Page 8 of Vineyard Dreams

“Your wife isn’t the jealous type?” Harper asked as she took a drink, a hint of a smile on her lips.

Elle held her gaze for a second. “Stephanie passed away just a little over ten years ago.”

Harper slowly lowered her glass, her eyes closed as she silently swore. She could feel the warmth hitting her cheeks, and it had nothing to do with the wine. “I’m so sorry,” Harper said, but it was barely above a whisper.

The mention of Elle’s late wife hung in the air between them, heavy with unspoken grief. Harper wanted to ask more, to understand the pain that flickered across Elle’s face, but she held back. Instead, she watched as the sun dipped lower, painting the sky in brilliant oranges and pinks.

After a few moments Elle spoke. “It was a car accident. It was instant. That’s about the only saving grace. That she didn’t suffer.”

Harper swallowed down the lump in her throat. “I’m sorry.”

“Thank you,” Elle said softly, her eyes on the sunset now.

Harper watched Elle’s profile in the fading light, struck by the weight of loss etched in the other woman’s features. The admission about Stephanie had shifted something between them, creating a vulnerability that made Harper’s chest tighten.

“The sunsets here are incredible,” Elle said, breaking the silence. Her voice had regained its steady strength. “Different from what you’re used to in L.A., I imagine.”

“They are.” Harper welcomed the change in topic. “In L.A., everything’s filtered through smog and city lights. Here it’s...” She gestured at the sky’s canvas of deep oranges and purples stretching over the vineyard. “Stunning.”

Elle nodded, taking another sip of wine. The glass was nearly empty now, and Harper noticed how the evening had crept up on them, the air growing cooler against her skin.

“I should probably head back,” Elle said, setting her glass down.

“Right, of course.” Harper stood with her, suddenly aware of how much she’d enjoyed the company. “Thank you for the wine. And for...” She paused, searching for the right words. “For being so welcoming.”

Elle smiled, and this time it reached her eyes, warming them to a deep honey color in the twilight. “Anytime. And I meant what I said about calling if you need anything.”

Harper walked Elle to her truck. The evening air had cooled significantly since they’d first sat down. A gentle breeze stirred Harper’s hair, and she tucked a wayward strand behind her ear as they approached Elle’s weathered blue pickup.

“Thanks again for stopping by,” Harper said.

“Of course.” Elle pulled her keys from her pocket. “Don’t forget what I said about showing you around my place. Seeing a working vineyard might help you figure out what you want to do with this one.”

Harper crossed her arms against the chill, watching as Elle opened her truck door. As Elle’s truck pulled away, Harper stood in the driveway, following the red taillights until they disappeared around the bend. The rumble of the engine faded into the distance, leaving her alone with the chorus of crickets and her thoughts.

Harper returned to the deck to catch the last of the sunset. She sank back down onto the plush outdoor sofa, her wine glass cradled in her hands.

The sky was now a mix of brilliant hues of orange and pink. Harper took a slow sip, savoring the rich, complex flavors that danced across her tongue.

Today had been one of the most relaxing days she’d had in a long time, and it had been so different than what she was used to. In Los Angeles, she often found herself recharging rather than relaxing, and her social circle was limited to other actors, producers, and industry insiders - a carefully curated bubble that shielded her from the outside world. But here, with Elle, Harper had felt a sense of ease and openness that was foreign to her.

Harper’s gaze drifted to the empty wine glass Elle had left behind, a small smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. She was struck by how natural their conversation had felt, although she couldn’t believe she’d stuck her foot in it like that byassuming Elle’s wife was alive. Although, why wouldn’t she? Elle was around fifty Harper guessed, and as far as she could remember, Elle hadn’t used the past tense when talking about her.

But it had been a long time since Harper had allowed herself to be so unguarded with someone new. The demands of her career had made her cautious, wary of letting people too close. There was something about Elle’s presence that had put Harper at ease, inviting her to lower her defenses.

As the last of the sunset faded into twilight, Harper took another sip of wine, savoring the moment of solitude. In the distance, the faint sound of crickets and the gentle rustling of leaves in the breeze created a soothing backdrop.

She could get used to this.

6

Elle stood at her kitchen window, drying the last lunch dish when the purr of a car engine caught her attention. The sleek vehicle curved into her driveway, sunlight glinting off its polished surface. Her breath caught as Harper stepped out.

The actress moved with natural grace, her long dark hair catching the afternoon light. She wore faded jeans that hugged her curves and a simple tank top under an open flannel shirt. The casual outfit somehow made her even more striking than her red carpet photos.

Elle’s hand trembled slightly as she set down the dish towel. “Get it together,” she muttered to herself. “You’ve already met her twice.”

But something felt different now. Maybe it was seeing Harper in the warm summer light, or the way she moved with such easy confidence.

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