“To warn you off her man?” Annie completed the question. “Yes, I believe she did.” With a laugh, she added, “I love how you told her off—how you were damn well going to go to that Greenpeace march with Jake.”
“I don’t even know what came out of my mouth.”
“I always knew that girl was crazy.” Annie shook her head. “Now, how far do you think we go with the kids’ snacks?” she asked, refocusing them on the menu.
Though discussing cheese sticks and squeezable Go-Gurts, Lila’s thoughts remained where they seemed to have taken up stubborn lodging over the past few days: trying to make sense of Vanessa’s visit. Annie seemed content to simply laugh it off, seeing it as evidence of Vanessa’s pure insanity. As any comic book could tell you, one of the pitfalls of getting wrapped up in a megalomaniac plot to take over the world is you run the risk of paranoia leading you to perceive enemies in the most unlikely and impossible places.
Though Lila had had fun laughing at it all, she wasn’t able to dismiss it with such ease. Bits of Vanessa’s accusations kept at it in her head like an overplayed song on the radio. What did Vanessa mean that she kept hearing Lila’s name at all the wrong times? What kind of choices was Jake making that Vanessa seemed to credit to Lila? Was it possible that Lila had actually said something to Jake he’d remembered and referenced, even felt guided by? All she could seem to remember were a string of pratfalls and hideous moments involving props like red licorice hanging out of her mouth and peaches strewn across the road.
“Morning you two.” Marion poked her head into the store for her daily briefing. Well past the elbow grease phase of her life, she’d informed Annie and Lila that she just wanted updates on the progress of the remodel.
Not ten minutes had elapsed after Marion left before Zoe stopped by. “See, we’re already becoming the place to hang out,” Annie declared.
“Were you with Big Bob again this morning?” Lila asked. Zoe wore black stretchy yoga pants and a zip-up hoodie over a fitted tank top, but as that was pretty much her daily uniform it didn’t necessarily mean she’d dressed for work.
“Every morning this week,” Zoe confirmed. “He’s so committed. Can you believe this guy, with all his world travels and foie gras and God knows what else, he’d never had raw pumpkin seeds until this morning?” Taking a small, metal container out of her pocket and unscrewing the top, she set out the pumpkin seeds on the counter as a snack. Taking a handful, Lila found them a little chewy. “He wants me to be his personal health coach.”
“Wow,” Lila said, enjoying Zoe’s proud glow but wondering exactly what that entailed. “So you’re…”
“Finding him a vegan chef,” Zoe ticked the task off on her finger. “Then seeing about turning his study into a center for meditation, yoga and massage.”
“That sounds nice,” Lila agreed.
“It’s so perfect.” Zoe, as was frequently the case, fairly sparked with animation and enthusiasm. “This morning a chickadee on a bare branch outside the window broke into song exactly when we were done chanting.”
Lila listened as Zoe continued to describe the moment of harmony with spirit and nature and wondered if she needed to warn her about Vanessa. Zoe seemed like a much more dangerous influence on the family business than Lila could ever hope to be.
“So, their assistant winemaker is this great guy,” Zoe continued. “Liver energy’s a little blocked so he’s considering a detox. But anyway he told me there’s a big civil war going on at the vineyard over Jake becoming CEO.”
“So we’ve heard,” Annie agreed.
“I guess Jake wants to stop spraying,” Zoe told them proudly.
“Spaying has got to stop,” Godfrey agreed, suddenly on the scene. “Especially if you’re talking strays. And don’t even get me started about the roving medical vans that drive around and pick up dogs. I should know,” he added with a shudder. “When did Jake pick up the cause?” he asked Zoe.
As Zoe and Godfrey continued their conversation, animated and in sync over entirely different subjects, Lila looked at the clock and realized it was nearly lunch time. Standing, she headed over toward the kitchen to heat up some soup, guessing that was why Godfrey had stopped by.
Back in a minute with a heated Tupperware container, Zoe caught sight of the food and exclaimed, “That’s right! I need to head to the market!” Gathering up her shoulder bag, she explained, “I’m in charge of the vegan apps for the Christmas party and I need to make sure I have enough seitan. That stuff goes like hotcakes and Andy doesn’t always keep enough in stock.” Wondering what market Zoe shopped at where the seitan went like hotcakes, Lila bid her goodbye and handed Godfrey his stew.
With a nod of acceptance, he said, “I’m in charge of special effects.”
“For the party?”
“The holiday party,” Godfrey confirmed.
“Does anyone else know this, Godfrey?” Lila asked suspiciously.
“It’s a surprise,” he agreed, and then startled her by asking, “Were you talking about Jake Endicott when I walked in?”
“Um, I think we all were.”
“Has he declared himself yet?”
“Declared…?”
“You know…” Godfrey arched an eyebrow and gave her a knowing look which Lila still didn’t quite know how to interpret.
“I haven’t heard from him, if that’s what you mean,” Lila offered.
Walking toward the door, Godfrey assured her, “He’ll be back. It’s not over. It’s like Chekov said…” Turning toward her in the doorway, Godfrey looked back and quoted: ‘If you introduce a gun in act one, it had better go off in act three.’”
* * *
Taking two parkas and sliding a numbered cardboard square across the counter, Lila turned behind her into the Community Center office-turned-coatroom for the holiday party. She was on coat check duty for the first hour, her contribution in addition to the jam squares, which had turned out pretty nicely if she did say so herself, and it afforded her a good opportunity to check out who all was turning out and what all they were wearing.
Zoe had been successful in persuading Lila on the retro dressing front—in part. After she’d opened her magic closet to reveal at least a dozen fabulous vintage dresses ranging from flapper to mod, Lila had fallen rapidly and deeply in love with a pale pink Jackie-O sleeveless A-line. In a thick satin, it was classically simple, adorned by only a small bow at the high waist. With a set of pearls and some silver peep-toe heels, Lila felt like a princess.
The beehives hadn’t been too hard to talk Zoe out of; a mention of aerosol and the environment and Zoe’s guilt had kicked in hard. As a result, they went to the party with long and loose curls, which suited them both. And Zoe still managed to look fabulous in a 1950s lemon chiffon strapless prom dress.
It was only 6:30pm, but they already had a great turnout. Scheduled to go until 11, Lila had heard from Annie that the event was a three-parter. First part: babies and seniors. Next: the hardworking people of Redwood Cove let loose. Then, most years, the evening apparently continued on afterhours as well, transitioning to Ted’s with things growing steadily more questionable and raunchy in what Annie described as “a SketchFest.”
For now, however, Lila was enjoying seeing her storytime regulars all decked out in their finest. So far, she’d coat-checked fairy wings, a Thomas the Tank Engine raincoat, and an unwieldy skunk costume that had gone from must-have to get-it-off-me-now in the car ride over.
Emma Endicott had arrived with her parents, Oliver and Ashley. Neither parent had registered so much as a flicker of recognition, but the sight of Lila had sparked an epic Want Mr. Meows Right Now tantrum in Emma. Only the fervent promise of cookies and cake just inside the next room had resolved it.
Try as she might to pretend she wasn’t, Lila was on the lookout for the taller, darker haired Endicott brother. If Jake had not only made it to the town’s Fourth of July parade but driven a truck bearing a middle school band brutally massacring Purple Haze,
he seemed likely to make it to the far less taxing town holiday party. Then again, he could be traveling. He could just be too busy.
Or he could be walking in that very moment in a slightly rumpled and soft looking chocolaty brown sweater and cords. Hand up messing with the back of his hair in a gesture she now felt she knew well—could be thinking, could be a little nervous or uncomfortable about something—he approached the coat check.
“Now don’t lose the scarf,” an older woman was instructing Lila. “It’s handmade.”
“I’ll wrap it double.” Lila reassured her, taking a hanger and winding the scarf around three times just to be sure.
“They’ve put you to work, I see,” Jake observed, looking in at the racks of coats.
“Yeah, just for an hour.” Lila hung up the jacket in what might or might not have been the correct location with hands she wished hadn’t started shaking slightly.
“Lots of coats back there.” He continued to look back into the room and decidedly not at Lila.
“There’s a whole bunch,” Lila agreed, joining him in looking at them all. After several seconds yawned and stretched their way awkwardly along, she cleared her throat and asked, “Would you like to check your coat?”
He had no coat, she realized as she looked toward though not directly at him and caught sight once again of the inviting chocolate sweater.
“I guess I’m not wearing a coat.” Jake looked down as if just realizing it himself. “Probably should have.”
“Lots of people are wearing them tonight,” Lila agreed, then lapsed again into the tight confines of complete silence.
“All right then.” Jake rapped the counter with his knuckles, making an overly loud noise that startled them both. “Don’t work too hard with all those.” He gestured in behind Lila and made his way into the main room.
Turning around, Lila took a few moments to straighten already straightened coats and shift around hangers that were perfectly fine where they already were. This would not do. She was going to take some deep breaths, regain her composure, and act like a normal person having a normal time at a casual town get-together. Nothing to get worked up over. And she was sure that given a nice glass of punch—preferably spiked—and some hors d’oeuvres—could she find a few that had some kick to them? Maybe some liquor-filled chocolates?—she’d be just fine in no time.
Once her coat check stint had elapsed, Lila had no more than a few seconds upon entering the main room of the barn to take in the scene before Charlotte’s chubby, sticky hand wrapped itself firmly around Auntie Lila’s and began marching her around the room to explore. Most decorations were provided courtesy of Redwood Cove’s elementary school students, past and present. The paper mache Santa was lilting to the side, but his wire-sculpted reindeer looked more than up to the task of pulling the sleigh up into the sky.
The swing band began its first set, slender and dapper frontman Fred Trumbull in a pale blue tuxedo. With enough gray hair left to wax into a pompadour, he would have made quite a pair with Zoe in her lemon chiffon. Pete’s friend had done a great job stringing up lights; the rafters glittered with tiny white points. Folding tables lined an entire wall bearing home baked goodies.
At the start of a sassy swing rendition of “Santa Claus is Coming to Town,” Lila drew Charlotte up into her arms and took her onto the dancefloor for a spin. Her presence once again caused some problems as Emma—taken out for a spin of her own by her Uncle Jake— spotted her. When Jake drew near, quite possibly attempting another hello, Emma asked loudly “Where Mr. Meows?” Thankfully, the band swelled into a crescendo and Jake was able to whisk her away and divert her remarkably persistent demands.
Charlotte safely deposited back with her parents, who were about to baton pass with Grandma to safely deposit her back home in bed, Lila made her way over to the food. She helped herself to some of that punch. By the edge of thick, velvet curtain of the community center’s stage Lila thought she spotted Godfrey, all in black as usual. He scuttled out of sight before she could be sure.
“Not working coats anymore?” Jake came up next to her, holding a clear plastic punch cup of his own.
“They let me out,” Lila agreed, taking a sip of hers.
“Looked like you had a lot of them.”
“Yeah.” After a pause, she added, “Because it’s cold outside.”
Messing with the back of his hair, Jake murmured, “I can’t stop talking about coats.”
“I think I just brought up the weather,” Lila offered.
With a smile into his punch cup, Jake asked, “So, how are you?”
“Good. Busy.” Taking a deep breath and marshalling the bravery required to actually talk about something, Lila continued, “I’ve been working on that store you guys were going to buy but then decided not to.”
“Right.” Jake nodded and helped himself to a Santa-shaped Christmas cookie from one of the many plates of food.
“What happened? Why did you change your mind? Did you break the lease or did your dad?” Once started down the road of real conversation, Lila found herself unbridled and racing with questions.
“Yeah, about that…” Jake took a bite of his cookie and Santa lost his head.
“You told me your dad was set on it and then—”
Shaking his head, Jake insisted, “You had all those good plans you’d been working on for the café. And my dad had plans to… become the gourmet Nestle.”
“The gourmet Nestle?”
“Things were getting kind-of crazy with him.” Cupping his hands as if holding up a giant watermelon, Jake added, “Grandiose.”
“Really?”
“He was pretty much starting to talk world domination.”
“Wow.”
“Yup.”
“So you pulled out of the lease?”
“I’ve been pulling back on a lot of fronts lately.” With a laugh, he added, “It’s really pissing people off.”
Still confused, Lila decided to try straightforward once again. “Did you decide it wasn’t a good business idea to expand into the store?”
“That’s part of it.” Shifting weight onto his other foot, Jake still wasn’t doing a great job of meeting her eye. “Things have been pretty crazy lately. I’ve been wanting to—”
A sixty-something silver-haired woman sashayed toward Jake in bright purple slacks, a large holiday wreath pin twinkling on her lavender sweater. “Where have you been hiding yourself Dr. Endicott?” she asked with coy flirtatiousness that would have rivaled Scarlett O’Hara. “You and I have a date with that dance floor.”
“Doctor?” Lila murmured to Jake.
“I’m not a doctor,” Jake confirmed.
“Take me out for a dance, young man,” the woman insisted, giving Jake a wink. Lila swore if she had a fan she would have batted him on the shoulder with it as she declared, “My, you did turn out handsome.”
“Thank you Mrs. Crockett,” Jake answered, suddenly ten years old. Turning to Lila he whispered, “Was a good friend of my mother’s,” then dutifully took the woman’s hand and led her out to the dance floor.
Watching them out dancing to “That’s Why the Lady is a Tramp”, Lila noted that Mrs. Crockett appeared to be singing every word of the song to Jake. With gusto. To his credit, he spun her around as if nothing were out of the ordinary, even when she kept insisting on dips.
When the next song began and Mrs. Crockett showed no sign of letting go, Lila decided to head to the Take Your Photo With Santa corner. Looking more like a dimly-lit grotto than Santa’s workshop, she found the line had dissipated. She sat right down on Santa’s lap and told him she’d been a good girl. When Santa’s arm snaked around her waist and he lurched in close with that gigantic white beard to ask her if she’d be at Ted’s later, she realized it was Trucker Tom. The complimentary photo of her leaping off of his lap as if on fire was surely going to be a keeper.
Over at the punch bowl once again, Jake made his way over to her side. “Sorry about that,�
� he began. “Mrs. Crockett’s an old family friend.”
“That’s OK, Dr. Endicott.”
“Yeah,” Jake acknowledged the title. “I can’t tell if she really thinks I’m a doctor or if…”
“She’s just flirting with you?”
Jake shook his head. With a look bordering on grim determination, he began, “So, I’ve been wanting to talk to you. There’s been a lot going on. I’m in charge now. I’m CEO.” Breaking off the start of Lila’s congratulations, he continued, “Because my Dad had a heart attack. It was mild, but...” Jake shook his head, looking down at his shoes. “Anyway, he’s doing a lot better. And it turns out it was this huge wake-up call for him. He’s done this 180 turn-around. It’s…I’ve never seen anything like it. He’s gone from Donald Trump to Ghandi.”
Picturing Big Bob draped in a white cloth and advocating nonviolence, Lila asked, “That’s good, right?”
“Yeah.” Jake exhaled. “It’s good, it’s just a lot of…adjustment.”
“And it must have been pretty scary.”
“Oh yeah,” Jake said, as if the words were a tremendous understatement.
“Were you able to find a second in the middle of it all to just sit and have a cup of tea and some Bundt cake?” Immediately feeling foolish, Lila amended her image, “or a glass of wine, I guess?”
“Bunny cake?” He bent down slightly as if not hearing correctly.
“No, Bundt cake. You know, the round kind with the hole in the middle?” Lila made a circle with her fingers.
“No, I haven’t tried it.” Jake looked along the long food display. Pointing to the other end, he asked, “Is it down there?”
“No, I brought it by your house. Week before last.”
“You brought a cake by my house?” Jake leaned down a bit again, as if closer proximity might help him make sense of it.
“Vanessa and Ashley were there. They took it for me.”
Tilting his head back, Jake closed his eyes for a moment as if putting it all together. Looking back at Lila, he explained, “I never got that cake.”
Christmas in Wine Country Page 29
