Blush - Jamie Brenner Page 0,52

around with Mateo trumped her survival instinct.

“Don’t the leaves protect the fruit?” Sadie said.

“No, it’s the opposite. It’s going to rain the rest of the week. This is an extremely wet growing climate for grapes. We get fifty inches of rain a year, compared to California, where they might only get five inches. So we need the sunlight and breeze off the bay to reach the vines and dry out the clusters after the rain. That prevents mildew and mold from growing.”

The clouds rolled in faster, so dark and heavy that day became night. Drops began to fall. A streak of lightning split the sky.

“We gotta clear the field,” Mateo called out to the workers.

They made a mad dash for the small farmhouse adjacent to the field, a utilitarian building with a wide-open, garage-like space for storing field equipment and a few small offices that everyone called “the barn.” Once they were inside, the rain pelting the roof sounded like pennies on tin.

“You can wait out the storm in here if you want,” Mateo said, shaking water from his hands and unlocking his office door. “I think this will blow over soon enough.”

Mateo’s hair was soaked, his tan skin dewy with rain. A drop of water glistened on his upper lip, and Sadie wanted nothing more than to reach out and wipe it away.

“There’s a foldup chair behind the door,” he said, eyeing her. She was suddenly very aware of her soaked T-shirt and shorts clinging to her body.

The office smelled damp and faintly of fresh-cut grass. A few pairs of work boots were lined up in the corner of the room. A large mounted whiteboard took up most of one wall. On the other wall, two framed photographs. One was a closeup of what appeared to be fruit and flowers in a jug of white wine. The other was of a man drawing vertical lines in white chalk on the side of an orange building.

The room was so small that when Sadie unfolded the chair and sat, she could reach out and touch both the door and Mateo’s desk. The desktop was spare, with just a few pens stuck in a Hollander Estates mug and a laptop.

He sat behind his desk, facing her. Their eyes met, and for Sadie it was every bit as electric as the lightning flashing outside the window. She suddenly regretted breaking his confidence to tell her mother about his job search. She couldn’t take it back, but she could at least come clean.

“I have a confession to make,” Sadie said. Mateo leaned forward, folding his hands together. She hesitated for a moment. What if she didn’t tell him about her slight indiscretion? What if she confided, instead, that he’d been on her mind? They were closed up in that small space, the storm raging outside. It was so romantic, like the scene from Chances where Lucky was trapped on an elevator with a hot guy during a blackout. But she wasn’t a ballsy gangster’s daughter; she was a neurotic Jewish girl from Manhattan who needed to assuage her guilt.

“I told my mother that you’re interviewing,” she blurted out.

Either she imagined it, or Mateo physically shrank away from her.

“Didn’t I ask you not to tell anyone?”

“Yeah, but it’s my family. You put me in a bad position,” Sadie said.

“So what did she say?”

“Um . . . that she would do the same thing.”

Mateo shook his head. “Well, next time, learn to keep a secret.”

“I’m sorry,” Sadie said.

Mateo moved his laptop out of the way and leaned forward on his elbows. Sadie felt herself beginning to perspire.

“So what brought you into the field today? Since you’re not an outdoors person,” Mateo said.

Not an outdoors person? Oh—right. Their conversation at the seafood restaurant.

“My grandfather basically implied that I’m useless,” Sadie said.

“He can be tough.”

A clap of thunder made her jump. It was as if the universe were punctuating his observation.

“Yeah. But it’s hard not to respect someone who’s so accomplished.”

“Your grandfather grows excellent grapes,” Mateo said, seeming to choose his words carefully. “But a successful vineyard is not just about growing great grapes. It’s also about growing the right grape for the time.”

“And my grandfather doesn’t?”

“Well, I don’t know if I’d say that,” Mateo said. “After all, you might repeat it.”

Ouch.

He turned to look out the window.

“It looks like the rain is slowing,” he said. Was that Sadie’s cue to leave?

She shouldn’t have opened her big mouth. She always said the wrong thing. Had she been too