Blush - Jamie Brenner Page 0,89

Hollander,” she said.

“You don’t look anything like your mother,” he said.

“Pardon me?”

“Excellent class,” he said. “I’m pleased I was able to make it. I do have one small request: for future events, please consult me first about the cheese and wine selections.”

Leah could not believe what she was hearing. Was this guy for real?

“I hate to break it to you, but I answer to my father, Mr. de Villard.”

“Baron,” he said. “That’s Baron de Villard. And I hate to break it to you, young lady: with the check I’m about to write, your father answers to me.”

Forty-one

Vivian made her way through the crowd, greeting guests and stopping for selfies. Standing in the midst of dozens and dozens of people chatting, drinking, laughing, hearing the sound of corks popping against the backdrop of jazz music, she could almost forget what was happening behind the scenes.

“A little lower so I get you in the frame, Mrs. Hollander,” said a woman adjusting the angle of her phone.

Vivian bent down to get into the shot with a knitting group visiting from Connecticut. Leah had been right to market more aggressively to women on their mailing list, and the outreach to her Bailey’s Blue list had already gotten a twenty-person book club reservation for later in the week.

“Ladies, allow me to help so you can all be in the photo,” a male voice said. A male voice with a French accent.

She whirled around. What was the baron doing there? Leonard hadn’t told her he was coming back today. Was he going to be hovering over their shoulders every minute?

It was hard to believe she had once found him so compelling. Looking back on it, with the superpower of hindsight, she realized that the attraction had been more about what was wrong with herself at the time than what was right about him. Barely out of her teens, she had traded her ornamental existence in Manhattan for the promise of something more meaningful with Leonard on Long Island, only to be relegated to ornament once again. Yes, Leonard asked her opinion about some things and she oversaw a household. But she felt, by her thirties, that he took her for granted. And so, she’d let the immediate gratification of being the focal point of a strange man’s attention distract her from what really mattered. She had thought, over the years, that she could not regret it more. The past couple days had proven her wrong.

Somehow, she forced a smile for the photo. When the baron handed the phone back to the guest, she tried to drift off, but he pulled her aside.

“You’ll have to excuse me,” she said stiffly. “I need to take care of something back at the house.”

“I’ve seen the entire winery, but I’d like to see the house, too. That is part of the deal, is it not?”

Her stomach turned. The thought of him setting foot inside her home was bad enough. But the idea of him taking her home? Unthinkable. But she plastered a fake smile on her face.

“I’m sure Leonard can help you with that,” she said.

“I’m sure you can help me with that,” he said. “You did such an unforgettable job last time I visited. All those years ago, and still I remember it like it was yesterday.”

Was he serious? She glanced around to make sure no one could overhear them and took a few steps away from the crowd.

“That’s inappropriate,” she hissed.

“I’ve never stopped thinking about you,” he said, his hand on her arm. “When I heard that this winery was for sale, it brought back so much unfinished business. And you haven’t changed one bit.”

“Yes,” she said, shaking off his hand, “I have.”

“True,” he acknowledged. “We are both older now. And so why not have some fun? At our age, what does it matter? And I would think you would want to show a little gratitude.”

She pulled away from him and rushed to the nearest door, taking refuge inside the winery. Nervous that he might follow her, she slipped into the oak room to hide among the barrels until she regained her composure. But even there she wasn’t alone: Leah stood in the middle of a row, writing on a notepad. Catching her breath, Vivian said, “What are you doing?”

“Trying to figure something out,” Leah replied. “But I’m glad you’re here. We need to talk.”

“Not now, Leah,” she said, still shaken.

Leah moved closer. Speaking quietly, so quietly that Vivian had to lean forward to hear her, she said,