“I’m pregnant.”
She had to give him credit, he barely reacted. One eyebrow rose slightly, but that was it.
“Rhys?” he asked.
She nodded.
“Goodbye sex is very powerful,” he said, watching her carefully.
“It was more like we haven’t had sex in years and is this really the death of our marriage.” She looked away. “I only found out yesterday. I still have to see my doctor and figure out what I’m going to do.”
“You’re keeping the baby.”
Not a question, but she nodded anyway. “I have to. I want to,” she amended. “It’s just shocking. Did I spit?”
He tilted his head. “Just now?”
She managed a slight smile. “No. When we were tasting Herman’s barrels. Did I spit? That’s what I remember, but now I have to worry about the baby. You’re not supposed to drink alcohol while you’re pregnant and I’m a winemaker. How is that going to work?”
“You spit every time,” he told her. “It was very elegant.”
“I hope I did.” She fingered a grape leaf. “I haven’t told anyone yet. I barely believe it myself. I have to let Rhys know. I don’t think he’ll be happy.”
Something else she was worried about. They’d never had kids. If they’d wanted to, they could have gotten pregnant a thousand times over. But they never had. Until now.
“Does the pregnancy change anything about the divorce?”
A reasonable question, she thought. “No. Neither of us is going to change our mind.” She looked at Bruno. “Does it change things with you?”
“Do you want it to?”
“That’s not answering the question.”
“I still want to go into business with you.”
“But I’m pregnant. I’m excited about what we can do here, and I want to move forward with the deal. Having said that, a kid is going to change things and I don’t know how. I don’t see myself becoming a stay-at-home parent, but I could get weird with hormones. And I don’t know how much I’ll be able to do the last couple of months of the pregnancy.” She waved her hand. “I’m guessing at all this. I don’t know the first thing about being pregnant or having a baby.”
He smiled. “I’m not worried that you’ll suddenly want to spend your day knitting. I see you more as the strapping on the baby and heading into the fields type.”
“I like that image a lot.”
Thinking about carrying her baby with her as she worked made her feel good.
“We have a partnership agreement,” he said. “I don’t want to change that. You’re the best, Mackenzie. You’ll always be the best. Besides, I like kids.”
His voice was a little wistful. She remembered him telling her he couldn’t have children. Would her being pregnant be difficult for him?
Even as she thought the question, she shook it off. She was hardly the first pregnant woman he’d been around.
“You can bring the baby to work with you,” he added. “We’ll find someone to help with day care and move forward with our plan.”
“Thank you. That’s what I want, too.” She hesitated. “I was afraid you’d back out of the deal.”
He smiled. “It’s going to take a whole lot more than a pregnancy to get rid of me.”
* * *
Four’s family room perfectly reflected the personality of the owners. The hardwood floors had been whitewashed. Sliding doors allowed sunlight to pour into the space, illuminating the floor-to-ceiling mural. The forest scene had a castle in the distance, trolls under bridges, sprites, unicorns, a very wild-looking bear and three children proudly marching together under a banner of what Four claimed was the family crest. Stephanie was less sure the small picture of a dragon holding a hamburger was historically accurate, but she wasn’t in a position to say either way.
She curled up in the corner of a large sectional that faced the backyard. The square coffee table had been painted to represent a bouquet of summer flowers. The petals clustered together, while the legs were the green stems. In the corner, by the fireplace, a climbing wall was anchored to the wall and the ceiling. Brightly colored mats were scattered underneath, to protect the kids in case of a fall.
Painted baskets were filled with books and colored markers and building blocks and stickers. A nearly life-size rocking horse—Jaguar’s fifth anniversary present to his wife—took the place of a table and chairs in the eat-in kitchen. Four’s family ate in the dining room. Or outside. Or in the attic on nights when there was a thunderstorm.
The house smelled of flowers and herbs with an unexpected undernote of clean. The fabrics were things like organic cotton and bamboo. Splashes of color surprised from around every corner and the sound of a playful stream could be heard over the house’s built-in sound system.
With the kids at summer camp and Jaguar at work, Four and Stephanie were alone in the house. Stephanie had shown up with no warning and immediately burst into tears. Her sister had settled her on the sofa, then retreated to the kitchen, where she quickly made chocolate martinis—heavy on both the chocolate and the vodka.
Stephanie took the finished drink and sniffed. “It’s nine thirty in the morning,” she said before taking a sip. “Not that this isn’t delicious.”
“Something happened,” Four told her. “It felt more like an alcohol event. But if you’d like to go sit in the sauna and sweat out your pain, we can do that.”
When the house was built, Jaguar and Four had insisted on a meditation space on one side. The quiet room led to an honest-to-God sauna, along with a Jacuzzi. Every December, during the winter solstice, Stephanie and her kids joined Four and her family, along with Mackenzie, for a meditation, followed by them all squeezing into the sauna.
After that they feasted on hamburgers, hot dogs and potato salad, as a reminder that summer was coming.
Stephanie smiled. “I think the martini will work just fine.”
Four sat cross-legged on the chaise of the sofa, her long hair pulled back in a braid. She had on shorts and a T-shirt and, just for today, looked pretty much like any other stay-at-home mom her age.
“You took a while to come see me,” her sister said.
Stephanie raised her eyebrows. “What are you talking about?”
“Whatever happened took place—” Four closed her eyes “—three days ago. I felt the disturbance, but I didn’t know what it was.”
Stephanie took a big sip of her drink. “Now you’re scaring me.”
“Why? My oneness with the universe should be a comfort. We all need to be connected with something larger than ourselves. That way we’re reminded how we all fit together and should be working for the greater good.”
Stephanie wanted to ask if Four had spoken to their mother but knew she didn’t have to. If Four had heard about what had happened, she would have said so. Four said what was on her mind. She didn’t believe in playing emotional games—it blocked her mental flow.
Stephanie set down her drink. “That’s really good, by the way.”
“I use dark chocolate syrup. It has a little bite to it.”
“I quit my job.”
Four’s expression didn’t change. “Go on.”
“We were planning the wedding. I’d come up with several ideas I thought would make Mom happy. Somehow we ended up talking about my work at the winery and how I thought I made a difference. She called my ideas harebrained and said any increase in sales was about the wine and not anything I’ve done.” Stephanie picked up her glass. “I’m saying this all wrong.”
“You’re saying it exactly right.”
“I got mad, but I was hurt. It was like an out-of-body experience. I saw myself, sitting there. I looked small and then I decided I was done. So I quit.”
Four smiled. “I’m really proud of you. Congratulations. You’re free.”
“
Yeah? I mostly feel a little sick to my stomach. Avery took it fine when I told her.” She raised a shoulder. “We went through a rough patch a few weeks ago, but things are good between us now. She actually told me that Grandma doesn’t appreciate anyone who isn’t Mackenzie and not to take her insults personally. Oh, and she wants to know if she can come work for me when I get settled somewhere.”
“That has to make you feel good.”
“It does.” She and Avery had also talked a little more about Kyle’s cheating and why Stephanie had stayed. Hopefully there would be no more surprises from Kyle and things could stay calm on the kid front.
Stephanie leaned forward. “I’ve been trying to figure out what to do now. There are financial considerations. I own the house, but I have to put food on the table and pay the bills. Not that I want to stay home. I like having a job. I like feeling as if I’m helping and I enjoy the challenge. But this is Walla Walla. Where am I going to find a decent job?”
Four tilted her head, her long braid hanging down and brushing against the sofa. “Really? That’s the question?”
“You’re going to say I should work for a winery, aren’t you? There are dozens, maybe hundreds, in the area, and I know the business. Which sounds great, but I don’t know if I can do it. Ignoring the guilt of working for what our mother would call ‘the enemy.’” She made air quotes. “What if Mom is right? What if I didn’t improve sales? What if I’m just a cog in a wheel?”
“What if you’re not? What if you’re creative and resourceful and you’re finally able to be your best self? What if this is a new beginning and you can find the contentment that has always eluded you?”
“You’re putting a lot of pressure on one little job.”
“I’m asking the question.”
“It’s a scary question.”
Four smiled. “All the good ones are.” She finished her drink. “You can do this. You want to do this. Use your experience and your ideas to create something that will make you proud.”
Stephanie nodded slowly. The pep talk was exactly why she’d come to see her baby sister.
“You are wise beyond your years.”
“I think I was a shaman in a previous life.”
Stephanie grinned. “I have no doubt about that.”
twenty
Barbara sat in her usual seat at the table, with Giorgio at the opposite end. He was deep in conversation with Jaguar, perhaps discussing the farm equipment her son-in-law repaired. All her grandchildren were there, except for Carson, who was still at baseball camp. Avery, such a beauty with her long hair and big eyes, talked to Lori. Catherine and Stephanie were whispering and glancing in her direction.
Stephanie’s appearance at the dinner surprised her. She had thought her daughter would boycott the event. But instead, she’d arrived on time, greeted everyone and acted as though nothing was wrong. Barbara couldn’t decide if she was genuinely fine with what had happened, or if she was simply too stupid to recognize the danger she was in.
There was no going back, she thought grimly. Stephanie had betrayed her and she had to be punished. Should her daughter come crawling back for her job, Barbara was going to tell her no. To be honest, she quite looked forward to saying the words and reminding Stephanie that there was a price for her behavior. But so far, that hadn’t happened.
Everyone was acting so normally, she wasn’t sure if anyone even knew about Stephanie’s little fit. Avery hadn’t said anything, nor had Catherine. Perhaps Stephanie was keeping it a secret so she could simply ease back into what she’d done before. Or so she thought.
Barbara had no idea what she was going to do about the wedding. Stephanie couldn’t plan it now and Lori was truly less than useless. Catherine would offer, but there was no way Barbara would let her youngest plan the purchase of a hamster, let alone a wedding. Just thinking about how hideous it would be made her shudder.
Regret tasted bitter on her tongue. It wasn’t just the pieces of her family that had been lost, she thought grimly. Her enthusiasm at the thought of planning her big day had faded. Now a big wedding seemed like a chore—one more thing she had to get done. So what was she to do? Cancel the wedding? She and Giorgio could elope, she thought. Surely there had to be somewhere elegant they could go. She couldn’t stand a tacky little plastic place where she waited in line with the other pathetic wedding couples.
Shaking off the image, she glanced around the table. The dinner was nearly finished, and while she should be happy to have her family around her, she wasn’t. Despite the rearrangement of the chairs and place settings, in her mind there was still an empty seat and an equally large hole in her heart.
She missed her. There, she’d thought it, admitted it, if only to herself. She missed Mackenzie. Missed her helping with the meal. Mackenzie had always been the first to join her in the kitchen, eager to do whatever job Barbara assigned her. Mackenzie was the one who helped her pick out the linens and made sure the table was set the way Barbara liked it.
When the meal was served, Mackenzie sat close to her. They talked wines and who was doing what in the valley. She enjoyed her time with the family and laughed often and now Barbara would never share that laugh with her again.
She caught sight of Rhys glancing at his watch.
“That’s the third time you’ve checked your watch in the past half hour,” she said. “Do you have somewhere you have to be?”
Rhys looked at her before nodding. “I’m meeting someone this evening.”
Barbara tried to take in the words. “You have a date with a woman?”
The table went silent as everyone glanced between them.
Rhys smiled at her. “Yes, Mom. With a woman.”
Not Mackenzie, she thought, feeling pain on her daughter-in-law’s behalf.
“It seems a little soon,” she snapped.
Giorgio watched her, as if prepared to rush to her side to comfort her, something she usually enjoyed. Just not today, she thought. Today she was sad and there was no solace to be found. A melodramatic thought, but still an accurate one.
“Jaguar and I have been looking at a new school for the kids,” Catherine said in an obvious attempt to change the subject. “They’ll be using a lot of new teaching techniques that are more nurturing than traditional teaching methods.”
“Let me guess,” Barbara said dryly. “No curriculum, no tests. In fact the children decide what they want to learn.”
“You shouldn’t dismiss something just because it’s new,” Catherine told her. “The old ways aren’t always best.”
“Explain that to my grandchildren when they discover how helpful reading and math would have been to get a decent job.”
“Children need to be allowed to be themselves.”
“So they can grow up and leave you without a second thought?” she asked, tossing her napkin onto her half-eaten lasagna. “Excuse me, I have a headache.”
She walked out of the dining room and into the kitchen. Once there, she didn’t know where to go. Damn her! This was all Mackenzie’s fault. The pain of missing her, how everything was different.
Familiar hands settled on her shoulders. She turned and let Giorgio pull her close.
“I miss her,” she whispered into his shoulder. “I miss her so much. I hate her and I miss her.”
“You love her,” he corrected, stroking her hair. “It’s a natural thing to be sad. To love her and want things back how they were.”
She nodded. “You saw Rhys. He’s already moved on. He doesn’t care about their marriage. And Catherine with her ridiculous ideas. Where did I go wrong with my children?”
“They are beautiful children. You did a wonderful job.”
She stepped back and looked at him. “Why do you always see the best in me?”
“I see what’s real.”
She wanted that to be true but knew it wasn’t.
He had an idealized vision of her that in no way matched reality. If he knew about the anger in her heart, how she wanted revenge and Mackenzie punished... But he didn’t. He saw only what he wanted to see, which was probably for the best. Of course it meant that he never really saw her for who she was.
He pulled her close again. “We will be married soon and that will help. You won’t have to be alone, as you have been all these years.”
Alone? She wasn’t alone. She had Bel Après, but he wouldn’t understand that. Giorgio had created a business, but she’d been part of a legacy. There was a difference. Still, he loved her deeply and he tried. She really couldn’t ask for more.
* * *
Mackenzie finished dressing. After picking up her purse, she walked the short distance to her doctor’s office. Dr. Brighton was in her forties, with short hair and a confident air. She smiled when Mackenzie took a seat.
“I have some questions,” Mackenzie said. “I’m a winemaker. It’s my job to taste wine. I know alcohol is bad for the baby, so what do I do?” She tried to keep the panic out of her voice as she spoke. Telling her doctor about all the barrels waiting at Painted Moon wasn’t going to help.
Dr. Brighton shook her head. “I know plenty of winemakers and they all spit rather than swallow when barrel tasting. I assume you do the same?”
Mackenzie nodded. “I can’t get drunk first thing in the morning. It makes for a bad day.”
“Then keep up the practice. Be more vigilant about it. The first three weeks after conception the fetus doesn’t absorb alcohol. The first two trimesters are the most sensitive time. No drinking for pleasure. When you’re going to be tasting, make sure you’re completely hydrated so your body doesn’t want to suck in the moisture. Keep the sessions short. Rinse out your mouth with water between sips. Spread out your tastings over days rather than hours. You don’t have to give up your job, you just have to be careful.”
“That makes sense.” She could follow all those rules. She’d been doing a lot of reading online, and while there weren’t a lot of articles about being a winemaker while pregnant, she’d been able to pick up a few tips. “And sampling at harvest is safe, right? They’re just grapes at that point.”
The Vineyard at Painted Moon Page 21
