Page 48 of Blush
He missed her. That was a good sign. He wasn’t still upset with her for staying behind. But that didn’t mean he was going to be thrilled with what she had to say next.
“I miss you, too,” she said, swallowing hard. “The thing is, I can’t come home yet.” Silence. She picked up a tin of peppermint herbal, then put it back. “Steven?”
“Why not?” he said, his voice tight.
“It’s just... the implications of the sale are really hitting everyone. I’m worried about Javier, Peternelle... I can’t leave in good conscience until I’m sure I’ve tried everything I can to maybe stop the sale. Or at least make sure that our people are taken care of if it does happen.”
She heard the buzz of Bailey’s Blue customers in the backgroundand the distinct screeching sound the front door to the shop made when it swelled with the humidity.
“I can’t talk about this now,” he said, before ending the call.
Leah stood staring at the phone for a few seconds before slowly making her way through the other shoppers and back outside. When she pulled out her keys to unlock the car, her hand was shaking.
Steven didn’t understand why she was getting involved. Was she being ridiculous? What was shedoing?
She was halfway back to the winery before she remembered she’d forgotten all about the English Wensleydale.
Twenty-six
The rain left the vineyard smelling fresh and alive. If Vivian ever lost sight of what they were doing there—growing fruit, creating life—the calm after a storm always reminded her.
Vivian pulled on her mud boots and walked through the rows of Syrah. She still took pleasure in the blooming vines. There was no amount of external stress that could diminish that for her. She especially loved seeing the red varietals, the Syrah and Merlot, when they were little green berries. It felt like glimpsing a secret of nature. It amazed her how many people didn’t know that red grapes always started out green. Living at a winery, she found that the world of nature was like a second language she’d needed to learn. And then, once understood—never mastered—making a living off the land felt like belonging to a private club. After that first vintage, she never saw the world the same again.
Her phone rang. She sighed, missing the days when a walk in the fields meant she was unreachable. She should have left the damn thing back in the room.
“This is Vivian,” she said. The incoming number was from the winery landline.
“It’s me,” Leonard said. “Can you bring a stack of invoices from my desk to the loading dock? I’ve got a situation here and I can’t get back to the office.”
“Oh, for heaven’s sake. Okay. If I can find it.” For all of his meticulous care of the grape plants, Leonard’s desk was a bit of a mess.
She trudged back to the winery. Leonard’s office was stuffy and hot. She opened a window before shuffling a few things around, looking for the invoices. Something else caught her eye, a slim booklet printed on cream-colored paper. The front cover read “Hollander Estates Vineyard, North Fork, Long Island.” She flipped it open and realized immediately it was a sales brochure. Their home, their life’s work, on the chopping block. She felt a flash of anger toward her husband.
The stonework around the property is imported European red slate. The landscaping of both the winery and the private residence reflects rustic North Fork authenticity; the house evokes the sophistication and elegance of the great châteaux of Bordeaux, France.
Who had written this?“Evokes Bordeaux” indeed. No one who had spent time at a grand cru vineyard would ever make that comparison. Sometimes, when the weather was cool and misty, she was pulled back to that long-ago visit to the château. As hard as she’d tried to forget, it still snuck up on her. The first morning, she had woken up to moody skies and a dampness that permeated the walls of the château. She had wrapped herself in cashmere before making her way downstairs for breakfast. Leonard, shivering in his wool blazer, said, “Have the French ever heard of heating?”
At breakfast, the baron made good on his promise to show her the horse stables; he announced they would be going riding.
“Oh! I didn’t pack any clothes...”
He waved away her concern. “Natasha has everything you could possibly need.”
Vivian borrowed breeches and boots but was disappointed to find that Natasha wouldn’t be joining them.
“I’m recovering from tennis elbow,” she said. “I haven’t been able to ride in weeks. Henri is ready to kill me.”
Despite the convivial evening the night before, Vivian wasn’t comfortable around the baron. She couldn’t put her finger on it, butsomething about him set her on edge. Back upstairs in their room, when she was supposed to be changing for the outing, she shared her misgivings with Leonard.
“If you don’t go, he’ll be insulted,” Leonard said.
“So come along.”
“I don’t ride, and it will make me look weak. Please—just be a sport.”
Leonard was so excited about the potential partnership he would have offered up their firstborn to seal the deal.
“Fine,” she said.
