“I don’t understand how you just toss the pan and everything leaps out and then falls back in perfectly,” Joey said in mystification as she watched Gabriella work.
“That is why you pay me millions of dollars.”
Joey frowned. “I’m worried you didn’t read our agreement.”
Gabriella waved her off. “Details to work out once we’re up and running.”
Madison pointed. “I told you. She’s so nice that you don’t see her coming. The next thing you know, your house is signed over.”
They seemed to have congregated in the kitchen, chatting over the food preparation. It really was a thing to behold, how effortlessly Gabriella threw in spices, flipped the pasta around willy-nilly, and added cheese, cream, or eggs without need to measure. Joey caught Madison watching her with a knowing grin.
“What?” Joey asked. She pointed in a circle. “What’s with the face?”
“I’m just wondering why you’re twirling your hair like you used to in the sixth grade when you’d had a good day. Something is up with you that you’re not saying, and don’t argue because I know you, Joey Wilder. Got your number.”
“Hair twirling can happen for a lot of reasons, Madison, and some of them are simply hair related. I should know as a chronic hair twirler.”
“Except you’re also showing off your dimples when you’re not expressly meaning to, which means you’re preoccupied with something that is making you happy.” Madison grinned. “Yep. There’s a whole movie playing out in your head, and you can’t stop watching it, and you’re not sharing the popcorn.”
Gabriella pointed at Joey excitedly. “She’s right. Your dimples are showing.” She adjusted the tie in her hair. “You have really cute dimples, Joey. I’m jealous now. Also, share the popcorn.”
Joey raised one shoulder. “I think I just enjoyed my day, and with the way things have gone the past while, I needed a little pick-me-up.”
Gabriella squinted. “Okay, who picked you up? I’m starting to side with Maddie.”
“No one picked me up.” She watched as Gabriella stirred the egg mixture into the hot spaghetti and then topped it with the crisp pancetta she’d set aside. Joey’s mouth watered. “Yet.”
Two heads swiveled her way. Gabriella paused mid stir, looking like she’d stumbled upon a stash of leprechaun gold. Madison grinned victoriously, surely congratulating herself for knowing Joey so well. With one hand, she made the give-me-more gesture.
Joey took the cue and it all came tumbling out in a fervor. “Okay, fine. A woman came into the tasting room. Our chat was brief and maybe minor in the scheme of life, but you guys”—Joey did a sweet-Jesus head shake—“you should have seen her. Chestnut hair cut to about here.” She touched a spot just past her shoulders. “Layered, like if she shook her head, she’d be on one of those commercials for hair products where it all falls perfectly into place.”
“Good God,” Gabriella said, setting the pan down slowly.
“Seriously. It was like wind machines kicked on as she opened the door to the tasting room, and I could not stop looking at her.”
“Did you feel things?” Gabriella asked, placing a hand over her stomach as if she was imagining the moment full-on.
“Yes,” Joey said, pointing at her. “A lot of them.” She turned to Madison. “She wore this navy leather jacket with a round collar and this zipper that just had me.” Joey paused. “This woman knows how to wear a zipper. And I’m gushing like a stupid person, aren’t I?”
Gabriella hadn’t moved a muscle. “If you don’t keep going you will die.”
“A horrible death,” Madison finished. Another give-me-more gesture.
Joey came around the center counter, the very one she’d grown up playing beneath. “Well, at first I thought she was a tourist. I mean, they all are, right? She was devastatingly beautiful and clearly put together and, yes, there was this obvious, palpable chemistry between us, but I’d likely never see her again, so I didn’t invest. Just enjoyed the fun banter.” She realized she was gesturing a lot, which she knew was something she only did when she felt something very strongly. “Then she tells me that she’s just moved here. As in here. Whisper Wall. In town.”
“Plot twist,” Madison murmured with wide eyes.
Joey nodded. “And so…I’m feeling a little surprised and off-kilter. I mean, what am I supposed to do with this? A mystery woman walks in, makes my day, and proclaims that she’s sticking around permanently.”
“Jo, you’re not feeling surprised.” Maddie ran a hand through her curls. “You’re hot for her, and you damn well should be.”
“What’s her name?” Gabriella asked, plating the carbonara beautifully. “I need to know everything I can about this devastatingly beautiful neighbor. Bring the sexy. Layer it on like her perfect windswept hair.”
“Becca.” She popped the cork on the chardonnay that would pair wonderfully with the pasta. She liked the sound of the word as she released it from her lips. “It suits her, too. She’s sophisticated, yet very personable and friendly. Warm. She also has a tiny freckle right here.” She gestured to the side of her right eye.
“What does she do?” Madison asked, allowing Joey to pour her a glass. She swirled the wine and watched it settle. Always working, that one. Madison’s mind rarely relaxed, which was likely the reason she’d accomplished so much in so little time.
“We didn’t get that far. A tour group showed up, and our conversation was cut short. But I plan to find out. I’m going to guess that, dressed like that, she’s a high-powered attorney. We could use a few more around here with all the land sales and disputes.” She grinned while setting the table and imagined Becca standing up in a courtroom, decked out in a business suit. She fanned herself because, sweet Lord, please see fit to have mercy. Joey didn’t even know she was into that kind of fantasy until now.
“Surely you asked for her number, though, right?” Madison asked. “I mean, that’s just basic.”
“Didn’t we just talk about the fact that I’ve been out of this game for years? Maybe next time,” Joey said. “I’m playing it cool.”
“Or chickening out, but we will go with your version.”
Gabriella scoffed at Madison. “You leave little Joey alone. She’s taking things at her pace, and I love everything about this story. I imagine Becca walking to the bar in slow motion. Mamma mia. That’s what my grandmother would say.”
“It really was like that,” Joey said, nodding very seriously. “You think I’m making that up, but I’m not. She’s really pretty, you guys, and put together as hell, and it’s the combo of the two that makes me want to make out with her in an orchard somewhere.”
“This is so saucy and specific,” Gabriella said, placing a plate in front of each setting. She glanced behind her. “Oh, and I have fresh bread with this amazing garlic butter.”
“Garlic and butter are the best words,” Joey mused, sipping her wine and readying herself for what looked like an out of this world culinary experience that Gabriella had whipped up in no time. Why hadn’t she hired a chef to live next door sooner? Biggest misstep of her young life.
It turned out the food was even better than she’d hoped, and Joey felt like she’d floated up somewhere near heaven. She was more than full but somehow needed just a little bit more of that hot bread.
“Gabs, you’re getting better and better,” Madison said. “Why did we break up again, because that food…No,” Madison said, quelling the thought with a slap on the table. “I don’t even have words, so I won’t belittle you with my failed attempt to appropriately capture the essence.” Someone was feeling the wine. Madison left the table and collapsed onto the new couch, which made Joey happy. She loved the Big House and all the memories that came with it of childhood, family, and history, but she also knew how important it was to make it hers now. When the decorator had made over the cottages, Joey had hired her to update the Big House as well. She’d kept all the important components like her grandmother’
s butcher-block countertop, the core of the kitchen. She’d altered the wall colors, going with an entirely gray and white palette for both the kitchen and living room. The space felt lighter and much more her speed than the heavy browns of the previous decor. She hoped her dad wouldn’t mind.
Gabriella, who’d begun to do the dishes unnecessarily, gestured at Madison with a spatula. “Because we were getting ready to kill each other if we didn’t change up something and fast.” She grinned sweetly. “This is so much nicer, and you’re still eating my food. See?”
“Winning,” Madison said from the couch, a fist in the air. She blew Gabriella a kiss, which she caught.
Having gotten to know Gabriella better in the days they’d spent together so far, she could see how her and Madison’s energies might not have commingled as well romantically. Gabriella was sweet and creative, while Madison was someone who relied heavily on science, facts, schedules, and structure. She didn’t get caught up in optimism, preferring pragmatism, always. For Gabriella, that might have been a buzzkill. Their friendship dynamic, however, felt incredibly balanced and supportive.
“How’s the wine faring out there in winemaking land?” Joey asked Madison, as she shooed Gabriella out of the kitchen and off dish duty. She’d get to those later, once the others went home.
Madison’s eyes lit up at the mention of her new charge. “It’s sleeping right now, Joey, but the new grapes are good grapes. We’ve made friends. They like it here.”
“Friendly grapes?” Joey asked.
“The nicest. We’re getting to know each other as we make plans to take over the wine world.”
Gabriella’s eyes went wide with hope. “The little vineyard that could.”
Joey laughed. “Sounds about right. Grandpa Wilder started with one seed in the ground, and look out there now. Makes you realize that anything really is possible.”
“More than possible,” Madison said. Joey admired her for both her confidence and skill set. Winemaking was no easy job. The hours were insane, and the amount of babysitting and trial and error to get all the components balanced was painstakingly difficult.
“Are we shopping tomorrow?” Gabriella asked, picking out a spot for herself on the floor where she began a series of stretches, showing off her lean torso. Joey had no idea how she managed to look so amazing when she was surrounded by food all the time. That just wasn’t fair.
“Yeah, I have two of our part-time pourers coming in to back up Loretta in the tasting room. Midmorning okay with you?”
“That gives me time for morning yoga.”
“You do yoga?” Joey asked. She always admired those women who could twist themselves into a variety of pretzel-like poses. They seemed so sophisticated and worldly. She wondered if Becca did yoga. “I’ve never tried it.”
“Well, then I’ll have to teach you. You’ll love it.” Gabriella hooked a thumb at Madison. “This one doesn’t.”
Madison shrugged. “I just feel the time ticking away. I’m supposed to stretch and breathe when my to-do list is just sitting there, dormant and afraid?”
“Yes,” Joey and Gabriella said in unison.
“I’d die slowly of impatience. I’d say you’d miss me, but I think you’d be busy breathing in.”
“What’s it like to be you?” Joey asked.
“It’s torture, Jo. You don’t want this life.” But Madison was laughing when she said it, a sign of healthy self-awareness.
After lounging for an hour, her friends eventually headed out into the night, leaving Joey with the dishes and a feeling of satisfaction. Life seemed so foreign to Joey now, that she took true comfort in establishing new norms. Madison and Gabriella were helping with that, and after her conversation with Becca in the tasting room, she had an extra spring in her step. She’d not detected a spark with anyone since Simone. She’d actually started to think that maybe the romantic part of her life was good and done. She was only in her thirties, and that reality would have been sad, but livable. Today, though? She’d experienced something exciting when she spoke to Becca, looked into her eyes as she tasted the wine. She didn’t know what it was exactly, but it had her paying attention. Joey did know one thing for certain. She wanted to feel that way again soon.
Chapter Four
“Joey, I have to confess, this stuff gets me going,” Gabriella said and rubbed her hands together as they moved from one end of the used-car dealership to the other in search of the perfect food truck for Tangle Valley. “Virgin Mary, I’m all atingle,” she whispered to Joey as they followed Powell Rogers, the sometimes gruff owner of the lot, to truck number two. She did a little dance as if in a boxing ring. Joey smothered a smile. Gabriella was definitely an enthusiastic chef, but she was no pushover. She spoke up for what she wanted, even passionately when called for.
Joey passed Gabriella a look and kept her volume down, not wanting to alert Powell to their plans. “Just let me know how you’re feeling about each one as we go.”
“Not a problem,” Gabriella said, still gearing up for battle.
“Does that help you shop?” Joey asked, pointing at Gabriella’s quick moving feet.
“Yes,” she said, as if it were universal.
“Got it,” Joey said, pressing on. “Do you.”
She’d lined up three different trucks for Gabriella to inspect, not knowing exactly what would be most important to her but wanting her chef to have everything she needed for success in the coming months when she’d be relegated to a small workspace. The introduction of the truck and the buzz about its food would hopefully act as introduction to the restaurant the following year.
They’d nixed truck number one already simply because the thing had been used into the ground, was likely on its last leg, and Gabriella felt it was like “a sad little truck that just needed to rest with its mama now.”
“Yep. You folks are about to fall in love. The beauty of this next truck is that it’s all top of the line equipment, and fully automated,” Powell explained with his Budweiser ball cap perched too high on his head like it didn’t fit. He’d always worn it like that, and Joey couldn’t figure out why he didn’t just buy a bigger size, but that was Powell.
“Sounds promising,” Gabriella said, ceasing her footwork the second Powell looked their way. They followed him to a maroon colored, medium-sized truck with a single serving window.
Powell clapped his hands. “Beautiful, isn’t she? Let’s go inside.”
Joey followed behind Gabriella who followed behind Powell until they were all three standing in the truck like needy sardines.
“Small,” Gabriella pointed out. “It’s nice, but I’m Italian and I need room to toss stuff, you know? I’m a toss-arounder. It comes from my mama.”
“She’s a toss-arounder,” Joey said to Powell. “Why don’t we give you some space to test it out fully?” Joey signaled for Powell to follow her and left Gabriella in the truck. She popped the service window and looked about. Next, they watched as she mimed some big reaches and cooking-like gestures. She flipped something over in an invisible frying pan and then tossed some ingredients into it in a fury as if time was of the essence. She was totally right about being a toss-arounder. Joey nodded at Powell, who nodded back.
“She’s good,” he said. “I can tell.”
“Right?”
Gabriella called down to them. “No. This one doesn’t feel right. I can cook here, but I’m not sure I can cook here. There’s a difference. Trust me.”
“We want the second version of cooking, I think,” Joey informed Powell. “Where’s the third truck?”
“Back this way,” he said. Gabriella scampered down and followed them farther onto the lot. “Last one is kind of in between the two. She has a couple years on her. Not telling you any lies ’bout that. Bigger, though, which you’ll like for the, uh, tossing, but not as fancy.”
Gabriella wasn’t listening. She was already gazing ahead at the blue truck with the oversized service window. “Okay, this is promising.”
She nodded several times and gestured inward to her chest. “We’re bonding.”
“Already?” Joey asked.
But Gabriella didn’t answer her. She was walking around the truck and nodding some more. She ran a hand across the blue exterior. There was a colorful peace sign on the side that could be painted over. “She’s pretty. That’s for sure,” Gabriella said. “We could put a bottle of wine here with your label,” she said, pointing at the peace sign. “I can see it now.”
“I like that idea. See what you think about the interior.” Joey crossed her arms and waited. She and Powell remained outside and let Gabriella explore the truck on her own. She popped the service window and moved about, making many of the same gestures as before, this time with extra pizzazz, kicking her hip, and making a few fun sound effects—pop, bang, bam. Lots of bams.
“Why do you wear your hat like that?” Joey asked, not taking her eyes off the imaginary show.
“Cause I like wearing my hat like this. It’s how hats go on my head best.”
“Fair enough, I guess. You realize it’s perched.”
“I like a good perch. Makes me feel tall.”
Joey nodded. “Fair enough.”
Finally, Gabriella looked up. “It’s this one, Joey. I can kill it with this truck.”
“I think we have a winner,” Joey said to Powell. They didn’t have a ton of money budgeted for the truck, given how much the restaurant was going to run the vineyard in the end, but she was hoping to cut a deal. Pennies were too tight not to. The books kept her up at night these days. “What are you asking for it?”
He rubbed his chin. “This one is fifty-nine. Firm.”
Joey whistled. “Seems high, given it’s not brand new. You said yourself the features aren’t top of the line. It’s lacking some of the automation.” She paused. “I can offer you forty-nine.” Gabriella joined them with an even bigger spring in her step. She was practically vibrating with excitement.
Entangled Page 7
