by Marina Adair
“Right, I nearly forgot, the need part of your emotional equation.” She turned around and wham, the look on her face shattered his fucking world. “I really need you to understand that this is over.”
He knew what this meant. The past, their friendship, hope of a future, all of it was gone. Frankie didn’t do things halfway and he’d just rationalized his way out of the most important thing in his life.
CHAPTER 17
Am I awkward around kids?” Frankie asked, smashing soggy cereal against the side of her bowl with a spoon.
“Well, I’m not the best person to ask,” Luce said, ripping the kitchen curtains open. God, the morning sun was so bright; it practically flipped Frankie the big, fat sunny finger. “I showed up to Joshua’s Boy Scout badge ceremony with a male escort.”
“I bet grandpa flipped,” Frankie said, observing Luce walk to the counter in her fuchsia house robe and crocheted slippers, to watch waffles toast.
“It’s why I did it.” After buttering, plating, and dousing the toaster waffles with half the bottle of syrup, she set three plates on the kitchen table and pulled out the chair between Frankie and Mr. Puffins. “Now, what’s with all the questions? You got a bun in the oven?”
“No, I was just wondering if everyone had that, you know, maternal thing.” Frankie mumbled, digging into her plate.
The toaster waffles were warm, crunchy on the outside and soft in the center, and coated in liquid sugar. Too bad Frankie was too numb to notice.
“You went over to your house this morning after crying yourself hoarse last night to get your goat, didn’t you?”
Frankie looked out the kitchen window and saw Mittens eating Luce’s wagon wheel while tethered to the fence. “He’s an alpaca, and yes I did because I didn’t want him to worry. I left without telling him where I was going.”
She had gone over at the crack of dawn so that she wouldn’t have to run into Nate, but his car was gone. He’d moved out. Not surprising since she’d texted him that he had three days to vacate the property or she would tell Pricket to call in the bulldozers.
Four months. It had only been four months since the Summer Wine Showdown where Nate kissed her, but her life had changed so much. She started her dream winery, found a happiness and confidence that she’d never known before. Fallen completely and helplessly in love with a DeLuca of all people. Only to have it all taken away in just one day. It was like she was six all over again and her parents were divorcing and her life would forever be changed.
“Well then, that sounds maternal to me.” Luce cut up one of the waffles and pushed the plate in front of Mr. Puffins, who was in a terry cloth robe and bunny slippers. “I don’t know what happened between you and Nathaniel, but I know that he’s sorry.”
Frankie studied her waffle. It was easier than letting Luce see any more tears. “I don’t know about that, but I do know that I’m not really looking for anyone right now. Or ever. I mean, you are as responsible for this place’s success as Grandpa and you did it all on your own. No man.”
Luce put down her fork. “I did do it all alone. The key word being alone.” She placed a hand over Frankie’s. “I don’t regret my life, I’ve had a fun and full one, but I did it all alone. No husband, no kids, no grandkids. And it’s been hard.”
That startled Frankie. She’d always thought that her aunt had chosen her life. “Then why didn’t you marry?”
“Because I was so busy making sure Charles wouldn’t cut me out of the family business that I spent all my time working. And when I finally decided that maybe I wanted more, all the men my age were married with families, and then, well it just didn’t seem to make sense. But that’s not what I want for you.”
“Yeah, well the only prospect I care about doesn’t really care back.”
“I call bullshit,” Luce snapped, sending Mr. Puffins and his syrup-coated whiskers scurrying under the coach. “That boy has it so bad for you, he’s walking around town like a fool. Everyone knows it.”
Yeah, well by the end of the day everyone would also know that he and Frankie were over. And they’d all assume that she did something wrong.
“Apparently loving me is some kind of hardship,” Frankie admitted and felt her throat tighten. She was not going to cry again. It was embarrassing enough that Luce heard her last night in bed—and then again this morning in the shower—but to actually have her witness it would be humiliating.
“Loving you is the best thing that could happen to a person, I know. You have the biggest heart of anyone I’ve ever met, enough passion to run a small nation, yet in relationships, slugs move faster than you. Which means loving you is as much a blessing as it is an experience—and it’s an experience that’s not for everyone.”
“I don’t care about everyone,” Frankie whispered. She only cared about one person, and to him her love was something that made his life harder.
“I know you do,” Luce said gently. “And you know what’s wrong with people today?”
“No.” Frankie didn’t feel like sitting through one of Luce’s lectures on the world. Not right now. Not when her world hurt too much to live in.
“They’re lazy,” she went on as though Frankie hadn’t spoken, and she could tell by the way Luce was winding up that it was going to be a long one. “You kids think that loving is the easy part, but it’s not. It’s the liking part that’s difficult. Love, once it happens, is always there no matter how angry you get. But like, that takes compromise and honesty and understanding and a lot of hard work. Look at that grandpa of yours. I love him with all that I am, but I don’t think I’ve liked that SOB since JFK was in office.”
Frankie thought long and hard to find a time when she did like her grandpa, and she couldn’t think of one. She idolized him, respected him, even loved him enough to give up everything to save his winery, but liking the man was difficult.
What if she was the same way?
“You really want to know why I didn’t marry? It took me too long to figure out that although ‘like’ fluctuates over time, love is always there and as long as there is something in there that you like, the love will hold you together.” Luce let out a sigh. “My guess is that right now you’d have a hard time telling me one thing you like about Nate. And I’m betting he’d have even a harder time finding something he liked about himself.”
“I could actually tell you over a dozen things I like about him,” Frankie whispered, knowing it was true. She was mad and confused and didn’t know if this hollow pain in her chest would ever go away, but the reason why she hurt so bad was because Nate was an incredible guy—lists aside. And for a moment she knew what it was like for him to be hers.
“I bet you could also tell me a dozen things about him that drives you crazy.” Luce raised a brow when Frankie didn’t answer. “People make mistakes, Frankie. Nate made a big one in breaking your heart, but don’t let your mistake be pride and fear.”
“What if he doesn’t like me?” Frankie asked, her voice sounding small even to her own ears.
“Ah, Ches-ka, that boy doesn’t just like you, he adores you, bad attitude and all. But most importantly he loves you. That’s forever.” Luce leaned up and gave Frankie a surprising and sweet kiss on the cheek. “Now, go feed your goat. We have to be at the hotel in twenty minutes.”
“God, do I have to go?” Frankie asked. Walking into the Cork Crawl Wine Open and talking to buyers and brokers about a wine that Charles already sold to some bottom-of-the-barreler was going to be bad enough. Having to see Nate and knowing he wasn’t hers was going to wreck her heart.
“You’re my niece, aren’t you?”
And Frankie had her answer.
* * *
Frankie stood at the back of the ballroom at the Napa Grand Hotel as buyers and brokers finished their coffee and pastries, staging their strategy of attack on the provided conference maps while vintners took their places behind assigned linen-covered tables.
She watched as one by one, the winemakers d
isplayed their sales brochures and logo embossed labels, signaling a go and sending the brokers scrambling to get in the line of their first choice.
The Cork Crawl Wine Open was almost ready to begin and even though Frankie was the belle of the ball, she didn’t have a ticket or a date.
Her eyes scanned the massive glass-domed room, looking past the swelling crowd, past the mahogany bar in the center of the ballroom that functioned as Lexi’s pastry shack, and past the line that ran the length of the room, until they settled on her table. Her stomach went hot with emotion and everything seemed unreal as she took in the sight.
Jonah and Adam. Her brothers. Sat beneath the Red Steel Cellars sign, wearing company shirts and smiling and greeting interested parties. In a matter of moments, the queue for Red Steel was twenty deep with some of the most respected buyers and brokers in wine. It was as if the who’s who of wine collecting had come specifically for her.
This couldn’t be happening. She had reached the pinnacle most winemakers only dream about, and yet she was even farther from her dream than she had been a month ago. She had lost everything. And yet she couldn’t even feel the loss over the gaping hole Nate left behind.
It had taken a brisk walk around Luce’s lavender garden with Mittens, a long motorcycle ride, and polishing her ball-buster boots to get the courage to walk into that ballroom, because she knew everyone would be expecting her to sit behind her booth and sell her wine as though it were still hers. As though her world hadn’t completely fallen apart.
“Thought you fell in,” Luce said.
“What?”
“You went to the bathroom, said you’d be right behind me, and that was a half-hour ago.”
“No,” she said and her voice sounded raw and empty. “Just needed a minute to get my game face on.”
“That a girl.” Luce smacked her rump like this was the Super Bowl and she was the defensive coach. “The negotiating starts in about fifteen minutes, so get over there and make me proud. And remember, Ches-ka, they fell in love with your wine. They might not like that you are sold out, but in three years that love for what you created will still be there.”
Frankie made her way through the crowd, but even before she could take her seat, Jonah pulled her into his arms and gave her one the best big brother hugs in history. Frankie didn’t hesitate, throwing her arms around his middle and holding on.
When he pulled back, he didn’t say anything about Charles. He didn’t have to. His face said it all.
“I can’t talk about it right now,” she whispered and took a small step back. Any more emotion from her normally stoic brother would be the end of the brave-Frankie she’d struggled to pull together.
“Sorry I missed everything this weekend,” Adam said and, after a quick glance over her shoulder and wiping his hands on his jeans, pulled her in for his hug. When had they become a family of huggers?
“I’m just glad you’re back and not hurt.”
“Me too, but I’m sorry we didn’t tell you about the fire.”
“I think we all have a lot of talking to do if we want to fix everything, so I figured that since Frankie loves wine coolers so much,” Jonah teased, “we could pick up a few cases when this is over and go back to my place. Maybe braid each other’s hair. And… talk.”
Frankie felt a hysterical laugh bubble up from her chest and break free. She couldn’t help it. So instead of trying to hide it, she let it out and pulled Jonah in for another hug. It took him a minute to catch up, but when he did he hugged her back.
“Now, if we’re done with all this touchy-feely shit, can we sell some wine?” Jonah said gruffly. “I think they are about to ring the bell, and I figure it’s going to take us at least three hours to get through that line of uptight trousers.”
“Oh. I uh…” Frankie looked up at him. God, the man was a tower. “I thought you guys knew. Charles and I—”
“Oh, we know all right,” Adam said fiercely. “And Charles is handled.”
“What?” Frankie asked, she looked at where the Baudoiun table sat, empty. “Where is Grandpa?”
“A better deal came along and he wisely took it,” Jonah explained through a clenched jaw.
“What?” No, this couldn’t be happening. “What about the house, Luce’s cottage, the vineyard?”
“All taken care of. It seems that last night some guy from Stanford Specialty Markets heard that grandpa was sitting on thirty thousand cases of six dollar wine.”
“Oh my God,” Frankie had to take a seat. Knowing what Charles had to do and actually knowing that it was going to happen made everything so much worse. This would save the family vineyard, but ruin the family name. No longer would the Baudoiun name be connected with quality and flavor, it would be associated with double coupon days. “Our name is done.”
“Actually, it’s not,” Jonah sat down. They kept their voices low, and since the tables hadn’t officially opened, the line was back far enough that they couldn’t be overheard. “The way the deal was negotiated was that Stanford Markets would contract all of the Santa Ynez grapes for the next fifteen years to be bottled and sold exclusively at their stores.”
Adam held out a mock wine label attached to a memorandum of understanding, outlining all of the basic agreed upon points for the finalized contract. The bottle front label read, STANFORD SPECIALTY COSTAL. Not a Baudouin anywhere to be seen. She flipped the page to the back bottle label.
VINTED AND BOTTLED BY SANTA YNEZ VINEYARDS, SANTA YNEZ VALLEY EXCLUSIVELY FOR STANFORD SPECIALTY MARKETS.
“Santa Ynez Vineyards?” She flipped the page to the memorandum. “When did that become its own entity? And how did Charles negotiate that kind of deal?”
Her grandfather was a shrewd business man. But shrewd only worked when one didn’t reek of desperation. And this was way too out of the box for her grandfather to come up with.
Adam and Jonah exchanged loaded glances. After the glares and eyebrow raising and non-verbal argument, it was Jonah who finally spoke. “The new corporation will be finalized end of this week, Stanford Markets is in the bag, and all Grandpa had to do is sign.”
“I don’t understand.”
“I think you do,” Jonah said, resting his hand on Frankie’s shoulder.
Frankie’s eyes scanned the room and immediately found Nate. Their eyes locked and so much sorrow and pain and something that Frankie wasn’t ready to admit passed between them it was hard to breathe. He gave her a small, hopeful smile but she was afraid to smile back. Unable to hope or even hold his gaze without dissolving into tears, she busied herself with straightening the already immaculate table. But as she stacked the brochures that Regan had made, her hands froze.
At the corner of her booth sat a plain vase overflowing with dozens of daffodils. She reached out and ran her finger along one of the petals when her phone chimed. She pulled it out of her pocket.
DAFFODIL: A SINGLE DAFFODIL FORETELLS UNREQUITED LOVE WHILE A BOUQUET OF DAFFODILS INDICATES RETURN OF AFFECTION.
Frank read and reread the text until the words began to blur. She wanted to go back to yesterday when everything felt right, when she felt as though she finally fit, when she didn’t know that she was one dirty sock on the coffee table away from losing Nate. Because that was what it came down to, wasn’t it? The fear that she was one annoying habit away from losing the only man she’d ever loved.
How could she move forward knowing that there were parts of herself so ingrained into the fiber of her being that could be the deciding factor between heartbreak and forever?
“Frankie.” Nate’s deep voice poured over her like a well-aged Bordeaux.
She looked from the phone in her hand to the pair of dirty boots standing in front of her table—and then higher.
Nate looked so handsome in his black slacks and dark blue button-up, but the look on his face nearly did her in. Dark circles outlined his eyes, and his expression was nervous and unsure. She hadn’t seen him look this way since the day of his parents’ f
uneral.
“Nate.” She stood, then sat back down, only to pick up the Stanford memorandum and stand again. “You did this.”
“She’s as bad as you are at this,” Adam said shoving Jonah.
“Do you have a minute?” he began, clearing his voice twice before continuing. “I know everything is about to start and I don’t want to ruin your day… again. But I’d like to explain—”
“What’s that?”
He was holding a single yellow rose and matching legal pad.
“It’s for you,” he said, offering her the rose.
Frankie had never had a man bring her flowers before and she wasn’t sure what to do. If she accepted it was she saying that she forgave him? If she didn’t, would he walk away and it was over? And if he walked away would she regret not having the courage to take a flower for the rest of her life?
Jesus, her entire future had come down to petals and thorns.
Nate must have understood her panic because he pulled it back and twirled it in his hand, gently probing a thorn with his index finger. “Lexi said roses are cliché, but I disagree. Did you know that the yellow rose is quite a complicated flower?”
She shook her head.
“I never understood how a single flower could possess so many contradicting meanings. Friendship, betrayal, heartbreak.” His eyes met hers. “Apology. It’s all in one beautiful package.”
“We looked for a flower that meant stupidest motherfucker to walk the earth, but there isn’t one, so he got you the rose,” Adam shot off.
Frankie shot off something back at Adam. The finger.
The most romantic thing anyone had ever said to her and it would forever be associated with the words “stupidest motherfucker.”
“I know that sorry doesn’t make up for how I hurt you, but know that I never meant to hurt you.”
“But you did,” she whispered.
“I know. God, I know, but I don’t know how to make it better.” He set the rose down and flipped through the legal pad. From what Frankie could see every page was triple-columned and completely filled. “Last night after you walked out, it hit me that I may have lost you for good. And it hurt. But what got me was the idea of you never hearing all of the things I love about you. All the things that if you walked away I’ll never get to tell you. So I started making a list and,” he swallowed. “I want you to know how I feel.”
