“Everyone?” Baby moved in a way that made Jessica’s equilibrium shift forward. Like face-plant forward. She gripped the door frame.
“Yes.” Agnes watched over Mildred as she seemed to be watching over Jessica. Step by slow step.
Jess had wanted to be part of Harmony Valley because people were so inclusive. But she didn’t want to be a burden, someone people like Agnes or Duffy felt obligated to help.
Duffy’s truck turned onto Main. They all waved to him as he passed. Goldie peeked out the window at them.
Jess felt a pang of something she didn’t want to name, a pang she had to find a cure for. Duffy wasn’t hers and never would be.
“He likes you,” Eunice announced with a flourish of her hand, as if this were breaking news.
“He prefers to be alone.” Jess led the women inside.
“He likes you,” Eunice insisted. “He brought you these planters he made a few weekends ago.”
Jess stopped. “Duffy made those?”
“Didn’t you know?” Eunice tugged at a purplish curl. “They were in his backyard just beyond the back steps.”
“I didn’t see him drop them off.” Perhaps he’d done so while she was in the shower. Or while she ran the mixer. Classic Duffy. He couldn’t help himself. He was programmed to take care of people with a generosity that rivaled the selfish greed of his twin. And yet, she didn’t feel cared for. She felt like an albatross around his neck.
“Duffy is a shy one,” Mildred said, positioning her walker at a table. “Remember when we were at his house last weekend? He barely spoke a word.”
“He keeps to himself.” Rose sashayed past the window as if it were a stage. “I asked him about Jessica the other day and he just grunted.”
“I’m agreeing with Eunice on this one,” Agnes said. “He likes you. He just doesn’t know how to tell you he likes you.”
Jessica knew Duffy didn’t lack the skill to express his feelings. In fact, he preferred to avoid them.
Eunice put her face inches from the bakery case, and fluffed her bangs in her reflection. “I’ll tell him it’s okay to approach you directly. Valentine’s Day is around the corner.”
“You’ll do no such thing. I think you’re all blowing this out of proportion.” Baby chose that moment to do the shimmy-shake. “We’re friends.” Or they would be when she set down clear guidelines. No late-night visits. No touching faces or tucking hair behind ears. And absolutely no kisses. “I don’t want to hear any more nonsense about it.”
The elderly ladies shuffled around in their orthopedic shoes, muttering to each other about romance and oak trees and traditions.
Jess brought down the supply of coffee mugs. They were large and white and smelled of dish soap. One had a price tag on the bottom. She sighed.
“Have you picked out a name for the baby?” Eunice tugged on the hem of her teal crewneck sweater.
The women didn’t wait for Jess to answer.
“How about Clarence?” Rose glided on her toes closer to the bakery case, peering inside. “He was a circus clown when I was a high flyer. Big muscles. Hair as black as night.”
“Shirley.” Mildred sat in her walker. “I always wanted a daughter named Shirley.”
“Her baby’s name should mean something to Jessica.” Eunice leaped back into the fray. “Respect for the loss of a loved one or honoring a dear, dear friend.”
“Well said.” Agnes nodded.
Rose bounced on her toes. “She just wants Jessica to name her baby girl Eunice.”
A timer went off in the kitchen and Jess left the women to argue. She hadn’t decided upon a name for Baby because she was with Eunice—she wanted the name to mean something, to be linked to family. She’d have to ask Duffy about family names. And wouldn’t that conversation go over well?
She removed a tray of mini chocolate muffins. The voices in the front room dropped to whispers.
“What are you ladies talking about?” If it concerned more donations, Jess was putting her foot down.
“Nothing,” they chorused.
Flynn and his wife entered the bakery, followed by Slade and Christine.
And then the bakery was a crush, as if it were the most popular restaurant in New York City.
Jess had never felt so happy. The only thing missing was Duffy.
* * *
“NO DISEASE?” DUFFY looked at the results again. He sat at his desk upstairs in the winery, examining the numbers in a chart with tiny print.
Christine took the report from him. “Ryan, are you sure we sent them a sample from the last row of the vineyard on Parish Hill?”
“I’m beginning to sense doubt in my abilities.” Ryan placed his elbows on his desk and tapped the folder in front of him with his fingers. “I walked to the bottom of the vineyard, just like you said. I took samples from the smallest vines, just like you said. I sent the samples in to the lab we use in Davis, just like you said.” His smile lacked his usual easygoing charm.
Duffy had been so sure the vineyard was infected. He stared at Goldie’s small head resting on his boot. She clearly had every confidence in him. He went back to trying to identify what they’d missed. “And you requested they test via RT-PCR?” A reverse chain reaction laboratory test.
“Yes...no.” Ryan’s smile faded. “That test was überexpensive. I had them test using the ELISA method.”
That explained it.
“ELISA is enzyme-based and not all the leaf-roll virus enzymes have been identified,” Christine said gently.
“So we test again?” Ryan looked as sad as Goldie when she didn’t get table scraps.
“We test again,” Duffy confirmed.
Ryan grabbed his coat and told them he was headed out to Parish Hill. “And here I thought I was saving a few bucks.”
“We appreciate it,” Christine said. “But we need the broader test.”
Goldie raised her head to watch Ryan hurry down the stairs.
“Nice dog.” Christine placed the test results in the trash. “You got lucky with her.”
“I’m merely a foster home until her owners show up.” A foster home. Goldie didn’t treat him like a foster parent. Or his home as if it were temporary. She had a water bowl in the kitchen and a pillow by the fireplace. He’d found a tennis ball in the Mionetti’s vineyard that she somehow got her small jaws around. She loved playing fetch. Was this how Jess had been in foster care? Had she settled in, firmly intending to stay with a family? Only to realize that she was just a number on a balance sheet?
Another set of footsteps mounted the stairs. Shelby, the wine cellar manager, appeared. Goldie trotted over to greet her, sniffing her boots with interest.
“She smells my goose. Don’t you, girl?” Shelby knelt to pet Goldie.
If there was one thing Duffy could rely on, it was the unpredictability of Harmony Valley residents. Though he hadn’t expected it from someone under the age of seventy. “You have a goose?”
“Yep.” Shelby stood, drawing her sweater over her baby bulge. “She mothers the kittens I rescued from the wine-cellar walls a few months ago.”
“Shelby will take in any animal.” Christine looked up from her email. “She could take Goldie for you until someone comes to claim her.”
Duffy’s mouth went dry.
“You having trouble with this girl?” Shelby’s voice pitched high. “I don’t believe it. My husband might make a fuss, but I’ll take her.”
Duffy had to swallow twice to work up enough saliva to speak. “She’s fine. No trouble at all. I’m sure her owners will show up any day now.”
“Be careful.” Shelby’s features tightened and twisted into an expression that betrayed unresolved wounds. “When the original owners show up, it’s devastating to let them go.”
“It’s only a dog,” Duffy said. But he felt the lie in his words. Foster care. Goldie deserved better than that. Jess deserved better than that. They both deserved a permanent home and unconditional love.
“If you change your mind, let me know.” Shelby dropped a folder on Christine’s desk. “Here are the wine readings you wanted.”
The two women began discussing sugar quantities and fermentation levels as if they were reviewing the latest fashion trends. Duffy’s eyes crossed just listening to them. He mumbled something about checking the vineyards and headed out, Goldie at his heels. They drove by the bakery, but it was shut up and dark. Jess was most likely in back getting all her business paperwork taken care of. The empty planter boxes he’d dropped off earlier looked...well...empty.
Duffy needed to pick up some supplies from Cloverdale. He knew of a nursery along the way.
* * *
JESSICA WAS BAKING when she should have been resting. But her nerves were jangled and her head was fuzzy from all the paperwork she’d filled out with Agnes.
Her cell phone rang.
Jess jumped. Baby jumped. Even the pan of biscotti she was filling seemed to jump.
It was a robocall. A prerecorded message. “This is a reminder that your Lamaze class starts this coming Friday night.”
Jess had forgotten about Lamaze. Or, like everything else, she’d put it to the back of her mind, which had, of course, lost it.
“Remember to bring a yoga mat or a blanket and pillows. You will be working with your partner on the floor. See you soon!”
Jess had been meaning to ask Vera to help her through childbirth. That was no longer an option. She was left with Eunice or... Dare she consider Duffy? She’d prefer Duffy’s steadiness. He’d most likely agree, not because he wanted to, but because he felt obligated to.
Movement out her front window drew her attention. She set the timer and hurried to the front door, where Goldie danced on her hind legs for attention.
Jess knelt to oblige. The sidewalk was cold beneath her knee. She swept Goldie into her arms, and stood. “Flowers?”
Duffy finished potting some geraniums and stood, wiping the dirt from his hands on a small towel. “Bakeries need flowers.”
“How much do I owe you? For the planters and the flowers?” She couldn’t afford to pay him, not when the bakery needed an espresso machine and Baby needed a crib. But the flowers were colorful and cheerful. They made the bakery look loved.
“Nothing. It’s a gift.”
She was weary of accepting charity under the guise of such an innocent word, resentful that gifts kept showing up. “Take them back to your house.”
“No.”
“How much?”
She recognized that determined tilt to his chin, but was equally adamant that people began to respect her boundaries. “You want to pay me for these?”
She nodded.
“Fine. Let’s barter.” He smiled, but it wasn’t a smile of compromise. It was the smile of a conqueror. “I’ll take payment in coffee and a Danish.”
She clutched Goldie so tight, the poor dear whined. “That’s not enough to pay for all this.”
“Okay.” His eyes took on a mischievous glint, the one that melted her heart. “Coffee and Danish for a week.”
It still wasn’t enough. She put Goldie down so she could cross her arms and glare at him.
His smile dimmed. “Coffee and Danish every day until Baby’s born?”
“Deal. Thank you for doing business with me.” She pressed a kiss to his cheek. It seemed natural until he looked at her with that same look of longing he’d had in his eyes last night.
Her chest fluttered. Baby bumped her back into the doorway, because Baby knew she didn’t need to make a fool of herself.
“Have you had dinner yet?” Duffy’s gaze dropped to her lips.
Her lips. Her lips. Her hungry-for-a-kiss lips.
“Uh...no.” Pregnant brain was back in control.
“I’m roasting eggplant with potatoes.” His gaze cooled, which did nothing to stop the nervous fluttering in her chest. “Baby needs sustenance. Every time I come by you’re baking. You’re probably in pregnant-brain mode and have forgotten to eat real food.” He paused, looking as if he hadn’t realized he’d just invited her to dinner. And then he rushed on. “What do you say? Vegetables? My house? Fifteen minutes?”
“I have...uh...biscotti.” She looked over her shoulder. She had biscotti somewhere. “In the oven.” This was good. She’d completed a sentence.
“Okay. You get there when you get there. I’ll keep dinner warm for you.” He gathered up the empty flowerpots and bags of potting soil, and walked away with Goldie, whistling.
Jess hurried back into the kitchen, Baby bouncing enthusiastically all the way. “Don’t get any ideas, Baby. He’s your uncle.”
But it wasn’t Baby she needed to worry about.
* * *
DUFFY SET THE TABLE. He loaded the dishwasher. He took out the garbage. He lit a fire.
What am I doing?
He was acting as if Jess was coming over for a date.
He’d given her planter boxes. He’d given her flowers. He’d given her an excuse to kiss his cheek.
What? Was he so lonely he was willing to forgo his long-awaited freedom?
A knock at the door. Goldie pranced eagerly in the foyer, as if she knew it was Jess.
Duffy made a decision. He’d open the door and pretend as if everything was the way it had been the first night she’d stayed here. He’d open the door and be cool.
He opened the door and felt a grin split his cheeks. “Come on in.” Inward groan. He sounded first-date happy.
She had a dusting of flour at her temple. Without thinking, he wiped it off with his thumb.
Their eyes met; a flicker of memory seemed to pass through hers that had nothing to do with Greg. Duffy’s heart accelerated. This was so not in line with a carefree lifestyle.
One ear cocked up, Goldie looked from one human to the other. Then she thumped her tail. Even the dog was in league with Duffy’s ill-timed feelings.
Duffy turned away. “Have a seat at the table.” While she did so, he plated the food and brought it over.
She ate in silence. This wasn’t exactly how he’d pictured dinner. He did a quick rewind, from the time she’d confronted him planting flowers to the present. Other than that chaste kiss, nothing seemed silent-treatment-worthy.
“Tough day at the office?” he asked.
“I don’t think I’ve ever done so much paperwork.” Her gaze was troubled. “My brain is feeling a bit mushified.”
“Mushified? Is that like pregnant brain on steroids?”
That got a smile out of her, but it didn’t reach her eyes. “Something like that.” She gestured toward a plastic container with brownies. “I brought dessert.”
Duffy should have let her distant mood go. He couldn’t. “Have you remembered something about Greg that upset you?”
“No. For the most part, my memory is back. It’s just...” She set her fork on her plate and met his gaze levelly. “I need a Lamaze partner.”
Lamaze. Labor. Childbirth. Situations men didn’t normally aspire to be a part of.
“I was thinking of asking Eunice,” she added.
“I...” Duffy had been preparing his speech to turn her down when her words sank in. “Eunice? My next-door neighbor?”
“Yes.” Her smile was small and sad, and made him disappointed in himself. “She’s retired. It won’t be a burden for her to help me.”
“What if she faints at the sight of blood?” Eunice faint? What about Jess? She got queasy at the sight of bodily fluids. “You have no idea how Eunice performs under stress.”
“Work with me here, Duff. I don’t
have many options.”
Duff. He opened his mouth to volunteer, but stopped himself. This was a serious commitment. He’d be on call. There’d be no spontaneous trips out of town for the next few weeks.
His heart wanted to say yes. His head wanted to erase their conversation from her memory.
Because she hadn’t been given a table scrap, Goldie groaned at his feet, and raised her gaze to his.
Who was he kidding? Until Goldie’s parents showed up, there’d be no trips out of town anyway. “Is there a reason I couldn’t be your Lamaze partner?” Is there a reason I can’t keep my mouth shut?
“Other than you don’t want to do it?” She stared at her plate. “Eunice likes being with me.”
This is good. This is exactly what I want.
“It’s not that I don’t like being with you,” Duffy hedged.
“I don’t want to be an obligation. We’re friends.” Jess said it as if she’d announced she was making broccoli with dinner. Unemotionally, as if she had no idea his insides were in turmoil—wanting to be there for her was having a skirmish with not wanting to commit. “You don’t want to do this, so don’t ask.”
“Despite my determination to be commitment-free, I still manage to help out here and there.” He rapped on the table with his knuckles. Not hard, but hard enough to rattle Goldie, who stood and cocked an ear at him. “The other day I helped Flynn and Slade remove the tree from Rutgar’s property.”
Jess chuckled. “Someone guilted you into it. I know you didn’t volunteer.”
“How do you know that?”
“Because.” She laid a hand over the top of his fist. “Of all the empty houses in Harmony Valley, you chose to rent one with stairs in front and back.”
“I chose it because of its size and central location. I can be at any vineyard in minutes.” She didn’t think he’d volunteered because he had stairs? What did that have to do with anything?
“Duffy.” Her other hand wrapped around his. “Your father’s in a wheelchair. You have no ramp. No way for your father to come inside.”
His pulse pounded in his temples, rushing past his ears to do so. “I...uh... I was going to build a ramp. I bought redwood, which is resistant to rot.”
A Memory Away Page 18
