Tess in Boots

by Courtney Rice Gager

  I opened the door, expecting to see someone there, but the front hall was empty.

  “Hello?” My voice echoed off the bare cinderblock walls.

  There was no answer.

  I could hear a commotion coming from the floor above me. It sounded like footsteps, and there was something else, too. Music? No, loud talking. Or perhaps both.

  I shrugged. Maybe the firemen hung out upstairs between calls, or after work. There had to be someone up there who could point me in the right direction.

  I found some stairs in the corner and climbed them in a hurry, leaning toward the noise as I went. There was a heavy steel door at the top of the stairs, and when I opened it, the noise grew even louder.

  The room was full of boisterous men who were laughing and slapping each other on the back. No one glanced my way or even seemed to notice me there. Nearby, several of the men were playing a game of pool. I tapped one of them on the shoulder. He turned around and looked down at me with a perplexed expression.

  I cleared my throat and leaned in so he could hear me above the country music blaring from a speaker in the corner. “Excuse me. I’m sorry to bother you, but I’m not from around here.”

  As I spoke, I noticed a couple of the guys had seen me. They elbowed one another and snickered. The chatter in the room died down into a hushed whisper. Someone turned the music down. Way down. Something seemed… off.

  The room grew so quiet I didn’t need to shout anymore.

  “I was hoping you could give me directions,” I continued.

  The man raised an eyebrow. “You lost?”

  I was trying to be polite, but I forgot myself for a moment and let out my breath in a huff.

  What kind of question is that? No, buddy, I’m just stopping by to say hi because I have nothing better to do.

  “Of course I’m lost,” I said.

  For a moment, the room was still. And then, a voice called out in a suggestive tone from somewhere in the crowd. “Sure you are, baby!”

  I turned toward the voice. Everyone in the room gawked in my direction.

  One of the men near the pool table threw his hands into the air “Y’all, I said no strippers. Heather’s gonna kill me!”

  He spoke with a heavy drawl, and when he said the word kill, it sounded like he was saying keel. I was so amused by this I didn’t register what he said at first.

  “Come on!” another voice called from across the room. “You can’t have a bachelor party without a stripper!”

  A collective cheer erupted among the men.

  A stripper?

  Bachelor party?

  “Oh…” I took a step back as the weight of my mistake sank in. This was not a bunch of firemen hanging out at the firehouse to pass time after a shift. This was a bachelor party. I walked into a random bachelor party asking for directions. And they thought I was a stripper.

  Of course they did.

  The man who I tapped on the shoulder hadn’t stopped looking at me with that inquisitive stare. The corners of his mouth turned up into the slightest hint of a smile.

  “I’m not a stripper,” I said, but it was too loud for him to hear me. I said it again, slower this time, so he could read my lips. “I’m not a stripper.”

  He held a hand up high to silence the crowd. “That’s enough, y’all. The man said no strippers.” He gave me an admonishing look and said, “Miss, I’m sure you’re a real nice lady, but we won’t be needing your services. Let me show you out. Come on, now.”

  “I’m not a stripper!” I protested, but he was already ushering me out of the room and down the steps. I could hear the faint sound of him chuckling over the loud booing coming from upstairs.

  We stepped outside, and he squinted against the orange glare from the setting sun. He was tall and lean, and his eyes were unrealistically blue. I hadn’t noticed them inside, because it was so dark. But out here, they were striking, and very… distracting.

  “Where were you heading?” he asked.

  My heart pounded from the adrenaline of what just occurred. I hesitated for a few beats, trying to decide whether I should say something else to clear my name. But as the seconds ticked by, I became so enthralled with the man’s eyes I forgot all about it.

  Are those contacts?

  “You said you were lost?” he asked again.

  “Oh.” I jumped a little. “Right.” I went to my car to retrieve the napkin I scribbled the address on when I realized my phone was going to die. When I turned from the car, he was right behind me. I sucked in my breath and handed him the napkin. He took a look at it and gave a knowing nod.

  “You know it?”

  “I’ve been by there once or twice,” he said.

  “Is it far?”

  He shook his head and pulled a pen out of his pocket. “Let me see your hand.”

  “My hand?”

  He nodded as he took my left hand and began to draw a map on the back of it.

  “All right,” he said, “it’s easy as pie. Turn left outta here, and then you’re gonna get to an overpass, and you’ll see a bunch of initials spray painted all over it.”

  “What initials?”

  “You know, names and initials. Love graffiti.”

  “Love graffiti?”

  “Yeah, so-and-so loves so-and-so. That kind of stuff.”

  “How will I know I’m at the right overpass?”

  He smirked. “There’s only one.”

  “Oh.”

  He went back to drawing on my hand. “Anyway. You’ll go under the overpass, and then you’re gonna want to take your next right. After that it’s the third left once you pass the gas station. You can’t miss it.”

  The words gas station never sounded so beautiful. He finished drawing and let go of my hand.

  “You drew a map.” I glanced at him, then at the map, then up at him again. “On my hand.”

  “It’s safer this way, because you don’t have to take your eyes off the road. Here.” He took my hand again and blew on it to dry the ink. As he did, I felt a little shiver on the back of my neck. I stood there for a few seconds after he let go, my hand still outstretched.

  “Thank you so much,” I said.

  “It’s my pleasure. Now try not to get into any more trouble.” He took a step toward the car and opened the door for me.

  “You know I’m not a stripper, right?” I asked, taking my seat behind the wheel.

  “Do you prefer the term dancer?”

  “Seriously. I’m not a stripper.”

  He shrugged. “If you say so.”

  “For the last time, I’m not—”

  “Relax,” he said, “I’m kidding. I know you’re not a stripper.”

  I smiled. “Good. And thanks again.”

  “Thank you, for stopping by. But like I said, we won’t be needing your services.”

  I started to object, but before I could get the words out, he winked and shut the door, walking back toward the firehouse without waving goodbye.

  I followed the map on my hand, stopping at the gas station to fill my tank. The last turn was a dirt road, right where the guy with the blue eyes said it would be. My car bobbled back and forth as I drove along the bumpy gravel path to the vineyard. Jake mentioned the place was a little run-down, but this was much worse than he made it seem.

  I imagined this trail was beautiful once, enchanting even. But in its present condition, it was a neglected mess. There were piles of junk resting at various points along the driveway. As I drove along, I was surrounded by weeds and briars climbing through the junk piles, weaving their way through old bicycle tires and rusty auto parts.

  The winding path led to a clearing, and there, even after traveling through all that mess, I was overwhelmed by the beauty of my surroundings. A large old barn was nestled toward the back of the property. Its exterior appeared to have been painted red a long time ago, but it had since faded into a subdued rusty hue. All around it, rolling hills were framed by a horizon of towering mountains. Th
ere was a large field of grapevines on the front left corner of the property. Though they were badly overgrown and tangled into one another, I could tell they were once arranged into perfect straight rows.

  “It's a little off the beaten path,” Jake had said, “and a little run-down, but it has potential. Serious potential.”

  I slowed the car and pulled my sunglasses off. Serious potential. I could see it. Maybe it was the long drive, or maybe anything looked better than the inside of that firehouse, but I could see it. I could picture how beautiful it would be, once it was all fixed up. I imagined cars coming up and down the drive, and clusters of people gathered for wine tasting picnics.

  A figure emerged from the barn, waving its arms in a wild motion. It was Jake. I texted him when I left to tell him I was coming. He responded with, I know. This both annoyed and comforted me.

  With arms still waving, Jake ran to meet me. I wasn't quite sure where to leave the car, so I stopped it right where it was and hopped out, making my way over to him. We reached one another and he wrapped me up in a hug that almost knocked me down.

  “Welcome to paradise, Tessy.” He swept his arm and turned to face the old barn set against the backdrop of the mountains. “It's something, isn't it?”

  “It's beautiful.”

  Sara appeared through the doorway of the barn. She leaned against the threshold and gave a little wave.

  “Let's go say hi,” Jake said.

  He put his arm around my shoulders, and we walked to the barn together.

  Sara stretched out her arms to hug me. “I was hoping you'd come. How was your drive?”

  “It was…” I considered telling them about my adventure at the firehouse, but decided against it. “It was fine. I'm glad I could make it.”

  “Come in.” She gestured for me to follow her through the door.

  The inside of the barn was one large, barren space. There were industrial light fixtures fastened to the walls, but they weren’t turned on. Instead, the room was illuminated by the last traces of evening sunlight peeking through the cracks in the wood. There was a bar running all along the back wall, and a doorway behind the bar was covered by a large piece of plastic. A broom was propped up in the corner of the barn. Other than that, it was empty. Clean, but empty.

  “This is the tasting room.” Jake followed me in and made his way behind the bar.

  “It’s big.” My voice echoed off the walls.

  “It better be,” he said. “We have to get ready to bring in the masses.”

  “Is there any wine?”

  He scoffed. “Is there any wine?”

  I looked at him, waiting for an answer.

  “Well, no. There hasn’t been any wine bottled here for years. But I do have this.” He rustled behind the bar and pulled out a large glass jug, which he placed down on the counter with a thud.

  I squinted to read the handwritten label. “Jake Juice?”

  “Yep.” He leaned on the bar with one hand, grinning at me.

  “I remember this,” I said.

  Jake, along with a couple of friends, tried his hand at winemaking in college. Of course, that little venture ended once he got caught bottling and selling Jake Juice without a license.

  “I managed to save a few bottles,” he said. “As inspiration. Because I know what you’re going to say, Tessy.”

  “What do you mean you know what I’m going to say?”

  “You’re going to say, ‘Do you even know anything about making wine?’”

  I pursed my lips. I was not going to say that. At least, not until later.

  “So you see, Tessy, I know all about making wine. I have plenty of experience.”

  Sara, who’d disappeared through the makeshift plastic door behind the bar, reemerged. “I’ll bet you’re hungry, Tess. Let’s head to the house and eat.”

  “Sure. Sounds great.”

  She gestured toward the door. “Let’s take your car. Jake, meet us up there in thirty minutes, okay?”

  Jake nodded and picked up the jug of wine, swinging it a little as if to test its weight.

  Once we were in the car, Sara pointed to a gravel driveway opposite the grapevines. “Head this way.”

  The driveway was steep and curvy, lined on either side by tall trees. We drove for about a quarter-mile before reaching an old white farmhouse. Its faded red shutters matched the hue of the barn. There was a covered wraparound porch lined with rocking chairs overlooking the vineyard, which was just visible through the trees in the distance.

  “This is it,” Sara said.

  She led the way inside, and we walked single-file across the creaky wooden floorboards of a long narrow hallway until we reached the kitchen. It had an outdated but homey look, with faded paisley wallpaper and harvest gold appliances.

  “Something smells amazing,” I said.

  Sara flipped the light switch. “I have a roast in the crock pot.”

  “Mmm. What can I do?”

  “You want to make a salad?”

  “Sure.”

  Sara pulled a head of lettuce, a cucumber, and a tomato out of the fridge. “We got here a few nights ago, and I don’t know where everything is yet,” she said. “Feel free to poke around.”

  “No problem.” I opened several drawers to find a good knife, and then rummaged through a couple cabinets for a cutting board. As I worked on the salad, Sara fumbled around for plates and silverware to set the table.

  “So this is your uncle’s house?” I asked.

  “Yes. Well, it was. My great uncle, Carl. He was like a second father to me.”

  “I’m sorry,” I said.

  “Oh, don’t be. He lived a wonderful life. He was madly in love with his wife, Maisy. They were so sweet together. She died a few years back, and I’m surprised he held on this long without her.” She looked up from the table and smiled. “There’s just something about this place. I feel close to them here. This is where I spent most of my summers growing up. Mom and Dad both worked a lot, so I’d come here to stay with Uncle Carl and Aunt Maisy. They’d give me little jobs to do. This was the place of a lot of happy memories for me.”

  “And now it’s yours,” I said.

  “And now it’s mine.” She nodded.

  I finished rinsing the lettuce and chopped it into bite-sized pieces. “And you and Jake could just… come?”

  “You know your brother.” Sara placed the last set of silverware down and came back to the kitchen where she filled glasses with ice water. “He didn’t even give notice at work. He called them from the road to say he wasn’t coming in. And me, well, school’s out for the summer. One of the perks of teaching seventh grade. They know you need three months to regain your sanity each year. But I don’t know what will happen come September.”

  “Whether you will go back?”

  “Right. Jake thinks this vineyard is our future. I’m not so sure. As Carl got older, he let things go. The place hasn’t been open in a long time. I don’t know what it will take to get it back up and running. I don’t know if anyone will come or even care to come. Besides the fact that I love your crazy dreaming brother, I’m here because I feel guilty. I haven’t been back to visit Carl since the wedding. Life changes, you know? You grow up and get busy and things… change. I meant to come back, but I never did. I feel like I owe it to Carl to be here.”

  She stopped what she was doing and looked out the window. Jake appeared over the horizon and walked toward the house. “I owe it to him to try.” She wiped a tear from her cheek and turned her attention back to the kitchen. “Anyway. Let’s eat.”

  * * *

  Jake pushed back his chair and threw his napkin on the table with a groan. “I’m going to explode.”

  “It was delicious,” I said. “Thanks, Sara.”

  “Of course,” she said.

  Jake turned to me. “Shall I show you to your quarters, Tessy?”

  “That would be perfect.”

  “Let’s get your bags.” He stood from the tabl
e, and we walked out to the car together.

  I opened my trunk, and he jumped back with pretend shock.

  “Are you moving in or what?”

  “Shut up.” I gave him a soft punch in the arm.

  He hoisted my large suitcase out of the trunk and tossed the two duffel bags over his shoulders with ease. “You’ll be staying in the guest cottage.”

  I laughed. “Oh yeah?”

  “Yeah. Come see.”

  Jake wasn’t kidding. He led me down a stone path behind the main house to a tiny cottage covered in whitewashed cedar shingles. It looked like something out of a fairytale, with its dainty pointed roof and window boxes bursting with pink geraniums. He pulled a key out of his pocket, unlocked the door, and turned on a lamp.

  I gasped. “Jake, this is beautiful.”

  The cottage walls were painted a shade of blue so pale it was barely detectable in the lamplight. There was a retro kitchenette in the corner which hosted a sink, refrigerator, and oven. I noticed there wasn’t a dishwasher, but there was a small table which seemed to pull double-duty as a kitchen table and desk. A wrought-iron bed in the middle of the room was adorned with a hand-stitched quilt and several floral-patterned pillows. The whole back wall of the cottage was lined with windows and French doors, which led outside to a patio encircled by wildflowers.

  “Not bad, right?” Jake let my luggage fall to the floor with a thud. “For the last few years, Carl had a nurse who helped him get by. She lived here and he let her do whatever she wanted with the place. I thought you might like it. Let me show you the best part.”

  He walked over to the back corner and flipped a switch. Outside, hundreds of miniature white twinkle lights illuminated the bushes surrounding the patio. It was magical.

  “You want to sit out there for a while?” he asked.

  “I do.”

  “There’s some Jake Juice in the fridge.”

  I lifted my eyebrows. “Well, what are you waiting for? Open it up.”

  Fifteen minutes later, Jake sat across from me with a smug smile on his face. “Admit it,” he said. “Admit you like the Jake Juice.”

  I sighed. “Fine. I like the Jake Juice.”

  “You do?”