Until There Was You (Book 3)

by Bell, Heatherly

  He couldn’t help it but he lingered, and held her a little bit longer than he’d planned. “I’ll see you soon.”

  “Sure,” she said but when she pulled back from the hug if he wasn’t mistaken her eyes were watery.

  Look away.

  He carried her boxes and bag down and put them in her trunk. He gave her explicit instructions on how to get back on highway one twenty-nine and head towards the valley. Then he watched her drive off, and swallowed hard. His stomach had taken up residence at his feet. His cold, boot-covered feet.

  He was a damned idiot.

  *****

  Driving the mountain roads turned out much easier without the snow coming down. However, she still had a visibility problem. It was difficult to see the road with all the tears. She’d held them back as long as she could but once she was alone, she let it rip. Loud sobs wrenched through her shaking body.

  She stopped in Sonora to fill up with gas and went inside for a snack. She didn’t realize she was still crying until the nice lady checker asked what was wrong, and whether she could help her somehow.

  “N-no,” Gen answered between sobs. “Just these peanuts and the gas.”

  “Did somebody die?” The lady asked. “Can I call someone for you?”

  Gen shook her head, added a packet of tissues, and paid the lady.

  She passed the rest of her nearly three hour drive trying to get a hold of herself, and planning how she would live the rest of her life. She’d probably just be an old maid. Maybe she could look into becoming a nun. Did one have to be Catholic to be a nun? Mom would probably be upset about that idea, as she was a dyed in the wool Methodist.

  At least she had her bakery. She’d be married to her work, that was what she’d do. Be one of those women who joined the Chamber of Commerce and cut ribbons at new businesses and maybe even someday got elected to the City Council. Of all the requirements of being an old maid, not having children upset her the most. But maybe Joe would get married someday, and she could be fun Aunt Genevieve. Or she could adopt.

  Driving into town, she made the decision to stop by the bakery to make sure everything was running smoothly. This would be her life now. Baking for other people’s husbands. That brought on another sob as she pulled into the metered space in front of the bakery. She checked her face in the mirror visor, blotted her tears and wiped off what was left of her mascara.

  At least you took the chance. Grasped at the brass ring, dared to love and lose, and all the rest of the garbage. What other cliché could she come up with? Bet if she tried really hard there were more. She’d decided not to settle, and nothing had changed in that regard. She still wouldn’t settle.

  “Genevieve! You’re back early.” Sophia greeted her from behind the counter. “I sent Mrs. Lewis home earlier. She got tired.”

  Gen wasn’t surprised to see Ophelia, loading up on her daily dose of mini Bundt cakes, but she took a step back when she noticed Mrs. Turlock.

  She sat at a table nearby eating a piece of cake and as if that wasn’t enough of a surprise, she smiled with an exaggerated wink. “How did it go?”

  “Uh, how did what go?” Gen slid a look to Sophia. She’d told only her and Desiree where she was going. No one else.

  “With my son, of course!”

  Gen glared at Sophia. Awkward. “Oh, we had fun. But there was a storm coming in when I got there. Would you believe I wound up with my car in a ditch?”

  Also her heart, but never mind that.

  Mrs. Turlock sat back down at her table. “But you did find the cabin, right?”

  Gen nodded, and tried to change the subject. “Are there any of my brownies left? I could sure use one or two about now.”

  Or two hundred.

  Ophelia paid for her purchases and turned to Genevieve. “I hate to belabor the point, but you haven’t been to one Chamber meeting this year. Now I know you’re a member and attendance isn’t strictly required, but—”

  “I’ll be at the next meeting,” Gen said as she went behind the counter with Sophia.

  “Before you say no—” Ophelia stopped herself. “I’m sorry, what? You’re coming?”

  “That’s what I said.” Gen smiled and put her apron on.

  Ophelia looked satisfied, and said her goodbyes.

  “So what happened?” Sophia whispered.

  “Never mind that. What’s Mrs. Turlock doing here?” Since she’d opened her bakery, Mrs. Turlock had only been here three times— on each of her son’s birthdays because, as she said, they all had a death wish.

  Sophia leaned in. “She and my Dad made up.”

  “No. Really?” Gen stole a look at Mrs. Turlock, staring off into space as she slowly chewed.

  “And my Dad wants a real wedding cake, with sugar and flour. He’s kind of a purist.”

  This was news. Big news. Not long ago she’d been sitting at a mock wake in Mrs. Turlock’s living room.

  Gen came around from behind the counter and went to Mrs. Turlock. “I heard the good news. Why didn’t you tell me?”

  Mrs. Turlock smiled. “I don’t want my sons to know yet. Especially not Wallace. I always thought you two would make a great couple, and I know how hard it is to keep something from the man you love. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you, but it all feels very new. My fiancée is courting me.”

  “Courting you?”

  She waved a hand. “I don’t expect you young people to understand. We’re both a bit old fashioned, and we rushed into things. Call it passion, call it what you will but we sort of skipped over the courtship part. We dated three times and then we were engaged. It didn’t feel right. But now we’ve pushed out the wedding date, and we’re getting to know each other.”

  “Well, hopefully you’ll like what you find.”

  Mrs. Turlock smiled knowingly. “My dear, a woman can forgive all manner of sins for the man she loves. So what if he doesn’t pick up his socks off the floor or replace the toilet roll?”

  But what if he doesn’t think you’re worth a risk?

  “I think it’s great that you’re thinking of having a real wedding cake. I mean, with sugar and flour.”

  “You mean the silent killers?”

  “Uh, yes.” Although to see the satisfied look on Mrs. Turlock’s face, she’d missed cake.

  “Well, it’s my wedding day. I’m lightening up, as my sons would say. Moderation is the key, isn’t it?”

  Sophia joined them with a plate of brownies, sitting across from Mrs. Turlock at the table. “I’m taking a break.”

  Gen picked up a brownie and sank her teeth into the rich chocolate. Dayum, she could bake. “I’m so grateful for chocolate.”

  She didn’t miss when Sophia and Mrs. Turlock exchanged a look.

  “Uh-oh,” Sophia said. “What happened?”

  Gen chose her words carefully. Mom told her once that every mother was a mother first, a woman second. “Wallace and I are very good friends. The best. And nothing more.”

  Mrs. Turlock nearly knocked over her cake reaching for Gen. She pulled her into a tight mother-hug. Oh yeah. She’d forgotten Mrs. Turlock was a hugger. Or a strangler. Gen tried to breathe through the tight vise of the hug.

  “Let it all out, dear. I’ve got wide shoulders. Go ahead.”

  Gen caught a glimpse of Sophia, leaning back with gaped jaw. Looking somewhat horrified. Probably wondering if she’d be on the end of this someday with her future stepmom.

  “I think she’s fine, Eileen,” Sophia said.

  “Don’t be naïve. She’s heartbroken. There, there.” Mrs. Turlock patted Gen’s back.

  Gen tried for air to speak. “I did all my crying on the way down the mountain.”

  Mrs. Turlock loosened her grip. “Are you sure?”

  Gen nodded. “I’m going to be okay.”

  “Of course you will! Men su—” Sophia stopped herself. “Most men suck. Not Wallace, I mean, but most men.”

  Mrs. Turlock let out a laugh. “You don’t have to censor for me. I
’m mad at Wallace too. He’s always been so stubborn, thinking he needs to take charge of the entire world. Talk about big shoulders. I tried to convince him when he was ten and tried to sell all his toys on eBay to help us out that I’m the parent and he’s the child. But I could never seem to get that through his thick noggin. And now, walking away from the best thing that ever happened to him! Not only that but a woman who can cook, even if it is with poison. No offense, dear.”

  “None taken.” She took another bite of the brownie.

  “What are you going to do?” Sophia asked.

  “Live my life. Keep baking, and get more involved with the Chamber of Commerce. Maybe get a puppy. Apparently cats hate me.”

  “Sounds like you’re giving up on him.” Mrs. Turlock patted Gen’s hand.

  “It does,” Sophia said, taking a brownie. “What about dating someone else to make him jealous?”

  Mrs. Turlock raised an eyebrow.

  Gen choked back a laugh. “That won’t work. Believe me.”

  “Wallace will come to his senses,” Mrs. Turlock said, rising with her purse. “Or my name isn’t Eileen Rose Elizabeth Ann McCarthy-Turlock.”

  “Wow. So many names,” Sophia said. “I thought Italians were bad.”

  “Mrs. Turlock, please don’t say anything.” Why, why had she opened her big mouth?

  “Don’t worry. I won’t tell him we talked. But I will put a bug in his ear. I’ll make him think.”

  “Think?” This was a bad word to Gen now, since all that thinking had obviously led him away from her.

  “Think twice.” Mrs. Turlock opened the door and stopped. “I’ll come in tomorrow to sample some more cakes. I still haven’t made up my mind. I might bring Giancarlo in with me.”

  Oh perfect. Half of Wallace’s family would be here right under her nose possibly every day until they decided on a cake. Not like she hadn’t expected this would be awkward, small town and all.

  It wouldn’t be easy to forget, and easily slip back to how things were before. If he cared for her at all, he’d stay away for a little bit. Let her get used to the idea.

  The idea that they’d never be more than just friends.

  Once Mrs. Turlock was out the door, Sophia put an arm around Gen’s shoulder. Sophia smiled so sweetly that Gen burst into tears.

  Turned out she still had a few left in there.

  *****

  Wallace had been back home two weeks and had looked at the property once a day at least. Some might say he’d become obsessed with it. His Realtor had bandied about the words analysis paralysis. Warned him it could go at any time, like he needed the pressure.

  For the fifth time this week, he pulled his truck to the side and hiked to the top of the hill. Great view. He still wasn’t sure where the bedroom would go, but of most importance was the kitchen.

  Because the kitchen was the life blood of the home, and every contractor knew it.

  Just like that his thoughts were back to Gen. It happened several times a day, so this wasn’t much of a surprise. He’d managed to stay away, knowing it would be difficult for her to be around him for a while. And twice as difficult for him. It felt like all the blood had been drained out of him. He hadn’t cracked a smile in two weeks and his employees were starting to call him ‘gringo the grouch’ behind his back.

  He wondered how she was, and even dared to ask Joe once. She’d gotten a puppy she named Zeus had been all the news he’d gotten out of Joe. She obviously hadn’t told Joe what happened between them. Mostly, he guessed, because she didn’t want to ruin their friendship.

  Thankfully, Joe didn’t want to know. The whole subject was forbidden.

  Not that he spent a lot of time around Joe these days, either. They were both busy with work, and Wallace had the property to obsess over.

  Everything was different now. He didn’t know how he ever thought they could go back to the way things were.

  He would be having dinner tonight with the family, Mom and Pop, Billy and Brooke. Scott was still away at school. Wallace figured there would be some amount of interrogation since he’d been scarce since he got back, and he was ready for it.

  He took out his phone and dialed his real estate agent. “I want to bid on the property.”

  “Did I hear right? I thought I heard you say you want to bid on the property.” Jean asked.

  “Yeah.”

  “Well, finally. Wallace, has anyone ever told you that you are the most over analytical person on the face of the planet?”

  “I think you just did.”

  “What do you want to offer?”

  “Let’s start with the figure we talked about, and go from there.”

  “Good idea.”

  “What was the school district again?”

  Jean gasped. “Are you getting married? Why didn’t anyone tell me?”

  “Hang on. I asked you this before, remember? When and if I sell I want it to be a good fit for families, who care about that sort of thing.” He cleared his throat.

  He heard papers shuffling around. “It’s the Napa Valley School District. Happy?”

  “Yeah, thanks.” He hung up, and drove around the area for an hour and took some photos of the property from different angles. He still had time to change his mind. But no, he’d made the right decision.

  It might take him a while but he’d build a beautiful home on this land. The work would keep him busy.

  An hour later, he arrived early to his Mom’s house. As soon as Scott got back, all three brothers would be living in or near Starlight Hill again. He expected that Billy and Brooke would be making it legal soon enough, and children would follow. He figured he’d be grumpy Uncle Wallace, and if he wasn’t careful eventually everyone would use words like ‘curmudgeon’ when they referred to him.

  Yeah. Sounded like fun.

  He let himself in without knocking and followed the noise. Every other word was “grape” so he knew he was in the right house. But then, surprisingly, Giancarlo was in the middle of the melee. His daughter Sophia, too.

  That surprised him a bit. “Hey everyone,” he called out.

  Billy was the first to come and clap him on the back. That was Billy— always happy, open, and friendly. Sometimes it was hard to believe they were related.

  “Hey, bro. We’ve been waiting for you.”

  “Waiting?” He glanced at his watch. “I’m early.”

  “Hello dear.” Mom kissed him on the cheek. “Let’s all sit in the living room.”

  Once everyone was seated, Giancarlo raised the ever present glass of wine. “I’m happy to announce that our engagement is back on.”

  “Yay,” Brooke said from next to Billy.

  “Super,” Pop said with an eye roll.

  “Right on, Daddy-o,” Sophia said. “I’m completely and totally surprised.”

  Right. So it seemed as though everyone already knew this but him. And as if to accentuate that fact, every eye in the room turned and fixated on him.

  “What do you think, Wallace?” Mom asked.

  “It’s great. You’ve obviously thought this through, and I think you’re both old enough to know what you’re doing. And you don’t need my approval. Why the hell are you all looking at me?”

  “We’ve been worried, son,” Pop said, went to the bar and came back with a scotch, which he handed to him.

  “You’ve been so distant,” Mom said. “I haven’t seen you once in the past two weeks.”

  “I’ve been busy.” He took a swallow of the scotch. “I put a bid on a few acres just outside of town. If I get it, I’ll break ground maybe next month. Depending on the weather.”

  “What great news!” Mom clapped her hands. “Now you’re back in town, at last.”

  Everyone seemed happy at that, and he’d finally gotten them to stop worrying about him for a few minutes. Any attention on him was so unusual it felt uncomfortable.

  Dinner was meatloaf with gravy and mashed potatoes so the shocks just kept coming. Mom seemed ba
ck to her old self, and who knew if Giancarlo had anything to do with it? Wallace would guess possibly, since he’d never yet met an Italian who loved tofu. Several bottles of wine were passed around, most of them from Billy’s winery but a couple from a competitor. Brooke, the heart of Billy and Pop’s vineyard, always said it was best to know your competition inside and out.

  Wallace was eating so of course he thought of Gen. At least three times a day his thoughts went to her. What a sap.

  After dinner, Brooke seemed to be immersed in one of Pop’s baseball analogies, Mom and Giancarlo cleared the table and Sophia was texting. Wallace tried to cut out after his goodbyes, but Billy caught him near the door. “You’re already leaving?”

  “I have an early job.”

  “Right. So what’s this I hear about you and Genevieve?”

  Wallace let out a breath. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

  Billy nodded knowingly. “I see how it is.”

  Wallace turned the tables. “How are you and Brooke doing?”

  “Great,” Billy grinned. “I’m going to marry that girl. I’m going to marry the hell out of her.”

  Wallace had to laugh. His brother had it bad. “Well, get in line. Let Mom have her day first. And how’s the shoulder?”

  Since Billy had retired from baseball because of his bad shoulder, it was a valid question. Wallace had been worried about him from the moment he’d been forced to retire. Billy had rarely been seen without a glove on his hand from the time he was seven.

  “It’s good so long as I don’t push it. But this isn’t about me.”

  “Look, I’m the big brother. I’m always going to look out for you.”

  “That’s just it. You don’t have to anymore. I mean, I can’t tell you how much I appreciate everything you did for me— and I do mean everything— from working two jobs to giving up football. I remember.”

  “The BMW, all the gifts through the years. You’ve thanked me enough already.”

  “Maybe with stuff, because I know you’re a ‘more than words’ kind of guy. But if I never said it, because you know, I’m a guy, I’m grateful. I owe you more than I could ever repay.”

  “Shut your mouth. Enough already.” Wallace walked out into the dark February night, and Billy followed him, shutting the front door.