Blend

by Georgia Beers

  “Did you get any sleep, Ang?” Lindsay had shared an apartment with Angela for nearly four years while Angela got her bachelor’s in business and Lindsay floundered, trying to figure out what to be when she grew up. She knew Angela was a very light sleeper and had trouble sleeping away from her own bed.

  “I hate these damn cross-country trips,” she muttered and took another sip. “So, tell me about this kayaking woman of yours.”

  “Oh, you misunderstand, my friend,” Lindsay said as she leaned her forearms on the counter so her face was centered on the screen. “She is no woman of mine. Do I like the way she looks? Of course. I’m not blind. But she hates me, and frankly, I’m not that fond of her either.” She backed up and told Angela the entire story, starting with Mrs. B.’s announcement that she was leaving to travel and ending with Piper’s most recent visit to Vineyard, along with her complaints.

  “And then, there she was in a kayak,” Angela supplied.

  “And there she was in a kayak.” Lindsay nodded. “My brain had trouble computing it.”

  “Because you thought she lived in suits and heels?”

  “I think I did, yeah.” Lindsay laughed and Angela chuckled along with her.

  “Well, she’s your boss’s daughter, so that’s enough reason to stay away.”

  “Agreed. Also, she’s kind of bossy and uptight. So there’s another.”

  “See? You got this. You don’t need me.” Angela’s words were punctuated by a large yawn.

  “You’d better drink that coffee faster or you’re going to fall asleep on your clients.”

  “Shit.”

  “When are you coming home?” It had been far too long since they’d spent any quality time together. “I miss you.”

  “Next week,” Angela said. “I miss you, too.”

  “Come by Vineyard when you’re back.”

  “You got it.”

  They spoke about a few more mundane things, then hung up, and Lindsay felt the distance of her best friend strongly. She was pretty independent and didn’t tend to depend on a lot of people, but Angela had seen her through a lot. Angela knew more about her than anyone, and knew her better than anyone. Too long away from her and Lindsay’s world felt off-kilter. She put a note in her phone to make sure she got in touch next week. They needed some time together.

  * * *

  “Therefore, we’re going to stay open longer. It might be slow for a bit, but once summer hits, I think it’ll work really well. We’ll play it by ear until then.”

  Lindsay glanced at her staff. It was just before noon. Everybody was there but Bridget, but she was due in later and Lindsay would fill her in. Zack, Kevin, Christi, and Sharon all looked at her openly. “We’re going to do noon to ten, Monday through Thursday. Friday and Saturday, noon to eleven. And I’m going to experiment with some Sunday hours a bit, but I’ll cover those for now.” She watched the nods. Nobody stood in protest. “I mean, it’s not a huge change, but I think it’ll be good. We need to be here for our customers. Nobody wants to go out for a glass of wine and get kicked out by nine, you know?”

  “I think it’s a great idea,” Sharon said. She was a retired schoolteacher, an old friend of Mrs. B., and had worked at Vineyard part-time for over a year now. “I’m happy to pick up a few more hours.”

  “Hell, more customers mean more tips.” Christi smiled, then fist-bumped Zack.

  “Thank you, guys, for being so flexible,” Lindsay said with a relieved grin. “There are more than enough of us to cover it all.” She took a beat, then added, “I’ve got some other ideas I’m working on, nothing solid yet, but I’m thinking about music. Live music.”

  Eyebrows went up and mutters of surprise went through the group.

  “Nothing definite. Just an idea. I think it might bring in more people, you know?”

  A couple minutes later, she dismissed them from the meeting, happy with the reception and excited to implement the new schedule. Kevin helped her take down the rest of the chairs before he left, and when noon hit, she clicked on the Open sign and stood behind the bar, surveying the space.

  God, she loved this place.

  She scanned some more, squinting, envisioning. The metal sign hanging on the wall that read Vineyard in fancy lettering was chipped and marred. She made a mental note to do something about that. Then she went back to the overall space, trying to visualize, before settling on the front corner. It had potential for her next idea. In her head, she rearranged the layout of the tables, moving some completely, shifting some a few feet. It could work. She was sure of it. There was only one problem: it was going to cost money. Not a lot, and hopefully, once things got rocking, it would make that money back and garner a profit. But until then, she’d have an outlay of cash. And that meant one thing.

  She needed Piper’s approval.

  “Crap.” She blew out a breath. Not a phone call she wanted to make, even after the impromptu, decidedly pleasant visit this morning.

  Maybe she’d think on it for a bit…

  Kate Childs, the suspense writer, came in at two, found herself a table, and pulled out her laptop.

  “What’s happening in the world of murder and mayhem today?” Lindsay asked, as she approached her table. “And what wine goes with it?”

  “My serial killer has killed again and my detective is mulling over the clues so far. Which amount to…not much.”

  “Uh-oh.”

  “Yeah, I think she needs a glass of Chardonnay to help with that.”

  Lindsay grinned. “I’ve got just the one to help get those mystery-solving juices flowing,” she said, and went to pour a glass from a new vintner she’d tasted recently.

  Bridget arrived at four and Mr. Richardson came in not long after that to join Kate and the three others who’d come in during the afternoon. Lindsay greeted him when she came out from the office after updating and revamping the very old Facebook page for Vineyard.

  “Okay, Bridge, we’re good to go. Can you help me keep it updated on a regular basis?” She called up the page on the tablet and handed it over.

  “It looks great,” Bridget said after a few minutes, then offered up some additional suggestions.

  “This is why I keep you around,” Lindsay said. “I want it to be updated in almost real time. When somebody is thinking of coming here tonight, I want them to be able to check and see exactly what the specials are. You know?” Bridget nodded, as did Mr. R., who was privy to most of their business conversations simply by proximity. When he asked for a refill on his Montepulciano, Lindsay cocked her head and looked at him. “Would you come listen to jazz here, Mr. R.?”

  “Like, live, you mean?” At Lindsay’s nod, he said, “I would.”

  “Good.” Lindsay winked at Bridget. “I thought so.”

  “Told you.” Bridget glanced at the door as a couple entered. “You’ve got a phone call to make,” she said over her shoulder as she went to wait on them.

  “Can’t I ask a few more people first?”

  Bridget’s voice came from behind a wall. “Sure. You still have to make the call, though.”

  Lindsay groaned.

  * * *

  It was after 7:00 p.m., and Thursday had been a rough one for Piper. There was an HR situation with one of her managers. Her boss was on vacation and left way more slack for Piper to pick up than was fair. She was waiting on a report that had been due yesterday but had yet to show up, and she had to get uncomfortably firm with the person responsible for generating it. And she was told by upper management that she needed to let somebody go tomorrow. She was tired. She was stressed out. She was starving. Her new heels were torturing her feet. And Lindsay Kent wanted to talk to her. In person. That could mean nothing good, but Piper supposed it was just icing on the cake of a horrible, horrible day.

  The first thing Piper noticed when she reached for the door handle of Vineyard was the new sign that announced new hours. Looked like they were opening a bit earlier and closing a bit later and…open on Sundays now
? That meant payroll would go up. That was probably what Lindsay wanted to talk about…though it looked like she’d already made the change without consulting Piper first. She shook her head and blew out a frustrated breath before pulling the door and entering.

  Peals of laughter were the first thing she heard as the door shut behind her, and Piper followed the sound to a table of women about twenty feet away. Five of them. They’d pushed two small tables together and the surfaces were littered with wine glasses, bits and pieces of cheese on two cheese boards, and a couple oval slices of baguette. Lindsay’s back was to Piper, but the way she reached up and tucked her blond hair behind her ear was a surefire way of identifying her. Four of the women at the table were obviously two couples. Two of them held hands and one had her hand on another’s thigh. The fifth one, who had brown hair and a pretty smile, looked at Lindsay with such an obvious gleam in her eye, and Piper wrinkled her nose at the sight. Is she going to swoon now? The woman said something and Lindsay laughed and Piper rolled her eyes. Turning away, she took an empty seat at the bar and waited for Lindsay to finish flirting.

  Bridget came out from the back carrying a slate rectangle with three hunks of cheese arranged on it, a sliced baguette in the center. She stopped for a beat when she saw Piper at the bar. “Oh, hey, Piper. Be right with you.” Piper watched her deliver the cheese to a table in the corner, and for a minute, she could see her father doing the same thing. But he’d stand there and chat for longer than necessary until her mother had to actually go get him. “They came for wine, Tom, not your stories,” she’d say, and Piper could hear the affection in her voice, even now, in her own head. She shook the memory away, having no energy today to deal with that pain.

  “Hey.” Lindsay was suddenly next to her, her voice low and laced with…uncertainty? It seemed to always sound like that to Piper. She sidled around so she was facing Piper and the bar was between them.

  “Hi.”

  “Wine?”

  “Please.”

  “Can I choose for you?” Those green eyes held Piper’s gaze. A challenge? A plea? Piper couldn’t tell, but she was curious.

  “Sure.” Again, no energy to fight.

  Lindsay gave one nod, then turned her back to Piper so what she was doing wasn’t visible. After a moment, she turned and set a glass of red wine on the bar. She had a second one in her hand. “We’re going to taste this together.”

  Piper cocked her head. “We are?”

  “Yup.”

  With the stem between her fingers and the glass still on the bar, Piper swirled the wine.

  Lindsay did the same, then held her glass up to the light. “Tears are slow.”

  “More alcohol.”

  With a nod, Lindsay added, “A nice ruby color.”

  Piper’s turn to nod. Then they each put their nose in the glass and inhaled. “I get lots of fruit,” she said, almost to herself. “Cherries, maybe a little blackberry.”

  “Me, too. I’m also getting vanilla. And something…I’m not sure.” Lindsay’s light eyebrows met in a V above her nose. Her eyes snapped to Piper’s. “Citrus?”

  Piper focused, sniffed again, then nodded slowly. “I’m getting that, too. Orange, maybe?”

  “Orange! Yes. That’s it.” Lindsay smiled at Piper, who smiled back before she realized she was doing it. “Okay. Moment of truth.”

  Lindsay leaned on the bar so she was closer to Piper, and they both sipped. Then they both hummed in approval.

  “High tannins,” Lindsay observed.

  “Not nearly as sweet as I expected, given all the fruit I smelled.”

  “Right? Same here.”

  Piper sipped again, held the wine in her mouth for a beat, then swallowed. “This is good.”

  “Agreed. I’m going to put in an order for more.”

  “Are you going to tell me what it is?” Piper asked.

  Lindsay shook her head. “Nope.”

  Piper arched an eyebrow. “It’s a blend, isn’t it?”

  Lindsay shrugged. “Maybe it is. Maybe it isn’t.”

  Piper couldn’t help it. She grinned. Widely. The wine was good. She couldn’t deny it. It was complex and interesting; it had layers. She sipped again as she glanced up at Lindsay. Who was looking over Piper’s shoulder. She muttered an “excuse me,” and came out from behind the bar. Piper followed her with her gaze as she approached the table of women. Again, they were cheerful and laughing, and again, the Fifth Wheel had eyes only for Lindsay.

  Piper grimaced and turned away, uncomfortable with her own discomfort. She shook her head and drank her wine with her back to Lindsay while eavesdropping on the conversation the couple next to her was having. He was bitching about work. She was bitching about home.

  That must be a pleasant household.

  Piper sipped again, trying her best to continue eavesdropping and not to be drawn to the table where Lindsay was.

  She lost that battle in less than a minute and slowly spun on her stool.

  * * *

  “So, Mindy here wants to know if that’s your girlfriend.” The redhead at the table of women had very intense eye contact, and she held Lindsay’s gaze like a drowning person holding a life preserver.

  Lindsay furrowed her brow. “If who’s my girlfriend?”

  Red jerked her head in the direction of the bar. “Corporate Barbie over there.”

  The others at the table looked at her expectantly and the cute brown-haired girl batted those doe eyes at her. Yeah, she’d be hard to resist in any other situation. Lindsay followed Red’s gaze and realized belatedly that they were talking about Piper, who was watching them with those deep, unreadable eyes of hers. The uncomfortable chuckle burst out of Lindsay before she could catch it.

  “Um, no. Definitely not.” She shook her head as she picked up an empty cheese board.

  “Too bad,” Red said. “She’s hot.”

  Nods went around the table with the exception of the brown-haired girl.

  Lindsay smiled politely but made no comment. “Can I get you ladies anything else?” They’d arrived just before five, so seemed to be winding down after almost three hours. “I’ll be right back with your check.” It wasn’t the first time she’d been hit on by a customer and it wouldn’t be the last. She took it as a compliment and went on with her work, just like always. This time was no different.

  Back at the bar, Piper was looking down at her glass, turning it slowly in her fingers. Her nails were newly polished, again with a very dark color…plum or black maybe. Lindsay was definitely a fan.

  “Still liking it?” she asked, and gestured to the glass with her eyes when Piper looked up.

  Piper nodded, but said nothing more.

  “Okay, let me take care of this table and we’ll get down to business.” Lindsay took the tablet over to the table, tried not to hurry them along but also tried not to get too sucked into conversation with them. Piper seemed to be in a rare pleasant mood tonight, and Lindsay didn’t want to squander her chance. The table tipped her generously enough to leave her just this side of uncomfortable, and she nodded her thanks, then skedaddled back to the bar, to Piper.

  “Your fan club?” Piper asked, and Lindsay couldn’t quite read the tone of her voice.

  “Ha. No, just some customers. A couple are regulars.”

  “Mm-hmm.” Piper polished off her wine.

  “More?”

  With a shake of her head, Piper said, “Okay. Why am I here? What change do you want to make now?”

  This time, reading her tone was no problem. She was back to regular, uppity Piper, and Lindsay had to consciously control her expression to keep from letting her disappointment show. “I have an idea. It’s going to take a little bit of an outlay of cash, but I think after a month or two, it’ll pay for itself and then make a profit for us by bringing in more of a crowd.” She paused for dramatic effect. “Live music.”

  Piper held her gaze. Blinked. Blinked again.

  Lindsay raised her eyebrows.

/>   “You want to bring in a band?”

  “More than one. And just small. Like one-man or one-woman entertainers or even duos. Keyboards and guitar. You know?” It was difficult not to let the unimpressed look on Piper’s face dampen her enthusiasm, but Lindsay worked hard. “Only on weekends. Fridays and Saturdays.”

  “There’s no room.” Piper made a show of looking around Vineyard, then faced Lindsay and held up her hands, palms up.

  “That corner.” Lindsay pointed, then laid out what she’d thought earlier in the week, how they could move tables, set the band up in the corner. “They’d be visible, but out of the way of my staff.”

  “We’ve never had live music here.” Piper said it as though it made perfect sense, like it was a fact and that was that.

  “I know. But what goes better with wine than a little light jazz?” Lindsay smiled, did her best to stay up and positive, sell the idea to this most difficult of marks. “Something modern. I think we could bring in a larger, hipper crowd with some music. Local bands. Lots of advertising.”

  “What kind of cost are we talking?” Piper wasn’t happy with the idea—that much was obvious—and she asked the question as if it was an utter burden to even think about. But Lindsay had anticipated this possibility and was ready.

  “Hang on.” Lindsay held up a finger. “I’ve got it all written up for you.” She zipped back to the office and stood there for a moment, hands braced on the desk’s surface, head dropped down between her shoulders. Her heart was thudding and that annoyed her. Why did talking to Piper make her so nervous? Why did she feel like the poor student and Piper, the strict teacher? Lindsay was not weak. She was not a woman who ran scared or was easily intimidated. But Piper Bradshaw could make her feel both. “Goddamn it,” she muttered, as she snatched her report off the printer.

  Back out at the bar, Piper had her coat on. So, apparently, we’re not even going to discuss this. Lindsay handed the report over. “I’ll email it to you as well,” she said as Piper took the paper with her manicured hands that Lindsay tried not to look at.