by Frank, Ella
I could hear the sounds of voices traveling up the stairs, and as we stood there, my mother did something she hadn’t done in years. She reached for my hand and squeezed. A silent symbol of strength and solidarity, one I’d always cherished and one I hadn’t realized I’d missed, or needed, until this very moment.
4
Laurel
“THERE YOU ARE, hon. I’ve been looking for you all over.”
So much for my stealthy re-entrance. I should’ve known that Miss Betty would spot me trying to sneak my way back inside. She had a knack for these kinds of things, and a nose for gossip.
“Here I am.” I plastered on my best hostess smile and hoped she didn’t see right through it. “Is there, ah, something I can get for you?”
Betty patted my arm, regaining my attention. “I was just coming to tell you that the quiches are almost out.”
“Oh. Okay, thanks. I’ll get one of the girls to bring some more out.”
“Mhmm, that’s a great idea. And also, he went upstairs to see his mother.”
I blinked at the quick change of topic. “Who did?”
A sly smile curved Betty’s lips. “Don’t you try that with me, young lady. You know exactly who I’m talking about.”
I opened my mouth to deny her claim, and she looked toward the hallway leading out of the tasting room.
“He was a heartbreaker at seventeen, but now?” Betty leaned in as though imparting a state secret. “That boy grew into all kinds of tall, dark, and delicious.”
Betty fanned her face as she continued to look down the hall, as though Noah would reappear at any moment. I, on the other hand, wanted nothing more than to get out of there for the exact same reason.
“Uh, I’ll take your word for it.” I went to pull my arm free and make a run for it, but Betty was a step ahead of me. She tightened her fingers around my wrist and leaned into my side. All the while, her eyes were glued to the doorway.
“You two were so in love back in the day. There was never a minute one of you was without the other.”
No kidding.
“I really thought you’d end up married, you know? Have a couple of kids together, and one day run this place. It just seemed like destiny. Until…”
Yes…until. That was the problem with this little story. It held up really well, until that part right there.
“Betty?” I gently removed my arm from her grip, and this time made sure to move out of her reach. “I’m going to go and get some more of those quiches moving out of the kitchen. I’ll catch up with you a little later?”
“Of course, dear. Don’t let me hold you up.”
With a final smile in her direction, I made a quick dash through the door and hightailed it into the kitchen, which, I was happy to note, was empty. After the door swung shut behind me, I leaned against it and breathed a sigh of relief.
This was insane. My stomach was a wreck, and my hands? I held them up in front of me. They were shaking like leaves on a tree. I needed to pull myself together if I had a hope in hell of getting through the next couple of hours. But until then, maybe I could hide in here for a few minutes.
Pushing off the door, I made my way over to the fridge to get the next tray of finger food for the oven, then I heard movement from the wine cellar. Thinking it was Bree trying to sneak that bottle of scotch again, I headed over there to stop her at the pass.
I pushed through the door, and just as I was about to give my well-practiced speech about underage drinking, my eyes landed on a broad set of shoulders that definitely did not belong to Brianna Chamberlin.
The cellar door clicked shut behind me, and when the man turned to see who had entered his space, the breath I’d finally gotten under control once again lodged itself in the back of my throat.
Good God, the glimpse I’d gotten of Noah earlier was nothing compared to him standing in front of me with a wine bottle in his hand, and as much as I hated to admit it, Miss Betty was right. He was the very definition of tall, dark, and delicious, and when those rich caramel-colored eyes found mine, I had to reach for the door handle just to be certain I wouldn’t fall at his feet.
“Laurel Anderson.”
My heart all but stopped at the sound of my name in that smooth, seductive timbre, and my fingers tightened on the handle.
“Hi.” Brilliant. After all these years, that was what came out of my mouth.
A smile slowly curved his lips, as though he knew I was tongue-tied, and I wanted to kick myself—or him—for it.
“Hi yourself.”
I swallowed and tried to remember that somewhere inside my head I possessed a brain. Now if I could just locate it, that would be fantastic. “I, uh, I didn’t know you were coming today.”
“No? Everyone else in town seemed to.”
“Well, you know how it goes. You can’t rely on everything you hear.”
“Ah. So you heard—you just didn’t believe it.”
“I didn’t really think about it either way.” Liar. “I’m sorry for your loss, though. Harry was—”
“An A-grade bastard?”
My eyes widened at the cool edge to Noah’s voice. It was a tone I’d never heard from him before. But then again, I didn’t know this man, so I had no point of reference.
“That seems harsh, huh?”
“It seems…” Noah’s eyes locked on me with an intensity I felt all the way to my bones. “Honest.”
He shifted the wine bottle from one hand to the other, then he held it up by the neck and asked, “A good year?”
I focused on the label, a 2012 Pinot Noir. “It was a great year.”
Noah nodded and turned the bottle around so he could look at it again. “And you should know, or so I’m told. You manage this place now.”
I wondered who had told him. His mother? Or one of his siblings? I’d never imagined a career in the wine business, and I certainly hadn’t imagined one here at his family’s winery. But circumstances had left me little choice, and now I couldn’t imagine doing anything else.
“I do. I’m also the head sommelier.”
Noah let out a sound of disbelief that made my spine stiffen. I was good at my job—damn good at it.
“I hope that won’t be a problem for you.”
“A problem?” Noah shook his head. “No. I was just thinking how my family hasn’t changed at all. They still like their secrets.”
The temperature in the room dropped back to arctic, and as I was about to hightail it out of there, Noah took a step forward. I plastered my back to the door and, cursing myself for showing my hand—and my nerves—counted back from ten before daring to look him in the eye.
That was a mistake. I recognized those eyes and the thick lashes that curtained them. I also recognized the look in them right now. It was one of curiosity and interest.
“I wasn’t so sure about coming back here when I showed up earlier.”
His gaze roved over my face, as though he were searching for the girl he once knew, and I wondered if he saw parts of her in there.
“But suddenly I find myself even happier that that asshole up and died. Otherwise I’d never have known you were here.”
I wasn’t surprised in the slightest that my working here had been kept quiet. Harry had worked really hard to remove me from Noah’s life. He wasn’t about to tell him I was still around.
“Well, um, I don’t want to hold you up anymore, and I need to get back to your mother’s guests.” I turned to open the door, but when I felt his hand on my shoulder, my feet froze.
“Looking to make a quick escape again, Bonnie?”
I closed my eyes and for a second allowed myself to remember the first time he’d ever called me that. Then I quickly shoved it aside, not willing to allow in the emotions and vulnerabilities those kind of memories would bring.
“Do you blame me?”
There was a pause, and the tension simmering in the air made it even more imperative that I get out of there right now.
“N
o. I guess I don’t. But before you go?”
“Yes?” As his hand fell away, I let out a silent sigh of relief.
“I was wondering if you could tell me the best place to stay in town?”
To stay? Why wouldn’t he stay at his mother’s?
“It’s been a while, and I promised myself I’d never set foot in Harry’s house again.”
Oh…
I straightened my shoulders and glanced back to see him checking me out as he waited for an answer. When his eyes found mine, he gave a slight smirk, not ashamed at all for being caught.
“Wilhelmina’s. It’s the local B&B. It’s beautiful. You won’t find better.”
“Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.” I was just about to push open the cellar door when suddenly it was pulled wide, revealing my shocked expression to the person on the other side. “Jake? Hi, um, what are you doing here?”
My surprise was mirrored on Jake’s face, as were the questions in his eyes. But before he could respond, I put my hands on his chest and shoved him back a step.
“I was looking for you,” he finally said as he tried to get another look at the stranger behind me.
“Well, you found me.”
Jake frowned, but before the conversation could go any further, I said over my shoulder to Noah, “Be sure to stop by Wilhelmina’s,” then I took Jake’s hand and led him out of the kitchen.
“Mom?” Jake tugged me to a stop once we reached the food area back out in the tasting room. “Who was that?”
“Who was—”
“The man in the cellar stealing a bottle of wine?”
“Oh.” I pretended to straighten up the serving plates on the table. “That’s Noah. Bree’s brother.”
“No shit.”
“Jake, what have I told you about that mouth of yours? Keep it clean. Especially when in company, please.”
Jake shrugged it off and then looked over his shoulder as though he could see back into the kitchen. “He’s the one everyone talks about? The one who left and never came back—ever?”
I nodded, feeling slightly sick to my stomach. “That’s the one.”
“Huh. Maybe he was just waiting for Harry to die. He was kind of a dick.”
“Jake.” I looked around to make sure no one had heard my mouthy teenager. “Don’t talk like that about the dead.”
“Oh, come on, you know I’m right.”
“That doesn’t matter. Show some respect.”
“Okay. You’re right.” He leaned down and kissed me on the cheek. “I’m sorry. I’ll show respect today and call him a dick tomorrow.”
I smirked as he straightened. “That’s better.”
“Okay. I’m gonna go find Caleb for a bit. Unless you need me to keep you from getting locked in any more wine cellars.”
I narrowed my eyes. “I wasn’t locked in there.”
“Uh huh.” He picked up a carrot stick and took a bite. “Man, where’s all the good food at? I figured there’d be more than veggies at the almighty Harry’s going-away shindig.”
Damn it. It wasn’t until right then that I realized I hadn’t put the extra quiches in the oven. Oh well, carrots and dip would have to do for the moment, because there was no way I was going to risk being caught in that kitchen or wine cellar again with Noah Chamberlin.
5
Noah
LAUREL ANDERSON, WOW. She sure had grown up nicely. Actually, that was a lie. The sweet, pretty girl I’d once known had grown into the most beautiful women I’d ever seen in my life—and I’d seen a lot of women.
In her perfectly respectable black dress and heels, I hadn’t been able to take my eyes off her. Her hair was cut a little shorter than it used to be, with loose curls styled in a way that teased the soft skin under her chin. And those long legs that had seemed to go on for miles and miles even as a teenager? They were even more entrancing now, encased in those smoky-colored stockings. It’d been a couple of hours since our run-in, and I was still thinking about them, wondering if they were full coverage or thigh-highs with a garter belt to match.
It was completely inappropriate, I knew that, especially considering where I was and why. But damn, I was only human, and there’d been no stopping the instant attraction I’d felt the second I was back in her presence.
That was, until he opened the door. Whoever he was. I’d thought about asking Bree but immediately squashed the idea when I imagined the barrage of questions that would no doubt follow. I was already the latest gossip around town; the last thing I wanted was to add to that in any way. So that meant I was going to have to find out for myself, maybe just not tonight.
As I pulled into Wilhelmina’s Bed & Breakfast, I congratulated myself on somehow slipping out of the wake without detection, but I was pretty sure my mom would clue in soon enough. That was okay, though—it would be much easier to tell her I wasn’t planning to stay at the house if I was already booked to stay somewhere else.
I remembered this place, but not as it stood now. What had once been a dilapidated building—my brothers and I used to dare each other to spend the night there—had since had a major makeover. It now stood tall and proud, the way it was no doubt intended, and as I parked my car and climbed outside, I took a moment to appreciate what the new owners had done with the place.
Built in the 1800s, the picturesque three-story craftsman-style home was bordered with a wide balcony that wrapped around its entirety. There were rocking chairs on one side and a classic porch swing on the other, and flanking the entrance to the beautifully restored home were four thick columns that gave the place an authentic feel that you just couldn’t replicate.
I made my way through the immaculate grounds toward the front door, and when I stepped inside the lobby/seating area, I stopped dead in my tracks. Holy shit. It was hard to even remember what it had looked like pre-reno. The broken floorboards, the cobwebs so thick they could suffocate you if you ran into them. Not to mention the ghosts—well, according to Justin.
I took in the now polished floorboards and sweeping staircase that wound up the three flights, before glancing through the open pocket door to where there was a desk that I assumed was the check-in area. The furniture was all era-appropriate and looked comfortable and charming, and as I made my way to check-in, the strong scent of freshly brewed coffee and apple pie filled the air.
It was quiet and peaceful, perfect for the lounging area off to my right, where the only sound was the running water of a fountain that was lit up through one of the side windows.
I looked around, trying to spot an employee or maybe a guest who was staying there. It wasn’t until I heard a loud crash followed by someone muttering, “Shit,” that there was any indication someone else was here.
A few more rumblings came from behind a wooden door at the far end of the room, and then it swung open and a frazzled woman I’d never seen before appeared. In jeans, a white t-shirt, and a black apron splattered with something she’d clearly been cooking, the woman reached for her earbuds and cursed a second time, before she glanced up to see me standing by the desk.
Her dark eyes widened a fraction, and then she immediately plastered on a smile. “Hi. I’m sorry. I had my music on and didn’t hear you.”
She rushed over to the desk and was about to hold out her hand when she glanced down at it and grimaced.
“Sorry—again. I was cooking.” She held her palm up to show it was still covered in a fine sheen of what I assumed was flour, then she quickly brushed it off on the apron and moved to stand behind the desk. “I’m usually more organized than this, but I got caught up today at a—”
When she cut off her words and quickly looked away from me, I knew exactly where she’d gotten caught up. Harry’s funeral. This woman might’ve been a stranger to me, but she clearly knew who I was.
“A funeral?”
“Yeah, uh, again—”
“I know, you’re sorry.”
A sheepish expression crossed her face, and I
couldn’t help but take pity on her.
“It’s fine, really.”
“It’s not. Oh God. What a horrible first impression I’m making. I’m Willa, and despite all appearances to the contrary, I own and run this place. Usually much more smoothly than this.”
I chuckled and flashed a smile her way, hoping to ease some of her obvious embarrassment. “I’m not judging, I promise. I’m just looking for a room, if you have one.”
“You’re not staying with your family?” The second the words were out of her mouth, she looked as though she wanted to take them back. But…too late.
“Have you met my family?”
“I have.”
“Then there’s your answer.”
She let out a quick burst of laughter and immediately seemed to loosen up as she typed something in on the keyboard in front of her.
It was weird. Here I was coming back to my hometown, and yet this woman I’d just met probably knew more about me and my family than I did. But that had been my choice. Not at first, but definitely in the end.
“Actually, your brother Ryan helped me renovate this place.”
No shit. I took another look around, even more impressed than when I first arrived. “Really? How long did that take?”
“Five years.”
I whipped my head back around so I was facing her. “Five years?”
“Uh huh. Your brother’s a busy guy. I had to get him on his downtime.”
“Some downtime.”
“Eh, he likes it. Says whacking things with a hammer relaxes him.”
That sounded like Ryan, but seriously, five years?
“So you and Ryan, you’re close?” I asked.
Willa grinned as she leaned her hip up against the desk and crossed her arms. “Close enough to know that he’s really happy to have his brother back home.”
“I’m not back home. I’m visiting.”
“Same thing.”
“Not really.”
“You’re here, aren’t you?”
“Only because Harry died.”