Her marriage was over. The bald truth had seeped inside of her the night she’d huddled on the floor in her bedroom, lost, sad and alone. There was no going back, no changing what had been said. Rhys had told her she could take her time but they both knew the outcome was inevitable. And if she wasn’t married to Rhys, then who was she and where did she belong?
She walked toward her truck, trying to breathe deeply so maybe her chest would stop hurting, only to pause with her hand on the door.
Not her truck. The company truck she drove. She didn’t own a truck or a car or a house or a stick of furniture. She supposed she owned her clothes and her jewelry, such as it was. A few knickknacks and some artwork she’d bought. She had her salary, her savings and the royalties from the wine deal she’d made with Barbara.
There was the postnuptial agreement, she reminded herself, signed three years after she’d married Rhys. She’d been heartbroken to learn that no matter how hard or long she worked or how successful she was, Barbara wasn’t interested in giving her even the tiniest piece of Bel Après.
Barbara had claimed it was the terms of her late husband’s will—that only blood relatives could be a part of Bel Après, but Mackenzie suspected much of what went on was Barbara’s decision.
Rhys had found her crying and been desperate to chase the sadness from her eyes. He’d explained that a postnuptial agreement was like a prenup, but signed after the wedding. While he couldn’t give her a vineyard, he offered her the value of half the house, along with a portion of his trust fund. Later they’d amended the postnup to exclude her wine royalties from any community property claim. The combined assets were worth a chunk of money, but she would give it all back to him if only things could stay as they had been.
But that wasn’t an option. She might not know anything about getting a divorce or what it would mean or what happened next, but she was certain that her marriage was over. Nearly as unsettling was the fact that Rhys was further along in the process than she was. While she was barely able to breathe, he was ready to be done with them. With her.
She fought against the tears burning in her eyes. She’d spent too many days giving in to the pain and she was done with that. From now on, she was going to be strong—that was her promise to herself. She was going to make plans and get on with her life—even if she no longer knew what that meant. Even if she was alone, with no husband and no best friend. She could count only on herself from now on.
She drove back toward the compound, taking in the beauty of the landscape. Vineyards stretched out on either side of the road. The distant mountains were dark against the blue sky. There were things she could count on, she told herself. The changing seasons, for one. Harvest, the frenetic few weeks that followed. The anticipation of what the new vintage would bring and how she would craft it into a perfect wine.
She parked by the main building and started for the production building, remembering how different it was now from what it had been sixteen years ago, when she’d first started working here. Bel Après was bigger, more successful, and she’d been a part of that.
Barbara had hired her as an apprentice winemaker right out of college. She’d also been engaged to Rhys, so taking the job had been the obvious thing to do. Two years later, she’d been promoted to head winemaker.
Her whole life was here, she thought, pausing at the foot of the stairs leading up to the offices. She didn’t know what life was like without Bel Après and the family. Probably more significant, she didn’t know who she was without them.
She took the stairs two at a time. Rhys’s office was at the end, across from hers. Because they worked together. In a normal day, she saw him dozens of times—from breakfast until they said good-night. They made decisions together, they discussed every aspect of the business. They were a team...or at least they had been.
She stepped into his office. He didn’t see her at first—he was too intent on whatever he was studying on his computer. Everything about him was familiar. The shape of his nose, the strong line of his jaw. He was a handsome man who looked like what he was—a decent guy who took his responsibilities seriously.
She remembered when Stephanie had first invited her home for the holidays. They’d both been freshmen at Washington State University. She and Stephanie had been roommates and friends from the first day they’d met. Mackenzie hadn’t been sure about the wisdom of thrusting herself on her friend’s family, but the alternative had been staying on campus by herself—a grim prospect considering the university all but shut down for Christmas. But with no family of her own and no place to go, she’d been grateful to have an alternative.
They’d made the drive to Walla Walla, going slowly over the snowy, mountainous roads. When they’d arrived, everyone had rushed out to greet them. There had been too many faces and names, but everyone had made her feel welcome. Rhys, the only man in a household of women, had made her heart beat faster with his kind smile.
Over that first holiday, she’d gotten to know everyone. Barbara had shown her around the property, taking her through the processing areas and into the barrel room. Lori and Four had been like younger sisters—friendly and eager to hang out with their older sister and her friend, and Rhys had invited Mackenzie out to dinner in town where they’d talked and laughed for hours.
They’d made love on Christmas Eve, in front of the family’s large tree. By the time she and Stephanie had headed back to college, she’d already been more than half in love with him.
Rhys looked up and smiled at her. “Hi.”
“Hi, yourself.”
She closed the door behind her so they could have privacy, then took a seat across from him.
“I was remembering that first Christmas,” she told him.
“That was a good time.”
“It was. I don’t think I had much of a choice about falling in love with you and Bel Après. I was alone in the world and you offered me everything I’d ever wanted.”
“Mackenzie,” he began, then stopped.
“What?” she asked softly. “It can’t be unsaid. More important, you’re right. Our marriage is finished. It has been for a long time. I didn’t want to admit it, but that doesn’t change the truth.”
He looked both pained and relieved. “What do you want to do?”
“I don’t know. I’d like us to stay friends.”
“We have to. You’re my best friend and I don’t want to lose that.”
“Me, either. I just know nothing is going to be the same.” She thought about her horrible conversation with Stephanie but knew talking about that would be a distraction from what mattered. “I’m still trying to figure it all out. I like my job here and—” She stared at Rhys. “Why did you get scrunchy face just now?”
“I don’t ever get scrunchy face, as you call it.”
“You were thinking something.”
He looked at her, his expression intense. “Don’t you think you deserve more than just a job? You’re the most talented winemaker I’ve ever met. Shouldn’t you have something of your own? Don’t you want to stand on a hill and look all around you and say, ‘This is mine’?”
While the words didn’t hurt as much as his recent statement that their marriage was over, they were still dangerous to her well-being, poking at an open wound she didn’t allow herself to acknowledge.
Rhys leaned toward her. “Whatever you decide, my mom will keep you on for as long as you want.”
“I know. She won’t care if we get a divorce.” She paused. “I don’t mean that in a bad way.”
“I know what you meant. Is that what you want? A divorce?”
She wanted to say that she didn’t—she’d liked being married to him. Only she wasn’t sure they actually had a marriage, not anymore. Besides, she knew it was what he wanted. He was ready to move on to something beyond what they had.
“It’s the next step,” she said
instead. “I’m just not sure of the logistics.”
“You’ll have money,” he said eagerly. “Lots of it. I’ve been running the numbers, and based on the value of the house and the amount from my trust, you should have close to two million dollars. That’s enough for you to do anything.”
As he spoke, he pulled a folder from a locked drawer in his desk and opened it.
“It’s all here,” he told her. “And that amount doesn’t take into consideration the money from the wine royalties and whatever part of your salary you’ve saved.”
She told herself he was being kind, trying to reassure her, but she couldn’t help thinking this was more proof he was ready to be done with her. As for the money, it wasn’t anything she could wrap her mind around.
“You think I should leave,” she said faintly. “You want me to go.”
“I’m not pushing you out. It’s just you’re gifted. You should have something of your own. You don’t want to work for my mom for the rest of your life. How would that even happen? You’d get a place somewhere else, drive to Bel Après, then drive home at the end of the day? That’s not going to make you happy.”
She knew he was trying to help, but his words only made her feel worse. The bleak picture of her life had her fighting tears.
Was that what was next? A sad little apartment and working for Barbara? Rhys got to keep their house and his family and everything else, while she lost everything?
Apparently her pain didn’t show, because he kept on talking.
“There’s no rush.” He passed her the folder. “We’ll move forward when you’re ready and not before. Until then, we’ll live together in the house.” He smiled at her. “You can stay there forever, as far as I’m concerned. I like living with you.”
Which sounded nice but wasn’t true. He wanted her to leave. Maybe not today, but soon.
She had to clear her throat before she could speak. “I appreciate that, but I think there needs to be an end date.” She forced a smile. “Eventually I would cramp your style. You don’t want to have to explain why your ex-wife is in the living room when you bring home a date.”
He chuckled. “That would be awkward, but I can always go to her place.”
She tried to keep her expression from tightening. He spoke so easily, she thought, as if he’d already worked everything out. Which he had. What was it he’d said? He wanted to have sex with anyone who would have him? None of this should be a surprise.
“I need to think,” she told him. “Just a few more days. If we could keep this quiet a little longer.”
“As long as you’d like. Did you tell Stephanie?”
She tried not to think about their conversation. “Yes, and she was upset.”
She was deliberately vague, not wanting to go into what had actually been said. She didn’t think she could get through the telling without losing what little control she had. Better to let him think Stephanie had been sad but supportive.
She got up and waved the folder. “Thanks for this. I’ll look it over.”
“You’ll want to run it past your lawyer.”
She stared at him blankly. She didn’t have a lawyer. Then she got it. He meant a divorce lawyer.
“Sure,” she whispered. “I’ll get right on that.”
And she would. Just as soon as she found a way to collect the pieces of her shattered life and start breathing again.
nine
Stephanie alternated between self-pity and guilt for the better part of four days before realizing she had to talk to someone. She decided to confront the one person she could yell at in total safety.
She waited until she knew Mackenzie would be in an evening meeting with Barbara, then walked into her brother’s house and called his name.
“In my office,” he replied.
She made her way to the large bookshelf-lined room. He was sitting at his desk, laptop open. It was well after seven, but sunlight still spilled into the room, warming the hardwood floors.
“Hey, Steph, what’s up?”
She stared at her older brother for a second, before putting her hands on her hips. “A divorce?” she asked, her voice a shriek. “You want a divorce? I know it has to be you. Mackenzie would never ask for one. Why are you doing this? We’re a family and you’re ripping us apart. Get some counseling and get over yourself.”
She paused to draw breath, then realized she had nothing else to say, so she sank into the one of the chairs and braced herself for the pushback.
But instead of yelling, he only shook his head and said, “I’m sorry.”
“That’s it?”
“It’s all I’ve got.”
“Did you cheat? You can’t keep your dick in your pants?” She fought against sudden tears. “Mackenzie’s amazing and beautiful and smart and why don’t you want to be married to her anymore?”
He stood and circled the desk. After pulling her to her feet, he held her close.
“I’m sorry,” he repeated. “I didn’t want to do this.”
“Then don’t.”
“I have to.”
He led her to the sofa and waited until she sat down.
“There’s no one else,” he told her. “I didn’t cheat. What I did was let it go on too long. We’re great as friends, but we’re lousy in a marriage. We’re roommates and we work together and nothing more. I can’t live like that. I won’t. I want more.”
“So this is about you being selfish?”
“Dammit, Steph, I’m not the bad guy.”
“Could have fooled me. What do you want that she’s not giving you?”
“Love. Sex.”
“Oh, please. Sex? Really? That’s the reason? What, she won’t put on a French maid costume for you? Grow up.”
He sat on the sofa and faced her. After swearing softly, he said, “Mackenzie and I haven’t had sex in five years. We sleep in separate rooms, in separate wings of the house. We only ever talk about business. Call me all the names you want, I don’t care. I want more than that. I’m tired of being lonely and horny and trapped in a relationship that isn’t working for either of us.”
Stephanie felt all the mad whoosh out of her. She stared at Rhys, unable to understand what he was saying. “You haven’t had sex in five years?”
“Yeah. You know what really sucks? We did it last week. First time in forever, and that’s when we knew it was over. Hell of a goodbye.”
“But I thought you were happy. You were always together.”
But not touching, she thought suddenly. They never touched. They didn’t hold hands or hug. There was no secret communication or laughs or shared jokes. Not that she could remember. How could she not have seen that?
“I didn’t know,” she breathed. “She never said. You never hinted.”
His mouth twisted. “A man doesn’t like to admit he’s not having sex with his wife. Besides, what was I going to say? We all like and respect Mackenzie. What happened is both our faults. It’s over and you have to deal with that. It’s not about you or the family, it’s about us.”
Even as she was unable to grasp it all, she knew he was telling the truth—about all of it. How could she not have seen through the facade? She and Mackenzie talked about everything—why had her friend kept this from her? Shame? Guilt?
“I’m sorry,” she whispered. “About all of it.” Oh, God, she’d been a horrible friend. She hadn’t been supportive at all.
“I yelled at her,” she admitted. “I said she was ruining my life.”
“Not surprising.”
“Hey, you’re supposed to be sympathetic.”
“You need to be there for her,” he said. “I’ve got the whole family. I’m keeping my life, but not Mackenzie. She’s not going to have anything. We’re all she has, and she’s about to lose that. You need to be her friend. You and Four. Lori’s going
to side with Mom, and depending on how this all plays out, you know how ugly things could get. If Mom turns on her, her life will be hell.”
Stephanie nodded even as she began to cry. “Everything is going to change. I hate that. But I don’t want you to be unhappy and I feel awful about Mackenzie.”
He slid close and wrapped his arm around her. “I know. Me, too.”
“This sucks. And there’s no good solution.”
“Tell me about it.”
* * *
Mackenzie sat on the ground, a small amount of dry soil clutched in her hand. About fourteen thousand years ago, the Missoula floods, caused by melting glaciers, deposited a smorgasbord of nutrients all across eastern Washington. To the east were the wheat fields, but here, by the Columbia River, were the vineyards.
In 1977 Gary Figgins established Leonetti Cellar as Walla Walla’s first commercial winery. In 1981 Wine & Spirits magazine named the first Leonetti cabernet sauvignon—the 1978 vintage—as the best in the nation. By 2012, six wineries from the Walla Walla area were on the list of Top 100 Wineries of the World. Bel Après was one of them.
In the past, knowing the history had always helped, but not today, she thought, letting the soil slip through her fingers. Today she was sick and confused and lost, and no amount of history was going to make that right. Everything was moving faster and faster and she didn’t know how to make it stop.
The worst was the fear, the uncertainty. She was getting a divorce, she no longer had a best friend, she might lose her job, she might quit her job. She wanted nothing more than to go home, but even that wasn’t a sure thing. The house wasn’t hers, it never had been. It was part of the Barcellona family trust and she wasn’t a member.
She covered her face with her hands and braced for tears, but she was all cried out. There was nothing left inside but a sense of foreboding. She felt like a speck of dust being blown around by cosmic winds, and that thought terrified her.
The Vineyard at Painted Moon Page 9