Just Like That

by Karin Kallmaker

  Missy laughed. “I wasn’t really thinking about that—”

  “Sure, you weren’t.”

  Missy was still chuckling when Syrah could stand it no longer. With Jane out of earshot she touched Missy’s arm and said, “I know you didn’t want me to know, but I figured it out. And I will never know how to repay you.”

  Puzzlement was plain on Missy’s face, even in the fading sunlight. “What are you talking about?”

  “The loans. Crystal Clear Holding Company. I just…thank you is so inadequate.”

  Missy gaped at Syrah. “It wasn’t me.”

  “Well, if not you, then who?” Syrah’s hands continued their roaming journey among the grape leaves, searching for more soft grapes.

  Her eyes expressively wide, Missy just stared at her. “Why did you think it was me?”

  “You seemed so shy when the papers arrived. Like you were trying not to say too much, but you made sure I read them right away.”

  “Oh. Well, I knew about it before it all happened, but it wasn’t me. She didn’t want you to know, but I think that’s silly at this point. It was Toni, of course.”

  “Toni?” Syrah looked at Missy incredulously. Even as she protested the plausibility it was patently clear that Toni had been in a position to fix it all. “Why would she?”

  “She felt responsible for Mira. It was the only way she could think of to once and for all protect you both from her. Mira was quite capable of convincing the other shareholders to sell some shares to her. She was going to use you to needle Toni for the rest of her life.”

  “Why? What did Toni do to her?”

  “As far as I know, all Toni did was stop loving Mira before Mira was done walking on her. Mira dumped her but it would be so very Mira to expect Toni to beg for her to change her mind. Toni didn’t beg.”

  Syrah blinked. “I don’t imagine that she did.”

  Syrah went on culling grapes and mulling over this new, surprising information. She ought to have seen it on her own, and it wasn’t a happy conclusion that she hadn’t figured it out because she was bent on not admitting that Toni might have a heart. Knowing Toni could do something so generous hurt, too, but the reason for her distress seemed beyond her unraveling.

  But where she had been comfortable, pleased even, to think that Missy had been the one who had masterminded everything, she found herself resentful of Toni’s interference. “Nobody asked her to do that, you know.”

  “Toni has a mind of her own. And she obviously thought it was the only way to atone for not having warned you about Mira’s tactics.”

  “I wouldn’t let her. I know she’s your friend,” Syrah said with a flash of anger, “but she can’t buy me.”

  “I don’t think she means to.” Missy looked shocked at the thought.

  Syrah knew she was being irrational, but she couldn’t fight the feeling. “Besides, my father is a grown man, and he takes responsibility for his own mistakes. I’m a big girl, too. If I want to listen to someone’s lies and make a fool of myself, that’s my decision!”

  Missy’s laugh made Jane hurry back and Syrah, in all her frustrated confusion, had to watch yet another display of affection.

  When Jane wheedled Missy up to the truck, then behind it, out of Syrah’s line of sight, Syrah shouted, “That’s it! You two get a room. I’m out of here!”

  There seemed to be no way to calm down. She didn’t want to be obliged to Toni Blanchard for anything, and it appeared that every single person affiliated with Ardani Vineyards now owed Toni Blanchard eternal gratitude.

  Well, she wasn’t grateful. She refused to be bought.

  * * *

  “A commitment ceremony? Already?”

  “Toni,” Missy said patiently, “Jane and I have been seeing each other for nearly six months, and living together for three. I’ve sold my business, and we are officially a couple. I want the world to know.”

  “Hence a lavish ceremony? Isn’t knowing you’re a couple enough these days?”

  Missy hissed with exasperation. “Do you want to stand up for me or not? Caroline can do it all by herself, you know.”

  Toni’s only reluctance was over the one thing she wasn’t going to bring up. It was her problem, however, not Missy’s. Given that Missy and Jane were in fact turning into an old married couple, meeting Syrah again was inevitable. “Of course I’ll do it. Give me the date again.”

  “The week after Thanksgiving. The weather is still really wonderful here, Jane promises me. We’ll do everything at Netherfield.”

  “How many people are you inviting?”

  “Like I said, the whole world. Mostly.” Missy’s contented sigh poured through the phone. “I want the world to see how much I love her. You should see the mural she painted in our bedroom. And you need to get to know her.”

  “I’m not against that, Missy. You know why I’m hesitant.”

  “I know exactly why. You’re both pigheaded.”

  Toni resisted the urge to whine back, “Am not.” Instead she turned the topic to the scary subject of what they would wear. “No peach, no pink. I love you but I’m not doing that for you.”

  “No navy blue, no gray, no black,” Missy fired back. “You can pick something out but I get final approval. We’re not doing a whole wedding fancy dress thing. Though does Jane look hot in a tuxedo or what?”

  “I wouldn’t know.”

  “She looks even better out of it.”

  “Missy…”

  “Spoilsport. Anyway, send me pictures of what you’re going to wear. And you have to arrive the day before at least.”

  Fine, Toni had said as she e-mailed a request to the Admin Queens for air tickets. She had no idea what she’d wear and she knew she’d spend the whole time dreading and wanting to run into Syrah.

  Maybe a miracle would happen. Maybe she’d see Syrah and not want her. Maybe she’d be able to move on.

  “Maybe,” the hopeful voice inside she could not quash murmured, “maybe Syrah will look at you and it won’t be with contempt.”

  * * *

  “I thought this whole thing was supposed to be spontaneous.” Syrah tugged a shepherd’s sweater over her head and gave Jane a harried look. “What the heck is a rehearsal dinner all about if we’re being spontaneous?”

  “Wouldn’t you rather meet up with Toni again after all this time with as few people watching as possible?” Jane was looking exceedingly dapper in her slacks, shirt and vest.

  “I’d much rather it was a big crowd,” Syrah said. “Then I can just avoid her.”

  “You’re being foolish. Look, you don’t have to be in love, but you don’t hate each other either. Why not get over whatever it was that you each thought the other did?”

  Syrah felt a familiar mulish expression steal over her face. “Maybe I don’t want to get over anything.”

  Jane rolled her eyes and Syrah realized that the power in their relationship had completely shifted. Now Jane was the mature one lecturing Syrah on how to behave, Jane doing serious, grown-up things even as Syrah refused to give up being a child.

  And it was, to Syrah’s way of thinking, Toni Blanchard’s fault. She did not decide on a different sweater or brush her hair a third time before hurrying out the door with Jane. She most assuredly did not immediately sense that Toni was at the far end of the hotel’s banquet room, on the left.

  She made her way up the right side and chose a seat midway down the long table.

  “There you are,” Missy called. “Members of the main wedding party are on this end, Syrah.”

  Muttering, Syrah gave up her wonderfully anonymous chair and slipped into the one Missy was waving at. Oh, joy and happiness, she was seated right next to Caroline and Toni sat directly across, next to Jane.

  “It’s so wonderful to see you again, Syrah.” Caroline was the picture of elegance and taste in a sage green sundress, but her gaze went back and forth between Toni and Syrah more than once.

  Syrah made suitable noises and concentr
ated on her meal. She was just there for the food.

  “I’d like to know,” Toni said, “how we can have a rehearsal dinner without a rehearsal.”

  Missy, with no attempt at pretension, gave up the truth. “It’s another excuse for a party. Now will you enjoy yourself, please?”

  For some reason Syrah found her gaze meeting Toni’s. Toni shrugged a “they’re nuts” and Syrah blinked back an “absolutely.”

  She concentrated on her food again.

  Caroline chattered throughout with Jane, talking about various places she had been during the fall. “What’s the name of that little place in San Antonio, Toni? I can’t remember it.”

  “The San Antonio Grill?” Toni was also concentrating on her meal. Syrah realized they would both be done long before anyone else.

  “Syrah,” Caroline said abruptly, “how is the wine business these days?”

  “Very good. Our harvest was exceptional this year.”

  “What a relief.” She dropped her voice so only Syrah could hear her. “And to be out from under all those worries, that must be a blessing.”

  So Caroline knew. Was it pillow talk or what? She saw nothing overtly amorous between Toni and Caroline, but then again she hadn’t back in the spring either. All she’d seen were those bruises on Toni’s forearm.

  A quick glance confirmed that Toni was wearing long sleeves. Dang.

  “Yes, it’s a blessing,” Syrah said. “Someone went to a lot of trouble.”

  “Oh, we don’t have to be coy, do we?”

  “Caroline, would you like some more wine?” Toni hoisted the bottle toward her glass, but Caroline demurred.

  “I’ve had plenty and now I want to chat with Syrah.”

  Missy tapped her knife against her wineglass. “The hotel disco is open later, everybody, and Jane and I hope everyone will join us. But no terribly late night or we’ll all be sorry in the morning. And we’re getting married in the morning!”

  There was a cheer of approval and Syrah felt the prickle of déjà vu. She’d known all along she’d be making a toast at this particular wedding and now the day was nearly upon her.

  A large party did go toward the disco, but Syrah begged off. Work, late night, headache, no dancing, see you tomorrow…she headed for the door. Missy and Jane were going home together and she was free to leave any time she liked.

  She was more than halfway across the hotel lobby when Toni rose up from a chair.

  Syrah didn’t stop. It was annoying that Toni easily kept pace with her.

  “We need to talk, don’t you think?”

  “No, not really.”

  “Jane and Missy think we’re pigheaded.”

  They were right, Syrah thought. “What is there to talk about?”

  “Past. Present. Future?”

  “I’m too tired for all that.” Syrah cleared the hotel doors and welcomed the cool night air.

  “Me too. How about this, then?” Toni caught Syrah’s hand and Syrah stopped.

  They stood there, just holding hands, and a million things ran through Syrah’s mind—all the confusion and anguish, all the misunderstandings and relentless prejudices.

  She tightened her fingers around Toni’s and didn’t know what to do when Toni drew their bodies closer together.

  “We don’t have to talk right now,” Toni said. “But we do have to talk eventually.”

  Shakily, Syrah managed to say, “This is enough for now.” She squeezed Toni’s hand.

  “Yes,” Toni whispered, “it is.”

  The kiss was sweet, nearly unbearably so. Syrah wanted to cry because there was so much to let go of and it was getting in the way. She finally stepped back, blinking back tears. “Enough for now,” she repeated, and Toni let her go.

  She thought of that kiss all the while she dressed for the ceremony the next morning, and thought of it again as she stood next to Jane in the large common room at Netherfield. Her summery, cotton and linen lavender dress was a foil to Jane’s boxy pinstripe suit. Missy was beautiful, luscious even, in a patterned white gown that clung to her curves, but Syrah could not stop glancing at Toni in a silk suit the shade of ripe eggplant, her hair twisted back in that knot that at one time Syrah had found haughty. She hardly noticed Caroline, except for the one gloved hand that possessively grasped Toni’s sleeve.

  Today Toni was real, with dark luminous eyes that threatened to mist over as the minister said true and profound things about love. At least Syrah was certain she’d have found them true and profound, if she’d been listening.

  But she was thinking about that kiss and Toni’s tenderness and the look in her eyes. The kiss had simmered with all the heat Syrah had felt in the spring, but there was something more there. Whatever it was, it didn’t scare her now.

  Missy’s sumptuous bouquet divided in two, and she and Jane lobbed their halves at the same time. Syrah stuck both hands behind her to avoid catching either. She noticed that Toni had caught hers with a surprised look, but then Missy had thrown it directly at her head. Jane at least had thrown it a little on the low side.

  Thoughts of that kiss pursued Syrah all day. The reception was unhurried, with a mellow band performing sweet love songs while guests danced or stood in clusters enjoying food and wine from long, overflowing tables.

  Toni asked her to dance. She agreed. They moved together, but not tightly, and Syrah thought about that kiss.

  “Thank you,” Toni said when the song ended.

  Syrah had no idea what had been playing. “I was rude and completely misjudged you. I’m sorry.”

  Toni swallowed hard. “I didn’t protect you and your father— and your vines—when I should have. Forgive me.”

  “Oh, Toni.” Syrah leaned into the tall, lean body and breathed in Toni’s seductive, wonderful cologne.

  Toni said, her voice more formal, “Oh, that’s my cue. Be back in a bit.”

  Toni took up a position at the singer’s microphone. “Okay, Missy, you can stop giving me that look. You might be sorry for making me do this. Yes, everybody, we’ve reached the portion of the evening for Missy’s best friend to make a speech. Fill your glasses, because it’s time for a toast.”

  Syrah noticed waiters were circulating with trays of Champagne and she accepted a glass with a smile.

  Toni cleared her throat and gave Missy an affectionate look. “I’ve known Missy longer than either of us can believe, all the way back to a time when we could stay up all night at a dorm party and turn up for an eight a.m. class. I won’t pretend I haven’t seen her in and out of love in all those years, and ended up with the occasional wet shoulder when things didn’t work out. But this year I saw something I’d never seen before and frankly, it made me envious. The way Missy looks at Jane was, for me, understanding what love is all about for the first time.”

  There was a shared oh of sentimental response from the crowd. Toni smiled and Syrah wondered if anyone else saw the small, nervous gesture as Toni unnecessarily smoothed her hair. She was so poised, Syrah mused, but underneath all that was a real woman.

  “I’ve learned a lot about wine since the spring, and I think that Missy and Jane are bottling something very special today. I plan to be around to pull the cork with them in twenty years, thirty years and more, because what they have ripening is that good and will be that special. Jane and Missy sparkle. They blend. They dance.”

  Moved by the tiny quiver in Toni’s voice, Syrah found herself blinking back tears.

  Toni lifted her glass. “To love, to fortune, and to Jane and Missy for showing us all how to be happy.”

  Syrah echoed, “To Jane and Missy” and sipped her Champagne—sharp, clear with a mellow burn, distinctively French. Her own turn at the microphone had come and she still wasn’t quite sure of everything she was going to say.

  “Jane and I have been skinny dipping together since middle school,” Syrah began, pleased when everyone snickered and Jane blushed. “All that time it was so unfair that no matter what happened, Jane was
cool about it. Bug in the water? She just swooshed it out. She thought someone was attractive? Jane could walk up and say hi. She did so many things I wished I could do, and she did it easily. She has always been the essence of cool.”

  She gazed at Jane for a long moment. “Then, one spring day, Jane wasn’t calm. She wasn’t nonchalant. She was at a loss for words, didn’t know what to do. And all because she’d met Missy and in a single instant fallen head over heels in love. Honestly, I remember it well, and Jane stood there for at least two minutes with her mouth hanging open. And I knew right away that I’d be here, making this speech.”

  There was a ripple of laughter.

  “Love, I guess, can be like grapes. It can die on the vine or turn to vinegar in the wrong hands.” Her voice faltered. “I didn’t know…I didn’t understand that love isn’t just when the grapes are growing. There’s the terrifying decision to pick the grapes and risk making them into something else. Because you can pick them too soon and nothing turns out the way you planned.”

  Her gaze met Toni’s and she wondered if she would ever be able to say everything she felt.

  “But you can come back to the vines again, later, for another try. But then the decisions have to be made about how to blend the different flavors together so it tastes right to both of you. The waiting and hoping and mistakes and praying that at least one bottle turns out, that there will be one good bottle to share, the kind of bottle that is never empty.” She tore her gaze from Toni’s to wipe away a tear. “I’m so glad that Jane and Missy found it right away, the perfect blend that still has all the individual notes of who they each are and leaves the rest of us to partake in their abundant happiness.” She lifted her glass. “To Missy and Jane, and all the years ahead of them.”

  She noticed as she slowly lowered the glass to her mouth that Toni mirrored her movements and they sipped in unison.

  The music began and she was claimed by Jane—who said it was tradition—and watched Toni leading Missy.

  “Thank you,” Jane said. “What you said was sweet. And true.”

  Syrah found a broad smile, though part of her was lost in thoughts of that sweet kiss she and Toni had shared. “I could have been really mean, you know, but I was good.”