

  Stephanie walked through the large two-story foyer and into the spacious kitchen. It was the mirror image of her own. Her house, Mackenzie’s and Four’s were variations of the same floor plan. Four’s had an extra bedroom and a big workspace over the garage while Mackenzie and Rhys had fewer bedrooms but two offices.

  Mackenzie stood at the refrigera
tor, pulling out a prepared cheese plate their chef had left for them. Betsy always put together delicious snacks for their evenings, including appetizers that could be heated in the oven and then served.

  “Hi,” Stephanie said, dropping her tote and holding out her arms. “I need a hug.”

  Mackenzie smiled, then obliged, holding her tight. “Bad day?”

  “Just some snipping from Avery. She’s such a teenager.”

  “She’ll outgrow it.”

  “I hope so. We don’t actually fight, but there’s sure plenty of bickering.” She stepped back. “You’re lucky. Your grapes don’t talk back.”

  “I know, but they can get mold, which is hard to deal with. Carson and Avery seem mold-free.”

  “I’ll try to keep that in mind the next time she makes me want to scream.”

  Stephanie put the simple syrup on the island. Mackenzie already had out rum and ginger ale, along with glasses and plates.

  “We have cheddar crab puffs in the oven,” Mackenzie said. “They need another ten minutes.”

  “I’ll mix the drinks while we wait.”

  She squeezed lime quarters into a martini shaker, then added mint and blueberries. After muddling the mixture, she added rum and some simple syrup. Mackenzie had already put ice into two glasses. Stephanie shook the martini shaker, then poured the strained mixture into the glasses and topped it with a bit of ginger ale.

  “You want me to talk to her?” Mackenzie asked. “Four and I could take Avery to lunch and find out if there’s anything specific bothering her or if this is just usual teenage stuff.”

  Stephanie handed her a glass. “I’d love that. Thank you. Right now I’m the last person she’ll confide in. And while you’re at it, try to find out if she and Alexander are having sex. She swears they’re not, but would she really tell me?”

  “I’ll do my best,” Mackenzie told her. “But I can’t promise she’ll say anything.”

  “I know, but I appreciate any help. You’re so good with her.”

  Mackenzie was good with all the kids, Stephanie thought, still surprised she and Rhys had never decided to have any of their own. Early on in their relationship there had been talk, but nothing had ever happened. She wondered briefly if her friend ever regretted that, but she wasn’t sure how to ask. Before she could figure out a way, the timer dinged.

  “Crab puffs,” Mackenzie said, grabbing a hot pad and opening the oven.

  It took only a few minutes to carry their food to the family room. They settled in familiar seats on the large sectional sofa with their snacks on the glass table in front of them. Sunlight spilled in from the big floor-to-ceiling windows.

  Stephanie raised her glass. “Happy Thursday. My life sucks.”

  Something flickered in Mackenzie’s eyes. “That’s not true. Your life is great.”

  “I wish. Ignoring the ongoing Avery issue, I had a job interview a couple of days ago.”

  “What? You didn’t tell me. Where? What happened? Did you get the job? Are you leaving?”

  Stephanie held up her hand. “Nothing happened. I don’t have a job, I’m not leaving. In fact, I’m probably never leaving because I can’t seem to motivate myself, and when I finally do try to do something else, it all goes to shit.”

  She paused and looked at her glass. “Wow, I have attitude and I haven’t even tasted my drink. I apologize in advance if I get bitchy with the alcohol.” She took a sip of the cocktail and sighed. “And I didn’t tell you about the interview because I was embarrassed.”

  “Why would you say that?”

  “It was with cheese.”

  Mackenzie smiled. “You had an interview with cheese?”

  “No, with Marington Cheese. A brother and sister are running it, sort of. Jack and Jill. They’re fraternal twins who look and dress alike and are way too codependent.”

  She told Mackenzie about the very brief interview. Mackenzie winced when she explained about the “You can’t marry him because he has me” comment.

  “That’s scary. You wouldn’t have been happy there.”

  “That’s what I tell myself, but it’s not like there are a lot of options in Walla Walla. Tri-Cities is bigger but that would mean an hour commute each way. Am I totally spoiled by saying I don’t want to drive that far?”

  “Yes, but it’s understandable. Plus in winter, you’d be fighting the snow.” Mackenzie put down her drink. “You know what I’m going to say, right?”

  “Ack. Yes. Look at the wine industry.”

  “It’s king. You could easily find a job if you were willing to work with what you know.”

  “It’s not the knowledge thing, it’s the Bel Après thing. I would feel like I was betraying my mother.” She leaned back against the sofa and groaned. “I can’t believe I just said that. Like she cares. I doubt she would even notice I was gone. I’m being stupid. Just say it. You think I’m an idiot.”

  She waited for a funny response, but Mackenzie only stared at her intently.

  “What?” Stephanie asked. “What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing. I love you so much. I want you to know that. You’re a wonderful friend and I’m grateful you’re in my life. I don’t want that to change.”

  “It’s not going to. Me getting a job somewhere else, assuming I ever get off my ass and make that happen, won’t change anything. I’ll be right here.” She studied her sister-in-law. “Are you okay? Did something happen?”

  “I’m fine. It’s just, you know, things change. Look at Avery. And you had an interview. That’s huge. I’m so proud of you.”

  “Thanks. I just need to figure out what to do. It’s weird, but I feel like Giorgio’s proposal shifted my worldview or something. Does that make sense?”

  Mackenzie stared at her drink. “I know exactly what you mean. There was something so powerful in that moment—it put all our lives in perspective.”

  “And not in a good way,” Stephanie grumbled. “I have a meeting with my mother on Saturday. We’re going to talk about her wedding. There are no words to describe my lack of joy at the thought of getting through the wedding planning with her. I have no idea why I said I would help.”

  “Because she’s your mom and you love her.”

  “Maybe, but I don’t like her very much.”

  Mackenzie grinned. “No one does, sweetie. Don’t worry about it. You’ll do great and the wedding will be beautiful.”

  “I should get you to plan it,” Stephanie said. “She’d agree to everything and adore it because it came from you.”

  She expected Mackenzie to laugh, but instead her friend’s humor faded and her face paled.

  “What?” Stephanie asked, sitting up straight. “There’s something.”

  “Sorry. My period. I’m cramping.”

  “You sure?”

  Mackenzie looked at her. “I could show you proof but it would be gross.”

  “You’re right. Okay, finish your drink and I’ll make us a second round. We’ll drink to the thrill of being women and try to figure out what God was thinking when he invented menstruation.”

  * * *

  Barbara ran her hands across the front of the binder Stephanie had handed her. The picture of the happy bride and groom on a beach at sunset should have been far too obvious for her taste, but instead of being annoyed by the photograph, she found herself happy and excited.

  “This notebook will help keep all the information about the wedding in one place,” Stephanie told her. “I have the same thing on my tablet. Whenever we make a decision, we’ll update both.”

  They were in Barbara’s dining room. Stephanie had arrived with three overflowing tote bags filled with magazines, folders and what looked like several table linen samples. Barbara would never admit it out loud, but she was impressed. She knew her daughter had handled at least a dozen weddings at Bel Après
over the past few years. She couldn’t remember any disasters, and the Solstice Party had gone well. Maybe she should assume the best about Stephanie and relax about the wedding. If worse came to worst, she could step in to run things herself.

  But for now, she would play at being the bride and enjoy being taken care of. She appreciated that Stephanie understood the importance of the meeting. Despite the fact that it was a Saturday morning, Stephanie had dressed in an office-appropriate floral-print dress. She had on makeup and her long hair was pulled back in a low ponytail.

  She was the prettiest of her three girls, Barbara thought. Catherine could be a beauty, if she wasn’t so damned odd all the time. Her taste was appalling. Half the time she wore overalls with some ripped-up T-shirt. As if she and her family couldn’t afford normal clothing. And she didn’t want to get herself started on how those children of Catherine’s dressed. When she was younger, Galaxy had spent an entire summer wearing a ridiculous bumblebee costume and Catherine had let her.

  As for Lori, well, she was an ongoing problem. She certainly dressed professionally enough at work, but she always looked so frumpy. Maybe it was because she was fat. That girl put on five or ten pounds a year. In another decade, she was going to be as big as a house. Barbara held in a sigh. Where had she gone wrong?

  She shook off the question and focused on what Stephanie was saying.

  “The flow of most weddings is fairly traditional,” her daughter explained. “A ceremony, followed by a reception. The wedding can be family only, with a larger reception to follow, or you can invite everyone to both. The reception dinner can be a sit-down with servers or buffet-style. We can have a DJ or a live band. It’s all available.”

  Barbara almost felt light-headed by the possibilities. “No buffet,” she said firmly. “That I know for sure. Otherwise, I just don’t know. What do you think?”

  Stephanie dug in one of the totes and pulled out several very thick bridal magazines. “Start with these. Look at the dresses, of course, but read the articles. They’ll talk about everything from the right kind of makeup to how to have a themed wedding.”