Blush - Jamie Brenner Page 0,32

hate Lili. And each of them is astonished to see the others; for they are old friends who first met in school, old friends who share a guilty secret—old friends whose lives are changed when Lili confronts them and asks: “Which one of you bitches is my mother?”

Oh, you have got to be kidding me, Sadie thought. This was what her regal, high-bred grandmother and her friends had been reading? Total trash. Probably not worth the paper it was printed on.

She wondered if it would fit in her messenger bag.

Sixteen

Vivian paced the bedroom, walking back and forth in front of an antique Georgian mahogany sideboard covered with framed family photos. She felt the eyes of her children following her as she contemplated the end of the wine dynasty she had once imagined for them.

An offer to buy Hollander Estates. As if there was any price that would be worth giving up her home. And yet, because of the amount of money the winery was losing, the offer wouldn’t even be enough to buy a more modest house. It was a failure on a magnitude Vivian never imagined.

She heard the bedroom door click open.

“Vivian,” Leonard said. “You’ve been hiding in here all day.”

“I’m not hiding! I’m thinking,” she said.

“Well, it’s dinnertime,” he said. “Everyone’s going to be at the table in twenty minutes.”

“How can you expect me to eat at a time like this?”

All her energy was going to her racing mind. Could she have done something to prevent this? Why had she let Leonard handle everything?

Because she’d always believed in him.

Oh, there had been moments of doubt. Cutchogue in 1970 had not been a welcoming place; eighty miles from Manhattan, it might as well have been on Mars. The town had a population of just under three thousand. There was a small stretch of stores, including a post office, a pharmacy, and a tiny grocery store.

Leonard’s father, taking pity on the dreamy newlyweds who had bitten off more than they could chew, flew out to help with the pruning to make sure they struck the balance of not too much, not too little.

Their first crop was the summer of 1971. How had they succeeded where so many others failed? A trial-and-error system of grafting, weeding out the weakest vines before planting, and expert pruning. Though there were ordinances against women running a vineyard, winemaking was, at its heart, farming. And there were no laws against women working in the fields. From day one, Vivian helped hand-hoe the vines and pick the first harvest.

They worked outdoors year-round. One winter brought three-foot snowdrifts into the vineyard and they had to literally roll themselves from plant to plant. In the summer, they were dodging lightning and thunder. It became so dangerous that Vivian begged Leonard to ask his parents for money so they could afford to install lightning rods. That was the one and only time he accepted financial help from his father.

August brought the birds, a menace attracted by the increase in sugar in the crops. They required a netting system: more money.

In 1976, Hurricane Belle destroyed their 1974 crop, and that was another tough recovery.

Labor, cash infusion, labor, cash infusion. And so it went until, like a child on a bike with training wheels, one day, the winery took off.

She never imagined it hitting a wall like this.

“You can’t stay up here and miss dinner,” Leonard said.

That was true. No matter how much she was hurting, no matter how afraid she felt, she couldn’t let it show. It was the only thing she could control. Keeping up appearances was her superpower.

* * *

Leah was under the covers by nine. It was barely dark out. Still, Steven followed her lead, turning off the TV and then the bedroom light. He knew she was upset and put his arm around her.

“Your parents will figure it out,” Steven said. “Don’t worry about them so much.”

He kissed her. She kissed him back in an “okay, goodnight” sort of way, but then he kissed her neck. She was surprised by the overture and willed herself to go with it even though she wasn’t in the mood. She pressed her body against his, hoping to feel something catch inside of herself. When she didn’t, she told herself just to do what she would do if she had felt something. She reached down and began stroking him over his boxer shorts and immediately realized that although she wasn’t feeling anything, he certainly was. She should have been happy