Page 56 of Blush
“I guess no one wants insipid flavors and stunted growth,” Sadie said.
“No,” Mateo said. “They don’t.” They shared a smile, and Sadie felt another wave of powerful attraction.
“I’m sorry—what was that?” She realized Mateo was explaining something, and she’d completely zoned out.
“We’re cutting in two types of areas: big clumps, where it’s all jammed up with fruit—like here—or short shoots.”
“What’s a short shoot?”
Mateo pulled out a wispy branch. “See the size of this compared to the others? There aren’t any leaves, and this section won’t grow good fruit, so we might as well cut it off now.” He pulled a bunch of grapes away from the vine and lopped it off. She felt herself leaning toward him like a plant toward the sun.
“I thought you didn’t want too many leaves,” she said. “The last time we were out here you were thinning leaves.”
“It’s all about balance. Too many leaves, the fruit has reduced sunlight and airflow and you’re more likely to get disease. But if you pull too much, there’s no canopy and you need some leaves because photosynthesis helps create the sugar in the fruit. So you just cut like this.” He lopped off a bunch, and it dropped to the ground.
“And then you just leave all these grapes on the ground? Isn’t that a waste of food?”
“They aren’t ripe. They’re inedible. Here—squeeze this.” It was hard, like a plastic grape. “If we had pigs around, maybe we could use them. But it’s fine—they’ll fertilize the field.”
They worked methodically, side by side. Sadie consulted with Mateo whenever she felt uncertain whether to cut. Mateo had a laser-like focus. He worked quickly and made a point of telling Sadie not to rush to keep up with him. He talked and talked, casually explaining the life of the vines.
“The plants will stop producing next month. At that point, we just have to let the sugars accumulate.” There was something immenselysatisfying about the crunch of the metal against the plant, the sound of the fruit hitting the grass. The results were so tangible compared to writing.
After a while, Mateo became quiet. He pointed to indicate where Sadie should work. Sadie admired his intensity, the way he seemed impervious to the heat and the insects and the dirt. She wondered what Mateo thought of Susan Sontag. The answer was: he didn’t.
She wondered what Mateo would be like in bed. The answer was: hot.
“Is something wrong?” Mateo said.
She had stopped clipping. She was staring at him.
“No,” she said.
After a moment—a long moment, a moment in which Sadie felt she barely breathed—Mateo said, “This can’t happen. You know that, right?”
Twenty-nine
Vivian came up for air in the deep end. Through the fog of her goggles, she spotted ridiculously high heels and crimson toenails. Bridget, teetering at the edge of the pool, peered down at her.
“Can I help you?” Vivian said.
“Sorry to interrupt your swim, but Leonard asked me to find you. There’s a meeting at the vineyard office.”
The charms on Bridget’s gold anklet made noise when she moved her feet. How on earth did that not drive her crazy?
“Please tell my husband I’ll be there in five minutes. No, make that ten.”
She waited for Bridget to trot off before pulling herself out of the pool. Why hadn’t Leonard thought to tell her himself? Then she checked her phone and saw she had several missed texts and calls.
She took a quick rinse in the pool house shower and ran a comb through her hair before changing into a linen dress and a pair of ballerina flats, all the while her stomach in knots. She was all but certain she was being summoned for official news about the closing. The day she was dreading—the day she was cast out from her home—was one step closer.
“Oh, hey, Mom. I didn’t know you were out here.” Leah had settledon a lounge chair with her book. Her skin was sun-burnished, her hair still lustrous and dark even as she approached her late forties. Those deep-set Hollander eyes. She looked so very much like Leonard.
Vivian decided right then and there that if she was going to the meeting, so was Leah. Why should Bridget be at the meeting and not her own daughter?
“I need you to throw some clothes on and come with me.”
“Where?”
