Ask Cassandra

Chapter Seven

“Hm,” Cassie said, and plumped her breasts experimentally. The plum-colored straps clenched around her flesh, and she grinned.

Her red silk set was sexy, but still everyday wearable. This particular lingerie set offered no support for vigorous movement, and if she tried to wear pants over the flimsy panties, they would quickly work their way down her hips and belly to end in an uncomfortable wedge of material between her thighs.

But what the set lacked in practicality, it made up for in seduction. Her nipples were barely covered by the low, lacy cup, and silky straps curved over her upper breast, rising to join a ring in the center of her sternum, before fanning out again to hit her shoulder points. The effect hinted at a bondage harness, while still giving her complete freedom of movement.

The panties had the same translucent plum-colored lace at the front, a tiny triangle that revealed almost as much as it hid, but the back was a series of open crisscross straps. There wasn’t any real impediment to someone, say, bending her over and moving the straps aside so that they could explore her exposed pussy with deft fingers or an agile tongue.

Her reflection in the bathroom mirror was misty. She’d had a long, hot bath, and hand-washed a few pairs of her more everyday panties while she was at it. She trusted Manny would come up with a solution to the laundry problem, but she had to be practical. If she couldn’t do laundry tonight, at least she’d have clean underwear tomorrow.

She shook her head in mock dismay at the panties looped over the heated towel rail to dry. “So sexy,” she said. “What a temptress.”

But she didn’t think Manny would be put off by her bathroom sink laundry. She had the feeling her practicality was part of her appeal, given that she’d been able to turn him on by judging the provenance of a notebook. Practically, then, she belted her thick robe around her waist and headed downstairs.

The fire was roaring in the woodstove. She’d wanted the house heated to buck-naked comfort levels, so she’d trekked in armfuls from the woodpile and set them to steam and dry out in the basket next to the hearth. Over the last two weeks, she’d made the space more her own by putting away some of the innumerable knick-knacks and adding her own books to the shelves. She’d discovered a wealth of soft furs and loosely woven blankets in a chest and promptly draped them over everything, so that she was never more than two feet away from something snuggly. This part of the cottagecore vibe, she could thoroughly embrace.

Let’s see. Dishes were done, bed was made, anything embarrassing or annoying had been hidden… She looked at the rug laid out on the wooden floor before the hearth, and pursed her lips. There wasn’t quite enough room for any vigorous activity, but if she moved back those armchairs, and then laid the enormous pink faux-fur throw on top of the rug… There. Granted, the result looked like the part in a bad eighties movie where the femme fatale tried to tempt the hero, but the pink glowed in the firelight, and the rug’s fur would tantalize sensitive skin.

Also, she really wanted to tempt the hero.

When the knock came at the door, she tossed the robe behind a chair, tousled her hair, fixed the positions of her many straps, and opened the door.

Frigid air and some snow blasted in, and she leapt back, instinctively wrapping her arms around herself.

Manny, wearing a thick coat and a plaid woolen hat with earflaps, gaped at her.

“Get in!” she squawked. “Get in and close the damn door!”

He startled and obeyed.

She sighed with relief as he locked the door behind him and stripped out of his top layers. Her nipples had gone stiff, and not with desire.

“You look incredible,” he said.

“I’m sure I did for the split second before I turned into an icicle,” she said ruefully. “This was supposed to be a sexy welcome.”

“Didn’t you say I was the one who was supposed to get naked first?”

“I’m not naked. Technically.”

He looked her up and down, from the tips of her painted toes to her eyes, lingering on various places in between. “Technically, this may be the only thing that could make you look better than naked.”

Cassie clapped. “Great complimenting, top marks.”

“What’s my prize?” Manny asked, and then shook his head hard. “Uh, okay, I want to rip all of that off with my teeth, but we need to talk first. Can you put something on so I don’t lose my mind?”

Cassie raised an eyebrow, but turned her back and leaned over the chair to retrieve her robe. When she turned around, Manny’s eyes had glazed over. “Sorry,” he said hoarsely. “I just saw the back. Can we talk afterwards?”

Cassie dropped the robe. “Take off your clothes,” she ordered.

Manny obeyed with alacrity, while she arranged herself on the fur rug. It tickled in distracting ways, but that was in the back of her brain. Most of her mind was occupied by admiring Manny’s solid body, the slight curve of his belly, the dark blonde hair scattered over his chest and narrowing to an arrow pointing down. He shoved down his pants, jerked the socks off as elegantly as anyone could be expected to manage, and stood there, entirely naked.

His cock was already half-hard, rising from the thatch of golden hair between his thighs, and his hand went instinctively to steady it. “Don’t,” Cassie said. “You touched yourself plenty today. Do you want to watch me do the same?”

“Yes,” Manny said, and Cassie wriggled her way into a comfortable position on the fur, sliding her hands down her body. Normally, when she got herself off, she went for the fast endorphins of a speedy orgasm, but now she took her time, deliberately sliding her fingers under the tiny panties and tracing slow circles around her clit.

“Mmm,” she said, letting her head fall back. “Very nice.”

“Can I touch you? Touch myself?” Manny asked, and she heard the implicit permission in the question.

“No,” she said. “Just watch.”

There was a pause, and she was about to drop out of it, about to ask if he wanted to set proper guidelines, and then she heard him say, “Yes, ma’am,” a growl deep in his throat.

Cassie smiled, and brought her wet fingers up to her mouth, flicking her tongue over them, tasting herself. She heard the scrape of the chair as he sat down, and sat up on her elbows. He was sitting with his hands clenching the chair-arms. His cock was jutting out of his lap.

For a second, she contemplated whether she should drop the tease. She could just stand up and lower herself on all that lovely length. But her fingers did feel good, and Manny was watching her with such hunger, his knuckles white with the force he was exerting to not touch herself or him.

The little cottage was almost silent. She could hear the crackle of the fire, the occasional gust of wind outside, Manny’s deliberately even breathing and her increasingly ragged gasps.

And the wet, sloppy sounds her body was making as she edged closer to her peak, her fingers moving faster and faster under her panties. The little scrap of fabric was holding up well, but she could tell it was shifting around, because Manny groaned every time he caught a glimpse of what was underneath.

“Cassie,” he said. “Cassie, please. Please come soon.”

“Ohhhhh,” Cassie sighed, and rolled over, trapping her hand beneath her body, letting the fur tickle and tease her skin, shoving her hips down to get more pressure, more, more, until she came in a blinding rush of sensation that drew every muscle tight. The orgasm released her, limp and dizzy, and she sprawled on the rug, giggling quietly to herself.

“Cassie? Can I—?”

“All right, now,” Cassie said lazily.

Manny jumped from the chair so fast it shot backwards. He grabbed at his discarded pants for a condom, and then he was on her from behind, lifting her hips with her dazed assistance until she was raised on her knees, face down in the fur, braced on her forearms. She heard the crackle of the condom wrapper, and then he slid between the open straps and into her in one deep, perfect stroke.

They groaned in unison.

“I’m not going to last,” he said raggedly. “These panties, Cassie, holy shit.”

“Go, go, go,” Cassie chanted, moving her hips back in rhythm to the words. “Slow later, fast now.”

“You got it,” Manny promised, and then he was driving into her with flattering enthusiasm, and a satisfying amount of force. Cassie tried to match the rhythm at first, and then gave up and enjoyed the ride as he stammered filthy endearments and surged into her, over and over again. She was just wondering whether she might like to add a little hand action to encourage her body along when Manny unexpectedly dropped one of his own hands from where they were firmly grasping her ass, and slipped it around her body.

He found her clit at once, and stroked it three times with exactly the right amount of pressure. As astounded as she was impressed, Cassie found herself coming on his cock, clenching around him just as he draped himself over her back and choked out her name, his hips stuttering

Her knees gave way, and they both collapsed. Fortunately, they were low enough to the floor that it didn’t matter. Manny withdrew and rolled onto his side to take the weight off, which Cassie thought was gentlemanly of him. She rolled as well, and took his hand when he draped his arm across her chest.

“I don’t know about you, but I thought that was pretty excellent,” she said after a long minute.

“I can’t think about anything right now,” Manny mumbled. “You blew my brains out.”

“Well, not yet,” Cassie said, mock-pedantic, and he growled in her ear, pressing close against her. “You know, this fur didn’t provide as much padding as I’d hoped. I think my knees are going to be bruised tomorrow.”

“Do you always talk after sex?”

“I talk in awkward situations. After sex is often an awkward situation.”

Manny raised up on one elbow. “Do you feel awkward?” he asked, looking mildly concerned.

“Hm. No, actually.” She idly stroked the thigh lying across her hips. “Didn’t you want to talk about something, anyway?”

“Oh, shit,” Manny said, and sat up. “Yes.”

They’d already established this was the kind of conversation they needed to be wearing clothes for, so Cassie gave up on the afterglow and headed upstairs to get into her pajamas. A gift from Laodice, they were emblazoned with dancing, cartoon breakfast foods, and she eyed the slice of toast cartwheeling across her left breast, then shrugged. Manny hadn’t complained about her clothing choices earlier, so he didn’t have grounds to object now.

When she came down again, Manny was dressed and in his stocking feet, adding another log to the fire.

“Really leaning into the cozy lumberjack aesthetic,” she said, and then saw the sober expression on his face. “Oh. Do I have to leave after all?”

“No,” Manny said. “That, I hope I would have managed to tell you before sex. But that’s about the only good news.” He sat down in one armchair, and gestured her to the other. Then he told her, in simple, stark language, about what his father had done and what his mother feared.

Cassie sat quietly for a moment, digesting the news. “I’m so sorry,” she said.

“Thank you,” Manny said, and shook his head. “I honestly—I know everyone must think this, but I genuinely can’t believe it. Dad adored Mom. I can’t think of any secret bad enough that it would drive him to do that, knowing that she’d be the one to find him.”

“Could your ancestors have enslaved people?” Cassie asked quietly.

“That’s what I thought of first,” Manny admitted. “But I don’t think so—the Pelopsons didn’t arrive until the 1830s, and slavery was illegal in the North then, right?”

Cassie grimaced, remembering the History seminar that had focused on the records of enslavement. And how weary her Black classmates had been at the shock of their white peers. “Not necessarily. The repeal of slavery was gradual, and in some Northern states slavery wasn’t formally outlawed until the 13th Amendment in 1865. There are records of enslaved persons up here in the 1840 Census.”

Manny stared at her. “That’s horrible.”

“Yes. The timing does mean it’s less likely, but not impossible. The records of slave dealers in the area might tell us something too. Do you want me to put in a request to the National Archives?”

“Yes. Thank you.” Manny rubbed his forehead. “What do people do, when they find out their ancestors were monsters?”

Cassie bit her lip. “A lot of them ignore it, or excuse it. Some add their voices to the national reparations movement. Some try to make private atonement, with scholarships or donations, maybe meeting their Black relatives. This isn’t my area of expertise, but I can put you in touch with some people.”

“But they don’t—” Manny took a deep breath. “Kill themselves?”

“I don’t know,” Cassie said helplessly. “I’m not a psychiatrist.”

“But there’d have to be something else too, right? Something underlying,” Manny said. “Like depression, or psychosis. Something we all missed.”

Cassie couldn’t think of anything to say. She let her sympathy inform her face, and went to him, standing before his chair, offering silent comfort.

Manny leaned into her, letting his head rest against her belly and she stroked his hair. She expected him to weep, but after a long moment he straightened and looked up at her. “I’m sorry,” he said. “You don’t owe me anything. We’ve barely started… Whatever this is. No expectations.”

“But we’re friends too,” Cassie said. “We are friends, right?”

Manny looked startled. “Yes,” he said. “I guess we are.” He smiled at her, and for a moment he looked much younger, a simple joy illuminating his face. “You’re a good friend, Cassie Troiades. But I’d better get going.”

Cassie nodded, and escorted him to the door. He pulled on his snow boots and outer layers and opened the door.

The light from the open door shone onto a whirling mass of snow. They both stared at that shifting wall of white, and then Manny shut the door. “Um, that’s a snowstorm,” he said.

“Holy shit,” Cassie said, awed. “How did that happen so fast?”

“There was supposed to be one forty miles east of here. I guess the line shifted.” He checked his phone and groaned slightly. “Yeah, the weather report updated an hour ago. Reduced visibility, travel warning, etcetera etcetera.”

“Well, you can’t go out in that,” Cassie said.

“If Mom turns all the lights on, I can probably get line of sight to the big house,” Manny began, but Cassie crossed her arms.

“Shouldn’t you stay here?” she asked. “Everyone in Weeping Rock has told me horror stories about blizzards ever since I arrived.”

“This isn’t a blizzard. Technically it’s only a severe snowstorm. And it’s only a five-minute walk.” His phone rang, and he winced, then held it to his ear. “Hello, Mother.”

Cassie mimed zipping her lips and sat down cross-legged on the rug. The fire was in the red-ember stage, glowing brightly in the stove, and she gazed into it while, obviously, eavesdropping for all she was worth.

“Yes, I am,” Manny said. “Mm. Yes. We talked about that. Really? I mean, okay. If you’re sure. No, I didn’t mean that you’re not—Yes. Yes, Mother. I love you too. Good night.” He hung up, and Cassie looked an inquiry at him.

“My mother just told me to stay with you tonight,” he said, looking adorably baffled.

Cassie unfolded herself and stood up. “Are you going to argue with both of us?” she asked.

Manny’s eyes crinkled with amusement. “I’m not that much of an idiot. Um, do you want your space upstairs? I could crash on the floor.” He looked doubtfully at the faux-fur throw, which had definitely lost some zip in their tussle.

“Don’t be silly,” Cassie said, and held her hands out to him. “Come to bed.”

He took her hands and leaned in to kiss her lightly. “Okay,” he said, his voice low. “By the way, I like the pajamas. The dancing bacon is a nice touch.”

“You be quiet,” Cassie said. “Or I won’t let you take them off in the morning.”

Cassie let him take her pajamas off in the morning, and they made love under the covers in the snug warmth of her bed cave. When they tried missionary, Manny hit his head twice on the ceiling, and Cassie flatly refused to try getting on top herself, so they ended up side by side, facing each other as he thrust in shallow strokes. He could feel her breasts and stomach pressing against him as he moved, and her top leg was wrapped over his hips, her strong thigh clutching him close. He felt totally wrapped up in her, feverish with heat.

He would have been happy to stay there a long, long time, watching Cassie’s beautiful face as they moved together. Her tousled curls bounced with the motion, her cheeks getting pinker and pinker. What had been teasing full sentences became urgent exhortations, and when she made a strangled noise in the back of her throat with no words at all attached, he grabbed her ass and yanked her hard against him. Cassie gasped, buried her head in the gap between his shoulder and neck, and clenched around him in shuddering waves.

And that, it turned out, he couldn’t resist. With her gripping him tightly, inside and out, he came in a sudden rush that momentarily whited out his vision.

When he blinked the sparks away, Cassie kissed him, sweet and gentle.

Then she slid away and out of the bed and headed briskly to the bathroom, all her rosy flesh bouncing in a way that would have been incredibly enticing if he hadn’t just thoroughly exhausted his ability to take advantage of it.

Manny flopped back and covered his face with his hands. That hadn’t been just sex. He’d even thought “making love,” like an idiot with no self-control. He wanted to sit with Cassie on the dock of Lake Lydia and tell her all his hopes and dreams. He wanted to hear all of hers. He wanted to tell her about Helen and how hard it was for him to trust, but how instantly he’d trusted her, and how this was surely a sign that they could be more than working friends with benefits, and all of this was a supremely terrible idea.

And not just because the dock at Lake Lydia would be covered in icy slush this morning.

He grabbed his phone and opened the file he kept in easy access. He’d used a throwaway email account when he’d written to Ask Cassandra, ashamed of his inability to leave Helen in the past. But Cassandra’s response had been as bracing as seawater, and he didn’t feel shame any more. She’d told him straight out. Helen hadn’t been as kind as she should have been. He wasn’t wrong or stupid to feel bad about what had happened. But if he wanted to move on, he had to stop telling the story of being the one left behind. He had to stop performing his shame, over and over, especially to people with whom he had a chance to tell a new story.

He read the email again, and deliberately put a cap on his emotions. There would be no impulsive revelations for Cassie. No spilling of his past trauma. He would keep things light and easy, or as light as they could be with the specter of his father and the possibility of terrible secrets haunting them both.

No expectations. No commitments.

When Cassie came back in, damp and clean from her shower, he gave her a friendly smile and got out of bed.

“Was I supposed to leave a tap dripping last night, or something?” Cassie asked, rubbing her hair. “I only realized when the hot water came on that I might need to worry about the pipes.”

Manny shook his head. “There’s heat tape on all the pipes here and in the big house.” Not in the carriage house, though, so it was a good thing he hadn’t turned the water mains on there yet. Another thing to add to his list.

“Heat tape?” Cassie said, and then waved at him. “Never mind, go take a shower and I’ll look it up.” She was already reaching for her laptop, so he got himself cleaned up and then wiped the condensation from the bathroom window to peek outside. Blue, blue skies, and white, white ground. It looked like about a foot of snowfall to his eye, though the weather app on his phone reported 10.5 inches. Either way, the county’s snow ploughs would be getting a workout this morning.

But visibility was fine. He could walk back to the big house, at the minor cost of cold feet and waterlogged pants.

He’d left his clothes in Cassie’s room. He slung a towel around his hips and went back in. Cassie was fully dressed, sitting on one of the two chairs and frowning at her laptop.

“Can’t find heat tape?” he asked.

“Hm?” she said, and then closed the laptop. “No. Just doing some freelance work. I’m behind on a few deadlines. Want to stay for breakfast?”

Yes. He very much did. “I’d better get going,” he said instead. “The vineyard will need hands today.”

“I didn’t even think of that. Is snow bad for the grapevines?”

“No, I don’t think so. If there isn’t too much in one fall, and if it doesn’t stick around too long. Otherwise we’d never have been able to grow grapes here in the first place. I’m not really the expert, though, and I know Theo likes to clear the ground between the rows before they get too much meltwater. Endless water is bad for the vines.” He dropped the towel and turned his back to put his clothes on. Cassie made appreciative noises and stood up behind him.

“What’s this?” she asked, touching the white mark that covered much of his shoulder blade. “I didn’t see that last night.”

“No, I was the one looking at your back,” Manny said, and grinned at her when she laughed. He threw his plaid on and buttoned it. “It’s just the Pelopson birthmark. Dad had one too. So did our grandfather. It’s not all of us—Theo and Augie don’t have it—but apparently it’s something we carried over from the old country.”

“What was your grandfather like? I only know him as the man who liked green suede notebooks.”

Manny sat on the edge of the second chair to put his socks on. “I didn’t know him very well, but I remember him always being happy to see Augie and me. A few things my parents and Theo have said have made me think he might not have been as good a dad as he was a granddad.” He looked at her. “Don’t try to get to the big house until the snow’s been cleared, okay? I’ll borrow the vineyard tractor once we’re done, and plough a track for you.”

Cassie clutched her heart. “My hero.”

She was joking, of course, but Manny experienced a treacherous upswelling in his own heart. “Okay, see you later,” he said, and pressed a deliberately casual kiss to her forehead.

Manny had expected Theo to be at his grouchiest, but in fact, he was jovial, joking with the permanent hands and clapping Manny on the shoulder when he turned up. “Told you he’d be here, Jim,” he told the manager, and turned to Manny. “You’re on shovel duty.”

“We’re digging out the vines by hand?”

“It’s not so bad. There’s less snowfall between the rows, and the two fields on the other side of the hill only got a light dusting. We won’t bother with them.”

Manny looked around the equipment shed. Jim and his men were all bundled up, nearly indistinguishable in their snow jackets, gloves and goggles. But he could clearly make out there were only four of them, plus himself and Theo.

Theo caught the look. “Don’t look so worried. It’s a snow day at the high school, so Jim and I have made a few calls to some of the townie kids.”

“They’ll be here once the highways are cleared,” Jim said gruffly. He was a taciturn man who seemed just as unenthusiastic about Manny’s ideas as Theo was, if much less vocal about it. But he was eying Manny with new interest, as if a puppy had just learned a new trick, and might turn out to be trainable after all.

“Sounds great,” Manny said. “Do we have a standard casual labor contract? Do we just adapt the one for picking in summer?”

Jim grunted and turned away, but Theo laughed. “No, Manny. This isn’t the city. We don’t have to put them through an HR workshop or whatever. They turn up, they dig, they go home with fifty dollars each and a bottle of wine for their moms.”

“Um,” Manny said. “Can I talk to you in the office for a second?”

Theo rolled his eyes but came along. “Don’t you tell me you need a contract for some kids to do some digging,” he said. “Kids do this kind of thing for pocket money all the time.”

“Sure, in their neighborhoods,” Manny said, trying to keep exasperation out of his voice. “But this is a working farm. There are liability issues, we’ve got tax obligations—”

“Taxes? What, you want them to give us their social security numbers and let the IRS know about it?”

“Yes,” Manny said. “I absolutely do, because that is the law.”

Theo narrowed his eyes. “We’ve always done it this way. No contracts, no taxes, strictly cash only. Your father never thought it was an issue. Hell, you used to shovel snow yourself. You didn’t have a problem with it then, you and Augie and your buddies.”

“I was a teenager then, not a part-owner of the company,” Manny said. “And now we’re in the middle of probate. I just filed several federal and state tax returns on behalf of Dad and the estate. Theo, if we get audited…”

“We won’t be,” Theo said dismissively, but he dropped eye contact, shifting away. “Fine. I guess I’m just an old man who doesn’t know shit about the business he’s been running for nearly forty years.”

“Theo, I only want to—”

“You draw up your contracts, you do whatever you think you need to do,” Theo said, and then he stepped right up to Manny, his eyes glaring from his wrinkled face. “You can pay them, how about that? With the money you earned being the manager at your fancy hotel.”

Manny could think of half a dozen reasons the IRS might take issue with that, too, but it wasn’t worth the fight. “Sure, I’ll make a transfer tomorrow,” he said evenly. “Can I use your computer to create and print the contracts here?”

“No, you can’t,” Theo said. “Because that’s only twenty-five percent your computer. It’s fifty percent my computer, and twenty-five percent Augie’s, and if I called him right now and said, Manny’s throwing his weight around like a little shithead, he’d tell you where the fuck you should put your contracts and audits and cellar door expansions.” He was practically vibrating with unconcealed aggression, and Manny was suddenly worried he’d throw a punch, or have a heart attack.

“Okay,” he said, backing away. “I’ll go back to the house and do it. I’ll be back in an hour.”

“You do that,” Theo said, and he stalked out of the office, slamming the door behind him. Manny gave him a few minutes, and then followed. He wasn’t surprised to see Theo had taken his shovel and vanished, along with the hands, but he was surprised that Jim had lingered.

The manager nodded at him, and Manny nodded back. “Sorry to disrupt your process,” he said. He was sorry for the disruption. It would have been so much easier to give each kid they hired fifty bucks. Unfortunately, easy wasn’t always better.

“He misses your dad,” Jim said.

“So do I,” Manny said. “But I’m less of an asshole about it.”

Jim cracked a smile. “Well, Theo’s got a head start on being an asshole. We’ll see what you’re like in your sixties. Anyway, point is, Arthur followed Theo’s lead most of the time. Theo’s got fifty percent ownership, sure, but he’s been doing ninety percent of the work for years. He got to thinking of Tantalus as his baby.”

Manny rubbed the bridge of his nose and stepped a little closer to the space heater. It was probably futile, given that he was going to have to trudge back to the main house in a moment. “I understand how he feels. I really do. But the truth is, Tantalus isn’t just his baby. We’ve got a shared custody agreement. And he’s pushing back on literally everything I suggest, even the things that I know make sense. The cellar door expansion, for example. Hospitality is literally my job. Hard as he might find it to believe, I do actually know what I’m talking about there.”

Jim blew air out through his mouth, not disagreeing. “You want some advice?”

“Sure.”

“He’s protective of the vineyard in general, but the cellar door is his special toy. He came up with the idea, he managed, stocked and staffed it, did the advertising, took on the accounts, all of that. Only time I ever saw him really throw down with your dad was when Arthur suggested expanding the store and hiring someone to staff it during the summer, instead of Theo doing it all.”

Manny frowned. “Why would he object to that? There’s easily enough profit to justify hiring an attendant during the busy season, and it would free Theo up for whatever else he wanted to be doing.”

“He claimed making changes could ruin a good thing,” Jim said, and eyed Manny significantly.

“Sometimes change is necessary.”

“I don’t disagree. I took a look at those resources you recommended on organic growth. Might be worth trying.”

Manny straightened from where he was holding his hands out to the heat. “Really?”

“Really. Can’t claim I’m much of a hippie, but I can see the science works.”

It was the first informed validation he’d had, and Manny felt the relief like a gust of wind blowing through him. “Thank you,” he said, more fervently than he’d meant to reveal.

“Change isn’t always bad. But Theo doesn’t take it well. If you want him to take organic growth seriously, and I think I can probably get him there, my advice is to leave him something that’s just his, you get me?”

“Leave him the cellar door?” Manny said.

Jim nodded. “Honestly, a lot of time I’ve gone by and seen him in there just reading a book by himself, no customers. I think he needs that.”

Manny frowned. “Thanks for telling me.”

“You’ve got your own project to worry about anyway. How’s the carriage house going?”

“Good. Augie says he and the family can come up next month, and he’ll help me clear the rest of the big stuff out. In the meantime, I’ve got Appleton Construction drawing up the plans and Simon at the Midas Bank is looking over the loan proposal.”

“Sounds like a lot of spinning plates,” Jim said. “Do you really need to be working on the cellar door too?”

Manny sighed. “Maybe not.”

“Just something to think about.”

“I will think about it,” Manny said, and made good on it by mulling the idea over on his trudge back to the big house.

He didn’t blame Theo wanting something for himself, but he could have gone after that in a dozen different ways. He could have picked up a million hobbies, like Arthur, or got a job of his own, like Aerope. Manny and Augie had both left Tantalus entirely. Theo didn’t need to oversee the vineyard—that was why they had Jim in the first place.

Or maybe Manny wasn’t thinking about it right. As far as he could figure out from his recent conversations with his uncle, Theo had never been encouraged to find his own passions. Even when Theo had moved out into his own place, far later than most of his contemporaries had left their childhood homes, it had been to a bachelor pad just down the highway. Perhaps Theo couldn’t envisage anything for himself but Tantalus.

Manny remembered his uncle’s face, staring into the dying sun as he spoke about his father’s refusal to send him to college, the half-wistful, half-resigned twist to his mouth. Perhaps the cellar door was a way to tell himself that he was helping the family business, even as he carved out a place for himself. And he certainly wasn’t hurting the family business—in the summer, especially, the cellar door made real money.

Manny didn’t like it, but Jim was right. Maybe if he let Theo win this fight, he’d give way on some of the others.

“Let it go,” he muttered to himself, and went inside to draw up the contracts.

The teenagers Theo had so cavalierly offered to hire comprised half the football team, a number of track and field stars, two competition swimmers, and one moody goth girl whose eyeliner turned into giant raccoon smears within ten minutes of sweating it out with the shovel. The kids had all signed their proffered contracts, looking a lot more cheerful about not getting paid in cash as soon as they realized that Manny was also offering them an hourly rate just over the state minimum wage. One of the boys had pointed out, in hushed tones, that they’d get a much bigger payday.

Theo had given Trace and her spindly arms a dubious look, but she turned out to be a tireless worker. She couldn’t go at the speed Herc employed as he shoveled gigantic loads into the sled they were tugging along, but she was much more careful, following along behind him to clear snow closer to the vines, without risking any damage to them. Jim wanted them to keep a layer of snow untouched on top of the soil, so the work went much faster than Manny had anticipated—they were essentially just scooping off last night’s fall, and that hadn’t had time to compact down into hard ice.

“Why are we keeping some snow?” Manny asked quietly. He would normally have asked Theo, but he was at the other end of the field, setting a furious pace. Besides, he’d given his uncle enough opportunities to upbraid him for ignorance today.

“Insulation,” Jim said, equally quietly. “A little snow is good. Keeps the soil hydrated, blasts the fungi and pests. If the soil has no protection, and there’s a hard frost, roots might freeze. But if there’s too much snow and we get a warm patch, then we’re dealing with excess meltwater, and then we’re dealing with rot and mildew.” He gave Manny a curious look. “Didn’t Arthur ever talk about this stuff with you boys?”

“Not really,” Manny said. He was apparently even more ignorant than he’d thought. He probably should take a viticulture course, or at the very least, do some determined reading in the field.

Or ask Jim, who didn’t seem to take questions as insults.

With the enthusiasm of the teenagers and the expertise of the hands, they cleared the vines by mid-afternoon. Jim offered the teens a trip back to the packing shed in the back of the vineyard truck, and a bunch of them crammed into the bed, chattering. Manny elected to walk, and arrived to discover that Aerope had also been busy. She’d set up a folding table, and covered it with a massive pot of chili and plastic containers filled with topping options.

Cassie was standing beside her, bundled up in one of Manny’s old jackets, carefully putting massive chunks of cornbread in paper bowls before Aerope ladled chili over top.

The teens had descended en masse, and for a moment Manny lost sight of her.

Just as well, because that momentary glimpse of her had given him those inconvenient chest feelings again. By the time he got in line behind Herc Stormson, who was already going up for his second helping, Manny had gotten his brain back together. He smiled at her in a way that he hoped conveyed “thank you for your assistance” with a glint of “I hope to see you naked later.” Absolutely no hints of “I think I’m falling for you,” not here, no thank you, ma’am.

“I see you got dragooned,” he said instead. He’d hoped his mother’s attitude towards Cassie would have softened after the revelations yesterday, but if Cassie had been pressured into coming along, that was something else he’d have to deal with. The vineyard wasn’t her job.

“I volunteered, actually,” Cassie said, and tilted her head at Aerope. “I can’t cook worth a damn, and the smells coming from downstairs were so good that I would have gladly traded more than help lugging things around for a shot at that chili.”

“I’m grateful for the assistance,” Aerope said, and to Manny’s practiced ear she sounded genuine.

“Are there animal products in this?” Trace said, eying the chili askance, and Manny got out of the way while Aerope assured her that it was a four-bean chili, and that even the stock was a beef-like substitute with no actual cow in it. After that Trace devoured two bowls.

When Aerope produced two massive trays of brownies, with the twinkling air of a whimsical magician, she secured her place forever in the hearts of the youth.

“Thanks so much for this, Mrs. Pelopson,” Herc said earnestly, then darted a glance towards Cassie. “Mrs. Pelopsons, I mean.”

“Ms. Troiades,” Cassie said, looking faintly alarmed.

“Oh,” Herc said, and stared back and forth between Manny and Cassie, clearly confused.

“If you want to thank me, you can bring those overdue books back, Hercules,” Aerope said, rescuing them both, and Manny let out a breath as Herc mumbled a promise to clean his room and find the books as soon as he got home.

“Thrace, dear, I got in that Interlibrary Loan about the Associated Daughters of Early American Witches,” Aerope added.

The girl beamed at her. “Thank you, Mrs. Pelopson,” she said, sounding suddenly very All-American.

“I thought her name was Trace,” Manny confessed, once the kids had all piled into their various vehicles and driven off, with fervent promises to come back whenever Tantalus needed their services again.

Aerope wrapped foil around the last two brownies. “Well, I believe it was Tracey Hopkins originally. But she’s been using Thrace for a while now, and I like to keep up with these things. Lovely girl. Very bright. Reads widely.”

This, Manny knew, was his mother’s highest compliment. He was trying to figure out a subtle way of escorting Cassie home without a chaperone, but Aerope piled the empty trays in his arms and nodded towards the ATV she’d commandeered to clear the road to the manor house. “You and Cassie head on home. I need to have a quick word with Theo.”

Manny lost no time taking her up on the offer, enjoying the squish of Cassie behind him as she held on tight. The grumbling chug of the engine cut down on conversation, but he got to enjoy her arms around his waist all the way back to the guesthouse, where she jumped off the back of the ATV.

“I’m going to speed up the overall survey,” she said. “Should be done by the end of tomorrow, and then I can start taking a look into…. Uh. Areas of interest.”

Right. There was maybe something awful in the archives, and he’d set her to finding it. Manny’s good mood soured a little.

“I’ll need an early start,” Cassie added. “I don’t think we should do a sleepover tonight.”

“Oh. Of course.”

“So, do you want to come in now?” she said, her tone entirely matter-of-fact. She was wearing his old jacket with the patched sleeve, she had a hat jammed over her curls, her nose was red from the cold, and Manny was half-hard already.

He should say no. He should give himself some space. He should let the hormones settle down and think with his brain for a while.

“Yes, I do,” he said, and followed her inside.