And Then There Was Her

by Tagan Shepard

  Madison had never been to a winery before and she had no idea what to expect. Wine had never really been her thing. She drank it, of course, but she didn’t know good wine from bad. Liquor had always been more up her alley, and even then she went for what she could afford rather than what tasted good. After the first drink, it didn’t really matter, and there had always been many more after the first one. At least that was how she used to live her life. If this is what they looked like from afar, Madison knew living on a winery would be like a dream.

  “Thank the fucking Lord.”

  Kacey’s shout cut through the pleasant lull into which Madison had fallen. The tractor was pulling off onto a side road, and Kacey swerved around the tail end of it, gunning the engine and causing the SUV to hitch and nearly stall out.

  “Kacey, calm down!”

  Madison grabbed the handle over the door, her heart pounding. Kacey did not slow down, she took a wide curve far too fast, nearly fading off into the ditch before catching the angle and blasting out onto a straightaway.

  “Seriously, please slow down.” Still she ignored Madison’s pleas. “You’re scaring me!”

  Perhaps it was the palpable fear in her voice that caught Kacey’s attention. She backed off the gas, but only barely. They still rocketed down the scenic mountain road much faster than advisable. Kacey didn’t apologize or even look over, but she reached out and put a hand on Madison’s knee. The gesture felt more possessive than apologetic.

  The robotic, British-accented voice of their GPS announced that their turn was in half a mile. Kacey slowed the car in anticipation. She looked around at the mountains and hills. Far from the awe that Madison felt when looking at them, Kacey sneered in disgust at the green hills and wide, blue sky.

  Madison was a city girl, growing up in Denver and only leaving it for graduate school and the occasional weekend in Vegas. Kacey had spent most of her youth in Oakland with her mother, moving to San Diego with her father at the age of fifteen. She constantly criticized Colorado as the backwoods, even when they were in Denver, so this was going to be a massive change for her. When Madison started looking into their new home with some basic Internet research, she was surprised that Kacey had taken the job. Although, when Madison saw the contract and the salary, things came into slightly better focus.

  A massive stone-and-brick sign appeared on the left side of the road, announcing the entrance to Minerva Hills Winery. The turnoff was only paved for a few feet, then changed to gravel. When she didn’t adjust her speed accordingly, Kacey bounced the car and spun the tires, kicking up stones behind them.

  “Damn country bullshit,” she barked, finally slowing and scanning the lot. “How are we supposed to get in?”

  The gravel road let off immediately into a massive parking lot, full of cars of every make and model. There had to be at least a hundred vehicles lined up here even though the vineyard was nowhere in sight.

  “Head toward the gate.”

  Madison indicated the tall brick pillars with a wrought-iron spiked fence between. They stretched into the trees on one side, and off to a slope in the land to the other, ending only when the precipitous angle of the ground made the barrier unnecessary. Madison studied the structure as they grew closer. It was grand in a breathtaking sense. The brick pillars were capped with creamy beige stone and vessels like the Roman amphorae she adored. They were spaced every five or six feet, gradually increasing in height, with an undulating wave of metal fencing between. Now that they were closer, Madison saw the vineyards beyond and, with an artist’s eye, noticed the sloping curve of the fence and the parallel lines of each spike mimicking the rolling hills behind them. The central pillars abandoned the graceful increase in favor of a dramatic explosion of height.

  Those pillars were easily twenty feet high and the gate between them was the same fence of wrought iron. Set into the massive gate was a pair of smaller, door-sized gates. Each had a flat metal decoration set in the center, an ancient Greek battle helm with a flat nose piece and oval eye slits inside a flaring, bullet-shaped helmet that, Madison knew from her brief time on the winery’s website, was the company’s logo.

  “How the hell am I supposed to get in?” Kacey barked, throwing the car into park in front of the gates and leaping out. “Who’s gonna open the damn gates?”

  Madison sighed, unbuckling her seat belt and steeling herself for the inevitable renewed anger. She got out of the car and joined Kacey.

  “The gates don’t open,” Madison said, indicating the two doors in the fence that were the only openings. “The winery doesn’t allow cars onto the property.”

  “What?”

  Madison winced at the shrill scream, her headache throbbing. “They don’t want car exhaust around the grapes. It’s supposed to be this whole clean air thing. The grapes are alive and they don’t want to poison the air they breathe.”

  “How can they possibly run a business like that?”

  Madison pointed up the packed dirt path on the other side of the gates. A horse-drawn carriage with polished painted wooden seats and high sides crested the hill and rattled toward them.

  “Horses.”

  “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.”

  Madison turned to her, annoyance beginning to seep into her own voice to match Kacey’s. “How could you not know that? Didn’t you learn anything about this place? We’re going to be living here.”

  Kacey turned on her, eyes full of withering disapproval. “All I needed to know was that I had free rein with my restaurant, a huge salary, and a free place for you to live and make your pottery.”

  The rebuke was well-aimed, if ungraciously expressed, and Madison dropped her eyes to the gravel. She looked up when she heard the bell-like chime of the horses’ approach. They were beautiful animals, one with a milk-chocolate coat and a bright white slash down its nose and the other pure, unblemished black.

  The cart made a wide circle on the other side of the gate, the horses facing back toward the vineyard and coming to a stop after a gentle command from the driver. He jumped down and tied the reins to a hitching post near a small gatehouse, then went to the back of the carriage to help the passengers down.

  “I didn’t realize it applied to people who live and work here as well as the guests,” Madison admitted.

  Kacey accepted her admission with less grace than Madison had hoped. “Apparently it applies to everyone.”

  The carriage driver opened the door in the gates, letting out a flow of happy guests. Madison watched him as he ushered everyone through with a charming smile and an occasional handshake. He was devilishly charming and the female guests, especially the older ones, lingered over their goodbyes. Kacey rolled her eyes and crossed her arms over her chest, but Madison couldn’t help but smile as she watched him.

  He was younger than them, probably around twenty-five, but he had a jovial, boyish face that made him look like a teenager. He wore a dingy cowboy hat, which, paired with his red-brown skin and short, raven-black hair, made him look like a ranch hand in some cheesy chick flick. It was obvious from the way he applied his charm liberally and indiscriminately that this was an image cultivated purposefully.

  When all the departing guests had spread themselves out through the parking lot, he turned to Madison. “You must be our new chef.”

  “Actually,” Kacey said, pushing herself straight and putting on her own thick layer of charm. “That would be me. Kacey Willis.”

  He shook her proffered hand but turned immediately back to Madison. “So then you’re the artist girlfriend?”

  “Yeah.” She smiled and shrugged, trying not to let Kacey’s grumpiness dim the pride she felt in that job title. His hand nearly swallowed hers when she shook it, but was softer than she expected. “Madison Jones.”

  “CS said you’d be here today. We expected you earlier. Was your flight delayed?”

  “We’ve had every delay there is.” Madison laughed. “What’s CS?”

  “Who’s CS is the que
stion,” he replied. “She’s the owner and winemaker here at Minerva Hills. Sorry, I thought you’d met her.”

  “I did. Madison didn’t get the chance.” Kacey growled, forcing herself back into the conversation. “So how do we move in if there’s no way to get to our cottage?”

  “I’ll take you and your things in the carriage. We take all deliveries here at the gate and lug them inside. How do you think I got so strong and manly?”

  “Steroids, I expect.”

  He laughed at Kacey’s joke, but Madison cut her an admonishing glance since she suspected it wasn’t that much of a joke.

  “My name’s Javier Escobado. People around here just call me Boots. Pleasure to meet you both and welcome to Minerva Hills.”

  Kacey did not return his smile as she asked, “Why do they call you Boots?”

  With her back turned, Kacey didn’t notice the glimmer of mischief in his eye, but Madison did. She hid her smile as he said, “That’s pretty obvious, isn’t it?”

  “No,” Kacey snarled.

  With that, he disappeared around the back of their car, pulling open the trunk and grabbing a pair of bags in his large hands. Kacey scowled at him, her anger not dissipating.

  For Madison’s part, she laughed at his odd humor and puckish demeanor. It seemed obvious he was teasing Kacey, and she thought quite well of him for it. Her girlfriend had a habit of bullying people, both in the kitchen and in life, and Madison appreciated anyone who wouldn’t let her get away with it. She decided on the spot that she was going to like Boots.

  “Hey,” he said, ducking back around the side of the SUV, handling his burden as if it weighed nothing. “I tell ya what. When you figure it out I’ll give you a nickname too. Anyone ever give you a nickname before, Kacey?”

  Kacey yanked a suitcase from the trunk, struggling under its weight. The venom was still present in her voice when she answered, “Not if they intend to live through the conversation.”

  Boots winked at Madison as he passed. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

  They finished loading the assorted suitcases onto the cart and Boots pointed Kacey in the direction of the gatehouse where someone would call the rental agency to arrange collection of the car. While they waited for Kacey, Boots told her about the pair of vehicles the winery kept at the gate in case the workers needed to go into town.

  Boots busied himself with the horses and securing their cargo, so Madison looked around her new home. A sharp incline blocked nearly everything from view, but she did see that grapevines, bright green with new leaves and neatly twisted around wooden trellises, ran all the way up to the gate. There was even a short row running parallel to the fencing. Whoever this CS was, she didn’t waste a single inch of space.

  Kacey came striding back through the gate, giving the carriage a curled-lipped glare of disapproval. Once she was inside and seated next to Madison, Boots came around and closed the door, latching it on the outside. She’d been right when she noticed the carriages were more than just your standard hayride fare. They sat on polished, cherry-stained seats that could have accommodated twenty people. The sides of the carriage were tall, the smooth top brushing against Madison’s shoulder blades, and providing a surprisingly comfortable backrest. Their luggage fit neatly into the open space at their feet, but Madison assumed there must be a more utilitarian cart for deliveries of goods rather than people.

  “How the hell am I supposed to get fresh ingredients like this?”

  Boots shouted an answer to Kacey’s rhetorical question over his shoulder as he drove. “We get deliveries several times a day. Most of our produce comes from local farms and they deliver it right to us. The cottages are supplied with groceries weekly. Just send a list down to the gatehouse and we’ll hook you up.”

  Kacey shrugged, acquiescing without returning his smile. “That’s good at least.”

  They turned off onto a side track on the right. It was narrower than the main road and sloped down, the rising vines blocking the view of the rest of the grounds.

  Madison leaned close, speaking low so only Kacey could hear. “Would you relax? We’re here now. This is going to be great.”

  She didn’t say anything to agree, but at least she didn’t rant and rave, so there was improvement. Instead, Kacey grunted and slipped her hand into Madison’s, entwining their fingers as she looked at their new home with an expression somewhere between a scowl and a grin.

  Chapter Four

  If someone had asked Madison what her ideal home looked like, she would be hard-pressed to describe anything more perfect than the cottage she stood before now. Cozy and modern blended perfectly. It was full of dramatic touches, from the extreme A-frame angle of the roof to the front wall made entirely of windows stretching from the deck to the highest pitch of the roof. When Boots pulled up to the building and stopped, hopping down to unlatch the carriage’s gate and allow them out, Madison couldn’t help but wonder if he was just teasing them. Like maybe there were servants quarters around back for them.

  “Welcome home, ladies,” Boots said, grabbing three of their bags and marching off with them toward the door. “Cottage One is all yours.”

  Kacey looked over the house and gave an impressed nod before jumping down and following him with the smallest of their suitcases. Madison stayed in her seat, wanting to take in her fill of the place before going in. Something told her the interior would be even more breathtaking.

  Coming up the drive, the road had swung around subtly to the front of the cottage, which faced away from the vineyard’s main gate. The view was down a rolling hill of grapes, with only one building visible at the bottom of the hill. From the stacks of hay outside and the barn doors visible against the gray stone, she assumed it was the stables. Even that utilitarian structure was beautiful, tall and wide with graceful lines like a Swiss chateau.

  Jumping down from the carriage at last, Madison turned her attention back to the house, noticing more gems. To the far left of the wall of windows was an outdoor fireplace, sharing the chimney with the matching fireplace inside. The deck was massive, stained a deep, rich redwood with a waist-high railing and dotted here and there with chaise longues covered in thick cushions.

  Madison trailed her fingertips along the railing until it stopped abruptly at pillars holding up the roof. It sloped down to cover the entrance, a wonderfully carved mahogany door that looked like it might have been snatched from some ancient, torch-lit monastery. She grabbed the last suitcase and hurried to the door. Boots offered to take it from her, but she refused.

  “In that case, I’ll let you two settle in.” Kacey came out and joined her on the porch, a lazy smile replacing the scowl she’d worn all day. “CS wants you to join the gang for dinner up at the main house.”

  Before he could elaborate, Madison piped up, “Of course, Kacey will be there. I’ll get us settled in.”

  “I meant that for both of you actually.”

  “Of course you’ll come,” Kacey said, wrapping an arm around Madison’s waist but keeping a wary eye on Boots.

  Boots grinned and pushed his hat far enough back for a shock of dark hair and a razor sharp tan line to show on his forehead. “CS specifically included you in the invitation.”

  Madison blushed and looked away. “In that case…”

  “Dinner’s at five. Nothing fancy, just everyone getting off work. You can call the gatehouse for a ride or walk if you want.” Boots turned and indicated the main road. “It isn’t far. Just go back to the main road and turn right, away from the gate. You can’t miss the main building. It’s the winery, hotel, and restaurant so it’s kinda big. Right at the top of the hill.”

  He gave a flippant sort of wave that was also a tip of his hat and rode off, the jangle of harness and cart wheels filling the afternoon air.

  “What an ass.”

  Madison rubbed her girlfriend’s arm in what she hoped felt calming rather condescending and said, “I kinda like him.”

  “That’s ’cause he was flir
ting with you.”

  “He was not flirting with me. You’re just mad ’cause he didn’t flirt with you.”

  Kacey crossed her arms and stuck out her bottom lip in an exaggerated pout. “Why didn’t he? I’m super hot.”

  “You are super hot.” Madison stood on tiptoe to kiss her cheek. “But you’re taken, so who cares?”

  “Come on inside,” she replied, taking the suitcase from Madison’s hands. “It’s fucking unreal.”

  Unreal was an understatement, even with the qualifier. Madison fell in love with the place before she even closed the door behind her.

  “Oh my god. Kacey…”

  “I know right? You should see upstairs. The whole thing is our bedroom and this massive loft. The bedroom alone’s bigger than our place in Denver.”

  Madison took slow, searching steps across the honey-blond hardwood, as though the house were a skittish cat she might scare away if she moved too quickly. Her eyes traveled first to the wall of windows, even more impressive on this side. Exposed beams stained the same color as the deck lined the vaulted ceiling. The interior fireplace had a floating shelf of weathered wood as a mantel and stone facing on the chimney extending to the roof.

  She slid into the living room, which took up the majority of the first floor. In front of the fireplace was a small dining area with a simple, round table with seating for four. Beyond that was the kitchen with a full, L-shaped counter and a raised snack bar and high barstools that wrapped around kitchen. The kitchen was spacious, with a white subway-tile floor and a massive window over the sink. The view was dominated by towering boxwoods marking the property line.