I watched as she bobbled the books and the laptop and walked carefully to her car. She reached for the door handle and they all toppled out of her arms and to the ground with a crash. I couldn’t resist. I left my seat, my eggs likely going cold, and went out my side door to stand on the porch there. “Ever consider making multiple trips?”
“Ever consider minding your own business?” she growled, her eyes narrowed. She was in slacks and a filmy blouse with a bow at the neck. Her wavy hair was pinned back behind her ears and she was wearing dark-rimmed glasses that did nothing to hide her gorgeous blue eyes.
“Where would be the fun in that?” I knew I should apologize, should stop pushing her buttons, but telling her the truth, that focusing on anything but her was virtually impossible, didn’t seem like a good option.
“Don’t you have anything better to do than ruin my day?”
Okay, that one hurt just a bit, because seeing Carrie, even when she was pissed off or pissed me off, was undeniably the best part of my day, of every day. “I could help you load up those books.”
She bent, swooped up the books in an easy armful, and plunked them into the back seat. “As I’ve told you before,” she said. “I can take care of myself.”
“I can see that. But it doesn’t mean you have to do it all yourself, all the time.”
She looked at me and her anger faded, only to be replaced by a sadness I hated to see on her face. “Yeah, it does.” She got in her car, started the engine, and pulled out without a look back. I went inside, ate my cold eggs and toast and wondered why she looked so sad and what had happened to her that made her believe she couldn’t accept help.
Mary Ellen showed up on my doorstep fifteen minutes later. She was early and she looked beautiful. Her skirt was tasteful, but tight and her blouse had too many buttons undone, revealing a good bit more cleavage than was necessary in her line of work. Really more than was necessary in any line of work that didn’t involve taking off your clothes for money. Seeing as how Mary Ellen had beautiful, lush curves, I was the beneficiary of her sartorial choices and couldn’t complain. She’d straightened her naturally curly hair and had on a subtle amount of make-up. If she wasn’t helping me find land to buy, she’d normally be exactly the sort of woman I’d go for, but I’d mixed business and pleasure once with disastrous consequences. I wouldn’t make that mistake again.
I followed Mary Ellen out to her environmentally-friendly two-door and got in the passenger’s seat. “What have you got for me today?” I asked. I was surprised she had three properties to show me, since I had very detailed specifications. I hoped she wasn’t trying to pull my chain or get me to buy a more expensive property than I’d planned. I’d picked this town as the site for my winery and vineyard over a year ago and I’d moved to town a month ago, because I’d found the perfect property. I was on the cusp of making my dream a reality, when the property owner’s daughter found out she was pregnant and decided she wanted to move back to Catalpa Creek. The owner pulled out of the deal and I was stuck. I’d already signed a lease on the rental house where I was living and I’d already invested time and energy into marketing my wine to the local business owners. To say my investors and the bank loan officers had been unhappy when I lost the property was an understatement of epic proportions. I needed to find a new property and fast.
The town was adorable, with plenty of cute shops on the main drag and not an overabundance of chain restaurants or chain stores. It was in an extremely rural area, but the university brought enough people and traffic here for local businesses to be able to thrive. I’d been working with Mary Ellen on finding a property for three weeks and she’d shown me several different ones, but nothing I’d fallen in love with. My dream property didn’t seem to be on the market, yet. And I couldn’t afford to pick up and start over in a new town or new state.
“The first one is a bit farther out than you said you’d like,” she said. “But it fits all your specifications, so I think it might be worth the drive.”
I’d been thinking I might have to look for property farther afield, but going too far from town would decrease traffic to my winery considerably. “I’m willing to travel, as long as we don’t get too far from town.”
“Great.” She pulled onto the interstate and turned the radio up. She preferred pop music that didn’t appeal to me, but I didn’t complain. It was her car and she was doing me the favor of chauffeuring me around so I didn’t have to put more miles on my old truck. The old relic was on its last legs, or wheels, but I wasn’t ready to give it up. We’d had a lot of years together, and, until I knew just how much this property was going to cost, I couldn’t afford to buy a new truck.
“How do you like little Catalpa Creek?” Mary Ellen asked.
“It seems like a great town,” I said. “Maybe you could tell me a bit more about the local festivals.”
That got Mary Ellen talking about fairs and festivals and her own experiences as a beauty pageant contestant. Her stories were surprisingly entertaining and gave me a pretty good idea of what to expect of the town events.
I glanced down at the clock on the dash and realized we’d been on the road for over an hour. “How far out is this place?” I asked.
“We’re here.” She pulled down a gravel road to what looked like an old hunting cabin. We were halfway up the mountain and surrounded by trees.
“This piece is twenty acres, just like you asked,” she said.
“Okay. But it’s on a mountain and I asked for valley land. I’ll be clearing as many rocks as I will be trees.”
“Well, it might be a little more work, but let me show you something.” She opened her door and I got out with a sinking feeling that Mary Ellen didn’t understand what I was looking for.
I followed her down a narrow dirt trail, surprised by how well she got through the brush and forest in a tight skirt and heels. She stepped out onto a rocky ledge and spread her arms at the valley below. It was a gorgeous view. “Very nice,” I said. “But this isn’t going to work for me.”
“You said you want to build a destination,” she said. “A place people can go to get away from life for a bit. This would be the perfect spot for a bed and breakfast or small hotel, the views would be unbeatable.”
“You’re not wrong,” I said. “But I also need to have land where I can grow grapes and space to operate a working winery. I’m going to need a lot of water. Trying to get this land to meet those requirements will take more money and time than I’m prepared to spend.” Or could afford, but she didn’t need to know that.
Mary Ellen shrugged. “Oh, well, it was a pretty drive, anyway.”
“Right.” I wondered if this whole trip had been an excuse for Mary Ellen to spend more time with me. I’m not particularly vain or self-centered, I don’t assume every woman wants me, but Mary Ellen had straight up told me she wanted me, no strings attached. Hard to misinterpret that message.
“Where are the other properties?” I asked.
“The next one is at the base of the mountain here. And the third one is about fifteen miles back toward Catalpa Creek.
“Then you should just take me home. Catalpa Creek is part of what will draw people to my winery as a destination. These properties are too far from town.”
Marry Ellen didn’t look the least bit put out or surprised. “Okay, let’s head back.”
“Are you sure there’s no one near town who might be looking to sell soon? No one who might be convinced to sell?” I probably should have given up on Catalpa Creek as soon as the deal on the first property fell through, but this town was just the right amount of quaint and modern and it wasn’t too far from skiing, golf, and other Virginia wineries. Plus, I’d still be within driving distance of my family, without being so close that our business ventures crossed or conflicted.
“I’ll let you know as soon as I hear anything, but folks around here who have a lot of land tend to keep it in the family.”
“Just keep an ear out.” I’d give it
two more weeks. If I didn’t get a lead on a property, I’d have to go back to working for a winery instead of owning my own until I could stockpile some more money.
***
I knocked and stepped to the side, waiting for Norma Jane to open the door. I figured she’d already seen me walking up the walk, but she didn’t move quickly. I’d hit the gym after Mary Ellen dropped me off, had lunch, and then hosted a tasting in my dining room for a group of five women who were touring Virginia vineyards. I might not have a winery or a vineyard, yet, but I had a sweet wine cellar and wine already bottled under my label, thanks to the vineyard where I’d most recently worked. I’d produced three signature wines while I’d worked for them and they now produced the wines for me and allowed me to slap my own label on them. It wasn’t a highly profitable deal for me, yet, but I’d managed to get two of my wines into a couple of the local restaurants, and friends at a couple of the other Virginia wineries had sent some traffic for tastings my way. They told the tourists it was a privilege, a special treat to be able to try my wine before my winery had opened. The tasters who’d visited today were fun, but not big spenders. They’d left with one bottle each.
The door swung open and Norma Jane smiled like my visit was the best thing to have happened to her all year. She was dressed in pressed slacks and a fitted blouse, looking as put-together as she always did. She didn’t dye her hair, and it was a lovely silver, giving away her age when her barely-lined, youthful face would have suggested she was in her fifties and not her seventies. “It is a delight to see you, Cody. Won’t you come in? I got a crumb cake from the grocery store.”
Norma Jane was an admitted disaster in the kitchen, but she picked her baked goods very well from the store. “I would love some crumb cake,” I said. I followed her inside to her cheery kitchen where a pitcher of iced tea and crumb cake sat on the table. Her house was one of the smaller ones on the block, but it had large picture windows and Norma Jane had filled it with treasures from a life-long love of traveling and a life well lived.
I took a seat at her small table and poured iced tea into the glass next to her seat.
She tsked, but smiled. “You are supposed to let the hostess serve her guest.”
“I haven’t forgotten about your arthritis,” I said. “I’m sparing you some pain.” I may have only lived in the neighborhood for a month, but I knew my neighbors better than some I’d grown up next to. She’d had to retire from her job as a seamstress because of her arthritis and she’d made it clear that leaving the workforce had been more painful than the ailment itself.
She placed a piece of crumb cake on the china plate at my seat as I poured myself a glass of tea. It was my first visit to Norma Jane’s but I’d had her tea before, she’d brought me some when I was working in the yard one day, and I knew it’d be sweeter than the cake. I took a small sip and placed it on the table.
Norma Jane didn’t touch her cake or her tea, she leaned forward. “Now, bring some sunshine into an old woman’s life and tell me why you have drunk people coming and going from your house at all hours of the day?”
Knowing Norma Jane’s love for gossip, I wasn’t at all surprised by her question. And I had no problem answering it truthfully. I leaned in. “Because I’ve been hosting tastings out of the house.”
Her eyes widened and she frowned, before she caught herself and made her expression more pleasant. She was clearly disappointed my story wasn’t more scandalous. “Tastings? Like wine?”
“Exactly. One of the selling points of that house was the wine cellar that came with it. I store my wine there and offer tastings in the dining room until I can get a full winery up and running.”
“I’ve been in that wine cellar. Abby did love her wine.” Her smile widened. “And she was very neighborly about sharing.”
“I didn’t know you liked wine. I’ll bring you a couple of bottles.”
“Don’t trouble yourself,” she said in a tone that clearly meant, do. “People just walk up to your house and you let them in and give them free wine?”
“I have contacts at other wineries in the area,” I said. “If they have visitors who seem interested in a bit of a drive and an opportunity to try a new wine, they call me and set up an appointment for a tasting. I give them free wine, with the hope they will buy the wine and come back when my winery is up and running.”
“Where will your winery be?”
I leaned back in my seat. “That part hasn’t quite fallen into place the way I’d hoped it would. I’m still looking.”
Her brow creased and she frowned. “And if you can’t find a location?”
I shrugged, pretending more nonchalance than I felt. I didn’t want her to worry about me. I barely knew her, but I liked what I did know. “I’ll move on, find another adorable town in another gorgeous region that needs a destination winery.”
“Hmmm,” she said. “That would be unfortunate.”
“It would,” I said. “Leaving Catalpa Creek is the last thing I want to do.”
Her worried expression eased. “That wouldn’t have anything to do with your neighbor, Carrie Harrison, would it?”
Her question shouldn’t have surprised me, based on what she’d witnessed that morning, but I hadn’t been at all prepared for it. “I’m not looking for a relationship. Once I get the property I need, I won’t have time for a social life.”
Norma Jane took a sip of her iced tea and set down the glass, as though a decision had been made. “That’s too bad. I think you’re exactly the sort of guy Carrie Harrison needs. She needs some fun in her life, someone to take care of her.”
“I’m positive she’d disagree.”
Norma Jane wrinkled her nose. “Carrie Harrison is a good girl, but she has terrible taste in men. Lord knows Carrie deserves someone to think about her after all she’s done for…” She stuffed a bite of cake in her mouth like she was stopping herself from saying more, but my interest was piqued.
“All she’s done for who?”
Norma Jane waved a hand. “Well, you know, her students of course. She genuinely cares about them and looks out for them, she even tutors them.”
I knew there was more she wasn’t telling me, but I wasn’t going to pry. Carrie’s business was Carrie’s business. I didn’t need to know…I didn’t need. . . “Who else has she looked out for?”
Norma Jane smiled, her eyes lighting up like the spider who’d just caught an unsuspecting fly in her web. “Well, you probably have better things to do than sit around and listen to me talk about Carrie Harrison. You’ve made it very clear you have no interest in dating her.” She pushed back her chair and stood.
I stood, too. I wasn’t going to fall into this trap. Still…“I’m her neighbor. I might not want to date her, but I could be her friend.”
She sat back down, her smile widening, and she told me about Carrie Harrison. She’d been a surprise baby, born when her parents were in their late-forties and her sister was twelve. She and her sister had been incredibly close and, when her older sister had left for college, Norma Jane said Carrie cried for days. When Carrie was twelve, her father was injured at work and couldn’t go back. Carrie’s mother had continued working and Carrie had done most of the care-taking of her father until he was back on his feet.
When Carrie was fourteen, her sister was killed in a tragic and horrible accident, about which Norma Jane gave me very few details. But the details about what happened to her sister didn’t matter. What mattered was that Carrie was absolutely shattered by the death of her sister, but she held it together and helped her parents, who were both in their mid-sixties, as they grieved and fell apart for a little while. Right after college, Carrie took in her teenage nephew, Harrison, and became his sole guardian. According to Norma Jane, Carrie had given and given and given and rarely gotten back much of anything in return. I suspected Norma Jane was biased about the little girl she’d watched grow to an adult, but I didn’t doubt the facts of the story and I found myself believing Norma J
ane might be right and Carrie did need someone to put her first. I couldn’t be her forever guy, but I could inject a bit of fun into her life. I could make time for that.
My phone rang just as I walked through the door of my rental house. I sank into a seat at the kitchen table. “Cody,” my youngest sister May said. “When are you coming home?”
“Not anytime soon, May. What’s up?” May was twenty-four, just out of college, and the baby of the family. She didn’t like it when she didn’t get her way and she hadn’t been getting her way lately.
“Have you found land for your winery?” Out of all my siblings, May was the most supportive of my plans, but that wasn’t saying much.
“Not yet.”
“Why don’t you come back?” she asked. “Jill just found land that would be perfect for your winery and it’s right next to the Burnside unit.”
The Burnside unit was our flagship hotel in a fleet of hotels my family owned and managed. I’d been expected to go into the family business and had for a bit, to please my father, before everything had gone to hell. “I’m sure Jill already has other plans for it.”
“Well, sure, she wants to build another golf course, but she’d let you have it if you came home.”
That was the logic of a woman whose relations had never told her no, but I knew better. My family thought I was crazy to start a winery, despite my dual degrees in wine business management and enology. Not that I could blame them considering my track record. And I even got where they were coming from. The typical winery took five years just to break even and that was if it didn’t fail miserably. But the risks were worth it to me. “I’m not quite ready to come home with my tail between my legs, May, what’s up?”
“I want to go back to school and get a degree in photojournalism and Mom is refusing to let me go. Can you talk to her?”
The Deadbeat Next Door Page 3
