And Then There Was Her

by Tagan Shepard

  “It’s beautiful here,” Madison said when CS stopped to taste another grape. “The light is incredible. The red grapes have this way of sucking up all the light around them, they’re so dark.”

  “You should see them when they’re ripe.” CS stood and came over to her, standing close enough that Madison could smell her sweat mixed with the herbal haze of the air. “These are pinot noir. By the time we harvest, the skins will be the darkest purple you’ve ever seen. Almost black.”

  There was a far-off misty look in CS’s eyes. Like she was talking about a lover she would never stop aching for. The person Madison found intimidating, cold and unfriendly was nowhere to be seen today. Not on a day when harvest was so near and she could talk about her grapes. It was charming in a misanthropic kind of way. Madison smiled despite herself.

  CS snapped out of her reverie quickly, moving past Madison down the row. She slowed, turning her head to allow Madison to catch up. They walked side by side, not looking at each other but wrapped again in companionable silence. Madison’s fingers itched to move her hands, so she snatched a sprig of lavender from her back pocket and spun it between her fingers. When she looked up she realized they’d arrived at the main building and CS turned to her, hands deep in her pockets and avoiding Madison’s gaze.

  “Have you taken a winery tour yet?”

  The truth seemed like an insult, but she had no choice but to tell it. “No, I haven’t.”

  “Seriously? People pay a lot of money to stay here and do tours. You’ve lived here two months now and you haven’t?”

  “Seven weeks.”

  “Too long.”

  Madison shrugged, but she took a step forward. “I don’t want to bother anyone.”

  CS gestured with a jerk of her head down a path leading behind the building and started to walk that way herself.

  “I’ll give you a special tour. Even include a barrel tasting.”

  Madison held her place for exactly three seconds before hurrying to catch up with CS.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Madison had no idea until today that the entirety of the winery was located down below the hotel and restaurants. Under a small, unobtrusive shelter beside the loading bay was a massive machine that was the first stop for newly harvested grapes. CS glossed over the process of turning the crushed grapes into wine without getting too technical. She took Madison past the fermentation tanks with only the briefest explanation of yeast propagation and sugars converting to alcohol. The tanks were huge, shining aluminum and currently empty, awaiting this year’s harvest.

  The bottling room had boxes of empty bottles stacked in one corner, much smaller boxes full of corks in the other. CS went off on a brief tangent about how she only used natural cork, eschewing the modern trend of plastic corks or, shuddering as she said it, screw tops. Madison chose not to reveal that she preferred the ease of the latter, but something in the glint of CS’s eye said she already knew yet did not judge.

  It was cramped, and Madison’s arm inadvertently brushed against CS’s as they headed for the door. She tried not to linger on the moment, but Madison had not felt so warm all day as she did when CS’s skin brushed against hers. She didn’t seem to be alone. They both froze awkwardly and tried to get the other to pass. CS eventually rushed out the door first, explaining hurriedly that bottling was done off site.

  Madison took a deep breath, forcing herself to listen to the words rather than the hum of her skin. After passing through a room full of empty barrels and an intricate pulley system for lowering them down into the barrel room, they started down the winding stairs.

  The temperature in the barrel room was surprisingly mild. They entered from a spiral staircase set into one corner. It was a long way down—at least two or three flights—and Madison took them slowly.

  “It’s like the warehouse at the end of Indiana Jones,” Madison said as she wandered into the room, waiting for CS to take the lead. “All I can see is racks of barrels to the ceiling.”

  “You won’t find the Ark down here.”

  CS stepped ahead of her at a brisk pace along an obviously well-worn path. Madison had the sense that CS traveled these halls every day. This was her place in every way, and she was quietly proud of it. She didn’t brag about her success, didn’t regale Madison with the winery’s accolades, just explained its workings and the process of making wine.

  “It’s actually kind of warm in here,” Madison said, taking the shawl off her shoulders and folding it over her arm as they turned a corner and went down a new row flanked by barrels on either side. “I thought it would be colder.”

  “We take advantage of geothermal regulation. If you go deep enough underground, there’s a constant temperature year round.”

  Madison looked up as they walked. The barrels were on their side in nothing more than a giant wine rack like the one on her counter at home. They were stacked well over her head, at least six high, with the ceiling a few feet above that. She wondered how deep underground they were.

  CS turned another corner and stopped in a small open space. “The wine needs a consistent temperature as it ages. Most wineries use cellar storage—we just took the concept a little deeper.”

  They stood in a nook flanked on all sides by tall racks of barrels. A single pendulum light lit the bedroom-sized space with a warm, orange glow.

  “May I?”

  CS held out her hand, and Madison wasn’t sure what she wanted. She blinked a couple of times as CS reached for the shawl she had tossed over her arm.

  “Oh. Sure.”

  CS spread the shawl over the top of one of the upright barrels. She patted the top and then turned, busying herself with another barrel. Madison hopped up onto her barrel, the shawl providing a splinter-free seat, and let her legs swing.

  “The barrels here look different.”

  “They are different,” CS said, rummaging in a box of glasses. “This is a special wine I’m making. A winemaker’s blend.”

  CS set a pair of balloon wineglasses on the barrel beside Madison and held up an odd glass instrument. There was a long tube on one end, about the width of a broom handle, that bent and expanded at the other end into a cylindrical bubble. CS set it down next to the glasses and then picked up a rubber mallet.

  “I can only assume you intend to kill me down here, but I don’t think those are the most efficient tools for the job,” Madison teased.

  CS shook her head and gave a wooden plug set in the top of the barrel a sharp upward smack and wiggled the plug out. She gave the plug a sniff and placed it, red-stained side up, on the end of the barrel.

  Picking up the glass instrument, CS tested the weight in her hands. “Definitely not. Besides this was expensive.”

  “What is it?”

  “A barrel thief.” She held her thumb over a small hole on the bulb end and inserted the long straw into the barrel. “It pulls a sample of wine out of the barrel for a tasting.”

  Madison didn’t really hear the explanation. The moment the plug came off the barrel, a familiar smell filled the room. She felt the heat of the summer sun filtering through leaves of thin trees first, then she smelled that heavenly scent. Old books, oranges and sweet black cherries. There was a depth to it that she hadn’t smelled that day, and whether it was the distance the wind carried it or the extra weeks in the barrel, Madison wasn’t sure. There was something new, almost like a fine cigar. Her mouth watered at the combination.

  She craved a taste of that wine. She’d thought about it more than once since that day in the clearing. She leaned precariously forward on the barrel in anticipation.

  CS didn’t notice her excitement. Once she released her thumb, a gush of deep red wine sprang into the bulb and began to slowly fill it. It bubbled thickly in the clear glass. CS didn’t wait for the bulb to fill, but slid her thumb back over the hole and withdrew the straw from the barrel. She pressed the plug back into place before she filled their glasses with a few quick movements.

  “The wi
ne’s not done, you understand. It needs more time to age, but it’s getting close.”

  “How long?”

  CS handed Madison one of the glasses and held the other up to the light, tilting it slightly and swirling it to check the color. She brought it to her nose and breathed deeply, her eyes unfocused.

  “It’s been in the barrel for a year now. I’ve done one mix, but it might require another. Hard to say. It may be another year before it’s ready to bottle.”

  Madison held the glass to her nose—a perfect perfume. She forced herself to wait, not taste it until CS did.

  “That’s a long time.”

  “It’ll be worth the wait,” CS said, her voice silk, her eyes liquid with longing as she stared at her wine.

  “You’re remarkably patient. To have this incredible wine at your fingertips and not drink it too soon. What if something happens and you lose it? That would haunt me. I would definitely not be patient enough.”

  “It’s in my nature to be patient.”

  CS tipped back the glass, sipping delicately. Madison’s anticipation got the better of her and her taste was far less delicate. It felt like heavy cream on her tongue, rolling over her teeth and making her jaw ache pleasantly.

  “My god, it’s even better than I thought it would be.”

  Maybe it was something in the way she said the words that made CS look at her twice. “You knew about my blend?”

  Madison couldn’t look at CS. “In the summer I went for a walk and I saw…I’m sorry, I wasn’t trying to pry. I saw you at a grave in the woods and you were drinking this. I could smell it all the way into the woods. I’m so sorry I intruded.”

  CS was quiet for a long time, holding the glass close to her lips and looking hard at Madison, who failed to avoid her eye. After what felt like hours, she asked, “You could smell the wine that far away?”

  Madison nodded. Another age of silence passed. CS’s eyes burned through her.

  “It’s my father’s grave. He died here on the vineyard because he didn’t want to waste away from cancer in Beverly Hills. He wanted to spend the end of his life here with his daughter and her wine. That’s what he said.” She swirled her glass again, watching the wine spin and dance. “His daughter and her wine.”

  Madison didn’t know what to say. CS took another sip of her wine, and Madison jumped at both the distraction and the opportunity to taste it again. The second taste was even better than the first. Like well-seasoned food, each taste brought a new depth of flavor.

  “This really is amazing, CS. It’s the best wine I’ve ever had. By far.”

  CS tipped her glass back, letting the wine flow past her lips. After a long moment, she looked directly at Madison and said, in a low, even voice, “Almost.”

  A warmth flowed through Madison all the way to the tips of her toes that she told herself firmly was a result of the wine. She sipped, but didn’t look away. The longer she spent with CS, the more compelling Madison found her. Her quiet consistency, the smoky tone of her voice and most of all her eyes. Those eyes that seemed to glow with something Madison couldn’t quite name.

  She forced herself to look away. She pushed her mind out of the dark, recessed corner of the barrel room and up through several floors to the restaurant where her girlfriend was working right now. The girlfriend she loved and had a future with.

  With a lazy smile, CS drained her glass. “Almost ready. Another six months maybe and I’ll do a final mix before bottling.”

  “Do you decide all on your own or is there someone who helps with the blend?”

  “Just my dad. I talk everything over with him. He doesn’t talk back much these days though.” CS stopped to smile again in that crooked way she had. “It’s why I’m such a good conversationalist.”

  Madison slipped down off the barrel. “I shouldn’t have watched that day. Sorry I butted in.”

  “I butted in when you were spending time with your brother.”

  “I’m glad you did. I thought that day would be unbearable, but it wasn’t.”

  “It gets easier.” CS stared at the barrel plug, scratching her chin. She came to a decision and turned back to Madison. “Want another glass?”

  Madison fully intended to decline, but when she opened her mouth, the word that came out was, “Sure.”

  CS drew another glass for each of them from the barrel. She held hers out and Madison clinked her glass against it. The gentle ping of their meeting echoed to the high ceiling.

  “What are we drinking to?”

  “I don’t know,” CS said, leaning back against a barrel with a sigh. “I guess to the important men in our lives. The ones we’ve lost.”

  Madison’s smile was bittersweet, but it was genuine. “I wonder when losing them will stop hurting.”

  “If you find out, let me know.”

  “Here I thought you’d have all the answers.”

  “I am older, I should be wiser. Sorry to disappoint.”

  “You aren’t that much older.”

  “Definitely not that much wiser.”

  Their laughter was soft when it echoed in their glasses. CS started cleaning up. “I’m sorry to keep you from your work. It isn’t very often I have time to give a tour.”

  “I enjoyed it,” Madison said, retrieving her shawl from the barrel. “But I probably should be getting home.”

  CS walked her as far as the exit of the barrel room, but didn’t go back outside. She was quiet again, but Madison was starting to recognize the silence wasn’t because she was unkind. What it was, she couldn’t quite name, since CS seemed to have few problems chatting with the staff. Madison wondered about it all the way home, forcing herself not to think of the brush of CS’s arm against hers in the bottling room.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Two months to the day after moving across the country, Madison and Kacey had their first lazy morning together in their new home. Kacey had been so focused on establishing the restaurant she rarely stayed home this late into the day. They’d woken up late together and lain in bed for almost an hour, sharing their impressions of their new location and making plans for their next day off. Madison wanted to make a special dinner but Kacey wanted to go out—drive into Portland and get away from the winery.

  “I think I’m getting stir crazy,” she said, drawing circles around her bare navel and staring at the ceiling. “I might’ve made a mistake bringing us here.”

  “Not at all,” Madison said, rolling over to pull Kacey close. “This place is wonderful and you finally have the restaurant you deserve.”

  “We don’t have to live here to run the restaurant. Anna lives in Dundee. It’s not that much of a town, but at least it’s a town.”

  “Who’s Anna?”

  “My sous chef.”

  “Right. I forgot.” How could she have forgotten Anna? A lanky brunette Amazon with a killer smile and the knife skills of a Russian assassin. Not exactly a woman one would want working so closely with their girlfriend.

  “There’s a bunch of the staff living in town.” She sounded sheepish rather than her usual cockiness. “We could swing it.”

  They could, of course. They could get a little place with the money Kacey made. Her salary was still good, even without living rent-free. It would be just that, though—little. Supplemented with the modest income from Madison’s pottery sales, their options were limited. Limited to a choice between this beautiful place with room for her studio or a place where she’d have to get a job and a car and wouldn’t have anywhere for her wheel and kiln.

  “We couldn’t really, could we?” Kacey asked.

  Thank god she’d said it, because Madison already felt guilty enough. “But we can make this place work. It’s great and you don’t have to worry about traffic or a long commute. Besides, it’s so beautiful here.”

  Kacey finally tore her eyes off the ceiling, propping herself up on an elbow. “I miss takeout and bars and sexy strangers on the bus.” Her voice had a visceral ache to it that surpris
ed Madison. It had only been two months. “Aren’t you tired of seeing the same people every day?”

  Madison tried to laugh it off, putting on a flirty demeanor and tapping her fingernail against Kacey’s chin. “I can be a sexy stranger for you.”

  A predatory gleam brightened Kacey’s eye and she pounced, covering Madison with kisses and making her giggle. It didn’t last, though. Kacey hopped out of bed, leaving Madison with her lips still puckered and the laughter trickling out of her.

  Heading into the bathroom, Kacey said over her shoulder, “Did I tell you we’re booked solid for a month? We’re starting a wait list for reservations.”

  “That’s great.”

  Kacey continued as though Madison hadn’t said a word. “We were letting the hotel and cottage guests book for the evening they checked in, but we’ve stopped that now. Let them eat at the hotel restaurant. ambrosia’s too good to be a given part of their vacation if they haven’t booked a long time ahead.”

  While Kacey showered, Madison escaped downstairs to cook for them. Apparently she had even less time than she’d thought, because Kacey took her panini to go, having rushed out to work with a joke about leaving before she was roped into doing the dishes.

  Madison considered whether she did miss those things Kacey valued so highly. She had no interest in sexy strangers, on buses or otherwise. Madison liked to cook too much to miss takeout and she had no interest in bars. No, there was nothing about city life that she couldn’t do without if it meant more time with her ceramics and Kacey. That revelation was surprising, given her familiarity with city life. But then, people change and Madison had done her fair share of changing.

  Grabbing a fresh cup of coffee, she headed for the living room, some vague notion of spending time on that glorious deck directing her steps. Her deck, however, was under invasion. Boots smiled at her as he climbed the stairs, giving her a friendly wave. Madison motioned for him to come inside, but he was already opening the front door.