Blush - Jamie Brenner Page 0,53

honest? Was there such a thing as too honest? Oh, relationships—even just casual interpersonal dynamics—were exhausting. This was why she was better off just reading or writing. Even if lately, the only thing she was managing to read were selections from her grandmother’s trashy book club.

* * *

Now Leah needed to find a bookstore. The night before, somewhere between talking to her mother and talking to Javier, she’d misplaced her copy of Chances.

“Are you sure you haven’t seen it?” she asked Vivian at breakfast.

“No,” her mother said.

Leah drove to town, fully aware there wasn’t a bookstore on Love Lane. There was, however, a great cheese shop.

The Village Cheese Shop was usually one of Leah’s first stops on the North Fork. This summer, she’d gotten distracted. But the cloudy day and her missing book inspired a visit.

Vivian had bemoaned the shop’s opening. “You’ve lost your chance!” For years, she’d been hinting that Leah should expand Bailey’s Blue to the North Fork. Leah knew it wasn’t so much a business suggestion as it was her mother’s way of saying that she missed her.

The shop was so spacious, it made Bailey’s Blue look like a closet. It had cheerful yellow walls, a black-and-white-checked floor, and a dine-in café. She walked the length of the display case and spotted a gorgeous wheel of English Wensleydale, heavily marbled with cranberry. It looked like a cake. She would bring some back to the house.

Before she could place an order, her phone rang with a call from Steven. She’d left him a message earlier; he was expecting her home the next day. After her conversation with Javier the night before, that simply wasn’t possible. She dreaded telling Steven, but the longer she waited, the worse the conversation would be.

“Hey,” she said, walking over to a display of Harney & Sons tea. “How’s it going there?”

“Busy,” he said. “I’m managing, but I miss you.”

He missed her. That was a good sign. He wasn’t still upset with her for staying behind. But that didn’t mean he was going to be thrilled with what she had to say next.

“I miss you, too,” she said, swallowing hard. “The thing is, I can’t come home yet.” Silence. She picked up a tin of peppermint herbal, then put it back. “Steven?”

“Why not?” he said, his voice tight.

“It’s just . . . the implications of the sale are really hitting everyone. I’m worried about Javier, Peternelle . . . I can’t leave in good conscience until I’m sure I’ve tried everything I can to maybe stop the sale. Or at least make sure that our people are taken care of if it does happen.”

She heard the buzz of Bailey’s Blue customers in the background and the distinct screeching sound the front door to the shop made when it swelled with the humidity.

“I can’t talk about this now,” he said, before ending the call.

Leah stood staring at the phone for a few seconds before slowly making her way through the other shoppers and back outside. When she pulled out her keys to unlock the car, her hand was shaking.

Steven didn’t understand why she was getting involved. Was she being ridiculous? What was she doing?

She was halfway back to the winery before she remembered she’d forgotten all about the English Wensleydale.

Twenty-six

The rain left the vineyard smelling fresh and alive. If Vivian ever lost sight of what they were doing there—growing fruit, creating life—the calm after a storm always reminded her.

Vivian pulled on her mud boots and walked through the rows of Syrah. She still took pleasure in the blooming vines. There was no amount of external stress that could diminish that for her. She especially loved seeing the red varietals, the Syrah and Merlot, when they were little green berries. It felt like glimpsing a secret of nature. It amazed her how many people didn’t know that red grapes always started out green. Living at a winery, she found that the world of nature was like a second language she’d needed to learn. And then, once understood—never mastered—making a living off the land felt like belonging to a private club. After that first vintage, she never saw the world the same again.

Her phone rang. She sighed, missing the days when a walk in the fields meant she was unreachable. She should have left the damn thing back in the room.

“This is Vivian,” she said. The incoming number was from the winery landline.

“It’s me,” Leonard said. “Can you bring a stack of invoices from my desk to