And Then There Was Her

by Tagan Shepard

  “I’ve cooked in restaurants with smaller kitchens than this,” Kacey said, running her hand over the speckled quartz of the countertop. “That’s a commercial-grade stove.”

  Though she had no idea what that meant, Madison knew that smile on her girlfriend’s face, and she was thrilled to see it for the first time today. The move had been stressful for them both, but Kacey tended to bottle her frustrations up, letting them boil over into an explosion before sharing them.

  She turned to Madison now, scratching at the back of her neck and staring at the floor. “I guess I’ve been kind of a bitch today. I’m sorry.”

  When she finally looked up, the gleam in her eye was almost, but not quite, enough to melt Madison completely.

  “Thanks for saying that,” Madison replied, her voice calm but firm. “Your yelling has made it a really tough morning.”

  “Yeah. I know.”

  Kacey’s pout was perfectly calculated to draw Madison across the room. She heeded the call, walking over and wrapping her arms around Kacey’s neck. “Everything’s better when we work together, Kacey.”

  “I know,” she replied, brushing her lips against Madison’s. “Forgive me?”

  Madison couldn’t help but give in. Kacey liked to roar, but she felt bad about her outbursts later. One gentle, feather-light brush of their lips and she answered, “Always.”

  “Good, ’cause this place is great,” Kacey said, bounding back into the kitchen. “I can practice some of my dishes here.”

  “I’d like that,” Madison said, following her as she explored. “We can both play hooky and just hang out together.”

  Kacey rifled through the nearest drawer of utensils. “I think I could get used to having you here, waiting for me to get home every night.”

  “I think I’d like that too,” Madison said, slipping away and heading for the stairs. “Hope you like clay in your spaghetti.” She touched the glossy surface of the paired wooden columns in the living room before looking up. She felt greedy for wishing it, but she hoped their bed was king-sized.

  “Try not to poison me, babe. If I die you can’t stay in these sweet digs.”

  “I’ll keep that in mind,” Madison replied, thoughts of what lay upstairs distracting her. If this was what the main floor had to offer, how opulent must the master suite be? She looked back at Kacey, now completely engrossed in the copper pots and pans. When she found a ceramic Dutch oven tucked into the back corner of the countertop, she whistled and stroked its handle in a decidedly unwholesome way.

  While she’d hoped to explore their new house together, Madison knew there’d be no dragging Kacey away from a well-stocked kitchen. “Have fun with your pans. I’m gonna go start unpacking, okay?”

  “I’ll be up later to help break in our new king-size bed.”

  Chapter Five

  The afternoon melted away in a flurry of unpacking. Madison barely saw Kacey, much less a clock as she floated through her new home, collating what they had and what they would need. Flying in rather than driving meant that they were only able to bring a portion of their belongings with them. The remainder was on a moving truck making its way slowly across the western half of the country.

  Unfortunately, as they discovered after opening one bag after another, their perceived priorities when packing did not match the reality of their needs now they’d arrived. They had filled an entire suitcase with sheets for the wrong size bed, only to find that linens had been provided. When they left Denver, the city was experiencing one of the warmest springs on record, and they packed the clothes they’d been wearing. On top of a mountain in Oregon the temperatures were much milder and the breezes significantly colder. Dressing for dinner, including a long walk home after sunset, was a challenge. Madison ended up turning a large scarf into a makeshift shawl over her short sundress.

  The day got away from them so completely that they only realized it was time to get ready when they should have been on their way. Now they’d be late and their fragile truce was shattered, leaving them sniping at each other all over again.

  Kacey was well ahead of Madison as they hustled along the packed dirt lane leading back to the main drive. Her ballet flats weren’t made for traipsing through a vineyard, whereas Kacey’s khaki slacks and loafers fit the bill perfectly. Madison was just annoyed enough with her to take savage pleasure in the fine layer of reddish dust clinging to her meticulous girlfriend’s loafers. She nearly cried out in relief when she saw a carriage coming up from the main gate, Boots, with a friendly grin, sitting behind the reins.

  There were three other passengers—a middle-aged couple with orange tans that had nothing to do with the sun and a smiling young man Boots introduced as José, The Gatekeeper.

  “Boots likes nicknames,” José explained as the cart lurched into motion again. “No one else calls me The Gatekeeper.”

  Kacey ignored the young man completely, and Madison was in no mood to carry the entire conversation with a trio of strangers. Luck was with her, though, because the couple, Camden and Holly Caster from San Clemente, proved themselves to be conversationalists who preferred an audience to another participant.

  The ride up to the main building was only about ten minutes, sufficient time to learn that the Casters were here because Minerva Hills was the pinnacle of American-made wine. They were staying for the weekend to ensure the new accommodations were adequate to their needs. Their daughter was getting married in the fall and wanted a winery wedding. They didn’t like Napa.

  “They’re all too gauche by half and so proud of their little pedestrian wines,” Holly said with a sneer that made her look like a growling Yorkshire terrier. “Those dreadful little merlots.”

  José laughed along with them. Kacey pretended to understand, but Madison knew only too well how little wine she drank. Vodka was more Kacey’s style, and not even good vodka. Cheap and usually by the gallon.

  The cart pulled to a stop and Boots hopped down, handing the reins to a young woman in a flannel shirt before helping his passengers. Waiting for Kacey to get out of the cart and join her, Madison scanned the horizon. The fading sunset did not give her much more than sharp shadows and a rich orange, evening hue, but it was enough to highlight the sloping hills and distant view of other mountains. She stood at the highest point of the vineyard, and the valley lay at her feet, preparing to sleep.

  “My god, it’s incredible,” Madison said to the footsteps that approached her from behind. “I had no idea it would be so…green.”

  “I take it you’re a city girl.”

  Madison spun, nearly losing her balance. The voice was low, a timbre so deep and rich it reminded her of a loamy soil and thick oak trees with roots that plunged miles deep into the earth. It was too masculine to be feminine and too feminine to be masculine and it stirred something deep in her soul. The voice certainly did not belong to her girlfriend.

  “I’m sorry! I thought you were…”

  Her words stuck in her throat and turned to molasses, coating her vocal cords and paralyzing them. The woman standing in front of her was the perfect embodiment of that fascinating voice. She was tall and powerfully built, but with long, graceful limbs wrapped in the sort of muscle acquired through years of hard work. Her shoulders were square, the shape enhanced by her pale blue button-up shirt tucked inside well-worn but clean slim-waisted blue jeans. The denim stretched tightly across her thighs and fell past the heel of her dusty riding boots.

  As Madison steadied herself and pulled her flimsy shawl back into place, she finally looked into the woman’s face. Her white skin was richly tanned, weathered enough to lend character rather than age. Her cheekbones were high and prominent, with slightly sunken cheeks and a firmly set jaw. She had a straight nose and a small mouth with full lips, the shape incongruent with her unsmiling expression. Her eyes were cold and uninviting, but they were also a luxuriant shade of robin’s-egg blue that drew Madison in and held her in place.

  “CS,” Kacey said, shocking Madison out
of her reverie by walking up and slapping the stranger hard on the shoulder in a fraternity brother sort of way. “Good to see you again.”

  Kacey held out her hand at waist level. CS gave it a long look before wrapping her own, broader hand around it and giving it a shake. She didn’t return Kacey’s smile, but her eyes did soften to something between quartz and granite.

  “How was the move?”

  “It was fine. Just happy to get settled.” Kacey strutted over to drape her arm around Madison’s shoulder. “I see you’ve met my girl.”

  It took a monumental effort for Madison not to roll her eyes. Kacey was something of a social chameleon, adapting her personality to the occasion and the company. It was an excellent trait for a chef who had to schmooze with rich clientele but also befriend dishwashers and busboys. For a girlfriend, it was aggravating at best and infuriating at worst. Madison’s least favorite performances were the ones Kacey delivered around butch women.

  Perhaps it was frustration because her body didn’t match her personality, but Kacey adopted a hyper-butch persona around other butches. The worst possible caricature of masculinity. She slapped backs, made lewd jokes, objectified every woman in sight, especially Madison, and made a complete fool of herself. Any moment now she’d stick her thumbs in her belt and spit.

  “We haven’t been introduced,” she said, holding out her hand to Madison. “CS Freeburn, owner and head winemaker here at Minerva Hills.”

  “Pleasure to meet you.”

  Madison wasn’t sure if those words were strictly accurate. She shook the woman’s hand and looked into her eyes again. They were still as cold as ice, and Madison noted the conspicuous absence of “Welcome” from her few words. She was gorgeous, to be sure, with that strong, graceful body, liquid voice and captivating eyes, but she was intimidating as hell and had all the warmth of a Rocky Mountain snowstorm. Madison released her hand quickly and stepped back as soon as she could without appearing rude herself.

  “Nice place you’ve got here,” Kacey said with a smirk, purposefully brushing her dangling fingertips across Madison’s breast.

  When they all started toward the front door Madison extricated herself from Kacey’s clutch. “Thank you for having us to dinner. I’m not sure we could find so much as a fork in the house right now.”

  “We have family dinner every night.”

  The deadpan response to her attempt at humor confirmed Madison’s suspicions that CS didn’t care much for her. “I hope we aren’t intruding on your family. If it’s an imposition…”

  “That’s not the type of family she means.” Kacey gave her new boss a pitying look. Turning back to Madison, she explained in a way that could not have been more condescending if it came with a pat on the top of her head. “Family meal is served to the staff before a restaurant opens.”

  CS held the front door open for Madison. Except for the barrels, bottles, and wine-themed art, the room could have been the lobby for any upscale hotel in the world. Sconces lined the walls, lighting the room with a warm, candle-like glow. A grand fireplace sat in the center of the room, wrapped in the same stone that faced the chimney in their cottage. It was more a fire pit with a hood than a traditional fireplace, and guests dotted the circular bench surrounding it, the firelight sparkling off their wineglasses.

  “It’s more than that for us,” CS said, circling the fireplace while avoiding both the front desk and the door to the wine shop. “Most of the winery employees live on the property. We serve three staff meals a day.”

  “Your employees live here?”

  CS stopped and turned to Madison, her eyes darkening at the question. “Does that surprise you? You live here.”

  Madison’s throat was as dry as sand. “I’m not an employee.”

  CS’s gaze flicked momentarily to Kacey before settling back on her. “You’re family.”

  Madison couldn’t think of a response but fortunately she didn’t have to. They continued through the lobby, dotted with guests, each dressed more fashionably than the last. The more she scanned the crowd, the more self-conscious Madison became. Their clothing would put even Jada to shame, and here Madison was in a department store sundress and ten-dollar shoes. She felt like she was attending a gallery opening, but dressed to work in her studio.

  “You won’t be in charge of family meal,” CS said to Kacey. “Your specialty restaurant is separate from the one that serves the hotel and grounds.”

  Madison noticed how many eyes in the room followed them, lingering on CS. The women, even some clinging to their husbands’ arms, watched her like lionesses eying a wounded antelope. The men seemed oblivious to the lustful energy that had filled the room with CS’s entrance.

  “Good. Family meal is a great tradition, but I need to focus on my menu.”

  CS pointed out the glass doors of the tasting room, which was packed with a press of bodies and noise. The number of guests was surprising, given that José told them tours ended at five. After barely more than a glance to see the crowd was similar in makeup to the one in the lobby, older and wealthier than Madison was used to, they moved on. Madison heard snippets of conversation between the other two women, but it was about the restaurant and didn’t concern her. She knew she was being a bad guest when she should be charming and interesting for Kacey’s new coworkers. Madison had recently found herself more comfortable in the quiet, away from crowds and social situations. Especially when booze was involved.

  Madison’s life had once centered around going out and having a good time. So much of it a blur of loud, thumping music and lukewarm liquor. Casual flings until her last fling had turned into something substantial. That person, the one she had been for so long, didn’t feel like her anymore. More like an old school friend with whom you lose touch for years until you run into them at the grocery store and can’t quite remember. Madison what’s-her-name from homeroom.

  She swallowed hard, trying to shake herself out of the spiral into which she was descending. She had to be social tonight. Kacey needed her to be charming and chat with everyone. She took a deep breath and cleared her throat quietly, testing her vocal chords. CS snagged a ring of keys from her pocket, unlocking a frosted-glass door bearing a closed sign. She held it open for Madison, giving her the chance to test her smile. CS did not return it. Maybe it looked as forced as it felt.

  “The hotel and cottages are open year round,” CS was saying as she led Kacey through the room. “Though we’re certainly busiest during the warmer months of the growing season. The hotel restaurant is nothing too fancy, just meant to serve the overnight guests but open to the public. It’s open every day, three meals a day. Tasting room, winery tours, and gift shop are closed on Mondays. Kacey’s specialty restaurant will be more exclusive.”

  Family dinner was a boisterous affair, and Madison was thrilled that those around the table showed a genuine interest in making her feel welcome. They were down-to-earth and friendly, just like family. Even with all the inside jokes and teasing banter, Madison felt comfortable from the outset.

  When they walked in, they were met with a roar of applause from the gathered crew. Clearly they’d been expected and the staff was eager to meet the new chef. After a subdued introduction from CS, the ranks broke and they all descended on Kacey, the new employee and celebrity. Apparently the restaurant staff had watched every new episode of Top Chef in the dining room after dinner service, so when CS announced she’d hired Kacey, she became the big news on the estate. They’d brought the vineyard staff up to date by rewatching the whole season on Sunday nights.

  “It should have been Carter who went home instead of you,” a young Latinx woman with a prominent undercut in her raven hair said to Kacey. “That was totally unfair.”

  “Thanks,” Kacey replied, beaming. “He’s a great chef, though, and I was just happy to have a chance to show my food to the world.”

  That was her standard answer and she got to give it several times more during the evening. Everyone who met Kacey these da
ys told her the same thing. It wasn’t precisely a compliment, but, when it became clear how many fans she had out there, Kacey had embraced the role of victim-of-circumstance. She hoped it would lead to another call when they decided to do an all-star season.

  Madison was left to the side and that suited her just fine. She hung back, sipping her glass of water and listening to the praise Kacey was receiving.

  “Okay everyone, let’s sit down to eat.”

  CS had a way of talking in clipped, declarative sentences like she was barking rather than speaking. She was clearly the matriarch of this manufactured family. They followed her direction, seating themselves neatly around the table, but not with the urgency Madison expected. They didn’t see the directive as an order, despite CS’s brusqueness. Few people spoke to CS as she passed through the crowd toward the head of the table, but they didn’t avoid her, just gave her space. Madison found it charming, the way they all understood each other.

  The meal was served buffet-style, with platters of pasta, salad, vegetables, and chicken lined up on the bar, a stack of plates at one end and rolled silverware at the other. Boots went through first, dragging Madison and Kacey behind him. Everyone else meandered through in their own time, CS taking her plate last after a heavyset man wearing a chef’s coat and, incredibly, an eye patch. Boots directed them to sit at one end of the long dining table. He took the seat opposite Madison, the Latinx woman slid in across from Kacey and started quizzing her on Top Chef’s intimidating judge, Tom Colicchio.

  Boots immediately started eating, his plate piled high with fettuccine Alfredo and grilled chicken. Watching Kacey interact comfortably with most of the table, Madison picked at her food.

  “The food’s not up to your standard,” CS said, dropping into the chair at the head of the table on Madison’s other side. “Roger cooks family meal, but he’s just a hotel chef, nothing of your caliber.”