Blend

by Georgia Beers

  But did she? Lindsay wasn’t sure. At all. She’d never been this undecided before. There were so many cons and just as many pros. Could Lindsay work with Piper? Would she want to? Could she survive it? Did Piper have the same feelings as she did? If so, could she admit it? If not, what then? Could Lindsay still handle seeing her every day? Could they concentrate on a friendship and nothing more?

  So many questions. Endless questions. They ricocheted around Lindsay’s head until she could barely remember where she was. Angela sat with her, still holding on to her arm, sipping her wine and watching the summer afternoon laze on by.

  She was going to have to wait Piper out. It was the only solution. She couldn’t nudge her. She didn’t want to. Piper had to make the move.

  The question was, how long could Lindsay wait?

  Chapter Twenty-one

  It was late.

  Piper glanced at her watch. 11:47 on Wednesday night. Vineyard had been closed for over an hour now, and Piper sat at Lindsay’s desk, only a small lamp lighting up her work space, as she tried to get some things done. Things she’d been putting off because she not only hated them, but she was terrible at them. This had become the story of her life now.

  Like ordering.

  She was terrible at ordering.

  Piper sighed. She couldn’t not order wine. Hello? Wine bar? She also couldn’t just continue to duplicate the weekly orders Lindsay had put in over the past month. Things needed to be changed up every so often to keep things fresh. A stale menu was a good way to keep customers bored and uninclined to return.

  She scratched the back of her head and tried to focus on the email from Mike, one of the wine vendors Lindsay dealt with regularly. The email was addressed to Lindsay. Frankly, Piper hadn’t gotten around to letting people know Lindsay was no longer here. Maybe that was because Piper didn’t want to admit it to herself, even though it was her fault. She knew she should probably tell her mother as well, but if she was being honest with herself, Piper knew she was still waiting, still hoping that Lindsay would walk back through the door, ready to try again.

  This entire train of thought had become circular for Piper since she watched Lindsay drive away from the lake…she checked her watch…almost thirty-nine hours ago. Around and around. Asking the same questions. Failing to answer any of them. She needed to stop or she’d drive herself nuts.

  With a literal shake of her head, she squeezed her eyes shut to clear the sleep out of them, opened, and focused on the email. Mike was touting the wonderfulness of a new red blend and reported how blends were now selling more than both Pinot Noir and Merlot. Blends were big. Lindsay had been telling her that for weeks now. Mike had even included a link that detailed how it was made.

  “Can’t hurt to learn, I guess,” Piper said to the empty office, sighed another sigh (she’d been doing a lot of that lately), and clicked.

  The article detailed what went into the process of making Smoke and Mirrors Red, a new blend from a winery on the outskirts of Napa Valley. Piper was surprised to find herself drawn into the narrative. In the interview, the winemaker talked about how he started with a base, in this case, a Zinfandel. But he needed help, another opinion, so asked his wife to brainstorm with him. Together, they thought about food pairings, about occasions for the wine, and what kind of taste they were shooting for. They added a touch of Cabernet Franc to get a little bit of spice. They tasted again, added some Grenache to lighten things up. Tasted again. Put in a little Syrah for depth and richness.

  The whole thing fascinated Piper, and she devoured the entire article right to the end. The last paragraph, which described the finished product, stopped her in her tracks. She read it. She read it again.

  And then she got it.

  Finally.

  A weight lifted from her shoulders in that instant. That was what it felt like. As if a literal twenty pounds had been taken off her body, and she sat up straighter, breathed easier than she had in nearly a week.

  You just don’t get it, do you?

  As Lindsay’s voice echoed through her head, a huge smile broke across Piper’s face.

  “I do now, Lindsay. I do now.”

  She picked up her phone, typed out a text—deleting and rewording several times before hitting Send—and packed up her things.

  She had plans to make.

  * * *

  Lindsay hesitated at the door.

  She’d been sure. Then she hadn’t. Then she had. Then she hadn’t. This morning, she had and she seemed to stay there, at “sure,” until she reached out and actually grasped the door handle of Vineyard. Then “not so sure” came squealing back like a zigzagging toddler, running through the room screaming at the top of its lungs.

  So she stood there, gripping the door handle, and took in a couple big lungsful of air.

  “Just breathe,” she whispered to herself. “You’re okay. Just breathe.”

  She lifted her chin, pulled the door open, and went inside.

  Vineyard wasn’t open yet, not for another hour, but the lights were on, soft jazz emanated from the speakers, and a table in the middle of the room was set. Well, sort of set. It was covered with a white linen tablecloth. There were two empty wine glasses and a bottle of wine sitting there, along with a small bud vase containing one red rose, and a set of small votive candles, both lit and flickering. Lindsay stared for a moment, brow furrowed, before looking up to see Piper standing next to the bar.

  She looked radiant, and that was new. Lindsay had always thought Piper beautiful, from the very beginning, even when she was angry with her. But this…this was definitely new. There was something else there. She wore dark jeans with black sandals on her feet, her toes polished an apropos wine color. Her top was a black tank, form-fitting and alarmingly sexy. Her hair was in a ponytail, and as she stood with her hands clasped loosely in front of her, a soft smile on her face, Lindsay struggled to figure out this new…aura? She didn’t know how else to classify it. But it was different and it was shimmery and Piper was radiant.

  “Hi,” she said, and took a step toward Lindsay with her arm held out to indicate the table. “Sit. Please.”

  Lindsay squinted at her slightly before doing as she was asked. Once she was seated, Piper picked up the bottle and used her wine key to open it. She only struggled a bit, and when Lindsay grinned, Piper grinned back.

  “I got it,” she said, cranking the corkscrew.

  “You do. I see that.”

  The cork gave a pop as it was pulled free. Piper cleared her throat.

  “This is Magical Vineyard’s Smoke and Mirrors Red Blend.” Piper poured the crimson wine into one glass, then the other. “I was reading about it the other night. It was nearly midnight and I was trying not to dwell on how bad I am at doing the ordering, on how much this wine bar misses you.” She made eye contact then, those hazel eyes snagging and holding Lindsay’s. “Needs you.” She handed a glass to Lindsay, then picked up her own, held it to the light, swirled it. “So, I was reading about this blend.” She stressed the word, which made Lindsay smile again. “And the more I read, the more interested I became. I learned all about how it was made, about the selection of different grapes and which made the most sense. But one thing really struck me.”

  Lindsay was captivated. She didn’t understand it and she couldn’t explain it. But she went with it.

  Piper swirled the wine, as Lindsay had taught her to, and Lindsay did the same. They each held their glasses up to the light, observed the deep crimson of it, the tears that ran down the inside of the glass.

  Lindsay continued to be mesmerized by Piper, couldn’t seem to even begin to break eye contact. As Piper stuck her nose in the glass and inhaled—and Lindsay followed suit—their gazes held.

  They sipped.

  It was delicious. Complex. Lindsay could taste several different grapes, and the combination was velvety smooth and intricate. She gave a nod. “It’s impressive.”

  “Isn’t it? As I said, one thing about the process
of making such a perfect blend stayed with me. I was struck by the final description of it. So struck that I memorized it.” Piper cleared her throat, looked directly at Lindsay, and said, “With this blend, each component, though clearly present, is subordinate to the whole.”

  Lindsay swallowed, wondering at the intensity of Piper’s gaze.

  “It occurred to me that such a description also applies to us.” Piper’s voice had gone very soft, almost delicate. “All of our best attributes, yours and mine, come together to make a magnificent whole. None of them overshadows another. They simply…blend.”

  The lump in Lindsay’s throat hadn’t gone down with the last swallow, and she tried again as her vision blurred slightly.

  “I want you to come back to Vineyard, Lindsay. It misses you. It needs you. But more than that…I miss you and I need you. I want you to come back to me.” Piper’s beautiful hazel eyes glistened with unshed tears as she stood there, gazing down at Lindsay. “Please, Lindsay. I love you. Come back to me.”

  Lindsay sat there for another beat as she felt her heart seem to expand in her chest. She searched Piper’s face, saw nothing there but raw, pure emotion—something new for Piper. Maybe that was why she looked so different. It was as if she’d been cracked open and a warm, soft glow was now spilling out of her, lighting up the wine bar with its warmth. Lindsay couldn’t get enough of it, wanted to simply bask in it for the remainder of the day, the week, her life. One tear spilled over and coursed slowly down Piper’s cheek, and she didn’t look scared. She didn’t look sad. She looked hopeful. And loving. And Lindsay could barely believe what was happening, how it filled her heart, nourished her very soul.

  She stood up, left her wine on the white tablecloth, and then took Piper’s face tenderly in her hands. Using her thumb, she wiped the wetness from the tear away and smiled, then pressed a gentle kiss to those soft lips, lips she suddenly knew she was going to kiss for the rest of her days. In the quietest of whispers, she said, “Oh, Piper. You finally get it. I love you, too.”

  Epilogue

  Three months later

  When the door to Gina’s house opened, Piper couldn’t believe her eyes. It was her mother, yes, but some new and improved version. Before she had more time to analyze the view, she was wrapped up in her mother’s arms. Tightly. Warmth and love enveloped her.

  “Piper, my girl,” her mom whispered in her ear. “I missed you so much.”

  Piper was no longer surprised to feel her eyes well up, as this seemed to be the new version of her—sappy and emotional—and she squeezed her mom tighter, using the extra time to pull herself together. When she felt it was safe, she pushed out of the hug, but kept a grip on her mother’s upper arms, holding her at arm’s length and making a show of looking her up and down.

  “Mom. Seriously. You look amazing.” It was true. She was tan—not overly so, but in a way that made her appear healthy and vibrant. Her hair was sun-streaked, the chestnut brown shot through with glimmers of golden blond. She’d put on a little weight around the middle, which was good, as Piper had worried about her being too skinny ever since her father died.

  Her mom dismissed the compliment with a good-natured wave and reached both arms out past Piper. “Lindsay, sweetheart, come here.”

  Piper watched as her mother pulled Lindsay into a big hug, Lindsay’s gaze locking on Piper’s over her shoulder, a smile on her face. “I missed you, Mrs. B. I’m glad you’re back.”

  “Get in here, you guys,” Gina called from the dining room. “It’s chilly out.”

  Piper and Lindsay took off their jackets and draped them over a chair, then followed Ellen into the dining room where Gina had laid out enough munchies to feed twenty people.

  “Um, Gina? Who else is coming?” Lindsay asked as she handed over two bottles of wine she’d brought. “Did you invite your entire class and not tell us?”

  “Ha ha. You’re hilarious.” Gina took the bottles.

  “Girls,” Ellen said, and her tone had softened considerably as she moved to stand next to a handsome man who stood quietly off to the side. He was tall with salt-and-pepper hair, a neatly trimmed mustache and goatee, and kind blue eyes. “This is Jeffrey.”

  Piper stood still, not exactly staring at Jeffrey, but unable to stop looking at him, at the way his arm rested on her mother’s shoulders. A gentle nudge in her back told her Lindsay was prodding her. “Um. Sorry. Hi.” She held out a hand. “I’m Piper.”

  Jeffrey’s hand was large, warm, and he didn’t try to out-firm Piper with his grip. “Piper, it’s so nice to finally meet you. Your mother talks about you girls nonstop.”

  Piper could feel Lindsay’s hand on the small of her back, and somehow, that made things right. “It’s nice to meet you as well.” Jeffrey’s existence—and his new role in her mother’s life—weren’t a surprise. She’d brought him up in phone conversation about two months ago, so Piper and Gina had had time to get used to the idea of their mother with a boyfriend, but it was still just as weird to see it as Piper expected it would be.

  “Hi. I’m Lindsay.” Lindsay’s voice yanked Piper back to the situation at hand.

  “Piper’s girlfriend,” Mrs. B. said quietly, but not so quietly that both she and Piper didn’t hear it.

  “Lindsay.” Jeffrey’s face lit up as he shook her hand. “I’ve heard all about you as well.” To Mrs. B., he said, “You’re right. They’re gorgeous together.”

  Piper felt her face heat up as Lindsay glanced at her, eyebrows raised in a clear statement of what was that? Piper gave her a subtle shrug as Gina ushered them into seats. Gina’s husband was out of town on business and the kids were both off with friends, having seen their grandmother the night before, so it was just the five of them.

  For the next hour, they relaxed, laughed, drank and ate as Ellen regaled them with tales of her travels, how she’d only been in Florida alone, then had met up with Jeffrey and spent the rest of her time crisscrossing the country with him.

  “I can’t believe you met him online and never told us,” Piper said, trying hard to keep any irritation out of her voice. She felt Lindsay’s hand on her thigh, squeezing gently.

  Ellen nodded. “I know. But I’d never met him in person, and if it hadn’t worked out, if we hadn’t clicked while face-to-face the way we did in messages, what would have been the point?”

  “Yeah.” Piper could admit to understanding that.

  “Plus, I wanted to spend time with him without other eyes on us.” She gave him a glance so filled with happiness that it brought tears to Piper’s eyes. Not for the first time, she cursed Lindsay for having cracked her open to emotion—it seemed like everything made Piper tear up lately. “And you two,” Ellen said, pointing a finger at Piper and Lindsay and moving it back and forth between them. “This. I knew you’d make a great couple. I knew it.” She laughed again, obviously thrilled, then turned to Gina. “Didn’t I tell you?”

  Gina had the good sense to look at least slightly sheepish. “You called it, Mom.”

  “Wait, what?” Piper looked from her sister to her mother and back.

  “Though it was close.” Gina went on as if Piper hadn’t spoken. “Your daughter is a hardhead and almost screwed it all up. Thank God she worked hard to fix it. And that Lindsay gave her the chance to.” She popped a cracker topped with bruschetta into her mouth and grinned at her little sister.

  There was a beat of silence before Piper asked, “What is happening right now?”

  “I think,” Lindsay said, reaching for a knife. “I think your mother and sister are saying that leaving you and me to work together wasn’t totally innocent on their parts. That it was a plan of sorts.” She looked at them. “Yes?”

  Ellen picked up her wine glass and hid her smile behind it as she nodded.

  “Mom!” Piper burst out. “You…I can’t believe it.” She snapped her head to the left to glare at Gina. “And you. You’re my big sister. You’re supposed to look out for me.”

  “Oh, I did,�
�� Gina said, then sipped her own wine, completely unaffected by her little sister’s bluster. “You needed somebody. You needed Lindsay. I agreed with Mom. It was time. That was me looking out for you.”

  Piper blinked in disbelief. She tried to speak but could only stammer, words seeming to refuse to form in her mouth as she tried to absorb what she’d just heard. Her mother and sister both looked infuriatingly satisfied with themselves. Jeffrey sat, quietly eating some cheese, his face a canvas of entertained amusement as he chewed. Piper shifted her focus to Lindsay, who was spreading tapenade on a piece of baguette. When their eyes met, Piper raised her eyebrows in expectation.

  Lindsay shook her head. “Don’t look at me. I kind of like how things turned out. I’m not going to argue. The ends clearly justify the means here.” Her smile was radiant as she reached up and stroked Piper’s cheek with the backs of her fingers. “I made out like a bandit, so…” She shrugged.

  And just like that, all the tension drained out of Piper like water near an open drain. She had no idea how Lindsay did it, but she created calm for Piper. Safety. She held the world at bay if that’s what Piper needed. She was steadiness, certainty. Piper had never felt as relaxed as she had over the past two months. She grasped Lindsay’s hand, kissed the knuckles, and entwined their fingers.

  “It took a while, though,” Lindsay added playfully as she looked at the others around the table. “I made her work for it.”

  Laughter erupted around the table as Piper grinned at her. “I wore you down, though.”

  “You did. I couldn’t take your sad puppy dog eyes anymore.” Lindsay groaned. “And the sad sighing. Oh, my God, the sighing!”

  Piper laughed and playfully slapped at her shoulder. “Hey, it worked.”

  “It did,” Lindsay said. Gina, Ellen, and Jeffrey began talking about something, but their voices faded. Lindsay stopped laughing, but that gorgeous smile stayed in place, and for just a moment, the world fell away until it was only the two of them, only their hearts beating, only two pairs of eyes looking deeply into the other.