Page 46 of Red Mountain Burning
The Younger Generation
“Oh, come on, Mom,” Emilia said, trying to convince her mother to go to Margot’s inn for Ladies’ Night. “You’re the only woman on the mountain who doesn’t go. Even Abby’s going tonight. Margot would love to have you. Everyone would.”
Emilia and her ten-year-old brother, Luca, were sitting at the white quartz counter watching their mother cook breakfast. The two women were wearing chamois microfiber robes that Carmen had been gifted recently, one cream and the other gray. With one Instagram post, her mother could put a startup on the map, so companies fought to send her free merchandise. As much as her mom’s career drove her crazy, Emilia definitely couldn’t complain about this perk.
Carmen turned from the stove, frying pan in hand. Sliding their egg white omelets with asparagus onto her children’s plates, she said, “I know. I’m so boring. It’s just…I won’t feel comfortable.” Emilia knew Carmen might have said more if Luca hadn’t been sitting there.
Luca brushed his longish, dark hair away from his eyes and asked, “Since you’re not going, do you think I could have a sleepover with Zack tonight? He hasn’t been over in forever.” Emilia couldn’t believe how much her brother had sprouted in the past year. Before long, he’d be asking girls out on dates.
“I think a sleepover sounds like a great idea,” Carmen said. “Let me get Adriana’s number from Abby, and I’ll ask.”
“Really?” Luca said, apparently as shocked as Emilia by Carmen’s offer.
Carmen leaned over the counter and met her son’s eyes. With a beautiful smile, she said, “Yes, really.”
Luca threw his hands in the air. “Sleepover!”
Though she was bummed that her mother always skipped Ladies’ Night at Épiphanie, Emilia couldn’tbelievethe words that had just come out of Carmen’s mouth. She was going to text Adriana about hosting a sleepover? This was huge news on so many levels. Emilia didn’t realize her mom even knew Adriana. Even more surprising, Abby was the one who typically instigated and hosted sleepovers for Luca. Carmen was always too busy with work or whatever else she’d been doing.
After Luca had eaten and excused himself, Carmen approached the counter and said to Emilia, “I just have to say this…”
“Oh God, here we go.” Emilia had seen her mother’s mood turn on a dime a thousand times.
“The wine business is dangerous,” Carmen said. “You are so much more responsible than I am—butpleaseuse a spit bucket. You’ll be around wine all day long, and that’s fine. It’s obviously the new family business. But I don’t want you drinking all day.”
“I know about spitting, Mom. I used to live here. And it’s not like I can’t get alcohol whenever I’d like at school.”
“I know, it’s just…We don’t know what’s in your genes. We don’t know if you have some of the same addictive tendencies.”
“Mom,stopworrying.” Emilia returned to her omelet, cutting another bite.
“Easy for you to say.”
They turned when the front door opened and closed. A few seconds later, Jake strolled into the kitchen wearing exercise clothes. He was breathing heavily. “Good morning, my loves. Em, ready for your big day?”
“I had the talk with her,” Carmen said. “About spitting.”
He wiped his forehead and nodded. “Something tells me she’ll be just fine.”
* * *
Margot hadexperience with winning people over with kindness. For those who had known her back in Vermont, and those she’d share the stories with, they’d heard all about the year Margot tried to win her husband back. Instead of sliding divorce papers across the table when their marriage took a turn for the worse, Margot had decided to do everything she could to become his idea of a perfect wife.
Looking back, it hadn’t been the healthiest year. She couldn’t have been less genuine to herself. But there were invaluable lessons she’d learned. Tricks she could put to use this year. First of all was the weight loss. In becoming the perfect wife, she’d stopped eating and dropped down to the body weight that she’d always dreamed about. Though her husband hadn’t whipped his head around lustfully like she’d hoped, the diet had certainly been effective. That’s why she was suffering through it now—all the headaches and cravings and dizzy spells. Not eating actually worked!
So did turning the other cheek and killing a person with kindness. It had taken a while to take effect with her ex, but he’d come around. How could he not have? So many wives would have waged war, pointing out the long list of reasons their spouses sucked. Not Margot. If he forgot to put the seat down, no big deal. Didn’t get around to emptying the dishwasher? No worries; he was busy. Glanced at another woman? Ah, that’s fine. Shewasrather cute. Forgot a birthday or anniversary? Oh, plenty more chances to get that right. He’d eventually figure out how lucky he was, proving her efforts had worked. Fortunately, she’d also learned a lot about herself in the process and had realized that it was time for her to move on.
The tricks that had worked on her ex-husband weren’t working on Carly. Even Jasper, who’d been home four days, had gotten nowhere with her. Not that Carly was always mean, but she was perpetually reserved and short on words. It had become apparent that she was much happier in her room doing whatever it was she did as opposed to spending any time developing relationships with her growing family.
Remi had tried everything he could think of too, but he’d failed to crack Carly’s hard exterior. Though she’d continued to express anger with her mother, Carly had made it clear—many times—that she was also still mad at Remi for abandoning them. The regret was tearing at him, and the funny and chivalrous man Margot had fallen in love with was sinking into his own hole as well.
Today, Margot had been at it since five, unable to sleep amid all the sadness in the house. There was nothing worse than seeing the man you love hurt so inside. She’d spent most of the morning prepping for her Ladies’ Night at Épiphanie get-together, but now she was checking out several of the guests at the front desk. An Etta James album played softly in the background.
“How was your stay?” Margot asked the middle-aged woman with blond hair longer than Margot’s.
“It wasabsolutelyperfect. You’ve thought of everything, haven’t you?”
Margot beamed. “When I lived in Vermont, I used to lie in bed and dream of all the little details that would make my place perfect. Now I get to make themallcome true.”
