by Violet Paige
I pushed back from his solid chest. Damn, he was like a wall of steel. “What are you doing here?” I asked. “It’s so good to see you.”
He returned to the booth. It bounced under his heavy body.
“In town for my father’s will reading.”
“Oh, I’m so sorry.” I placed a hand on his shoulder.
The glimmer in his eyes wasn’t as bright. “Thanks.”
“I heard he passed. It was sudden, wasn’t it?”
Jeremy nodded. “Sudden as a heart attack.”
“I truly am sorry. But, it’s nice to have you in Newton Hills. It’s been a long time.”
“I appreciate that, Evie. I’m headed out on a red eye. Thought I’d have a few drinks.”
“Oh, of course.” I fumbled with my pen. “What can I bring you?”
He pointed to the last bottle of red on the wine list. “This one looks good.”
I raised my eyebrows. “The Malbec?” It was a heavy wine for the middle of the day. And it was our most expensive bottle. It was the one only ordered on anniversaries or elaborate wedding proposals. I was sure wherever those bottles were, they were dusty.
“For starters.”
“Ok. I’ll be right back with a bottle and a glass for you.”
I turned from the corner booth and met Cal at the side of the bar. “I need a bottle of Malbec. Is there one here or are they all in the cellar?”
“Your father won’t let me keep that up here.”
I already knew the answer. I sighed. “All right. I’ll get it.”
Cal was pushing seventy-five. He had a bad knee, and navigating the cellar stairs wasn’t easy for him anymore.
I flipped the switch for the cellar light and jogged downstairs in search of the bottle for Jeremy Hartwell.
It was strange he was at Bella’s. He had been the town’s most successful and famous product. Newton Hills’ golden boy. He had everything. Money. Wealthy family business. Killer smile. A delicious body. A full baseball scholarship, and then a contract for the major leagues. I’d never thought about how many years it had been until he mentioned it. Did twelve years really go by that quickly?
I peeked around the corner and realized I had left the light on in my office. Office was a generous term. My dad let me claim a corner spot in the cellar. I had hung a few heavy draperies from the wooden beams overhead to section it off for privacy. There was enough space for a small couch I hauled down the stairs, a writing desk, an old lamp, and my laptop. It was my escape spot in between shifts and sometimes after work when the restaurant was quiet.
I found the bottle of red and wiped it clean with my apron before running back to the bar.
Cal eyed me. “You know this is a special bottle.”
“Just please open it for me.” I smiled. “We have a special customer. That’s Jeremy Hartwell over there.”
I didn’t feel like I could keep Jeremy waiting. I looked at him over my shoulder. He was scrolling through his phone.
“Here you go, sugar.” Cal placed the bottle and a glass on a tray for me.
“Thank you.” I grinned at the bald bartender.
Jeremy barely glanced up when I poured the deep rich wine. “Do you want anything else? Maybe some appetizers? Or a salad?”
He shook his head. His blue eyes were dark enough to be mistaken for black diamonds.
“I just want to drink, Evie.”
“All right. Let me know if you need something.”
I turned from the booth.
Three
Jeremy
It was smooth. Maybe the smoothest wine I had ever tasted. But like any alcohol, by the time I was on my fourth glass, I couldn’t tell you if I was drinking nectar or tequila. My tongue was numb and I was sufficiently buzzed. It was good shit.
I turned my phone to silent. I’d declined all incoming calls, including several from my mother. As far as she knew I had left town and wouldn’t return for another twelve years. I certainly wasn’t returning with the wife I had been tasked to knock up.
I huffed. It was fucking insane. A nightmare.
She had always been complicit in my father’s wishes. She had stood by his side no matter what the deal. What the contract. Even demanding control of his only son’s life. I wasn’t answering her calls. She might as well be as dead as my father.
The restaurant was busier now. I wasn’t the only customer. Evie had a few other tables. I watched her from the corner.
We didn’t run in the same circles in high school. She was a nice girl. The kind who didn’t have a reputation. Good for her. She stayed out of trouble. As I watched her work, I couldn’t say I remembered her being this pretty back then.
Her auburn hair was pulled back. And even that tiny waitress apron couldn’t disguise the amazing body she had. I took another gulp of wine. Yeah, Evie Rossi was a late bloomer, and hell she was one incredible looking flower now.
I straightened up and tried to appear slightly less drunk when she walked over. She checked on my table every few minutes.
“Are you sure you don’t want to order dinner? You have to be hungry. I could at least bring you a basket of bread straight from the oven. What’s better than hot bread on a snowy afternoon?” she asked.
“If you’re worried I’m taking one of your tables for the night, I promise I’ll tip well. More than all the other tips. I swear.” Fuck. Was I already slurring my words? This wine was knocking me on my ass. The Italians knew what they were doing with this bottle.
She shook her head. “No. Jeremy, I would never even say that. You’re a friend. You can stay as long as you want. I just know how hard that wine can hit without some food in your stomach.”
“Am I?”
“Hmm?”
“A friend? You called me a friend. Were we friends in high school? Really, friends?”
She tilted her head to the side. “We graduated from NH High together. Of course you’re a friend. We were in Mrs. Wratchet’s AP English together. Remember how she always talked about her cat?” Evie laughed. “And the crazy cat lady is still teaching. Can you believe that?”
“Still teaching? What is she a hundred by now?”
“I think so.” Evie grinned. “Can I please bring you something to eat?”
I sighed. “All right.” There was something in her eyes. I didn’t think it was pity. It was something sweet. Something in the eyes of a good girl. A look I hadn’t seen from a woman in a long time.
I didn’t want anything to kill the buzz, but I could always order another bottle of wine before heading to the airport. I still had six hours to go. Six hours to keep my mind off that shitstorm of a meeting in the attorney’s office.
“What do you recommend?” I eyed her. Damn. She had beautiful long lashes.
“Leo’s specialty is the chicken parm. He made it from scratch for the dinner service.”
“I think I heard something about that.” I leaned back. “I’ll take an order.” I looked at the bottle in front of me. There was half a glass left if I was lucky. “And another bottle of Malbec. The same one.”
Her lashes blinked in disbelief. “Another bottle?”
“Maybe you could join me,” I offered. “Sit and have a glass with me. Like the old times we never had.” I chuckled.
“I still have two tables, but thanks. I’ll be right back. I’ll put that order in for you.”
I watched her walk away. Her curvy hips swayed as she made a B-line for the bar. It didn’t make any sense, but there was nothing I wanted more in this moment than for Evie to sit and drink a glass of wine with me. Maybe two.
Catch up with an old friend. Pretend my entire upbringing wasn’t rooted in evil and greed. For one night, let a sweet girl talk and smile and pretend life wasn’t fucked up. Let her make me believe I grew up in a town with good people. A town where being the son of Eric Hartwell wasn’t something I was ashamed of. I didn’t know it before, but Evie seemed like the kind of girl that could create a new reality in the dark world I liv
ed in.
I looked at my watch and then the tables. The only tables left were hers.
Evie disappeared through a door behind the bar. I assumed it was the wine cellar. I doubted they kept a high-dollar bottle of red behind the register. I had a few minutes to clear the restaurant. I staggered to the first table.
“Hey folks. Enjoying your dinner?” I asked.
The older couple looked up from their plates of spaghetti. “We are. You?”
“Waiting on the chicken parm,” I explained. “It’s snowing pretty hard out there.”
“Oh, I have good snow chains, son. The snow doesn’t bother us. We live up the mountain. We’re a couple ole’ seasoned snow birds.” He chuckled.
I nodded, reaching for my wallet. “Would this help you buy some for next season?” I placed the hundred dollar bills next to his silverware.
He looked up. “What’s this about?”
“I like to eat alone.” I smiled. “Why don’t you ask your waitress to box up your dinner? This should take care of your meal and your time.”
His wife looked more confused than he was. “You want us to leave?”
“Yes. But I think that’s fair compensation.” It was four hundred dollars. What more did they want? I had basically paid for a lifetime of meals at Bella’s if they wanted. I didn’t care how they spent the money, as long as they gave me what I wanted—the restaurant to myself.
“Albert, we could use the money,” she whispered.
It only took another second before Albert collected the cash, grabbed his wife’s hand, and strolled out of Bella’s.
I was ready to make the same offer to the next table, but they were already paying their tab. I walked back to the booth and waited for Evie to return.
She had the bottle of wine in one hand and closed the door behind her. She looked out at the empty tables.
I shrugged. “I guess they wanted to make it out before the snow got too bad.”
She frowned. “I guess so.”
“So, what about that glass of wine now?”
The bartender had wiped down the bar and was counting the register. There was a busboy sweeping at the opposite end of the restaurant.
“I-I still have to shut down.”
I grabbed her by the wrist. She looked at me.
“Come on, one glass with an old friend?” I cocked my eyebrow. “I’m going to be on a plane soon and who knows when I’ll be back in Newton Hills. If ever, really.”
I saw the grin spread on her face. “All right. How can I say no to Jeremy Hartwell?”
I lifted my empty glass in the air. “I don’t think you can.”
Four
Evie
When did I ever do anything like this? Rarely.
A glass of wine after work with the hottest guy this town had ever seen? Never.
I told Cal I would close the front of the restaurant. He looked more relieved to finish work early and less worried about my well-being. Leo was already gone and the dishwasher had mopped the floor. Bella’s was empty except for Jeremy and me. The old bartender locked us inside.
I sat across from Jeremy. He poured a generous glass of wine, sloshing the sides of the glass. I felt guilty drinking it, but damn if it didn’t taste smooth and sweet.
The snow was still steady. It made it seem warmer inside with the red glow of the candle flickering in the center of our table. It could have also been the wine warming my body.
Jeremy grinned. “You know, I almost went straight to the airport. I’m glad I didn’t.”
“So, what happened today? You said it was the reading of your father’s will?”
His brow furrowed. “I would have done it on a conference call if I could have. The attorney said I had to be here in person.”
“I take it, it wasn’t good news.” I couldn’t fathom what happened in that reading.
Eric Hartwell was the richest man in town. Arguably, one of the wealthiest men in the state. He owned fleets of gas and oil transportation trucks. Not to mention, he started a gas station empire. The first one was right here in town, but the company spread like wildfire. Pretty soon he had stores all over the country.
Jeremy was his only son. It would make sense if he left the estate and a majority of the money to Mrs. Hartwell, but I couldn’t believe Jeremy was penniless. But something had happened.
“No, Evie. It wasn’t good news.” He sighed and chugged the wine.
“I’m sorry. Whatever it was.” There was silence between us. I finished off my glass faster than I intended.
I watched as Jeremy refilled it.
“Enough about me. Tell me something about you,” he prodded.
“Like what?”
“I don’t know. Like what are you doing working in your parents’ restaurant? Didn’t you go to that liberal arts school?” His smile was contagious and I didn’t take the question as an insult. He had easy charm. It just flowed through him as easily as inhaling and exhaling air.
“How do you remember that?”
“We didn’t run in the same circles, but it’s a small town. I think I could tell you where everyone went to college. Or didn’t,” he added.
“Really. I want to test that elephant brain of yours then.”
He chuckled. “Go for it. It’s a steel trap up here.” He pointed to his temple.
“Katy Godwin?”
“Notre Dame.”
I pinched my eyes together. “Seth Congers?”
“State.”
I crossed my arms, determined to stump him. “Avery Preston?”
He bit his lip. “Oh, yeah. She didn’t graduate.”
“Blaine Scott?”
His eyes narrowed. “There was no one in our class named Blaine. Trick question?”
I giggled. “Damn it. You are good.”
He waggled his eyebrows. “So back to you and the liberal arts school.”
“Right. I graduated with a degree in creative writing and a minor in film.”
“Film? Like what? You wanted to write scripts? Screenplays?” He pulled off the end of a loaf of bread. He offered a piece to me.
I took it, knowing I needed something to soak up this alcohol. I was working on an empty stomach. I had planned to eat after my shift. Leo usually left a plate for me in the oven. He was grumpy, but there was a soft side to him.
“Screenplays mostly.”
“So what happened?” He seemed as eager to finish the loaf of bread as I was.
“Let’s see. My mom had breast cancer, so my short stint in Hollywood was just that. I left and came home to help my dad run Bella’s.”
“Oh shit, Evie. I had no idea. Damn. That’s a hell of a thing to go through.”
“It’s ok. She’s ok. She had a complete recovery and is cancer-free.” I smiled. It was a miracle we still didn’t take for granted.
He nodded. “That’s good to hear.”
“The plan was to move back to California, but then my sister Frannie met Marcus.”
“Huh? Who is Marcus?” He was even gorgeous chewing a huge chunk of Italian bread. He dipped it in olive oil before shoving another slice in his mouth. Bella’s bread was as coveted as the chicken parm.
“He moved here from Montreal after you left. Dr. Marcus, the town’s new pediatrician. Anyway, they got engaged. That meant Frannie needed help planning the wedding. So I said I’d stay another six months instead of flying back and forth from California. All the travel seemed expensive. She wanted everything: the engagement party, showers, luncheons. And it had to be with the entire family. We have a huge family. I knew she needed my help since my mom was still recovering, so I didn’t have much choice.”
“I remember your sister. She graduated ahead of us, right?”
I nodded. “Yeah, she was a senior when we were freshmen.”
“Thought so. And she was a cheerleader.”
“Yes.” It was ridiculous, but I had a slight twinge of jealousy that Jeremy remembered details about Frannie. It was practically a lifeti
me ago. I might have had some little sister issues. It was hard when your sister looked like an Italian goddess.
“Ok, keep going. I can tell there’s more to this story.”
I closed my eyes. “No, there isn’t.”
“What? Your budding writing career couldn’t have gone off-track just because of your family. Come on. There’s something you’re leaving out.”
I shook my head. There wasn’t anything else—that was the most shameful thing about it. The part I couldn’t excuse. I had settled for a mediocre life. “No. I stayed for the wedding. And then I stayed after the wedding. Then Frannie got pregnant. Everyone wanted me to stay for my niece. And then it was a nephew. And then another niece. More showers. More nurseries to decorate.”
His eyes widened. “Frannie has three kids?”
“What did you expect? She married a damn pediatrician.” I covered my mouth. “Sorry, that sounded bitchy. I really didn’t mean anything by it.”
“Evie, I don’t give a shit what you say about your sister.” He grinned and I relaxed. He might have been the only person who didn’t put Frannie on a pedestal.
I hadn’t finished my wine, but Jeremy was already topping it off. I took a sip. It tasted full and expensive.
“So that’s it. I came home. And I never left. But you know, I have an incredible screenplay.” I leaned on the table. “Ok, I actually have ten incredible screenplays. They are very successful in Bella’s cellar,” I joked.
“If you’ve married off your sister and played aunt, why don’t you leave now instead of living out a tragic Jane Austen character’s life.”
I almost choked on my wine. “You remember Jane Austen? And used her in a social reference? Who is this version of Jeremy Hartwell?” I teased.
“Steel trap.” He tapped the side of his tanned face. “And I’m well-read.” He took the banter well. I couldn’t be the first girl to throw a dumb jock joke in his face. “You should do it, though. Go. Get out of this town a second time. Write and do something else. I’ve been back all of twelve hours and I can see it—nothing is happening here.”
