Once Tasted: A Silver Creek Novel (34 page)

Now he disarmed her with his helpfulness. When one of the crew needed a break, he took up the pruners, removing grapes and dropping them in the bin. He arranged for Jeff and Roo to supply lunches for the entire staff, delivering the food himself. When Mia’s flatbed reached full capacity, he offered to drive it to the winery’s processing area, so that Leo and Johnny, along with members of Roberto’s family, could pick over the grapes.

She knew he did these things primarily to protect his family’s interest in the winery. It was also the way the Knowleses did things. A good deal of Silver Creek Ranch’s success lay in the fact that its diverse staff was treated and paid well. But when Reid snapped on Bruno’s leash and took him for a walk, as if he knew that Mia would be too tired to provide one herself, a bittersweet yearning filled her.

“We did it, huh, Mia?” Paul said. He had an arm crossed in front of his chest and was rubbing his heavily muscled shoulder through the thin cotton of his shirt.

“Yeah, we did it.” Her gaze swept the group. “I want to thank you—thank you all. The grapes look beautiful, and we beat the rains.” Her voice shook from emotion and exhaustion.

They were all—she, Paul, Roberto, their wives, Anita and Sue, along with six members of Roberto’s extended family—in various stages of dishevelment. Sweat and dirt streaked their clothes. Grape juice colored their hands, Johnny’s and Leo’s the most purple-stained of all. They stood in an open circle in the processing room, stiff and hollow-eyed but satisfied—giddy, even.

The grapes were in. This year’s harvest had yielded twenty tons. After weighing the grapes, the crew had picked over them by hand, discarding the bits of yellowish
leaves that had accidentally found their way into the bins and removing any green stems. The unwanted material would be used as compost along with the must—the remains of the grape skins and seeds—once the wine was fermented and pressed. Mia had instructed her crew to leave some of the grape clusters whole and attached to their woody stems. They would add flavor to the wine.

Mia had decided that only a quarter of the mountain of grapes would be crushed, and then only lightly. The rest would go into the tanks as whole berries. She wanted her vintage handled as gently as possible, letting the flavor of the Pinot come forth in its purest form.

The mix now sat in the gleaming vats where the cold soak and fermentation would take place.

“Yeah, we did it,” she repeated, marveling. “I think this is going to be a great year for our Pinot.”

Around her, everyone seconded the prediction and, going further, foresaw high scores and glowing write-ups.

From their lips to Bacchus’s ears, she thought, borrowing one of Thomas’s favorite expressions.

Before they could disperse to their homes, showers, sofas, and televised baseball games—or, in her case, a bowl of cereal and bed—Mia distributed the envelopes. She’d sat up the previous night, writing out everyone’s paycheck. No one should have to wait to be paid after the arduous workdays each had put in. Smiles broke out as the checks were accepted and pocketed.

She felt the pull of Reid’s gaze. Unable to resist, her eyes met his.

He was as coated in dirt as the rest of them, and a heavy stubble covered his cheeks. She knew exactly what that five-o’clock shadow felt like against her palm, the delicious scratch of it against the underside of her breast, the inside of her thigh. He’d never looked handsomer
to her. Swallowing a lump of longing, she looked away, keeping her eyes fixed on a distant spot even as Reid spoke.

“I’d like to invite you all to the ranch this Sunday night for a barbecue. There’ll be good food, dancing, beer, and, best of all, the Bodell Family Vineyard’s 2010 Pinot.”

A cheerful chorus of “Sounds great!” greeted Reid’s invitation.

“Feel free to bring your family and friends; the more the merrier. Just let Mia know so we have an approximate head count,” he told them.

With calls of thanks and goodbye to both Mia and Reid, her crew trickled out of the winery.

“See you
mañana
,” Leo said to her. Of Mia’s core staff, only Johnny and Leo would arrive early tomorrow, to monitor the fermenting juice and punch the cap.

“Great. I’ll bring you and Johnny breakfast,” she promised. She’d have to run to the general store and pick something up—maybe blueberry muffins from the luncheonette, in Thomas’s honor.

“You rock, Mia,” Johnny said. “Come on, Leo, we’ll stick your bike in the back of my car. You’re likely to end up in a ditch otherwise.”

“Thanks, dude. Things do seem a tad hazy around the edges.”

“Purple haze, huh?”

“You got it.”

Their laughter followed them out.

Only Reid remained.

“Thank you, Reid, for inviting them all to the ranch,” she said. “That was very kind of you.” The three days of grape picking and sorting suddenly hit her. She was so tired she could barely stand. She locked her knees in an attempt to hide it. Far more difficult to conceal was
her nervousness at being alone with him. Please, please leave, she begged silently.

“They worked damned hard. They should have a night of celebration. And we’ll invite some others, like Beau and Nell and our staff. You’ll come, too?”

It was the last place she wanted to be. She needed distance and time. Then maybe her heart would no longer feel ripped to shreds anytime Reid was near. Who was she kidding? She could go to the ends of the earth. An eternity could pass, and she’d still ache for him. But it would be awkward for her crew if she hid away here. And she owed the Knowleses so much.

“Yes. Thank you. And thank you for everything you did this week. I really appreciate it.”

He made some kind of noise. Perhaps he cursed.

Could this get any more awkward? She felt as if her bones were going to crack from holding herself so stiffly.

“So the wine will ferment now.”

“Yes, we’ll begin to punch the cap tomorrow, so that the skins can mix with the juice—once a day in the beginning, then twice, and then three times a day once the juice begins to ferment. Punching the cap and running the tests is work, but it’s a lot more controlled than the harvest, where it’s often a race to get the grapes—” She broke off, and a flush stole over her cheeks. She was so nervous she was babbling, telling Reid what he already knew. He’d visited their winery during the fermentation process, had even climbed up on the catwalk with Thomas so he could punch down the skins himself.

“You’ll be able to rest now,” he said.

“Yes.” She ran her fingers through her hair, encountered a massive snarl, and winced inwardly. She imagined she looked as if she’d been electrocuted.

From the corner of her eye, she saw him move toward the door.
Thank God
.

He pulled it open, only to stop. “Mia, I need to apologize for what I said to you the other day. I didn’t mean it. I was angry and hurt. I lashed out.”

She lowered her head, squeezing her eyes shut. “Thank you.”

“I also wanted to say that I’m damned proud of you.” The door shut quietly behind him.

Alone, Mia pressed the heels of her hands to her eyes, barricading her tears.

A
FTER BEING IMMERSED
in the demands of the harvest, Mia felt as if months rather than days had passed since she’d last been in the general store.

It was early. She glanced at the luncheonette as she passed and saw Maebeth and Nancy tending to the customers hunched over the counter, intent on eating their eggs and pouring coffee into their systems before they headed off to work. No one was talking much.

The bank was still closed. The metal grille at the post office’s counter was pulled down as well, though Mia saw the postmistress, Arlene, moving behind the grate.

Her neglected mailbox was crammed. She needed both hands to pull the mail, flyers, and catalogs out of the narrow space. She began to sort the mail, dumping the junk into the recycling bin, sticking the bills under her arm.

Nestled between two business letters was a postcard showing an unbelievably picturesque harbor with fishing boats bobbing on a bright-blue sea. She smiled and flipped it over.
Mia, darling, having a wonderful time in the Greek Isles. The retsina is undrinkable, of course, but the weather’s perfect for ouzo. Love, Thomas
.

She would call him later today and let him know how well the harvest had gone. He’d be so happy he might not even ask after Reid.

The next piece of mail was an even greater surprise. The heavy, cream-colored envelope was addressed to her in a flowing script. Puzzled, she turned it over to read the return address:
Mr. and Mrs. Francis Casari, Queens, New York
. She opened it slowly. Tess and Ward had invited her to their wedding.

She was touched that they had thought to include her. But how could she possibly accept? It would be awkward, to say the least. It would also be the worst sort of torture. By January, Reid would have found someone new.

Carefully, she reinserted the invitation and the additional cards in the envelope and tucked it under her arm just as Quinn rounded the opposite end of the mailboxes. Quinn had a catalog she was flipping through as she walked. She looked up, saw Mia, and her expression emptied. “Hey.”

“Hey,” Mia replied. Hesitation crept into her voice as she asked, “How are you?”

“Fine.” Her expression remained blank.

Okay, so Quinn knew Reid and she were no longer seeing each other. It was equally easy to guess whose side Quinn had chosen. Panicked at the thought that she’d lost not only Reid but the closest friend she had, Mia reached out and touched her arm.

“Quinn, please don’t be—”

“Mad? Royally pissed at you? Sorry, no can do, Mia. Do you have any idea how much you’ve hurt my brother? I thought you of all people would know to be careful with someone’s heart.”

Quinn’s words found their mark. Determined to defend herself, Mia said, “I’m not going to discuss why
your brother and I ended things, but I will tell you that I never had his heart.”

Quinn shook her head. “God, if you’d only stop being so friggin’ blind for two seconds. Now, if you’ll excuse me.” She turned and strode out of the building, her bootheels ringing.

Acutely aware that the early-morning crowd had overheard the exchange, Mia wished she could flee the premises, too. But she hadn’t gotten Johnny and Leo their promised breakfast. No matter what Quinn thought, she really did like to keep her word.

She stepped up to the luncheonette’s register and tried to ignore the curious looks cast her way.

Maebeth walked over. “Morning, Mia,” she greeted her. “So Quinn’s pretty upset with you, huh?”

It would have been too much to expect Maebeth to remain silent about a public confrontation. Wholly unexpected was the sympathy Mia read in her expression.

Her own features crumpled. “Yeah, she’s pretty upset.” Her breath hitched. “Can I have two blueberry muffins and two egg sandwiches on sesame seed bagels, please?”

“Sure thing,” Maebeth said, handing Mia a napkin to wipe the tears that had begun to fall. “Take a seat while you wait. There’s always a lull right about now.”

“Thanks,” Mia whispered, and slid onto the round stool. She sat with her elbows propped on the counter and her hands fisted on either side of her face as the tears continued.

Maebeth slid a glass of water under her nose. “Haven’t seen Reid around much lately, so we didn’t know you guys had split. It’s over?”

For once Mia didn’t think that Maebeth was calculating how this might affect her own chances in snaring Reid. She nodded jerkily and drank half the water. With a sniff and a dab of her eyes, she looked up.

Maebeth was studying her. “You have it bad for him, don’tcha?”

“Yeah. I always have.”

“Really?” Maebeth cocked her head. “You mean, like, forever—ever since high school?”

“Yes.” She nodded glumly. “Even before then. He’s just always been the one, you know.”

“Dang, I always thought you were protesting a shade too loudly and all. But that’s a long time to want someone.” Her voice held a note of admiration.

“I know.” She drew a shaky breath. How strange that, of all the people she knew, it was to Maebeth she was confessing her long-held secret.

“Wow. That’s, like, epic.” Maebeth fell silent, perhaps out of words to describe Mia’s condition. The quiet lasted the time it took for her to put the muffins in a bag. “Well, all I can say is that I’m with Quinn on this one. I think Reid’s pretty into you. We all noticed it the night that guy at The Drop was hitting on you.”

Mia could hardly remember his name. Will Somethingorother. Reid eclipsed him—any man—for her.

“That’s what I told Jay,” Maebeth continued, setting the bag next to Mia’s elbow. “Not that he listened.”

Her stomach roiled at the mention of her cousin. “Jay? You talked to him about Reid and me?”

“It wasn’t like I started it. We ran into each other in the parking lot. I was gonna ask him about life in L.A. He must be doing all right to judge by that Beemer. But he immediately started dissing you both—saying that you must’ve thrown yourself at Reid and how this time he’d decided to take you up on the chance for an easy lay.” She snorted. “Jay really hasn’t taken a good look at Reid, has he? He can get
any
woman.”