Wine&Dine: another romance for the over 40

by L. B. Dunbar

  “This is so fucked up,” Denton mutters, running a hand over his salt and pepper hair. “She’s so angry with me.”

  “Do you blame her? You took her business and tore it apart.”

  “I planned to put it back together.”

  “Without her input?” My defense of Dolores doesn’t surprise me, but it surprises Denton. His eyes narrow as he looks at me.

  “You care about her.” There’s a question in his voice, but I’m not explaining myself to Denton before I talk to Dolores. It’s more than caring.

  “Is Dolores here?” The informative Cora assured me Dolores was staying at her grandmother’s for a few days, so I can only hope I’m not too late. For a few short minutes, I worried she would go back to that schmuck Rusty.

  “She’s inside,” Denton offers with defeat in his voice. He twists and waves a hand for me to continue for the house. Denton follows and then reaches around me to open the front door. Instantly, I notice the potential of the house. A parlor off each side of an extra-wide hallway hosts an abundance of seating. A dining room to the right after one parlor holds a large table. A grand staircase to the left will be stunning with some new stain. Eventually, we enter a kitchen in the process of being refinished. Denton leads me around a corner into a breakfast room. Here I see a frail woman with sharply cut gray bangs and glasses that look like the bottom of two soda bottles perched on her nose. They magnify her blue eyes, which I imagine matched Dolores’s decades ago.

  “And who might you be?” she questions, dipping her head to roam up my body. She’s not checking me out but inspecting me.

  “This is Garrett Fox, Magnolia. The man Dolores mentioned.”

  “The neighbor who crossed the country for her?” My head flinches back at the direct question. How could she know such a thing? It’s a reminder Dolores ran away from me. She’s hiding out here in Georgia to avoid me.

  Then why are you here? my heart asks, but I know the answer is hope. I’m hoping I’m wrong about Dolores. I’m hoping she feels the same way about me as I do about her. I love her.

  “Magnolia,” Denton warns, and I chuckle softly to lessen the awkward moment.

  “Well, what do you want with her?” She addresses me.

  “I’d like to apologize,” I begin. First things first. Dolores needs the truth from me.

  “Should have brought flowers. In my day, men were gentlemen, and flowers worked while groveling.”

  “Yes, ma’am, I should have.” I realize I don’t even know what Dolores’s favorite flower is, or if she even likes flowers. Then I think of the things I do know. Dolores loves classics. Black and white movies. Tango dances. She’d want roses.

  I lean forward as if I’m going to share a secret with Dolores’s grandmother. She leans toward me, elbows resting on the table that separates us. “I’m also hoping to woo her.”

  Denton swears under his breath. Magnolia sits upright and nods once. “Thank God. That Crusty Rusty wasn’t worth the dirt under her feet. You still need flowers, though.”

  “Magnolia,” Dolores admonishes, and I turn to see her standing just inside the kitchen. My breath hitches. She looks tired with red-rimmed eyes and a splotchy face. Has she been crying? Dolores is one of the strongest women I know, but that doesn’t mean she doesn’t break down when she’s alone. I don’t want her to be alone. I don’t want her to cry. And I especially don’t want her to cry over me.

  I take a deep breath and give her a weak grin. She watches me, biting the corner of her lip. Lips I miss.

  “I thought I’d take Wally for a walk. I don’t want him to be a burden to you.”

  She nods and pushes a section of hair behind her ear. “You know I don’t mind him.” I hear the scrape of his nails on the paper covering the entry hall floor, and then I see my chocolate-colored dog. He saunters up to me, and I squat to give him a good rub behind the ears. I focus on him, uncertain of what to say next. Tension slowly fills the breakfast nook.

  “I couldn’t get a meeting with Griffin until tomorrow morning.” Denton addresses his sister, frustration ringing in his voice. “I swear these small-town workers hardly work.”

  “I said I’d handle it,” Dolores snips at her brother, still keeping up her guard with him.

  “I know, but I wanted to follow through on one last thing.” His voice rings with hurt and apology. I imagine Dolores has heard I’m sorry too often in the past twenty-four hours.

  “Yeah, well, they better get to work. I need a diner back in business by Christmas,” Dolores snaps. That’s in two weeks. Her demands might be a bit unreasonable, but when I look up at her, I see she’s all business. She means it. She needs a Christmas miracle.

  Slowly, I stand, reminding everyone I’m in the room. “I guess I’ll just get Wally’s leash,” I say, although I have no idea where the item is. Dolores tips her head for me to follow her. She’s wearing a pair of her skinny jeans and thick socks, but she’s back to an oversized sweatshirt. She rubs at her arms as she crosses through the kitchen and enters the hallway. Pausing at the bottom of the grand staircase, she spins to face me, and I brace myself for the wrath I saw her throw at her brother. Instead, her eyes soften.

  “I could come with you. To walk Wally,” she offers, and a pinch of hope spikes inside my chest.

  “I’d like that.”

  “Be right down,” she says, turning and racing up the staircase to a landing. I watch her backside as she jogs the steps, and when she spins for the second set of stairs, she catches me. “Were you checking out my ass?”

  “I wouldn’t dream of looking anywhere else.”

  “You’re unbelievable.” She huffs a chuckle as she disappears up the second stairwell before I can respond.

  “Too bad I want you to believe me,” I mutter as I wait.

  “You break her heart, and I’ll kill you.” The threat comes from a little old lady I didn’t hear approaching even though she uses a cane to stand inside the kitchen.

  “If I hurt her, I give you permission to give it your best shot.”

  “I own a 1965 Remington .22 I keep in good condition, and I’m not afraid to use it.”

  Yikes. Although, if I recall my first experience shooting a gun with my granddad, a .22 isn’t going to take down a human, but her point is made.

  “Understood,” I say, rolling my lips to prevent a chuckle and give her a humble nod.

  “Don’t be trying to use your good looks on me, young man. I’ve got Denton and Tommy Carrigan as grandsons. Pretty eyes and a sly smile don’t work on me.”

  I bite my lip, trying not to laugh. This woman has spunk, and I know exactly where Dolores gets hers from.

  “No, ma’am,” I say, attempting to act more contrite. Dolores returns down the stairs with a beanie cap on her head and a long puffy jacket with a thick furry collar on the hood. She’s the vision of a snow bunny, and I want to hunt her down.

  “I just need boots.” She nods toward the kitchen, and I follow again. There’s a mudroom off the side of the kitchen and a second staircase leading a few steps down to an exterior door. Dolores slips into a pair of snow boots with fur matching her collar and leads me out the back of the house. She calls for Wally, and the traitor that my dog has turned comes at the command of her voice. He’s a Californian through and through, though, and doesn’t know how to respond to the snow under the pads of his feet.

  “You baby.” She insults Wally like she does with that exaggerated tone, and he looks up at her with all the trust in the world. She pulls a tennis ball from her pocket—a fresh one—and tosses it out toward the field. We follow Wally as he races for the object. After several long minutes of only the snow crunching under our feet and Wally’s grunts, I speak.

  “It’s so quiet here. Peaceful.” The silence is eerie but also refreshing, completely the opposite of the constant noise of LA. It reminds me a little bit of the area around River City. The wind whistles, and the cold stings, but if this is the only way to be near Dolores, I’ll take it.
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  Dolores looks up, squinting into the cloudy day as she watches Wally run. “I never thought I’d leave here. Never considered whether I wanted to or not. I had the diner and my grandmother and my mother. It was enough.

  “I’d never been to California. I didn’t hate it, but I knew I’d never make it my permanent residence. I was restless there, though I enjoyed my visit.” She glances at me while we walk next to one another, each of us with our hands buried in our coat pockets. I don’t look over at her but forward at Wally, feeling like a teenager on the verge of a breakup. You know it’s going to happen before it happens, yet you’re still blindsided by it. Then again, I was more often the one to do the breaking up until Kate.

  “I need to be here, Garrett. I need to fix this.”

  I understand. I do. Her brother has made a mess of things.

  “Can we back up a bit?” I question, my heart racing as I need some answers. “Can you tell me why you ran off without telling me?”

  She takes a deep breath. “I’m sorry about that. I am. Ingrid was telling me how she thought you and Alicia would make a nice couple, and Alicia had just called me a special project. And then Ingrid mentioned how at one point she wanted to be with you. And you were dancing with Alicia like you’d done it a hundred times before.” She pauses. “You didn’t have to lie about the tango lessons.”

  “I didn’t lie. I’d never danced like that until you. And fuck Alicia and Ingrid.” My tone is sharp, and Dolores flinches, but I’m pissed. “Why didn’t you come to me before you ran off? I was there with you. You.”

  “You looked rather practiced on the dance floor.” She’s snarky, and I want to retort but don’t want to fight.

  “I attend a lot of events,” I huff, scratching at the back of my neck. “You already know this about me.”

  “I do, and it’s a reminder I don’t fit in your world.” She glances up at Wally racing down the lane. “I was headed home to Denton’s condo when Mati called me. She didn’t say what was wrong, but the urgency in her voice told me it was time to come home. To Georgia.”

  “And you couldn’t have called me? You sent me a text, but it didn’t explain anything.” I stop walking, and she steps in front of me and turns to face me. “I would have come with you.”

  “Why?”

  “Dolores, come on,” I mutter. She can’t be this dense, but she stares at me, waiting for an answer. “The other night, I had everything planned. I wanted it to be perfect. I…” I realize I’m admitting too much. Dolores’s brows pinch, and she takes a step toward me, questioning me with the expression on her face.

  “What did you have planned?”

  “It doesn’t matter now.” I huff, scrubbing my hands down my face. I was an idiot to think she felt the same way as I did, but I’m not fool enough to admit it. Now that she’s told me she won’t return to California, I’m getting the impression she wants nothing to do with me.

  “Look, I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about the contracts.” I need to change the subject, and Dolores tips back her head and then turns her body to continue walking. Wally is quite a bit ahead of us, and I whistle for him to come back. As he races toward us, I explain myself. “Denton mentioned the land. It was just a suggestion. More like a joke, but after our visit to Napa, I got to thinking…maybe it wasn’t such a bad idea.” I can’t add how I hoped she’d be on board with me. How I hoped she’d want to be a part of the vineyard with me.

  “I’ll cancel the contracts, though, and just gift you the money. I don’t fucking care about the money, or the contracts, or any of it.”

  “You can’t give me the money,” she huffs, looking deflated.

  “Dolores.” I pause, reaching out for her arm to stop her. “I want to do this for you.” Does she hear what I’m saying? She’s staring at me, wheels spinning inside her head. “I have an idea.” I bite my lip and glance left, drawing courage from where we stand.

  “You know I want a vineyard. A place that’s all mine for retirement someday. This is the perfect spot.” Dolores doesn’t blink. She makes no motion whatsoever. “Let me use the land. It isn’t being used, and it’s perfect.”

  “What do you know about starting a vineyard? I thought you wanted to buy one already established.”

  “I changed my mind.” I didn’t realize I’d changed my mind until I started a budget and an outline of my business plan. Magnolia’s is large enough to get a good start. I don’t need the house, so the building is neither here nor there to me. “Magnolia can stay in the house for as long as she likes. Denton suggested the property as collateral on the loan for the diner.”

  “It’s my diner. And my inheritance,” she states, her voice falling small.

  “And I don’t want you to give it up. I want to borrow it, and I’ll amend the contract.”

  “What about your money?”

  “Dammit, Dolores. You’re more precious to me than money.” The cold nips at my cheeks, but I don’t feel the sting. The heaving of our breaths and warm air leaking from our nostrils fills the space between us instead.

  “We can work something out,” I begin, hesitating with hope. “Keep the money to improve the diner. Let me have the land to build a vineyard. It’s a win-win.”

  “Why?” Dolores questions, her face still pinched in misunderstanding.

  Because I don’t want to be away from you.

  Because I want to do this with you.

  Because I want to be where you are.

  “Because it’s just sitting here, waiting to be used, and I want my plan to begin. My future. Here.”

  Her breathing becomes more ragged. Her nostrils flaring in the cold. Her lips are pink. Her face rosy.

  “I don’t know,” she says, and I step toward her, right up in her space, desperate to touch her face but holding back. She isn’t looking up at me. “I should talk to Denton, though Lord knows he didn’t offer me the same courtesy.”

  “We can talk to him together. I’ll explain my vision to him. He doesn’t want to keep the place. Not for any purpose. He just understands it needs to stay within your family.”

  “But…” Dolores opens her mouth and then clamps her lips shut, rolling them inward.

  “What?”

  She shakes her head, unwilling to explain her thoughts. Dammit. She’s killing me here. Deflated, I suggest we turn back.

  “We should head back to the house. Wally’s California feet don’t know how deadly this snow can be.” I chuckle without humor. I’m distraught. She doesn’t want to hear my plan and doesn’t want to be part of it, a part of my future.

  I whistle for Wally again, taking the tennis ball that’s been in my pocket and toss it toward the house. We walk in silence again, my thoughts filling with ideas that will never come to fruition for this place.

  “What did you have planned?” she asks, surprising me with a more cheer in her voice. “You said you wanted the other night to be perfect. What did you have in mind?” She hesitates in asking, and I exhale deeply in frustration.

  “I don’t think it matters now.” The irritation of losing both the girl and a vision in the same twenty-four hours suddenly weighs down on me.

  “I’d still like to know.”

  “Dolores.” I stop. “I’ve been on my own for a long time, and I thought I was fine with it that way. Especially after the scandal with Kate. I’ve kept my heart in check. Tin Man, remember?” I knock on my puffy coat over my left pec for emphasis. “And then I met you, and I shared things with you I haven’t shared with anyone else, like owning a vineyard someday. So forgive me if I hesitate in giving you the last part of my soul when you’re standing here rejecting me.”

  She blinks and blinks again, liquid filling her eyes. Shit. Don’t cry, I think. However, this might be the first time waterworks won’t work on me. Raw and restless, like I’m standing naked in this flat field on this cold mountaintop, I can’t take any more disappointment.

  “Pretend I’m the Scarecrow. My brain is curious.” I don’t want
her brain to be curious. I want her heart to be open. She’s smiling, but it isn’t reaching her eyes. It isn’t filling her face like I know it can.

  “Fine,” I huff. “I booked us a room. I wanted to take you upstairs and make love to you. You looked so beautiful in that dress. That gorgeous, fucking, stunning dress. I just wanted you to feel special, and I wanted you to know how much I love you.”

  I’m breathing like I’m running a marathon. I’m not winning the race, but I’m sprinting like my life depends on it.

  “You what?” she whispers, her eyes wide and glistening as a single tear drops. I close my eyes. I can’t watch her cry. It will break me, and I’m already broken.

  “I love you,” I say, turning away, preparing for her to rally against my emotions. Instead, she steps up to me, her coat brushing mine. Gloved hands cover my cheeks, and she forces me to turn in her direction.

  “I love you, too,” she says softly. “It’s been there for a while now, and when I saw you with all those elegant women at a fancy gala, I just didn’t think I belonged with you. I wouldn’t be enough for—”

  My mouth stops the rest of her words. Her cold lips turn warm underneath mine as I press against her, drawing her to me. My heart fills. The heart I didn’t have, which she returned inside me, swells and swells as I take her lips. Without words, I tell her in this kiss how much I love her, how I’ll do anything for her, anything she asks. I just want us together. I pull back abruptly.

  “I wanted to ask you to be my partner…on the vineyard. Work with me to selfishly make my dreams come true.”

  Her breath hitches, and she blinks in confusion. Maybe it’s too much to ask. She’s been through a lot the past two days, and this might be the final straw for her.

  “Don’t ever leave me like that again.” I breathe out against her red lips, my forehead pressing to hers. “My heart can’t take it.”