Chapter Thirteen
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
“Bless you, Elisa. I’ve been trying to get an appointment with the permitting folks for weeks!” I spin in my office chair, cradling my phone to my ear. “Pass along my gratitude to the mayor, too?”
“You’ve got it, Zoe,” Elisa says.
I swear, it’s like night and day out of that office since Rachel’s field day. While Mayor Esposito ultimately put both Into the Woods and Bluebell forward for the showcase, that’s been good enough for me. Overnight, the partnerships started rolling in, everybody excited to get on board now that we have a fighting chance of winning the spot. River’s almost done with our new infrastructure, Elisa got us a permitting appointment, and my newest business venture is soft-launching next week—the Redneck Wine Tour. Everything’s coming up Bluebell, except for—
“Have you heard from Everyday Bon Vivant yet?” Elisa asks.
I twirl my pen in my hand, hating the flush traveling up my neck because I haven’t . I know from Olinda, former Small Business 101 student and now friend, that the Everyday Bon Vivant events team is coming next week because they’ve booked her shuttle service to pick them up in Atlanta. I’ve been hoping they’d call requesting a tour while they’re here, but nothing. That hasn’t stopped me from engaging in a little guerrilla marketing effort, though. Olinda has agreed to reroute their trip on the way into town and feign van trouble in front of Bluebell Vineyards an hour after our Strawberry Moon night begins. Cue devious chuckle.
Our outdoor bulb lights have all been freshly restrung, there’ll be wildflower crowns for sale, and three delicious food trucks will be on-site. In a coup, I even booked Blue Ridge’s best folk country outfit to play, The Genteelmen. They’re difficult to get a hold of, but Killian, Hannah’s ex-boyfriend, has been playing with them lately and put us on their busy schedule. It’ll be a magical, flower-strewn evening, our sweet wines flowing to the heart-plucking twang of guitars and soft voices harmonizing. We’ll woo the events team, I have no doubt.
I just wish they wanted to be wooed. I wish they’d call.
Elisa picks up on my hesitation, and in a soothing tone, says, “Don’t worry, Zoe. They’re not going to ignore Mayor Esposito’s endorsements.”
I let out a small sigh. “I hope you’re right. Thanks again, Elisa.”
After we disconnect our call, there’s a knock on my office door, and River pokes his shaggy golden head in. “Hey, cuz, ready to do the once-over?”
I brighten. “Absolutely!”
I fish two beers from the fridge, hand one to River, then follow him as he leads me out the back patio doors into the vibrant blue afternoon, the sun dangling lazily like a marigold over the green mountains. River’s crew has been working daily for the last month on the new infrastructure, but they’ve been saving the best for last—the viewpoints.
Bluebell Vineyards, nestled in a valley of rolling hills carpeted with forest and creeks and lush, untamed land, has an amazing vantage on the mountains that surround us. But not everyone is content to stroll our vineyards, gazing into the distance as they go. Some people need a destination to feel the freedom to wander, and I’ve long wanted to put in seating areas to encourage people to stop and bask awhile in the beauty. As we walk up the newly graveled trail to the first overlook, my heart twinges with happiness. The platform is nothing extravagant. A simple wooden stage with steps that seem to spring from the ground themselves, flanked with beautiful budding perennials that Hannah planted herself.
But the view is nothing short of magical. The platform’s few feet of elevation lifts your gaze above the vineyards sloping below to the dip and swell of mountains beyond.
“Well done, River,” I say, my heart opening like a blossom toward the slowly setting sun. I take a long swig of the pale beer, its bubbles like tiny fireworks down my throat, feeling a satisfaction deep in my bones.
“Hannah knows how to pick ’em.” River clinks his bottle against mine before we sit down on the platform. The wood is sun-warmed beneath me, but the May breeze tickles my legs dangling over the edge. He stares into the valley, a look of profound yearning etched in the lines around his eyes, like he could look and look and never be filled up for want of it all. “I love that woman so much, Zoe.”
I reach over and squeeze his hand. “I know you do.”
That sweet, earnest gaze lingers for a second before my goofy cousin reemerges. “I can’t help noticing that our wedding’s only two weeks away, and yet, you’ve failed to RSVP with the name of your date. A man can only ponder for so long, Zoe. Which lucky interim vintner will it be?”
I snatch my hand back. “What exactly do you think you know?”
River raises both eyebrows. “Well let’s see. I know the woman you’ve held a torch for since you were a kid now lives on your property, you let her adopt a goat , and you’ve apparently consecrated your union by way of pink balloon humping in broad daylight.”
“Baahlzebub isn’t adopted, he’s a long-term foster.” I lift my chin. “And it was an innocent balloon race.”
“Well, the foster goat you’ve named ate half your fence. Don’t worry, I fixed it, and from what I heard, that balloon would beg to differ.”
“Would it now?”
“Come on, you’ve got it bad for Laine. What’s holding you back?”
I huff out an incredulous laugh. “Okay, first of all? You need to stop listening to Teddy and Diego—”
“They’re reliable sources!” River interrupts indignantly.
“You should hear what they say about you , man-child.”
River shrugs. “Like I said, reliable.”
“Second, Laine works here. What if something happens, and it ends badly? Think Laine’s gonna keep making my wine once she realizes what a—”
“—wonderful woman you are? Yes.”
I furrow my brows. “You’re a terrible interrupter, River. You’ve gotta work on that, or Hannah will leave your ass for me .”
River stops to ponder that for a second. “Duly noted.”
“Third of all, Laine and I have finally gotten to where we don’t want to rip each other’s heads off. You saw her with the pruning shears that day—she couldn’t handle the tiniest bit of feedback! All that drama out west made her so afraid of trying and failing, she was barely functional, but we’re working through all that. If we’re going to have any shot at winning the showcase, I need her to come through for me.” I pause long enough to polish off my beer. “I can’t endanger our vineyard’s future on some temporary horniness-induced insanity.”
It’s quiet for a beat, then two, then River gingerly lifts his hand. “May I speak now?”
I shove him in the arm.
“I’m tryin’ not to lose Hannah to my spectacular lesbian cousin.” He clears his throat. “If I may point out the painfully obvious?”
“You may try .”
“I don’t think Laine’s the only one here who’s afraid of trying and failing and ”—he lifts a finger before I can start in—“judging by the last eighteen years plus of grade A pining I’ve witnessed, I don’t think your horniness-induced insanity is all that temporary, either.”
My mouth drops open as River rises to his feet, grabs our empty bottles, and takes off toward the next viewpoint, whistling a Chappell Roan song, the nerve .