The Vineyard at Painted Moon

by Susan Mallery

  “A brain?”

  Catherine laughed. “I know you’re not trying to be funny, but sometimes you are.” Her smile faded. “I wish you could be happy. You have so much and you never bother to appreciate it.”

  “What do I have? Betrayal? Abandonment? A failing company?”

  “You have good health and family and a man who loves you.”

  As if on cue, Giorgio walked into the room. Barbara was surprised to see him, then he and Catherine exchanged a knowing look and she realized the text her daughter had sent earlier had been a request for him to come by. They were plotting against her, she thought grimly. She shouldn’t even be surprised.

  Giorgio sat next to her and took her hand in hers. “How are you, my sweet?”

  “Angry. Depressed. Fearful about the future.”

  Old, she thought, but didn’t say that. Why state the obvious?

  “You should have a little faith,” he told her, his tone chiding. “It will all work out.”

  “Will it? How wonderful. While you’re prognosticating, when will the new winemaker show up? That would be helpful information.”

  Giorgio frowned. “Why are you angry with me?”

  “Because you’re making ridiculous statements. You don’t know that everything is going to work out. In your mind, you say it’s fine and it is, but that’s not reality. If I don’t stay on top of everything, then it will all fall apart.”

  He released her hand and moved to the sofa opposite. “If you hang on too tight, you’ll strangle everyone.”

  “Am I hanging on too tight?” she asked, her voice stiff. “Do you want to tell me what else I’m doing wrong? How this is all my fault, from Mackenzie leaving to Lori’s weight problem? I seem to be the villain of the day. Feel free to pile on.”

  She was both furious and close to tears. The former was fine, the latter only added to her anger. She was done with crying. It made her feel small and alone and accomplished nothing.

  “Barbara, why are we fighting?”

  “Because you’re unreasonable.” She glanced around and saw that Catherine had slipped out of the room. “Stop telling me everything is going to work out. You don’t know that it is.”

  “You don’t know that it’s not. Why do you have to look for the dark cloud?”

  “Because it’s raining trouble every single day.”

  They glared at each other. Barbara couldn’t remember ever fighting with Giorgio before—not like this. He’d always been supportive and understanding, but lately, it felt like all he’d done was criticize her.

  “Maybe we should change the subject,” he said quietly. “Talk about something more pleasant.”

  She had a lot of energy and would have been fine yelling for another hour, but saw the sense in his suggestion. Although on second thought, she hoped he wasn’t going to suggest they go upstairs. Right now sex was the last thing on her mind.

  “We have to make our travel plans for Rosemary’s birthday. I suspect you have no interest in going to Bermuda right now.”

  “That’s perceptive,” she said sarcastically, then wished she hadn’t.

  Giorgio leaned back in his seat and studied her. She felt herself flush and wanted to apologize, only she couldn’t seem to get the words past the tightness in her throat.

  He glanced away. “As I was saying, we’re not going to Bermuda, so let’s firm up our dates for New York.”

  “I’m not going.”

  “It’s her fortieth birthday. She’s having a big party with all her friends and family. You need to be there.”

  “She’s not a child. She’s a grown-up. She’ll understand. It’s just a birthday.”

  He tilted his head. “This isn’t about her, Barbara. It’s about us. This trip is important to me and I want you to go with me. Whatever is happening with the winery will still be happening when we return. It’s one week. I don’t think my request is unreasonable.”

  “It is to me. I don’t want to go. Not now. My business needs me.”

  She wished she had another drink. She wished he would stop looking at her with a combination of surprise and disappointment that made her feel so small.

  “Not everything in this relationship is about you,” he said quietly.

  “That’s not fair. I’m in a crisis here. Why can’t you understand that? I’m not making this about me, you’re making it about you.”

  “Is that what you really think?”

  “Of course. It’s what’s happening.”

  “I see.” He rose. “Then there doesn’t seem to be anything else to say.”

  She stood. “So you’re going to leave? Just like that? No more discussion, no talking about it? Just throw your cape over your shoulder and walk out?”

  His dark gaze was steady. “Is there anything I can say to change your mind about New York?”

  “No.”

  “Then staying has no purpose. With Bel Après in crisis, you must be needed back at the office. Don’t let me get in the way.”

  He walked out of the room. Seconds later, she heard the front door close. She collapsed back onto the sofa and covered her face with her hands. She’d gotten what she wanted from him, but somehow it didn’t feel like a win at all. In fact, her stomach was churning as if she was going to be sick, and she honestly couldn’t say why.

  twenty-eight

  Saturday afternoon Mackenzie let Stephanie into her bedroom. “Don’t judge,” she said, pausing in the hallway. “I did the best I could.”

  Stephanie laughed, then pushed past her. “It’s shopping, not repairing the economy of a third-world nation. It’s not supposed to be hard.”

  “And yet it is. But I have to do something.” Mackenzie held up the front of her T-shirt to show that she’d been unable to zip her jeans. She had been forced to loop string through the buttonhole and then tie it to the button.

  “Oh, honey, that’s just sad.”

  “I know. I might not feel connected to my baby, but I’m getting bigger by the day.”

  Stephanie walked into the bedroom. “We’ll deal with your emotional fragility later. Right now, clothes. What have you got?”

  “Nothing that fits. It’s all too big.” She motioned to the open boxes she’d put on her bed.

  As per Stephanie’s advice, she’d ordered a bunch of stuff online, but none of it worked for her. She held up a T-shirt she’d tried on.

  “It’s huge. The shoulders fit, but I’m swimming in this. Why can’t I find maternity clothes that fit? And don’t get me started on pants. Mine don’t fit but the ones I’ve bought online are too big.”

  Stephanie grinned. “You know that the baby is about the size of a lima bean, right? And in five months, it’s going to be the size of a baby. You’ll grow into the shirt.”

  Mackenzie didn’t look convinced. “I can’t picture that happening.”

  “You don’t have to. It’s going to happen all on its own.”

  Stephanie crossed over to the bed and pulled out a pair of jeans and a pair of leggings.

  “The jeans will be less baggy right now because of how they’re made and the fact that their tummy panel isn’t as big as the ones on the leggings. You’ll wear the leggings as the baby grows. Get four pairs of each, along with a couple of pairs of dressier pants for when you have a business event.”

  “How will I know if they’re going to fit?”

  “If they’re your usual size and the legs fit, then just go with it. The same with the shirts. They should fit through the shoulders and arms. You wear T-shirts and sweatshirts for work. Buy those, along with a couple of nice blouses for when you have to dress up. That will get you started. In a couple of months, you and I will drive into Tri-Cities to do some more shopping.”

  “I’m not sure I can do this,” Mackenzie said, staring at the clothes on the bed. “And I’m not sure
about the whole baby thing.”

  Stephanie grinned. “Gee, I wonder why. Look at all you’ve been through. Having a baby has to be the last thing on your mind.”

  She crossed to the bed and quickly sorted through the clothes Mackenzie had ordered. She pulled out all the long-sleeved T-shirts, the sweatshirts and two sweaters and put them in a pile, then held up two blouses.

  “These are hideous prints. What were you thinking?”

  “I was feeling desperate and they were on sale.”

  “They go back. Find something you at least sort of like.” She pointed to the pile. “Try those on, and if the shoulders and sleeves fit, keep them.”

  She crossed to the closet. It didn’t take long to pull out every top that was fitted.

  “These go into storage, making room for the maternity stuff.” She pointed at the clear bins she’d brought with her. “You’ll have to go through your bras and panties, as well. For a while you can make do with bikini underwear but eventually we all give in to the granny panties. Don’t worry. We’ll buy those when we go shopping. Are you still fitting in your bras?”

  Mackenzie nodded. “I have a bunch of stretchy sports bras that will fit for a long time.” She glanced at her chest. “I hate my boobs getting bigger. It’s weird.”

  “It is so going to get worse.”

  Mackenzie sighed. “I couldn’t get through this without you. I mean that. I’m totally lost, which isn’t like me at all.”

  “I’m here for you and so is Four. Now let’s go downstairs and have some of the muffins I brought over.”

  “I love your muffins. We’re lucky it’s Saturday and Bruno isn’t here, otherwise he would have eaten them all. Four brought by cookies the other day and it turns out the man has a thing for homemade baked goods.”

  They went downstairs. Mackenzie knew she would have to deal with the clothes later, but for now she was grateful to hang out with her friend.

  She poured them each a cup of coffee.

  “Decaf,” she said. “I don’t have any real coffee here. Sorry.”

  “Decaf is fine.” Stephanie pushed the plate of blueberry muffins across the table. “You have to save me from these. I already ate two this morning. Bruno isn’t the only one with a fondness for homemade baked goods. The difference is he’s a guy so it’s harder for him to gain weight.”

  “He’s a fairly healthy eater. He’s always insisting we have salads for lunch. I want to say that’s all about the baby, but I think some of it is him.”

  Stephanie raised her eyebrows. “You’re having lunch together. Do tell.”

  “It’s nothing.” Mackenzie waved away the comment. “We’re sharing very close quarters while the offices are being remodeled, so we eat lunch together.”

  “I’m not convinced. He’s a good-looking guy, you’re newly single. Are you saying there’s not sparkage?”

  “I’ve never heard you say sparkage before. I’m a little afraid.”

  “One of us should have a love life.”

  “Not me.” Mackenzie thought about seeing Rhys having lunch with that woman. He’d been so quick to move on, but she wasn’t the least bit ready. “It’s too soon.”

  “Are you missing my brother?”

  “Not exactly. I miss the us we could have been.”

  “Were you ever that us?”

  She wanted to say of course they had been, but if she was honest, she knew the truth. “No, not even on our best day.”

  “Do you want that?”

  “Do you?”

  Stephanie reached for a muffin. “Eventually. I’d like to have a normal adult relationship with a man who isn’t my ex-husband.”

  “You could meet someone online.”

  “Or I couldn’t.” She tore off a piece of the muffin and ate it. “What about you? How long do you think you’re going to wait to find someone?”

  “I have no idea. As you mentioned earlier, there’s a lot going on. The last thing I need is a guy.”

  “What about a baby?”

  “So we’re circling back to that?”

  “We don’t have to.” Stephanie smiled. “It’s okay not to feel bonded to your kid. Right now it’s a medical condition, not a person. You’re doing all the right things. You’re eating right, you’re taking your vitamins, spitting after you drink wine. You have time to get used to the idea of being a mom.”

  “I don’t know how to do that,” she admitted. “Be a mom. I never had one.”

  “Love them with all your heart and don’t let them drown in the tub. Four and I will be here for you. You know that.”

  “I do. Even with all the drama, you’ve been here. You’re a good friend.”

  “If we ignore my initial screwup.”

  Mackenzie smiled. “I have no recollection of that event. So enough about me and my issues. What’s new with you?”

  Stephanie smiled brightly. “I’m moving forward with the job search. I have a few leads.”

  “What happened with Elias? You said he was going to get back to you.”

  Stephanie got up and poured more coffee. “He gave the job to someone else.”

  “Oh, no. You didn’t tell me. I’m sorry.”

  “It’s okay.” Stephanie returned to the table. “I didn’t do very well with the interview. But I did learn a lot. It turns out I wasn’t a great employee at my last job.”

  “How can you say that? You were great. Retail sales were up every single year. Plus you had excellent ideas for expanding the retail base. And the café was brilliant. Barbara refused to see it, but it added a whole new element to what Bel Après offered. It was a chance to be a destination.”

  She held her hands palm up. “I hope you take this in the spirit I mean it, but I’ve been stealing your best ideas when I talk to Bruno about what we’re going to do at Painted Moon. He’s perfectly comfortable with our lack of income, but I hyperventilate on a regular basis.”

  “You’re sweet. Thank you for stealing my ideas. Maybe I’ll get some more and share them with you.”

  “I’ll take anything.” Mackenzie hesitated. “Bruno’s in charge of hiring people, but I’m happy to talk to him if you want.”

  “No.” Stephanie’s voice was firm. “No and no. I want to get my next job on my own. I’m already doing a lot of research and coming up with a plan. Let me work it my own way.”

  Mackenzie knew all about wanting to prove herself. “I won’t say anything.”

  “Thank you. Now I have gossip.” Stephanie’s eyes lit up. “Mom’s been day drinking and by day drinking I mean tequila. Four was over there a couple of weeks ago and she was drunk at three in the afternoon.”

  Mackenzie smiled because she knew that was what Stephanie expected her to do, but there was no joy inside her. Despite everything, she felt badly for what Barbara was going through. Dumb on her part, but there it was.

  “Is there a new winemaker?”

  “Not yet, but I understand there will be interviews soon.”

  “I hope whoever she hires is careful with the Syrah. They can be tricky to work with.”

  Stephanie leaned toward her. “Mackenzie, not your rock.”

  “I know, but—”

  “No buts. You have to let it go. You have Painted Moon now. Worry about those Syrah grapes.”

  “I do. It’s just hard to let go.”

  Stephanie picked up her coffee. “Tell me about it.”

  * * *

  The remodel of the Painted Moon workspace finished exactly on time—something Mackenzie had never experienced before. She supposed overseeing the construction was just another of Bruno’s many talents. It took only a couple of trips to move her things into her new office. While the space was much nicer than what she’d had at Bel Après, it was nothing like the original plans.

  Bruno had wanted to give her dou
ble the square footage, with a fancy attached bathroom. She’d explained she did most of her work much closer to grapes and wine, and that she didn’t need anything other than a desk and a few files. He’d given her more than that, including lovely built-in bookcases and a small sofa against the far wall.

  By nine thirty, she was settled, her computer hooked up to the new Wi-Fi. She had a fancy new phone with way too many buttons. Her cell she could handle, but a landline with two rows of buttons made her nervous. She was staring at it when Bruno appeared in her open doorway.

  “Is someone going to explain all this to me?” she asked, waving to the phone.

  “There’s a hold button, a speaker button and one that has my name on it.”

  “What about the rest of them?”

  “They’re for when we start growing. I’m interviewing office managers in the morning. Any requests?”

  “Don’t make me participate.”

  He grinned as he walked into her office and settled on the sofa. “I promise. I’m taking care of all the office staffing. The bookkeeper is staying, as are both warehouse guys. The vineyard manager wants to retire.”

  “He told me yesterday. He’s in his seventies and looks like he’s a hundred and five, so he’s earned it.”

  “He’ll be hard to replace.”

  “I know.”

  “Know anyone who might be interested?”

  “You mean poach from another winery?” she asked, trying not to sound scandalized.

  The smile returned. He had a great smile, one that almost made her forget her train of thought. He wore a long-sleeved shirt tucked into dark jeans, and loafers. A little fancy, but still, he was an attractive package. She, on the other hand, had on the stretchiest yoga pants Target sold, and an oversize blouse she hated but that covered her stomach. Mackenzie didn’t usually care about clothes, but dressed as she was, she felt frumpy.

  “We make them a better offer,” he told her, reminding her of their conversation. “It’s just business. Let me put together a list of potential replacements.”