Читать книгу Rom-Com Collection - Kristan Higgins - Страница 27

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

“ARE YOU SURE YOU don’t want an entire case?” Faith asked. “Wine makes such a great present, the holidays are coming up, and your friends will know you were thinking of them while you were on your trip.” She smiled and leaned on the counter of Blue Heron’s beautiful tasting bar.

“I can’t resist a pretty girl,” said the man. “Sure. Why not? Make it three cases. Best Riesling I’ve tasted.”

“I’m gonna tell my dad you said that,” Faith said. “You’ll make his entire week. And how about the cab you liked? The one you said had blackberry undertones and a hint of tobacco? You have a great palate, by the way.”

“All right. Great idea. I’ll save that just for me, though.”

“I like a man who treats himself right,” Faith said with a wink, handing the order to Mario, who’d run the cases out to the guy’s car.

Years of practice had shown Faith that flirting worked wonders when at the tasting bar. Honor used to lecture her about it, but no one had had a better record than Faith until Ned had come of age. At the moment, he was with a gaggle of fiftysomething women, clad in sturdy sneakers and matching, eye-bleeding pink sweatshirts that proclaimed them as “Phi Beta Bitches.”

She took the guy’s tasting glass to the sink. “I just sold four cases to one man,” she murmured as she passed her nephew. “Suck it up, sonny.”

“Ladies,” Ned said, “my aunt here doesn’t think I can sell as much wine as she can. Help me prove her wrong. I’m throwing myself on your mercy.”

“Whore,” she whispered, patting his shoulder.

“I learned from the best,” he returned.

It was fun to be back in the tasting room, especially with Ned. This was Honor’s domain—she worked out of a big office in the back, running the sales, media and distribution, and running them well. But whenever Honor was around, Faith felt slightly out of place. This morning, though, Honor had called, saying that Chipper Reeves had sprained his ankle, and could Faith please pour for the afternoon. And even though it meant pausing in her work on the barn, she didn’t want to say no. Honor so rarely asked her for help.

“Thank you, beautiful ladies!” Ned called as the Bitches left. “Eight cases, by the way,” he added to Faith. He took a cloth and started wiping down the counters, taking advantage of the break in traffic.

“Yeah, but my per capita ratio is still much higher. Guess you’re not quite as cute as you think, Neddie dear.”

“I don’t see how that’s possible,” he said. “I have a mirror, after all.”

“And speaking of cute,” she began.

“Nice transition, Auntie.”

“Thanks. Speaking of cute, you and Sarah Cooper? Is there cause for concern? Do I need to lecture you on safe sex, or just point out that her big brother is a decorated war veteran who can hit a moving target from five thousand yards?”

“Are you serious?”

“No, it’s just a line from a movie. But you don’t want him mad at you, do you?”

“Levi’s skill with a gun was definitely a consideration at first,” Ned said sagely, stroking his chin. “But Sarah’s cute little ass soon rendered me incapable of rational thought—”

“You did not just say that. I’ll have to kill you now. It pains me.”

“—and she’s pregnant with triplets. Congratulate me.”

Faith stared at him.

“Okay, fine,” Ned said. “The truth is, we text a little sometimes and play Words with Friends.”

“That does sound more like you,” Faith admitted. “Are you part of the reason she wants to come home so much?”

“Oh, I don’t think so. She crushing on me, and who can blame her?” He ducked as Faith swatted him. “I do like her, don’t get me wrong, but she’s a little young yet.”

“See? Just when I think I should drown you in a bucket, you come up with something really sensible.” Faith paused. “Just don’t let the crush get too out of hand, okay? They can really hurt.”

“Does this great wisdom come from the shards of your own broken heart, Auntie, or—”

“You know what? Get the bucket.” She turned as a couple came into the tasting room. “Hi, there! Welcome to Blue Heron.”

“Faith? Can I see you a minute?” Honor stood in the hall that led to the offices.

“I got this,” Ned said. “What can I pour for you guys this afternoon?”

Faith followed her sister past the conference room and offices that were kept (and seldom used) by Dad, Jack and Pru.

Honor sat behind her beautiful, frighteningly organized desk, a gorgeous piece of walnut and oak made by the same carpenters Faith had hired to do the deck for the barn.

“How are things?” her sister asked briskly.

“Great. Uh, how are things with you?”

“Just fine. Have you found Dad a suitable woman yet?”

Faith snorted. “That sounds...well, never mind. Um, not quite. I’m working on it. I’m casually introducing him to a gardener today, and I have a date set up with someone from eCommitment next week.”

“Good. We don’t want someone like Lorena taking Dad for everything he has.”

Faith felt the odd impulse to stand up for the woman. “You know, Honor, maybe it’s one of those opposites-attract situations. He seems to really like her.”

“She just asked him for a loan of ten grand, Faith. For a boob job in Mexico.”

“Mexico?”

“She knows a guy.” Honor raised her eyebrows.

“Well, maybe Dad can decide for himself. It’s his money.”

Honor sighed. “Do you know how much it takes to run this place, Faith? Let me put it this way. Two bad weather years in a row, and we’d be in the red.”

Faith chewed on her lip. “Right.”

“So you’ll try a little harder?” Honor suggested, tapping a key on her sleek Mac.

Faith wasn’t sure what else she could try, short of eBay. “I— Yeah. I’ll try harder.”

“I won’t see you till the party,” Honor said, typing in a staccato burst. “I have to be in the city for a couple days.” There was but one city if a person was from the Empire State. Or Jersey, for that matter. Or Connecticut.

“That’s nice,” Faith said. “I mean, nice that you’re getting away for a couple days.”

Honor made a noncommittal noise.

“Do you like it? Those business trips?” Faith asked.

Her sister stopped typing and looked up. “Yeah. I do,” she said. “It’s nice to...well.” She shook her head, and Faith felt the sharp knife of regret she so often felt around her sister.

“Nice to what?” she asked.

Her sister shrugged.

“Be your own person?”

Honor looked up, surprised. “Exactly.”

Faith smiled. “Not just a Holland of the Holland family, where everyone already knows everything about you.”

“Yes.” Honor stared at her for a second, then smiled, and Faith felt such a rush of love, she almost hugged her sister. Instead, she just smiled back, feeling her throat tighten a little.

“Can you keep a secret?” Honor asked.

Wow. “Sure.”

Honor hesitated. “I’ve... Well, I’ve been seeing someone. It’s getting serious.”

“What?” Faith barked, then covered her mouth with both hands at her sister’s grimace. “Honor!” she whispered. “Wow! I didn’t know that! Who is he? What’s he like?”

“He’s...he’s that guy. The one we mere mortals only get to admire from afar.”

Good heavens. Honor was actually blushing. “Except you got close up?” Faith suggested.

Her sister bit her lip and smiled. “Oh, yeah.”

“So he’s...the one?”

Another dreamy smile was her answer.

“Are you planning to introduce him to the family?”

Honor nodded. She looked so pretty, dumbstruck with love. “He’s coming to the anniversary party.”

“Wow. So it is serious, if you’re gonna...unleash the Kraken and all that.” Sure, she loved her family, but en masse, they could be a little terrifying.

“Yeah.”

Faith grinned. “This is great, Honor. I’m so happy for you.”

“Just don’t say anything yet, okay? To Dad or Jack or anyone. You’re the only one I’m telling for now.”

Faith paused. Honor, confiding in her. “I won’t say a word.”

“Thanks, Faithie.”

It had been a long time since Honor had called her that.

Her sister seemed to snap out of her fog. “I need to get back to work. I’ll see you when I get home. If you need any help with the party, let me know.” She paused. “I went up to the barn the other day, and it’s really beautiful, Faith.”

And now a compliment! Whoever this guy was, Faith would have to thank him. “Thanks,” she said, her voice a little husky. “Well. Have a good trip. Call me if you want. You know. Just to chat.”

“If I have a second, I will.” Honor smiled and began typing again.

Faith left the office and went back down the hall to the tasting room, which was now empty. She saw Ned through the window, putting a case of wine into the couple’s car. Good. A quiet moment.

That was—by far—the most intimate and friendly conversation she’d had with Honor in nineteen years. Maybe, now that Honor had more in her life than the vineyard and Dad’s care and feeding, they’d be close. Maybe...just maybe...Honor would finally forgive her for Mom.

Honor never could talk about the accident. Dad had held Faith at the hospital, rocking her, telling her she wasn’t to blame, she couldn’t help having a seizure. Jack had been horribly gentle and kind, saying at least Faith hadn’t died, too, and Pru, who’d been in her twenties at the time, did her best to fill the maternal role for Faith. Everyone seemed to recognize the terrible cost of being alone in the car with her dead mother; Faith had had nightmares for a year, had even wet the bed a time or two, hadn’t talked much for months. She didn’t have to do homework for the rest of the school year. Everyone was kind...except Honor, whose eyes held a message that Faith could read all too well. You killed our mother. And the thing was, it was true, though Honor didn’t know to what extent.

But Honor was a good daughter. A martyr, sure, but completely solid with their dad. Faith may have been Daddy’s little girl, but Honor had been Mom’s favorite, always more mature, more adult than the rest of them, despite being third out of four. She and Mom had had a special bond, and after Mom died, it seemed like Honor couldn’t bear to be in the same room with Faith.

But maybe this was a turning point. Maybe—just maybe—Faith could get her sister to like her again.

When her tasting room duties were finished, Faith spied her father, who was sampling the homemade wine Gerard Chartier had brought him for his opinion. “Not bad,” John said. “Nice with a rare steak.” Blue circled, dropping his ratty tennis ball suggestively. Dad picked it up and tossed it without pausing in his discussion of the different kinds of yeast Gerard could use. Dear old Dad. With his baseball cap, aging flannel shirt and purple-stained hands, he wasn’t the most dapper of men, but he was certainly the best.

“I see my little princess over there,” Dad said finally.

“Hi, little princess,” Gerard called with a grin.

“Hi, Gerard,” she said. “Save any lives lately?”

“No, but I can carry you down a ladder if you want,” he said.

“Don’t tempt me. Dad, got a sec? I wanted to show you the barn.”

“You bet, baby. See you, Gerard.” Her father picked up Blue’s hideous ball and held it high. “Who loves his ball? Do you love your ball?” he said, causing Blue to freeze with elation at the word. Dad threw the disgusting thing past the storage barn, and Blue streaked off, caught it midbounce and returned immediately.

“He could play for the Yankees,” Dad observed.

“Can’t hit to save his life,” Faith said. “So, uh, did Levi tell you about how good Blue was when I had my seizure?” she asked. Sure, it was a blatant attempt to bring up his name, but no one else was as unsuspecting as dear old Dad when it came to being pumped for information. She hadn’t seen Levi since he’d kissed her the other night. Hadn’t heard him out in the hall, either. Had stopped short of pressing a glass against his door, but only just.

“He did. Said Blue came to get him. Who’s a good boy? Huh? Do you love Faithie? Do you love her? You do?”

There was something about Blue that made everyone a cheerful idiot, Faith observed as her father put the ball in his own mouth. “Dad. So gross.”

He took the ball out and threw it up the hill. “So I finally get to see this place,” he said, putting his arm around her as they walked.

“You haven’t been sneaking peeks, have you?” The final week was when a project really took shape, and Faith had wanted to surprise her father.

“No, sweetpea. I have three daughters. I’m excellent at following orders.”

They hiked up the hill, past the golden-leafed vines, up to the cemetery. Dad took off his hat and put his hand on the granite of his wife’s headstone. “Hey, Connie,” he said, his voice so full of love that Faith felt tears prick her eyes. “We all miss you so much, honey.”

He glanced at Faith. “Hi, Mom,” she said obediently. I’m so sorry. It was her customary thought, lodged like iron in her heart. She waited as her father brushed a couple of leaves from the grave, his face in its familiar sad and handsome lines. Please help me find him someone, Faith prayed. Would Mom want that, though? Faith thought she would, but then again, she was no expert on what her mother had wanted.

Dad stood, and they continued up the hill, talking about the grapes that would be left on the vine for the ice wines, and his prediction that it’d hit seventeen degrees before Thanksgiving. “Gonna be a cold winter,” he said.

“You smelly old farmers have a way of predicting those things,” she said, earning a grin. “Okay, we’re here. You ready to be dazzled?”

Dad had been up two weeks ago to check the progress; the stonemasons had been working on the rows of rock walls in the parking area, and Samuel had been putting up the railings around the decking. But since then, the path and the beds had been completed, and today, Jane Gooding, an organic farmer from Dundee, was bringing in the plants. Faith wanted to take one more look before the holes were dug, maybe rearrange a few things, before committing to the final layout.

And, yes, Jane Gooding had been vetted as a potential date for Dad. She was in her mid-fifties, loved the outdoors, understood plants, had a master’s in botany as well as her master gardener certificate. She was long divorced, had dated here and there, had one grown daughter and was quite outgoing and attractive.

A home run, in other words.

Jane was unloading plants from the back of her truck. She stopped and waved as Faith approached. “Hello there!” she called, smiling. Attractive wrinkles creased her face, and she shoved a bit of curly blond hair behind her ear, leaving a streak of dirt. Totally Dad’s type. Bet she didn’t own an animal-print thong.

“Hi, Jane,” Faith said.

Dad was staring open-mouthed at the barn. “Sweetheart! This is amazing! It happened so fast!”

“I aim to please,” she said, her father’s pride warming her. “Jane, this is my father, John Holland. Dad, Jane Gooding, who owns Dundee Organic Gardens.”

“Pleased to meet you,” Dad said, shaking her hand. “You have a nice operation over there. I’ve driven past but never stopped in.”

“Well, we can’t have that!” Jane said. “Drop in next time you’re around. I’ll give you the tour.” She smiled at him, then turned to Faith. “It’s all here. You ready?”

“You bet. Dad, do you have time to help us out?”

“Sure, sweetpea. I just can’t get over this! Nice work, honey.”

Faith’s goal in the barn had been to make it look completely unlandscaped and artlessly natural. The beds around the building were bordered with deceptively sturdy, uneven rock walls. A rusty old wagon wheel, a relic from the barn, leaned against the base of a two-hundred-year-old maple tree, and six old milking containers lined the rock foundation. Seven different varieties of moss and ferns, all indigenous, sat in pots, waiting to be put in the soil. A thousand daffodil bulbs would be scattered in clusters along the foundation, which would make it flippin’ gorgeous next spring, and a fairly mature sweet wisteria was already planted by the sliding wooden door, which Samuel had rebuilt beautifully. Faith had painted it periwinkle blue yesterday.

Her little playhouse of old was glorious. She’d saved the barn from becoming just a pile of rocks, created this beautiful place where so many happy memories would be made. Still, a lump came into her throat at the memories of sitting on the moss, pretending to pour tea in acorn caps, trying to tame a chipmunk, leaving a ring of daisies as a gift for the fairies. Such happy times.

Well. Dad and Jane seemed to be getting on like a house on fire, Faith noted. Gardening. So much better than a singles event.

She got to work. Faith always felt like she was a midwife when she planted something, coaxing the plant out of its container, loosening the roots, gently placing it into the carefully dug hole, then filling in the gaps with soil. The dirt on her hands, the rich, dark smell of damp earth, and now, the satisfaction of seeing her design come to actual life... There was nothing like it. The sun beat on her hair, and sweat dampened her T-shirt despite the cool air, the sound of shovels and birdsong making the afternoon utterly perfect.

Three hours later, they were done.

“That went fast,” Dad said.

“Right,” Faith said, rolling her eyes at Jane, who smiled. “That’s because you missed us prepping the soil last week. That’s the hard part.”

“It’s so pretty, honey. Your grandparents will be amazed.”

“Wait till you see it at night, Dad. The lighting is the best part, maybe.”

“Well, I should go,” Jane said. “So nice meeting you, John! I’ll see you at the party, I imagine?”

“You sure will. Nice to meet you, too,” he said, blushing a little, but he shook her hand and waved when she started up her truck. “So, she’s coming?” he asked Faith.

“Sure. You always invite the people who worked on a project, Daddy. It’s classy.”

“Oh, so we’re classy now?”

“Yes. Which means I get to pick out your clothes for Saturday.”

The party had the potential to be fantastic, Faith thought as she tidied up a few things. Goggy and Pops would soften toward each other, remembering old feelings, perhaps. Dad would have an almost-date with a very nice woman. Honor would whisper conspiratorially about her new love. Maybe she could get Jack to dance with Colleen, though the odds were low on that. But since she’d clearly backed a winner with Jane, maybe her next project would be her brother.

And maybe Levi would dance with her. Her knees wobbled at the image, the memory of his hard muscles, his heat pressed against her. Probably not, but it sure was a nice thought.

She snapped out of her fog and put the shovel in the shed. Whatever the case, the anniversary party would be a special night. A magical night.

* * *

ON SATURDAY EVENING, Faith was resisting—barely—the urge to strangle her grandfather.

“What the hell is this?” he asked, dangling the suspicious food in front of his face.

“Just shut up and eat it,” commanded her grandmother. “It’s party food. Don’t be such a pain in the ass.”

Make that strangle both grandparents.

“You’re the pain in the ass,” Pops retorted. “You’ve been a pain in my ass for sixty-five years.”

“No fighting, kids,” Ned said. “This is your party. Don’t make us sign you into the home just yet. Pops, it’s a shrimp. It’s wrapped in prosciutto, that’s all.”

“What the hell’s prosciutto?” Pops asked.

“It’s like extra-fatty bacon,” Faith said. “You’ll love it.”

Okay, so the night was not exactly magical. Not yet, anyway. She could still pull it off...if she drugged Goggy and Pops.

The Holland family had come up to the barn for a special dinner before the big party, since only hors d’oeuvres would be served at the event, and God forbid her grands missed a solid meal. Or Prudence. Or Dad. Or Jack. Honor was here; her mystery man was not, and when Faith had asked about it, sotto voce, Honor gave her an icy look as an answer. Mrs. Johnson was also irritated with Faith, since Faith hadn’t asked her to prepare the dinner but to be a guest instead, which had somehow insulted her.

“You look really handsome tonight, Pops,” she said, smoothing some of the more fascinating eyebrow hairs away from his eyes.

“Thanks, sweetheart. Maybe I’ll get a dance with my special girl, what do you think?”

“If I’m the special girl in question, the answer is yes. But don’t forget,” she added, whispering, “you and Goggy have a dance first.”

Pops grimaced.

“You do,” she said firmly. “And you have your speech, right?”

“Oh, yeah,” he said. “That’s right here.” He tapped his jacket pocket.

“Hello, hello,” came a voice. It was Jane, the gardener, dressed in a long, shapeless, greenish-brown cotton dress. “Oh, dear,” she said. “Am I early?”

“Party starts at seven,” Pru said, her voice even louder than usual.

“No, it’s fine,” Faith said. “Come and join us.”

“I’ll come back later,” Jane said. “This is so embarrassing.”

“Not at all. We’d love to have you.” She introduced Jane to the family, earning suspicious looks from Goggy, who didn’t see anything wrong with her son staying a widower for a few more decades, as well as from Abby, who was sulking because she’d been made to change into something “less whorish,” according to Pru. Carl was also missing, though Faith had wised up and not asked why.

“Very nice to see you again,” Dad said with an adorably shy smile.

“You, too, John,” Jane said, tilting her head to smile back. Jane and John. So cute.

“Please, sit down,” Dad said, holding out a chair.

“Thank you.” She looked around. “Um, is this...all?” Jane asked, surveying the shrimp and pasta dish Faith had ordered from the caterers. “I’m sorry. I’m a vegan. A rawist, actually.”

Life without cheeseburgers? So sad. “Right. Um, I’ll find you something.” The caterers should have a veggie platter somewhere.

“And what is a rawist, my dear?” Pops said, turning on the charm (the better to irritate Goggy).

“I only eat raw food,” Jane answered.

“Why?” Mrs. Johnson asked. “Are you sick?”

“Oh, no, it’s by choice. For health reasons,” Jane said as Faith intercepted the vegetable tray from one of the servers. “Thanks, Faith. This’ll be perfect.” She took an impressive handful of baby carrots and began shoving them into her mouth like popcorn, crunching madly. And another handful. And some celery. Her mouth worked faster than a wood chipper, Faith thought.

“You eat raw meat? That can’t be good for you,” Goggy pronounced.

Jane paused in her crop decimation. “I don’t eat meat. Raw vegetables and fruits only.”

“What about bread?” Abby asked.

“Nope. Gluten is poison for me.” She picked up another handful of carrots and started chainsawing through them, little flecks of orange flying from her lips. “You should try it. I have literally no mucus issues anymore. And I’m never constipated.”

Dad had that hide me look on his face, and Ned was choking with laughter. Jane did have very strong-looking teeth, Faith noted. The veggie platter was supposed to serve twenty, but at the rate Jane was going, she’d polish that off, then start on the table, which was hopefully gluten-free.

“Faith,” Pru said, draining her wine, “where’s Colleen and the hard stuff? You did say we were having an open bar, right?”

Yes, where were Connor and Colleen? Faith checked her phone. No messages. She sent a quick text, asking if they needed help. It was getting to be crunch time. She excused herself and started putting the centerpieces on the tables, which had been covered with pale blue tablecloths.

Prudence approached, a shrimp in each hand. “The place looks beautiful,” she said. She was wearing dress pants and work boots, as well as a low-cut white sweater. An impressive purple hickey stood out on her throat.

“Thanks,” Faith said. “So things are good with Carl?”

Pru shrugged. “Yes and no. I kicked him out.”

“What? Why?”

“We did it the other night, right? Good old married sex, nothing fancy. Finally, right? Then he says he wants to film us—”

“What?”

“Right. So he’s staying at his mother’s. Figured it’ll shake him up a little.”

Faith nodded as if she understood. “Um...you have a big hickey, you know.”

“Really? Damn it. Should’ve looked in the mirror, I guess. Anyway, nice job here!” She poured herself another glass of wine and drank it like it was water.

The DJ asked where he should set up, and Faith directed him to one corner. Then, after two more questions from the caterer had been answered, Faith adjusted the light under the maple tree, fixed the door, which was sticking, and found Pops’s lower denture plate in a gooey nut cookie. She worked the teeth free as Goggy had a fit that Pops was eating nuts when his gastroenterologist specifically said not to. As Jane was eating half her body weight in roughage, Faith asked Mrs. Johnson if she might have any more vegetables, earning a glare from the housekeeper and some dark mutterings about people having evolved enough to cook their food. Faith took that as a yes, ran down to the New House, raided the fridge, cut up red peppers, carrots and broccoli, then cleaned the kitchen at lightning speed, because Mrs. Johnson hated anyone to leave a mess in her workspace. Then she power-walked back up the Hill, in heels, managing not to drop a single pepper slice.

Magical. Yeah, right. She was sweating, how magical was that? And the guests were just starting to trickle in.

Honor appeared at Faith’s side. “Lorena’s here,” she growled. “I thought you took care of that.”

“I didn’t invite her. I guess Dad did.”

“Check out that dress, Faith.”

Lorena was currently kissing Pops on the cheek, bending over the old man, who clearly didn’t mind. And the thing was, Lorena’s dress...the woman had to weigh somewhere around two hundred pounds and was sixty years old if she was a day but, for some reason that went against nature and God’s law, had chosen to wear a skin-tight rubbery black dress. No back. White granny panties, though, clearly visible.

Faith’s breath left her in a rush. “That’s—I...gotta give her points for, um, confidence. Maybe Dad should pay for that boob job. Wow.”

Honor was not amused. “You said you could find him someone, Faith. That other woman, the gardener, is talking about how often she poops, and here’s Lorena, dressed like Lady Gaga. Can’t you do better?” Before Faith could answer, Honor walked away.

With a sigh, Faith went over to say hello to Lorena. “Hello, sweetie!” Lorena boomed. “And just who do we have here?” She was glaring at Jane, who sat next to Dad.

Jane paused in her chewing. “I’m a friend,” she said, looking Lorena up and down.

“A friend? A friend of who?” Lorena asked, her expression lowering.

“A friend of whom? Is that what you mean?” Jane smiled tightly and took another celery stick.

“Cat fight,” Ned murmured as he walked past Faith, phone in his hand.

Next time Faith felt the urge to throw a party, she’d ask Pru to duct tape her into a chair.

And things hadn’t even started.