A Saltwater Christmas (The Southern Isles #1)

Chapter Eight

“W hat a week!” Joey said, handing Allie a paper cup of coffee from Fred’s. “Are you staying for the show tonight?”

Every Friday night was Music among the Vines at the Saltwater Winery. A band was scheduled to play, and crowds from as far north as Isle of Palms and south as St. Helena flocked to tiny Goose Island. That Friday was Carolina Beach Music, which, in the Lowcountry, meant guests would be swinging and swaying to old tunes from The Embers, Jackie Williams, and Caribbean Cowboys. To be honest, Allie hadn’t yet decided if she was staying. “Are you?” she asked, not sure what she hoped his answer would be.

“Oh, yeah. Jessa and Libby too. Dottie’s bringing the truck. It’s gonna be a good time.”

Allie immediately recognized that her three closest work friends had made plans without her. It shook her confidence. Had she done something to make them dislike her? “I mean,” she began, “I wish I’d worn a cuter outfit.”

“Oh, come on now. You always look great.” Joey said it so easily, she couldn’t tell if he meant it or not. The fuzzy yellow sweater she wore was comfortable, but all day long she’d felt like a bumblebee, since she made the mistake of pairing it with black pants. He sat in his chair and squeaked it around to face his desk. Discussion over.

She quietly tapped her hand on her thigh in sequences of four. She hadn’t done something fun on a Friday night in ages. What were her other options? Go home and hide out in her room to avoid Sam and Cuppie? Drive to Charleston and get a hotel room where she could be miserable and alone? Part of her wanted to drive the nine hours back to Nashville just for some familiarity. She had tons of friends she could meet up with there. A fancy cocktail at a local off-Broadway bar sounded better than it ever had before. Her mother’s word reverberated in her head. Cherophobia . It really pissed her off. She did not have an irrational aversion to being happy. She knew full well that being happy would not cause something bad to happen. She’d been happy plenty of times. Most of her life, actually. Just not recently. Just not since the death of her dad. The white of her computer screen faded to a fuzzy gray as she realized that she was still tapping on her leg. Why was she tapping? Because she felt strongly that if she didn’t, she would be responsible for bringing about something terrible. Well, you know what? Her dad was dead. So clearly, bad things happened anyway.

She stopped tapping. “I’m going,” she said more loudly than she meant to.

“Alright!” Joey seemed genuinely pleased. “Jessa said Dottie’s doing fried shrimp and chicken. French fries, too, I think. We’ll probably sell a bunch of the dry white to pair with it. It oughta be good.”

“I’m really happy. It sounds great,” Allie said, feeling like she had to say the word happy out loud, and noting how fake she sounded. “Happy, happy, happy,” she added with as much oomph as she could muster. She sounded like a kindergartner, but Joey didn’t seem to mind.

He chuckled as he mocked her. “We’re all gonna be happy, happy, happy, and drunk, drunk, drunk.”

She giggled in reply. She hadn’t been drunk, drunk, drunk in ages. Maybe it was time.

It ended up being the slowest day she’d had so far. Fridays at the winery had an air of fun that made the work feel like drudgery. She still had to finish testing samples to decide when to disgorge the yeast from the new sparkling wines that were currently in the riddling machine, but she’d much rather be hanging out with the guests underneath the oaks with a finished glass of wine in her hand. She had to force herself to remember why she was there. She’d worked hard to earn her expertise, she was building her career, and she wasn’t going to let a stupid desire for fun interfere.

It was Jessa who finally sounded the “weekend is here” alarm. “Woooooohoooo!” she sang, skipping down the hallway. “Who wants to help me put the goats away?”

Libby was directly behind her, her strawberry-blond hair as puffy as her pink sleeves. “Skip’s an asshole,” she said. “He chewed the tassel off my purse.”

“Why’d you get your purse so close to him?” Jessa asked. “He’s a goat , Libs. They eat everything.”

“I’ll help,” Joey said. “Allie, you want to lure the chickens to the coop?”

As fun as luring chickens sounded, she was still working on the analysis. “I’ll meet y’all out there in a bit. I’ve got to finish this up.”

Joey leaned in and looked at her computer. “That can wait until Monday.”

“I’ll feel better if I finish it.” She couldn’t imagine leaving it over the weekend; she would obsess about it the whole time.

His dark brow furrowed, but he recovered quickly and left with Jessa and Libby. Allie stared at her screen, trying to reengage her concentration, but a big part of her felt like she’d just made a mistake. How was she going to make friends if she didn’t join in when they wanted her to? Then again, they were just putting the animals away. And she was going to stay for the band. It would be okay, she told herself. She’d allow herself to get a little tipsy, and that would loosen her up. “Happy, happy, happy,” she whispered to herself. “Drunk, drunk, drunk.”

Dottie’s food truck was decorated with Christmas lights, and she’d even tied a huge blow-up Santa to the top. “Come here,” she yelled at Allie as she walked by. Allie jogged up to the window, stopping to say hi to Tulip, who was busy putting bottled water into a half wine barrel filled with ice. “Now, listen,” Dottie said. “You need to stop trying so hard. You’re like an old woman who doesn’t eat her fiber, you’re so blocked up.”

Allie immediately thought back to her last bathroom visit.

“Don’t be stupid,” Dottie said like she could read her mind. “You’re blocking out all the good ’cause you’re focusing on the wrong things.”

“I’m just trying to do the best job I can.”

“Naw, it’s more than that.” Dottie reached through the window and motioned for Allie to hold her hand. It was warm and calloused. “Honey, you can’t make an omelet without breaking a leg.”

Did she mean egg? Maybe she had said egg, and Allie was just distracted by Dottie’s missing bottom tooth so close to her face.

“Everything costs something,” Dottie went on. “There will always be things that suck in our lives. So just accept it and enjoy the good things that come your way.”

That was no big revelation for Allie. An Instagram video could have told her that. Gratitude was the key to happiness. She’d been told that her whole life. She tried to pull her hand away, but Dottie held tight.

“You got a big ol’ firewall built up. Did somebody break your heart?”

Allie felt like she should say Mark, because he did break her heart. But the real answer was my dad . And then my mom . She tore her hand from Dottie’s. “Thanks for the advice,” she said, not meaning it at all.

“Hey,” Tulip called out as she walked away. “Is Sam coming tonight?”

Allie shook her head. “Don’t think so.”

“You should invite him,” she said brightly, looking adorable with her bad haircut in a tiny ponytail and a Christmas green sweatshirt that matched her eyes.

Allie gave her a thumbs-up. She had no intention of inviting Sam, no matter how much she was softening toward him. This was her night to really get to know Joey.

One wine bottle was supposed to serve four people, but with the way Libby poured, they had to open two. It was no big deal; they had an unlimited supply from the tasting room. Joey was right. The dry white wine went perfectly with Dottie’s fried shrimp, chicken, coleslaw, and French fries. Allie felt free to drink it like water with her meal.

The sun was low when the stage lights flicked on and the band’s guitarist woke up the night with a catchy tune. The smile on Allie’s face felt as big as the rising moon. Happy, happy, happy . The group sat together at a picnic table far enough away that they could still talk over the music. Libby droned on and on about her wedding plans. She was in the early stages of planning and had hundreds of photos of old barns outfitted with chandeliers and tulle swags. “I’m hitting up all of the thrift stores for people’s old china so that each guest can take home a place setting as a wedding favor,” she said.

Allie’s imagination was alight with the idea. “That sounds like so much fun! I’d love to help you look!”

Libby gave her the side-eye, saying nothing.

Instantly, the old feelings of inadequacy slammed back into her. How very short-lived happiness was. Why didn’t Libby like her?

“We should all go!” Jessa said. “We can be the Three Saltwater Thrifters. Isn’t that cute?”

“Totally!” Libby agreed, looking only at Jessa. “I’m looking for crystal glasses too. But they’re harder to find.”

Allie pasted on an artificial smile. What had just happened? “What a great idea!” she said, feigning excitement. “So creative.”

“Right?” Libby smiled graciously.

“You mean the Four Saltwater Thrifters, right?” Joey made a hurt face.

“You want to come?” Jessa asked.

“No, but y’all should invite me just to be nice.”

“You’re invited,” Libby said.

“Good.” He smirked. “But that sounds more boring than Duke’s three-hour staff meetings. So, no.”

Allie poured herself another glass of wine. She was going to need to tread carefully with Libby. She seemed like the type to cause drama. “Does Duke come to these Friday night shows?”

“Duke’s been like a hermit since his wife died,” Jessa said. “He hides as much as he can.” She jumped up, suddenly full of energy. “C’mon, Joey. Let’s dance!”

Just like that, Allie was left alone with Libby. She took a big sip from her wineglass and tried to think of something to talk about. “It sure is nice out here,” she said. “Warm enough that we don’t really need the big heaters.”

Libby gave her a weak smile, merely acknowledging that Allie had said something.

“And the band is really good. We don’t hear much of this kind of music in Nashville.”

Libby cut her eyes at her, her smile smaller than before.

Tall, thin Joey and beautiful Jessa danced like they’d been taking lessons their whole lives, spinning and dipping with shuffles in between. Allie felt pangs of jealousy and immediately went to work suppressing them by tapping her fingernails as quickly as she could on the wooden table—four, three, two, one, one, two, three, four, repeat, repeat, repeat.

“Oh my God,” Libby snapped. “Will you stop that? It is so annoying.”

Allie felt herself flush. “Sorry.” She picked up her wineglass and took a big swig.

Libby huffed and stood, throwing words at Allie like charity. “I’m going to the restroom.”

Happy, happy, happy, Allie thought to herself while staring at Joey and Jessa. Happy, happy, happy. She drained her glass and poured some more. Her nose was numb, but her chest was beginning to loosen and her brain was blooming like a morning glory in the sunshine. She was letting go of the firewall Dottie spoke of, letting go of the curse of caring too much what people thought of her. By the time Joey and Jessa finally sat back down with her, she was sweetly relaxed.

“Libby went to the bathroom,” she said. “Y’all are such good dancers.” Had she just said dan-shers ? Whatever. Joey sat on the bench next to her, and she scooted closer to him. Jessa looked at her strangely. Or did she? Allie wasn’t sure.

“You know what?” Jessa said. “I think I’m gonna head on home. I’m sure Mama needs me to feed the cats since she and Toots are working tonight. The little monsters are probably tearing up the place.”

“Awwww,” Allie said. “That’s sho shweet. I love kitty catsh.” Had she always had a lisp? Her tongue felt like it would horribly fail a roadside sobriety test.

“Do you want a ride home?” Jessa asked her. “It’s no problem at all.”

“Nope.” Allie brazenly rested her head on Joey’s shoulder. She was definitely staying right where she was.