Anything for You

by Kristan Higgins

  "Honor! I-- Thank you!" Jess's cheeks were on fire, her legs limp with relief. "Um...promoted to what?"

  "In a nutshell, you'll be taking over most of the PR and marketing. You're good at it. Better than I am, really."

  "I highly doubt that."

  "And the Barn is just too busy for you to handle, on top of everything else you do." She didn't say anything for a minute. "Can you keep a secret? What am I saying? Of course you can." She smiled. "I'll be needing some time off in about seven months."

  "Oh, Honor! Congratulations!" Jess jumped up and hugged her boss, then, a little embarrassed, sat back down. Honor and Tom had been married almost a year. Jess was very fond of him, and Charlie, his not-quite stepson who'd come to live with them a little while back.

  A baby. For a second, longing surged hard and strong. Then she cut it off. No point in going there.

  Honor smiled. "Don't tell anyone, okay? So much can happen in the first couple months, and you know my family. And with Charlie still being a little new here, I want to keep it quiet for as long as I can."

  "Gotcha. I'll keep good thoughts."

  "Thanks. Anyway, remember we were talking about hiring an event planner at our staff meeting last month?" Honor asked. Jess nodded. "Well, I put out a feeler, and then a couple weeks ago, I met someone in the city when I was doing sales calls. Everything fell into place, and she starts today. I forgot to tell you. Pregnancy brain, I guess."

  "Wow. Okay, great!"

  "Her name's Marcy Hannigan. She's got great references, and with the season picking up, I figured we'd get her started as soon as possible. And now you'll get to do more real marketing and less dealing with hysterical brides."

  "I don't know how to say thank you," Jess said. "But thank you."

  "Thank you," Honor said. "You know how...particular I am about things, and you're the only one I don't feel the urge to micromanage."

  "I resent that," said a voice from the doorway. Ned, late as usual, adorable as usual, too. "And the word is anal-retentive, not particular."

  Honor smiled. "Hush, child, the grown-ups are talking. And you don't want Jess's job. You're doing great in sales."

  "My good looks and charm?" he suggested, winking at Jess.

  "Exactly," Honor said. "Now go." Ned obeyed. "So the new position," Honor continued. "You're our first ever director of marketing." She handed a paper across the desk. Jess glanced at it; in typical Honor fashion, it was numbered and bulleted, outlining her new duties.

  "Wow. I have a title." She couldn't help grinning.

  "And an office. We've finally accepted the fact that my father will never set foot in one, so you get his."

  "Really?"

  "You also get a raise, Jess. You've been fantastic, and we don't want to lose you." She handed over another piece of paper.

  Tears stung Jessica's eyes.

  Eight thousand more a year. Eight thousand.

  "Thank you," she whispered.

  "We'd like to take you and Marcy out tonight, okay? Bring your brother. O'Rourke's, seven o'clock. The whole family, plus spouses and kids."

  Jess was afraid to look up. She didn't want her boss to see her crying.

  Honor sensed it, anyway. "Why don't you pack up your desk and get settled in your new office?" she said kindly. "Marcy will be here around noon to meet everyone."

  *

  AN HOUR LATER, Jess closed the door to her first-ever office.

  Honor had already hung a name plaque on the door. Jessica Dunn, Director of Marketing.

  Was it wrong to want to take a picture of that? Maybe later, when no one was around.

  On her desk was a picture of Davey when they got Chico Three. She had a coffee cup--This mug may contain wine with the Blue Heron logo, one of her ideas from a couple of months ago. She'd pitched the notion of a little more humor in some of the merchandise, and Honor liked it, so they now had a line of items in the gift shop that were more lighthearted and selling like crazy.

  Almost hesitantly, Jess sat behind her desk. Her window overlooked the western vineyards--the 1780 Rieslings and Maisy Chardonnays.

  A view. She had a view. Her throat tightened again.

  Jess took a breath and considered the office. She might need a few more things to personalize the space. One photo and a company mug didn't say much.

  Honor's office had beautiful photos of the vineyard in the different seasons, taken by Jack, who was a pretty good amateur photographer, at least a dozen framed photos of her siblings and their kids. There were also a slew of Tom and Charlie, including an absolutely gorgeous shot of Honor and Tom on their wedding day, dancing together, their foreheads touching, Honor's eyes closed, a small smile on her lips.

  It occurred to Jessica that there was not a single photo of her and Connor together. Not one in the entire world, unless someone had snapped one of them doing the Chicken Dance at Colleen's wedding.

  All those times together, and not one photo.

  The thought gave her an unexpected pang.

  But you know what? No negative thoughts were going to take place here. She had a raise, a title and an office! Maybe she'd get some plants. African violets or orchids. Davey tended to overwater houseplants, so they all died swiftly. But her office (her office!) had a wide windowsill perfect for just such a thing. In some ways, it would be more her space than anywhere but her bedroom, a room only Davey had seen. And once, Connor.

  It dawned on her that she'd be going to O'Rourke's tonight. This wasn't exactly a new experience, but going to the place owned by the guy whose marriage proposal she'd just rejected...that was new.

  Nervousness jangled through her limbs.

  Had he told anyone about the proposal? Would Colleen spit in her drink? Would the O'Rourke cousins refuse to wait on her? Would Connor do anything, like storm out of the kitchen and dump a plate of nachos in her lap or...nah. Of course he wouldn't. There was some pride at stake, after all.

  And Connor wasn't violent.

  An image of his bruised, stitched twelve-year-old face flashed in front of her. You can hit me. It's okay.

  Her heart folded in on itself like a wounded animal.

  Well. The sooner she started acting normal around him again, the sooner things would actually be normal.

  Time to get to work. She had a story to pitch on Ned becoming the fourth generation to currently work at Blue Heron. She clicked on the document and read what she'd written so far, then revised a little, wrote a few more paragraphs. She was pitching it to Wine Spectator, so it had to be brilliant.

  A knock came on her door.

  "Jessica Dunn, meet Marcy Hannigan, our new events planner," Honor said, stepping aside for the new hire. "Marcy, if you have any questions, just ask Jess. She handled your job until this morning."

  "Hi, Marcy. It's very nice to meet you," Jessica said, standing to shake Marcy's hand. Her hair was black and choppy like an anime character--really cute--and she wore black-framed glasses. Her cheeks were ruddy with good health. "And absolutely, let me know if I can help."

  "Don't worry about me!" Marcy said, her voice strong and robust, matching her sturdy frame. "I doubt I'll need a thing! I've been doing event planning for ten years, and you wouldn't even believe some of the venues I've handled, or some of the personalities I've worked with. Donald Trump, hello? Talk about high maintenance on that wedding! But in the end he told me I was the best planner he'd ever worked with! He even offered me a permanent job, but I'm the type of person who thrives on diversity. Who cares if I had a million-dollar budget? That gets old so fast, you wouldn't believe it, I kid you not. And even if he did send me an entire case of Cristal to try to woo me, I said, 'Donald, I'm sorry, you're going to have to settle for my runner-up! I'm just not interested!' So this place will be a piece of wedding cake for little old me! I told Honor when I interviewed, I foresee absolutely no problems!"

  Wow. That was quite a soliloquy. A lot of exclamation points. Jess glanced at Honor, who didn't seem affected. Then again, Honor was
very chill.

  "Well, uh, welcome to Blue Heron."

  "I'd love to stay and chat, but as I told you, Honor, I want to hit the ground running. No time like the present! We all have twenty-four hours in the day, but I'm the type of person who doesn't like to sit around on my butt, staring at a computer screen. Nice to meet you! I guess I'll see you later!"

  "You bet," Jess said. Had she just been insulted?

  Marcy's office was right across from hers--no mere desk for her--and for the next two hours, the woman hauled stuff in--boxes, photos, a huge ficus tree, curtains--curtains? Why would anyone want to block the view of the fields?--an upholstered chair, a coffee table. She clattered. She hammered. Jess heard Honor get up and close her door, and after a while, she did the same.

  Marcy had energy, she'd give her that. And if Honor had hired her, she must be a helluva wedding planner.

  At that moment, Ned stuck his head in the door. "Hey. Got a minute?"

  "Sure. Come on in, and close the door."

  "Yeah. Noisy out there." He sat down. "Congrats on the promo."

  "Thanks, buddy. What's up?"

  He tilted his head back against his chair and sighed. "You know I've been living in the Opera House, right?" he asked.

  Jess nodded. The Opera House was a beautiful old building converted into apartments a few years ago, right there on the green in the heart of Manningsport.

  "Well, I can't really afford it anymore. I'm a spendthrift youth."

  "Uh-oh."

  "Yeah. I bought a new truck, couldn't resist a big-screen TV, bought a necklace for a certain girl who will remain nameless, and now find myself in debt."

  Jess smiled. Everyone knew Ned had a crush on Levi's little sister, who was still in college. "You irresponsible pup. What can I do for you?"

  "You have an extra bedroom, right? Ever think about renting it?"

  Jess blinked. "Um...no, I never did." With Davey's issues, it had never crossed her mind.

  "Well, I could pay you I don't know...a couple hundred a month? And I could hang out with Davey, too, if you needed coverage or something. I have no life, except when I'm driving to Geneva to date She Who Cannot Be Named."

  A couple hundred a month, plus the raise, would mean home ownership a lot faster.

  And Ned and Davey got along great; they were pretty close in age, and Ned, like Davey, was a dork about comic books and action movies. It might be really nice to have another adult in the house.

  "Let me ask my brother," she said. "If he says yes, it's a go."

  "Great. Because if I have to move back home, I'll kill myself." He stood up. "Gotta make some calls. See you at O'Rourke's." He rose and opened the door, almost bumping into Prudence. "Oh, shit, hey, Mom. Gotta go."

  "Is that how you greet your mother?" Pru said. "Give me a kiss, you thankless slob."

  Ned rolled his eyes and kissed his mother's cheek. "You look young and beautiful today, Mother," he said.

  "That's more like it. Now get out of here. The grown-ups are gonna talk." She came into Jess's office and nodded approvingly. "Heard about the promotion. Well done, Jess."

  "I can't thank Honor enough."

  "You know what would look great in here?" Pru said. "A cutout of Captain James Tiberius Kirk, USS Enterprise. Or Khan. Even better." She threw herself into the chair. "So how was your weekend? Got anything good to tell me? Carl and I stayed in and did the usual. Watched HBO, fooled around, got caught by Abby again, it's like the kid wants to see us naked."

  "I'm positive that's not the case."

  Pru smiled. "How about you? You and Connor do anything fun?"

  Yes. Prudence was the third person who knew, strangely enough. Ever since Jess had started working here, Pru, who was about fifteen years older than she was, had just sort of decided that Jessica and she were friends. It was as easy as that. Almost every day since Jess started, Pru would come in from the fields, smelling like grapes and fresh air, plunk herself down in the chair and talk.

  Then one day about six months ago, Jess and Pru had been at O'Rourke's, and Connor made a rare appearance from the kitchen. He went over to a couple who practically fell over themselves with compliments, then glanced over at Jess and Pru. Gave a nod, then turned his attention back to the couple.

  "You two doing it?" Pru had asked.

  Jess had been so surprised, she jolted, spilling her root beer.

  "Don't worry," Pru went on. "I won't tell anyone. I totally get the allure of a secret fling. That's the problem with being married for twenty-five years. Not a lot of secrets. So how is he? Is he fantastic? I bet he's fantastic."

  Jess's face had hurt from blushing. Couldn't exactly deny it when it was put so bluntly.

  But she found that it was pretty nice to have a girlfriend.

  Oh, Jess had plenty of pals. Colleen, Emmaline Neal, who worked with Levi and had just married Jack Holland, some of the women on the ambulance corps. Faith was nice, too, and Jess liked seeing Levi so happily married. Honor was close to being a friend, but Jess always felt like that was a line she shouldn't cross, given the whole boss/assistant thing.

  But Pru... Pru was different. Funny, way too open about sharing her sex life, but really, really kind. And to the best of Jess's knowledge, she never did tell anyone.

  "Hello? Jess? You're not saying anything," Pru said now. "Did you guys have a fight?"

  Jess glanced at the closed door. "Well, he proposed," she said in a low voice.

  "Fantastic!" Pru held her hand up for a high five. "Bring it here, girl!"

  Jess didn't.

  "Oh, shit." Pru sank back into her chair and crossed her legs. "Did you say no?"

  "Of course I said no."

  "Why?"

  "Because...you know. Davey wouldn't go for it." She looked out the window, to the sweet green fields, the grape leaves fluttering in the wind. "Besides, even putting Davey aside, it'd be a no. Connor and I are just friends."

  "Who get it on like starving ferrets."

  "I'm quite sure I never used the word ferret for anything, Pru."

  "Still. You sure you don't want to marry him? He's so hot. And he cooks. I mean, come on, sister. Don't be greedy."

  "No, no. He's great. He is. But...marriage is just not for me."

  "Ouch. Poor Connor." She winked, taking the sting from her words.

  "I better get back to work, Pru."

  "Sure. Me, too. Hey, have you met the wedding planner?"

  "I did."

  "Talks a lot."

  That was almost funny, coming from Prudence, who was rather free with conversation, as well. "Part of her job, I guess."

  "I guess. See you at O'Rourke's later on. Oh, will that be weird for you? Since you broke his heart and all?"

  "His heart is not broken. Seriously. He was just going through the motions."

  "If you say so. See you later. It'll be fun." Pru smiled and stood, hitched up her Carhartts and thudded down the hall, and Jess tried to get back to work.

  She hadn't broken Connor's heart. She was almost sure of it.

  CHAPTER NINE

  THE SECOND CONNOR walked into the restaurant on Tuesday morning, Colleen swiveled around from her place at the bar, frowning.

  Times like this, the magical twinsy bond really sucked.

  "What are you doing here? It's your day off. You look like your dog just died, and you don't even have one."

  "Don't want to talk about it," he said.

  "Con--"

  "No." He strode into the kitchen and set his bags down. Time to get to work.

  Yesterday, Manningsport Day--such a dopey holiday, though one he usually liked--he'd gone to five Mennonite farms. Bought cilantro and baby romaine, goat cheese and lamb. This morning, he'd driven to the fish market in Corning and bought some gorgeous haddock that had been swimming in the Atlantic the day before. Fish tacos would be the special, then, with a side of creamy coleslaw. Burger of the day would be lamb with cheddar, sauteed baby Portobello mushrooms and artichoke hearts. Soup du
jour, Potage St. Germaine, perfect for spring with the new peas and fennel. Rafe could do something with rhubarb for dessert. Maybe a nice Chantilly cream on the side.

  "Connor." Colleen stood there, a frown on her face, idly rubbing her enormous belly. Hard to believe she still had two months to go.

  "Yes?" he said with great patience, slicing a leek, then chopping it at lightning speed.

  "What happened?" Her voice was quiet.

  So it was that bad, then. She was actually concerned.

  "Dog-Face," he said after a minute, "you know how you love fixing people up?"

  "I do, indeed."

  He began with the carrots, four of them across, the rhythm of the knife underscoring his words, the slices wafer-thin. "So. Do your thing with me."

  "What? Seriously? You want me to find you a woman?"

  "Inside voice, please."

  "So you are straight, then." She grinned.

  "Just do it. Find someone nice."

  "Marriage nice?"

  He glanced at her. "Yeah. What? Don't look at me that way. I want to get married. As long as it's not a disgusting sappy mess like you and Lucas."

  "Soon-to-be-born child of mine, ignore your Uncle Idiot. He's jealous of Mommy and Daddy's wedded bliss. Sure, I'll find you someone. Jessica Dunn."

  "Not her."

  "Why?"

  Connor was careful not to make eye contact. "We're just friends. She's not my type."

  "Because she was a slut in high school? Who cares?"

  "It's not that. She's just not my type."

  "How can that be? I'd sleep with her, and I'm straight. We're talking about Jessica Dunn here, Con."

  He didn't answer. Didn't look at her. Just kept slicing those sweet little carrots.

  Colleen covered her mouth with one hand. "Hail Mary, full of grace, you've already dated her, you lying liar of lie-land! Why don't you marry her, then?"

  He grabbed another four carrots, cut off the ends and began dicing again, the knife making a satisfying rhythm against the cutting board.

  "Oh, Connor," his sister whispered. "She turned you down?"

  "Moving on," he said.

  "Are you heartbroken?"

  "Colleen, let's not do this, okay?"

  "But you--"

  "No." Thunkthunkthunkthunk.

  "I could--"

  "Absolutely not." Another leek, slit, turn, dice.

  Colleen scootched herself up on the counter. "Would it kill you to sit on a stool?" he asked. "I'm cooking here."