Page 30 of A Vineyard Celebration

“Who could have won that case? He was caught red-handed. Literally.” Cynthia was still smiling. She understood the legal world far more than nearly anyone in Amanda’s life, save for her mother. Maybe she could handle the truth of Amanda’s current predicament.

“As I remember it, you got his sentence down to basically nothing,” Cynthia said.

“Just a year,” Amanda said, allowing herself a moment of pride. It truly had been sensational proof that she knew what she was doing in the legal world. But it had all crumbled at her feet.

Cynthia studied her face for a moment as Amanda stewed in shame. Her mind’s eye filled with the last moments of the trial of when the judge had announced the jury’s decision; when Hilton Arnout had turned his greedy blue eyes to Amanda and sized her up in a way that made her feel as though he planned to eat her alive. She wondered who he was making miserable in that low-security prison he was in. Who he controlled with his parents’ money and his narcissism.

Cynthia touched Amanda’s arm tenderly. “What’s up? Are you good? Do you want to get a cup of coffee or something?”

Amanda glanced back at her family. Most everyone was packed up and continuing along with their days. Even Audrey had moved on, waving back to Amanda as she hurried Max elsewhere. He was in the midst of one of his classic toddler tantrums, and Audrey was frantic, cheeks red.

Amanda was faced with the weight of her afternoon. Hours alone at home with her baby, feeling somewhere between dreams and nightmares, nursing her, rocking her, attempting to feed herself until it all happened again. Cynthia looked at her the way she’d once been looked at—as though she were just another lawyer with a big head of knowledge resting atop her shoulders.

She’d always known it objectively but couldn’t have understood it until she experienced it. Mothers often lost their sense of self. They became bodies first. They were needed physically. It was exhausting.

“Sure. A coffee sounds great,” Amanda said. She couldn’t resist a bit of intellectual stimulation, even if she regretted it later.

One of the producers marched past and asked to talk to Cynthia for a moment about a contractual problem with another client. Amanda watched as Cynthia transformed immediately into her lawyer self, using language that hadn’t come out of Amanda’s mouth since the birth of Genevieve. When Cynthia returned to Amanda’s side, she grunted, “Maybe I’ll need something a little stronger than that coffee.”

Amanda laughed. “I know a good place.”

Instead of the coffee shop down the road, Amanda led Cynthia to her favorite natural wine bar near the harbor. Her nursing schedule rarely allowed her a glass of wine, but she’d pumped enough milk to give herself a window. Cynthia was terrifically excited. Her eyes reminded Amanda of a golden retriever’s as she scanned the gorgeous water and the bobbing sailboats. She nodded tentatively and said, “I think I just saw Ryan Reynolds?”

Amanda raised her shoulders. Celebrities could always be spotted in Martha’s Vineyard. Wasn’t Cynthia used to that out in Los Angeles?

Amanda ordered a glass of orange wine; Cynthia went for rose and a plate of cheeses with crackers, fresh bread, and olives. Amanda could have eaten all of it herself and ordered a second, but she held herself back and raised her glass of wine.

“To being back together again,” Cynthia said.

“Cheers to that.”

Amanda filled her mouth with orange wine and suppressed a groan. Was this the best thing she’d tasted in ages? It was certainly better than the microwavable dinner she’d made herself last night. (If Audrey had seen her, she never would have let her forget about it.)

Cynthia tapped the tips of her fingers against the tabletop. “Brett, the producer, is over the moon about this stop. He loves the Sunrise Cove. Says it’s exactly what his viewership is into. Quaint small-town America merges with the historical Underground Railroad. It really hits a sweet spot.”

Amanda had known it would that day she’d reached out to Cynthia.

“You have a great eye for this sort of thing,” Cynthia said.

“I got lucky. This is my family’s inn.” Amanda shrugged. “It just fell into my lap.”

Cynthia laughed. “Not everyone would have understood how to capitalize on something like that. I understand that the inn had to close down?”

Amanda cringed and filled her mouth with wine.

“Amanda, what’s up? You look pale as a ghost. Should I order you more food?” Cynthia’s eyes echoed compassion.

Amanda was wordless. How could she explain everything? How could she be so laissez-faire?

“I know we haven’t seen each other in a few years, but we’re friends, Amanda. At least, I like to think we are,” Cynthia said. Her palms were flat on the table, and she looked at Amanda with eyes prepared to bore holes into her to make sense of this.

Genevieve remained asleep on her chest. Amanda took a deep breath, unsure of what would come out of her mouth when she spoke.

“I’m sorry I’m acting so strange. The baby has been a lot, obviously. But more than that…” Amanda trailed off. “That trial you mentioned. Hilton Arnout?”

“Hilton! That was his name. He was crazy handsome, right? He looked like an advertisement for Wilson tennis balls.”

Amanda grimaced. “His parents are very unhappy with his guilty verdict.”

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