Someone to Love

by Hampton, Lena

  Throughout the meal he picked up some facts about her. She was single, a recent college graduate with a degree in art history, and had been traveling for the past few months. Her nomadic tendencies made her even more appealing because he wasn’t the settling down type and she didn’t seem to be either.

  “Magnolia, you ready to go?” Cooper continued to use her full name because thought it suited her better and because each time he said it there was an angry flash in her eyes that looked quite similar to passion.

  “Yes, Paul, I am.”

  “My name’s Cooper,” he said confused.

  “I know, but I prefer Paul because you look more like Paul Bunyan than a Cooper.” It was a good chance those words were meant to hurt, but he couldn’t help bursting out in an uproarious laugh that almost drowned out Jack’s chuckle.

  Diane just narrowed her eyes shook her head before she said, “I was thinking more Grizzly Adams.”

  “When I first saw him like this I thought Wolfman Jack,” Rose chimed in. “But now that you say it, he’s just an ax away from Paul Bunyan.”

  “When I met Jack, he had a mullet.”

  “A Mullet? Like if Billy Ray Cyrus had been frozen and thawed out mullet?”

  “Exactly. He explained that he’d lost a bet with his friend. That,” she said pointing at Cooper, “is the result of him losing a bet.”

  “What was the bet?”

  “Oh they won’t tell. I don’t care. I just know that Jack’s best man will be well groomed in my wedding photos,” Diane said.

  Cooper tapped his arm against Magnolia’s. “Come on. Let’s go.”

  “Don’t keep her out too late,” Rose said

  “Yes ma’am,” Cooper responded.

  “No making bets with her either,” Diane said.

  “Yes ma’am,” Cooper repeated.

  Magnolia leaned towards Diane and whispered. “Should I be worried about going off with him?”

  “Have you ever worried about venturing out into the great unknown?”

  “For once in my life, yes.”

  Chapter 2

  Cooper opened the door and followed Magnolia out to his truck where he opened that door for her. “Here, let me help you up.”

  “No thank you. It’s a big truck, but I’ve handled bigger,” she said with a sly smile.

  Cooper wasn’t sure, but it seemed like she was flirting with him, and he liked it. He waited for her to be seated so he could close her door. He dashed around the front to the driver’s side and hopped into his seat in one fluid movement. He started the truck and Linkin Park blasted out of the speakers.

  “Sorry about that.” He lowered the volume. “Feel free to turn.”

  “I like this song. What’s this place you’re offering? Tell me about it.”

  “It’s not much, but Diane said you could work your magic and make something out of it.”

  “Is it at your house?”

  “No. My apartment ain’t big enough to cuss a cat in. It’s a structure we own that’s just kind of a big empty space that I thought would work well to hold the reception.”

  “Who’s we?” she asked feeling unwanted jealousy at the thought he had a girlfriend or wife.

  “My family. Well just me and my mother, that’s the entirety of my family,” Cooper said.

  They drove for a few more moments. “This is my bar. Let’s park here and walk over,” he said.

  She looked up at the sign. “The Smithery? Was ‘The Bar’ already taken?”

  “Magnolia,” he said her name with more emphasis than was necessary, “you get hung up on names don’t you?” He smiled at her expression. “It’s named The Smithery because a long time ago, that’s exactly what it was. It was the location of a blacksmith’s shop. There was a fire that burned it down. Legend has it that when the owner rebuilt, he made it into a bar because after the fire he needed a stiff drink more than he needed a horseshoe. ”

  “That’s a fascinating story. There’s lots of little places with weird names and great back stories in Europe.”

  “What were you doing in Europe?”

  “Just traveling.”

  “You’re one of those,” Cooper said with some disdain.

  “One of those what?”

  “One of those people that backpack across countries they can’t speak the language of while they try to find themselves.”

  “One, I was not trying to ‘find myself’.” His assumption was ironic because she was in fact trying to lose herself, forget who she was and what she’d lost. “Two, I was not backpacking. You should know that since you carried in some of my many bags.”

  “Many, very heavy bags.”

  “Nothing should be heavy to you with all that muscle.”

  “You noticed my muscles.” He smiled.

  “You kept flexing them at dinner, it was pretty difficult to ignore.”

  “I wasn’t flexing, that’s just the way they look.”

  “AND three, for the most part I could speak the language. I speak Spanish fluently so I was just fine in Spain. I had picked up a bit of Portuguese when I was in Brazil, so I had few problems in Portugal. Likewise, the French I’d learned in Quebec served me well in both France and Switzerland. I was learning Italian in Florence when Diane requested my assistance. I also somehow managed to get by with the language barrier in Ireland, Scotland, Wales, and England.”

  “I apologize, I didn’t know you were a polyglot.”

  “I didn’t know your English was so proficient as to know such a fancy word.”

  “Ouch.”

  “You deserve it for making an assumption about me. By definition I’m not a polyglot. I’m fluent in two languages, English and Spanish, which makes me bilingual. I speak the other two enough to get by.”

  “Did you come back from Europe just for Diane?”

  “Yeah.”

  “You’re a good cousin. Are you going back after the wedding or are you going to stay.”

  “I’m not sure what my next move is.”

  “Well, here we are.”

  It was a two story wooden structure with a covered wraparound porch. The wood was weathered with only remnants of paint remaining. There was a set of French doors at the top of the stone steps. Noli pulled out her tablet and snapped a picture then they walked up the steps and followed the porch around. There were windows high on the side wall. At the back there was a huge barn style sliding door. The porch on that side of the building stepped down to a large patio enclosed with a stacked stone wall. Not too far from the barn like structure was a mature tree with thick twisting and turning branches, and some of the roots were partially exposed where the nearby small pond had eroded away some of the dirt.

  “You call this not much?” Noli asked. She was still snapping pictures and pausing to add notes between each shot.

  “I just meant it needs a great deal of work before it’s suitable for a reception.”

  “Well I think it’s a real gem. With a little elbow grease it will be a sparkling diamond.”

  “Elbow grease? You don’t seem like the manual labor type.”

  “You’ve made a lot of assumptions about me in the few hours you’ve known me.”

  “You’re just so small and dainty and well-dressed which says pampered, not hard working.”

  Her eyes narrowed. “Oh, we’re making character assessments based on looks are we? Well you must not be that intelligent. Sorry, intelligent is a fancy word for smart. It’s common knowledge that anyone that works out as much as you, does it to compensate for not being too bright. You work these muscles,” she said jabbing his bicep with her index finger, “because the muscle in here doesn’t work.” She tapped the side of his forehead to indicate his brain.

  “That’s the second time you’ve mentioned my muscles. You want a ticket to the gun show don’t you?” His eyes were bright with humor.

  “Seriously? I call you dumb and you hear me talking about your body? I was just joking, but perhaps you are lacking a f
ew brain cells.”

  “So what, you think I’m an idiot. I know I’m not and that’s all that matters.”

  “I didn’t say I think you’re an idiot. I suspect you’re quite smart. I was making a point about judging people based on mere appearance.”

  “I didn’t mean to upset you. If I offended you, I’m sorry.”

  She broke out into laughter. “I’m just messing with you. I don’t look like I’d lift a finger to do more than pick up a latte. Looks can be deceiving.”

  “You’re right. A little thing like you looks like she’d be sweet and kind. That’s quite deceiving.”

  “I am kind. My sweetness has to be earned and right now you’re working at a deficit. And why do you keep calling me little? I’m not little.”

  “Yes you are.”

  “I’m 5’4”, which is the average height for a woman. How tall are you?”

  “I’m 6’7”.”

  “The average male in the U.S. is only 5’10”. I’m average. You my friend, are a giant.”

  “Your height may be average, but what about your weight? How much do you weigh?”

  “Did you just ask me my weight? You may never earn my sweetness. Let’s go inside.”

  They walked back up the patio and headed back towards the front along the side of the building they hadn’t seen yet. There were several plywood gothic arches on either side of a chimney.

  “Please don’t let looks be deceiving now. Are those floor to ceiling arched windows?” Noli asked.

  “Yes.”

  Noli jumped up and down, clapping her hands. She grabbed his hand and ran to the front, dragging him behind her. Her hand in his sent a tingle of excitement through him. “You’re excited about windows.”

  “Yes I am.”

  He pulled the keys out. He was about to put one into the lock when the excited look on her face caught his eye. The way she bit her bottom lip made him wonder what it would feel like to kiss her, pulling her lip between his teeth. The thought made him drop the keys. “I guess I’m too stupid to even open a door.”

  “Stop teasing me. I have to see what those windows look like.”

  He picked the keys up and slid it into the lock but before he turned it he said, “Close your eyes.”

  “Just unlock the door.”

  “Not until you close your eyes.” She reached for the key but he stepped in her way. “Please.”

  She threw her head back. “Fine,” she said exasperated as she closed her eyes.

  He wanted to reveal the windows to her so he could feel like he somehow had something to do with her excitement. He stepped behind her and covered her eyes just to be sure she couldn’t see. His other hand went around her waist. Maybe he was a bit of a giant, but she was little and dainty even though she proclaimed to be average. His hand spanned most of the length of her torso. “Watch your step, we’re crossing the threshold.” Once inside he flipped the switch to turn the lights on and removed his hand. “Okay. Open your eyes.”

  She gasped in excitement. A stone fireplace sat in the middle of the wall, flanked on each side with the windows that had captured her attention on the outside. They were even more spectacular than she’d guessed. The fifteen foot tall arched windows were made of various sized, shaped, and colored hand blown glass. They were an absolute work of art. Once again, she began snapping shot after shot of the windows. “I can’t believe you’ve got these boarded up. I can only imagine how beautiful these would be with the sun shining through them.”

  He hadn’t even glanced at the windows. He instead watched her. He got some weird kind of enjoyment at just seeing her happy. “They’re boarded up to protect them. I’ll work first thing in the morning getting the wood outside removed.”

  “That would be great. This place is great. It’s perfect. This place is perfect,” she rambled as many thoughts raced through her head. “I have so many ideas and I can’t wait to get started.”

  “Do you love weddings?”

  “I haven’t been to enough to say that. I like planning. Having ideas and seeing them come to fruition excites me. I planned my first party at four. I didn’t plan it alone. My mother helped me, but she let me make the important decisions like color and food.”

  “What was the party for?”

  “It was a gallery opening for my first and last showing.”

  “A gallery opening?”

  “Yes, I was quite the artist. Mostly abstract. The gallery was an old clothesline in the backyard. That gives me an idea.” She began to type on her tablet again.

  He found her fascinating. She was beautiful, and feisty, and smart. She had the same sparkle in her deep brown eyes now that was there when she was giving him havoc. It was passion. He rather liked that he evoked passion in her.

  He had to remind himself that this intriguing spitfire of a woman was the cousin to his best friend’s fiancée, which made her off limits for him. He’d seen Diane angry, and would hate to be on the receiving end of her wrath for hurting her cousin. That’s all he would do, hurt Magnolia, because that was his track record. He’d give in to the temptation of an attraction then break it off when it got in the same hemisphere as something serious.

  “What are all of those?”

  “Barrels,” he said not giving her a useful answer.

  She rolled her eyes again. “Why are you giving me a hard time?”

  “Most women enjoy when I give them a hard time.”

  Her eyes widened for a second and he knew that if her skin were lighter she’d be blushing.

  “The barrels, what’s in the barrels?”

  He knew the frustration in her voice was manufactured. She enjoyed going toe to toe with him as much as he was getting a kick out of it. “Beer and soda.”

  “You brewed all of this?”

  “Yep.”

  “So you actually have a useful skill?”

  He walked right in front of her. He bent right next to her. It was dangerous how close his lips were to brushing against her ear. “Oh Magnolia, I’m a very skillful man.”

  She took a deep swallow and turned to him. Their mouths were a hair apart. “I said useful skill. The one skill you’ve demonstrated thus far is the ability to annoy.”

  He looked her in the eye for a moment then smiled his big bright smile. “I’d be glad to give you a demonstration of my other skills anytime you want.”

  Her eyes darted across his face as she held her breath for a moment. She took a step back and turned away from him. “Is that what this place is for? To hold the barrels?”

  He smiled, knowing that he had gotten as much under her skin as she’d gotten under his. “No, this place was around long before I started brewing.”

  “Is it as old as the forge turned bar?”

  He smirked. “No, it’s not as old as the bar. This was built by my grandfather in the 70’s. It was supposed to be the tasting room for the winery.”

  She returned her attention to him. “What winery?”

  “My grandfather was trying to reestablish the family winery.”

  “Reestablish?” Noli asked.

  “This was a winery, a long time ago.”

  “I feel like a dentist trying to pull teeth. Why won’t you tell me the story behind this place?”

  “No one likes to talk about failures, even if it’s not theirs.”

  “The true failure is to give up before you try. I admire your grandfather for trying.”

  “If you must know, my great, great…some ancestor of mine settled here in 1813. At that time, the Ohio River Valley part of Indiana was one of the largest wine producing regions in the country,” Cooper explained. “My family was among the families that produced the wine and it remained that way up until 1920.”

  “That’s the year prohibition started right.”

  “Exactly. You can imagine that a family that’s been making wine for generations didn’t adjust too well to not being able to do that anymore. The best part was that they resisted at first. All their wi
ne was destroyed and much of the vineyard was somehow burned. It didn’t take long before they were forced to sell off a great part of the land. What remained was the house, the building where the bar is, the orchard, and another few dozen acres.”

  “There’s an orchard?”

  “Yeah.”

  “A functional orchard?”

  “If by functional you mean there are trees that grow apples, then yes.” He saw that glint of excitement in her eyes again. He liked that she found enjoyment in windows and apple orchards.

  “I meant do you sell the apples to stores, or at a farmer’s market, or on the side of the road?”

  “No, we don’t sell them. I use them for brewing.”

  “Sorry, I sidetracked you from this place’s story.”

  “My great grandfather died during prohibition. When it ended, my great grandmother didn’t have the will or desire to restart the vineyard on the remaining acres. When she remarried, her new husband began to farm the land with traditional crops. She ran the bar.”

  Cooper continued on, “Fast forward a few decades, more land had been sold, my grandfather was running the bar with my grandmother, my mom was in high school, and Indiana was having a winery rebirth. My grandparents decided they would revive the family tradition. They hired a vintner from California, started growing grapes, and built this building.” He went silent, as though he was done.

  “A vintner is a winemaker right?” she asked. He nodded in response. “So what happened next? That all sounds very promising? How did this end up as a beautiful barrel warehouse?”

  “Short version, the vintner married my mom and knocked her up. My grandmother died leaving my grandfather broken hearted. A drought hit, destroying the crops before they were producing quality grapes for wine. After a few years of struggling with no real success, the vintner went back to California or God knows where. My mom had to take a job to take care of me. My grandfather lost the fight to see his dreams become reality. He gave up making wine and decided to go back to just selling it.”