Page 51 of Corkscrew You
I saw Ass-Bjorn only once, when he came around to pick up my ex-fiancée and sweep her away to the fjords or wherever. Big, bearded guy. Looked like he’d been dropped on his head as a baby.
“I know nothing about timeframes,” I inform Ava. “Camille didn’t tell me and I didn’t ask.”
“I guess the winery owner didn’t have too much issue with you quitting, given that he was Camille’s dad,” she says, like she’s aiming for a black belt in mental torture.
“He understood.”
Not entirely. Anton was upset about the whole wedding fiasco, but was more distraught that I wanted to quit. He’d come to depend on me. Originally, I’d had no intention of leaving him high and dry without a manager, so I’d offered a six-month notice period, even though every day there, with all those reminders of my humiliation, would be hell. Then Dad’s heart condition was diagnosed and expedited matters to the point where Anton basically shooed me out the door. The French are big on puttingla famillefirst.
To my surprise, Ava leans her head against my shoulder. She and I inherited Dad’s reluctance to show physical affection, whereas Mom, Danny and the twins are serial huggers. They joke that with Dad, Ava and me, it’s like embracing robots that need oil.
“I’m really sorry, Nate,” she says. “You’ve had a rough time.”
Weirdly, that does make me feel better.
“I’ll get over it.”
“Course you will. You’re a Durant. When the Grim Reaper comes calling, no way we’ll go unless we take a piece of him with us.”
I smile. My face muscles have been tense for so long, it feels unnatural.
“So how areyou?” I ask my sister.
“Ha, not a chance, pal.” She hops up off the bed. “I’m done with this emotion shit for tonight.”
Goddamn, she got the better of me. And to add insult to injury, she’s stoppering the whisky and getting ready to carry it away with her.
“You could leave that here,” I suggest.
“Not after the other night,” she says. “You couldn’t even form words. Lucky I’m strong, or you’d have been sleeping on the porch.”
I thought I’d made it up to bed on my own after my Jack Daniels binge. Seems not. Wonder what other mortifications are yet to be revealed?
She slips the glass from my hand, brushes the scantest kiss across my hair.
“Night, bro,” she says, as she shuts the door behind her. “Don’t let the bastards grind you down.”
I ponder her words. Seems like good advice.
Then I picture Shelby’s face this morning, and how she couldn’t hide how badly I’d hurt her.
Guess that advice doesn’t work so well if one of the bastards happens to be you.
ChapterNineteen
SHELBY
Apart from that awful time where I couldn’t get out of bed, I’ve been used to knuckling down, even when I don’t feel like it. When you run a small family business, jobs always need doing, no matter whether you’re tired, unhappy, or stressed out of your mind. Ifyoudon’t do what’s required, either someone else is forced to pick up the slack and work overtime, or it all starts to fall apart. If you want to go out of business pronto, that’s the way to do it.
So even though I’ve had no sleep, and I’m dreading seeing Nate because I still have no clear idea what I’m going to say to him, I get up and get ready, same time as I always do. I may not be looking forward to the day, but that’s not going to stop the day from happening or make the to-do list magically shorter.
Still, the instant I spy the silver pickup parked beside the Dodge, my heart and stomach decide to exchange places, making me simultaneously sick and dizzy. That free glass of pinot grigio was my last, so I can’t blame alcohol. Nope, this is pure nerves. The nauseating kind that normally comes before doing something terrifying, like bungy jumping or ordering a drink from Brendan.
Deep breath, Shelby. It’s not going to get any easier if you put it off. And you’rewaytoo old to spend the whole day hiding in a blanket fort, as awesome as that sounds.
In keeping with my tear-the-wax-strip-off-quickly-and-stifle-a-scream philosophy, I knock only briefly on the office door, and step right on in.
Nate’s sitting behind the desk. Surprised to see me, he stands up in a hurry and nearly tips the whole thing over. Before this week, that would have meant a landslide of paper and files. This morning, the pencil rolls a little to the left.
