Before stepping down off the porch, CS said, “It’s ready.”
Jada was talking, but all Madison could do was nod along. She didn’t register the offer to set up the lease and arrange for movers to come. She registered the fact that CS had brought this bottle to her. She hadn’t taken it to the grave in the woods to share with her father, she’d brought it here, to Madison. She hadn’t brought glasses. Was it because she knew they wouldn’t be drinking it together?
Jada was still talking when Madison went inside. Her friend followed as she deposited the wine in a cabinet over the stove, not wanting to share it and not ready to drink it. She floated toward her studio, trailing Jada behind like her personal storm cloud.
Somehow she knew what she would find when she opened the kiln. She could tell herself that she had rushed everything, tried to do too much with this pot too fast. The crack probably formed during the bisque fire, but just didn’t grow to something catastrophic until the stress of the glaze. No matter what the science of the thing, fate split the vase, Madison knew that more certainly than she knew anything.
She didn’t pick up the pieces of the pot. Didn’t touch the smooth edges of the crack running from one of the spouts down to the base and opening a yawning ravine through the center of the vessel. She just closed the top of the kiln gently and finally gave Jada her full attention.
In less than an hour, Jada was on the phone with her client friend about his apartment. Madison had managed to pack a few clothes in a bag, but she felt like a puppet on a string. Sure, leaving was the right thing to do, but that didn’t make it easy. She didn’t know how long she’d been sitting on the end of her bed when Boots appeared in the doorway.
“Heard you needed some help packing up after all.”
Madison didn’t reply, just pulled her knees up to her chest and hugged them hard. Boots sat down beside her, the mattress sagged under the new weight and Madison lost her balance, tipping toward him. She didn’t catch herself, just let her head fall against his shoulder. He put an arm around her and Madison felt a sharp, deep ache of grief for Robert. Right now she missed having a big brother more than anything in the world.
“We’re all gonna miss you around here. CS most of all. You gotta do you though.”
Apropos to nothing, Madison asked, “Boots, why didn’t you give CS a nickname?”
“What you see is what you get with CS. She doesn’t need a nickname. Nothing describes her better than her own name.”
Madison started to cry again. She didn’t want to. It felt like all she did was cry these days, but, much like the days when she was grieving for Robert, she couldn’t come up with a good reason to feel hope.
Boots was kind enough to stay with her until her tears stopped. He even handed her a tissue from the box on the dresser when she was done, but he didn’t sit back down after. When she looked up, it was to see him backing toward the door, his hands in his pockets and a look of extreme discomfort on his face.
“You take care of yourself, Madison.”
“I’m Madison again, huh? What happened to Denver?”
He looked over his shoulder to answer in one of his rare serious moments. “Denver’s where you’re from, but it’s not who you are. Not anymore.”
Chapter Forty-two
CS spent most of the night behind the bar. The other winemakers were broken up into their usual groups. Henry and Lisa were chatting with some of the younger crowd, supportive and attentive as always. The “parents” of the group. Laura stood very close to the newest member, a woman as butch as CS but a good decade younger. She’d come to Minerva Hills when she started her winery, and it had been immediately clear to CS the new woman would be a good fit for her ex. Based on the way Laura leaned close, caught by every word she said, CS was right. Apparently they were both destined to fall for younger women. Hopefully Laura’s new romance would go better than CS’s.
There she was again, back in the gloomy mood that sent her behind the bar in the first place. Whenever she thought she would be okay, she thought of Madison again and lost interest in socializing. It didn’t matter that she’d encouraged Madison to go. It didn’t matter that she’d known from the start it would end like this one day. It didn’t matter that she knew it was the right thing for Madison’s career. The pain of this loss was harder to bear than anything she’d known. Emptiness seeped into her bones.
Drack laughed and smacked Laura hard on the back, earning a scowl but also, CS could barely believe her eyes, a blush. The moment he was gone, she turned her attention back to the new girl with a look that CS vaguely remembered from many years ago. Now she’d have to go and learn the new girl’s name.
Drack was making his way in her direction, and CS took it as a cue to leave. She hustled toward the door, avoiding the eyes on her. Her reputation for surliness was enough to explain her early departure from her own party. Just as she reached the door, Boots walked through it, his expression telling CS all she needed to know. She considered walking past him, too, without a word, but she needed to hear that it was over.
“Stiletto just left.”
“I take it you mean Mrs. Welch?”
He nodded, staring at his boots. She asked the question, but she didn’t trust herself with too many words. “Madison?”
“Yeah.”
There it was, stated in CS’s own style—a few words loaded with regret. He didn’t wait for her reply. What could she have said anyway? He briefly laid one broad palm on her shoulder, then slipped past her into the party. She wanted to walk through the door, escape into the night and make it home before the weight of her solitude overcame her, but she wasn’t quite fast enough.
“I thought you’d picked a smart one this time,” Laura said, her perfume arriving a step or two before her words. “But it’s clear you still have a thing for stupid, selfish women.”
CS managed a smile, but the reflection of it in the glass door was bitter and hard. “I have a thing for women who don’t let me get in the way of their dreams.”
“Like I said.” Laura slipped an arm around CS’s elbow. “Stupid women. Let me walk you home.”
She didn’t wait for CS to agree, just steered her forward through the deserted lobby and into the night. They were past the rows of chardonnay, close to the pinot noir when Laura spoke again, “You know, CS, the strong and silent thing is hot and all, but it only goes so far.”
The light shining over the stable door came into view, beckoning to her bed and the chance to forget this day.
Laura continued, “If you’re not careful you’ll spend so much time fighting for everyone else’s happiness that you’ll forget to fight for your own.”
“Yeah, well, old habits.” CS stopped by her door, trying to come up with a polite way to ask Laura to leave.
Laura leaned over and kissed her cheek, chuckling softly at the way CS’s body tensed at her touch. She turned and walked into the night, saying over her shoulder, “Time to kick those old habits.”
* * *
When the moving company arrived a week later, CS made herself busy in the vines. Boots found her testing the soil pH on the farthest reaches of the vineyard.
“The movers are at Cottage One,” he said, allowing her the pretense that she didn’t know. “They need you over there to sign the paperwork.”
“Can’t you take care of it?”
“Nope.”
She scowled up at him. “I’m your boss, Boots.”
He snatched the meter out of her hand, replacing it with Violet’s reins. “You sure are.”
She took the scenic route out of spite. She didn’t want to watch men cart away the contents of her daydreams. They could put the final touches on her broken heart all on their own and wait for her to come around and sign the paperwork. It wasn’t a long enough trip, though, and they were carrying out the last of the boxes when she arrived.
“We’ll be out of your way soon,” the mover said, handing her a clipboard. While she signed it she noticed the box
he held was labeled with Kacey’s name and an address in Los Angeles. Apparently she’d finally contacted Madison for her things.
Considering that she’d furnished the cottage herself, it shouldn’t have shocked CS how full it still looked. If she hadn’t seen the boxes, she wouldn’t have guessed this place was uninhabited. She wandered around the living room, remembering dinners and late-night kisses on the couch. She dug her hands into her pockets, trying to forget the feel of Madison’s lips. The room still smelled like her—the sharp tang of minerals from her clay and the rich caramel of her shampoo.
The vine sculpture hung over the fireplace, its brittle arms twisting around themselves. Just like the first time she’d seen it, CS marveled at its simplicity. She remembered the conversation they’d had about it just before they ran off into the woods during a thunderstorm.
CS heard footsteps behind her and cleared her throat, hoping it would help clear her mind before she talked to the movers again. “I’m surprised she didn’t ask you guys to take the crown-of-thorns sculpture.”
“It was never a crown of thorns to me.” Madison’s voice rang out clear and sweet. “It was always a bird’s nest.”
CS turned to make sure she was really there and not just a dream. She’d had more than one moment in the last week when she thought she’d spotted a flash of Madison down a deserted row. Their eyes met and the whole world fell away. The cart pulling away outside and the sun shining through the windows blurred into nothing. All she could see was Madison, the light in her eyes and her wide smile. She looked lighter; happier in some way that CS had never quite seen in her. She was happy and that made CS unbearably sad.
“Hello, Madison,” she said and, when she felt like she had to say more, she brought up the most obvious change. “You got a haircut.”
She reached up and touched her hair. It was certainly different. Instead of the flowing red locks that reached just below her shoulders, her hair was curled and styled in a loose pixie cut. The shorter style accentuated the length of her face and the width of her eyes, two of CS’s favorite features on her favorite face.
“Yeah, well, there are a few more stylists in Denver than at Minerva Hills.”
CS let her forced smile fade away. “You look good.”
Madison took a step forward and there was a confidence to her movements. “I feel good.”
It was the purposeful stride as much as the words that formed the lump in CS’s throat. “Then you made the right decision.”
“Yes. I did.”
She stopped at arm’s length from CS and held out her hand. As much as she wished Madison wanted to take her hand, CS knew it wasn’t true. She tore her eyes from Madison’s and looked down at the plain silver key Madison held out to her. CS took it, the metal still warm from Madison’s skin.
“I didn’t think you had a key to this place.”
“I don’t. That’s a key to my new Denver studio.”
CS laughed to cover her groan. She held the key back out to Madison. “I don’t get to Colorado much.”
“Neither will I. The bedroom’s tiny and the studio isn’t half as nice as the one I used to have,” she said, turning her back on the key and walking into the kitchen. “If you keep the key it’ll keep me from hiding it whenever I have to go back.”
CS stood there, her arm outstretched to no one. “I don’t understand.”
Madison rummaged around in a cabinet. “Jada’s right. I have to be more accessible sometimes. Her client is actually a nice guy and he throws a hell of a party. I’ve sold a dozen amphora this week. Paid for this trip and the one next spring.”
When Madison set two wineglasses on the counter and opened another cabinet, CS finally let her arm drop. “Next spring. Meaning…”
“Meaning I have to go occasionally but I’m not going to live there.”
She straightened, holding the bottle of CS’s special blend. The cork was still securely in place. The wine in it untouched since she’d delivered it to Madison last week.
“You’re not living there?”
Madison set down the bottle, turning her attention fully to CS with a distinctly business-like air. “And I’m not living over a stable. The horses are wonderful, but they’re loud and I don’t want my clothes to smell like a barn.”
“Okay,” CS managed to choke the word out through her constricted throat.
“I want to stay in this cottage. I like my studio and it has a better view.”
CS made her way into the kitchen. “I like your bathroom better anyway.”
Madison finally looked at her and CS reached out her hand to rest on the counter. She hoped it looked casual and not like she needed the furniture to support her wobbly knees.
“I’m getting a car. There’s a place in Portland that sells better clay than the stuff I get delivered.” She took a deep breath. CS heard the air whistle past her perfect lips. “And I need to start going to openings. Visit galleries. Make rich friends.”
“An SUV might be better if you’re going to be picking up clay. There’s a dealership over in Newberg.”
Madison focused again on the bottle, going to work on the cork. “You have to start waking me up before you leave. I hate waking up alone.”
“I’m up too early for…”
Madison silenced her with a palm in the air. After CS was quiet, Madison poked her in the chest to emphasize each word. “Every. Single. Morning.”
Mostly it was the thought that Madison expected to wake up next to her every single morning that made her head spin and her throat close again. She managed a nod, but her mind slipped into thoughts of Madison’s body pressed against her, still and perfectly peaceful in sleep.
Madison’s poking finger relaxed after securing agreement. She spread out her hand, pressing the palm flat against CS’s chest. She stared at her fingers there, examining the way her hand looked against the fabric of CS’s shirt.
CS found her voice at last. “So…you’re staying?”
The cork released with a subdued pop. Madison poured out two good-sized glasses, twisting the bottle as she finished pouring the way CS had shown her. She handed one of the glasses to CS.
“I’m staying.”
Madison swirled the glass, watching the liquid’s shifting color within and waiting for the legs to dance all the way down the globe before lifting the glass to her nose. CS, for her part, struggled to collect enough oxygen from air that seemed exponentially thicker than it had been a few seconds ago. Madison smiled and opened her eyes slowly, tilting the glass to her lips.
CS’s voice was a hoarse whisper. “Why?”
Madison pushed up onto her toes and kissed CS. She could taste her masterpiece blend on Madison’s lips and tongue. Oranges, black cherries, and old books, but now with a hint of lavender right on the end.
“Because everything I want is here.”
Bella Books, Inc.
Women. Books. Even Better Together.
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Table of Contents
Synopsis
Praise for Tagan Shepard
About the Author
Other Bella Books by Tagan Shepard
Acknowledgments
Dedication
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-one
Chapter Twenty-two
Chapter
Twenty-three
Chapter Twenty-four
Chapter Twenty-five
Chapter Twenty-six
Chapter Twenty-seven
Chapter Twenty-eight
Chapter Twenty-nine
Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty-one
Chapter Thirty-two
Chapter Thirty-three
Chapter Thirty-four
Chapter Thirty-five
Chapter Thirty-six
Chapter Thirty-seven
Chapter Thirty-eight
Chapter Thirty-nine
Chapter Forty
Chapter Forty-one
Chapter Forty-two
And Then There Was Her Page 29
