Page 7 of Red Mountain Burning
4
Ex-Lovers
Margot spent the next few days trying not to drown in the busyness of her inn and the community she’d built around it. Though she now had the help of Adriana and two part-timers as well, the work never seemed to end. Not only was the inn full most of the time, but Margot was also expanding her operation. She offered daily picnic lunches to wine enthusiasts touring the mountain and even the occasional dinner for those who didn’t want to drive into Richland. She’d also jumped into the lucrative wedding business, which she was starting to regret. Being engaged herself, she could empathize with the high-maintenance brides, parents, and planners, but that didn’t make working with them any easier.
On Wednesday, after serving their guests a beautiful breakfast including homemade blueberry scones and the choice of an egg or tofu scramble, Margot helped Adriana with the dishes and then slipped out for her midmorning break. Remi was spending his days working on his farm, so her house was quiet. She waltzed up the stairs and into the bathroom, where she ran hot water for a bath.
Margot unzipped her dress and let it fall to the floor. Hesitantly turning to the mirror, she gave a quick look up and down. “Margot Pierce, shame on you. A few more pounds, and you’ll be able to sell tickets for whale watching. The first whale ever spotted in the desert!”
She pinched the fat around her stomach. “Captain Ahab,” she called out. “We’ve spotted her fifty feet off the starboard bow. Prepare the harpoon.”
In a slightly different sailor voice, she said, “We’ll need more than a harpoon, matey. Send for the Royal Navy!”
Swallowing a smile at her own absurdity, she let her hands fall to her sides and took a step closer to the mirror. This was Margot Pierce in all her glory. Maybe Remi was losing his eyesight, which might explain his hunger for her, a craving that could often be quite ravenous in the best of ways.
Margot lifted up her breasts. “Captain Ahab, we’ll need a pulley system if we’re to get the beasts on board.”
“Stop it,” Margot finally said, squelching this absurd self-bashing. Though she could turn almost anything into a joke, this loathing had to stop. Her friend Joan would pinch her and tell her not to give any light to this dark voice. Margot closed her eyes, breathed in love, and let all the self-hate and fear go.
Now collected, she lifted her eyelids and dropped her shoulders. With her arms at her side, she looked at the mirror as affectionately as she could. “I love you, stomach. You’re not quite where I want you, but I still love you. And you, breasts. You’re more than a few handfuls, and you droop like you’re both geriatric, but I still love you.” She directed her eyes down. “Thighs, I love you most of all.”
She addressed her entire body. “But we need to clean ourselves up for this wedding. I am not walking down the aisle like a bulldozer in antique white.”
She stopped, becoming aware of how absurd she sounded, speaking to her body as if each part had a brain. “Okay, I’m losing my mind. But still. Do you all get my point? Things are about to change around here. No more pastries. No morepommes frites. No more rosé at lunch. Well, okay, that might be pushing it. A glass of rosé at lunch as long as I don’t pair it with anything more than a leaf of lettuce—or atearoff a leaf. Trust me, the effort will be worth it in the end. Just imagine us strutting down the aisle, each person staring in disbelief. And then Remi casting his eyes at his new bride, his jaw dropping to the floor.”
After a long soak in the tub, she dressed in something flowy and comfortable and went downstairs. Bursting out the front door of her home, she stepped into a stunning spring day on Red Mountain. After a brutal, snowy winter, the vines were coming alive all around her. The birds were singing major-keyed songs. Her chickens were happily pecking in the dirt. Her old-world inn further down the drive—her dream come true—looked outrageously beautiful with its weathered cream stucco and pastel yellow shutters. The landscaping had filled out since opening just over a year ago. Though the roses weren’t blooming yet, the tulips and daffodils burst with vibrant color. The black locusts lining the gravel drive had grown several feet. The honeysuckle vines had crept up the walls. And the orderly patches of grass were bright and green. No longer was she the new kid on the block. No longer was she a woman chasing a dream.
Margot was nowlivingher dream and was an entrepreneur, an innkeeper, and a chef. Though she could easily fall into the trap of disliking her body, she still basked in the pride of knowing she’d broken free of her philandering husband and jumped, blindfolded, into the unknown, trusting that the world would somehow catch her and put her back on her feet. It surely had, so far. Remi was at the forefront of that happy thought, captaining their life into the exciting unknown.
With Philippe at her heels, she did her daily stroll through the garden between the house and inn. She checked the water and food in the chicken coop, noticing Enrique had polished the crystal chandelier that hung almost absurdly in the center above the thick bed of fresh hay. Nothing but the finest for her ladies, the closest they’d ever get to a Ritz-Carlton. After delivering a basket of blue, hazelnut brown, and green eggs to the inn, she returned to her house.
She and Philippe climbed into her Volvo for the short drive down to Remi’s place by the river. She saw his white T-shirt first, in the center of his four acres. He was lost in a long line of old Concord grapes that had come with the house. Beyond him, the Yakima River ran strong and high, full with the cold water running east from the spring ice melts. She parked in the gravel drive near the garage where he kept a few vessels of fermenting wine and meadanda growing collection of old motorcycles.
Philippe shot out of the car and ran down to find Henri, Remi’s Boston terrier, who Margot was sure had the largest eyeballs of any canine on earth. The two dogs met by the garden, which was twice the size of Margot’s at the inn, and chased each other into the forest of English walnut trees.
Margot weaved through the small orchard of apple, peach, pear, and plum trees and down the hill to the block of Concord vines. “You’ve got your work cut out for you,” she said.
Remi pulled off his gloves and kissed her. He smelled like an honest morning’s efforts. “It’s funny. For some reason, I thought farming would be so much easier than my old life. It’s quite the opposite.”
Margot had come to the same conclusions with her entire dream. “It’s a rude awakening, isn’t it? I guess there’s no running from what has to be done.”
“As long as it’s the right endeavor, then I don’t mind.”
It had taken losing his family for Remi to realize the severity of his workaholic ways. Two years ago, he’d walked away from his business as a developer in Seattle to chase the simpler life on Red Mountain. Though he was extremely wealthy, he’d chosen to live in this Airstream in order to unplug and simplify. His eagerness to rediscover himself and reconnect with nature was one of the many reasons Margot had fallen in love with him.
“What’s on the agenda today?” she asked.
He looked at the vine cutting he was training upward with green tape. “I’m trying to fill some of these gaps with new plantings.” He looked up guiltily. “In my rookie days of learning to drive a tractor, I may have knocked a few vines out of the ground.”
“How dare you!”
“Believe me, I’ve beat myself up about it.”
Margot crossed her arms and changed the subject. “So, did you try Carly?”
“Yeah, I tried. She didn’t answer.”
“Give her a little while. When’s the last time you actually called her?”
