CHAPTER ELEVEN #2
“She was thirty,” I said matter-of-factly.
“That’s criminal,” Austin said.
“Which was why she went to prison.”
“And she’s still there?” Honor asked.
Shit.
“No. She just made parole yesterday. Which means she will be—or has been—released from prison. However, there will be rules regarding her release. She’ll have a parole officer she’ll need to check in with, and won’t be able to leave the state of Florida. I’m sure there are other rules too.”
“Was that why Principal Paul went all squirrelly at game night?” Austin asked.
“Partially.”
He blew out a breath. “Jeez.”
“You’re not seventeen years older than him, right?” Honor asked. “Just eleven.”
I nodded. “It’s still a big gap, but not as big as the one with his stepmom.”
“Is it weird?” Austin asked.
“Is what weird?”
“Knowing that stuff about him now?”
I shook my head. “No. I have a greater understanding of why he reacted the way he did last night. And now I know why he’s so protective of his and Mabel’s privacy.”
“Could her mom come and try to take her?” Honor asked.
“That is a fear. But that’s why he moved here. To be as far away from her as possible.”
Honor made a disgusted face. “Doesn’t seem far enough to me. Should have moved to Alaska, or Hawaii, or Antarctica.”
“We can’t put ourselves through misery forever running from our past. That’s how we let it win.
He heard about the job posting, heard about how wonderful our island is, and decided to make the move.
Hopefully, it was the right one. Hopefully, it was far enough away.
We just have to make sure they feel as safe and welcomed as possible. ”
“Jolene Dandy can not find out about their secret,” Honor said. “The whole island will know.”
I had to smile at how organically we managed to circle around to the topic I wished to discuss in the first place. “Well, funny that you should bring up The Island Mouth—”
“Oh no!” Honor’s eyes widened again. “She already knows?”
“About Lennox and me, yes. I was at his house this afternoon, and who should just pop in to pay him a visit and meet Mabel but The Island Mouth herself.”
“I don’t think Jolene would understand Mabel’s … Mabelness,” Honor said. “She’d be mean to her.”
Austin nodded and ladled Alfredo sauce onto the pile of fettuccini on his plate. “Jolene would think Mabel was weird and tell the whole island. But she’s not weird. She’s autistic. There’s a difference.”
Honor speared a chicken breast from the tray in the middle and put it onto her plate. “What would happen if Mabel’s mom came here? Would she try to take Mabel away from Mr. Paul?”
“I don’t know the answer to that, honey. It’s hard to guess how the mind of somebody as … horrible as that works. I hope not.”
“Me too,” she muttered. Then her eyes lit up. “We should have them over for dinner.”
This time it wasn’t just air in my mouth. I nearly choked on my fettuccini. “Uh … it might be a little early for that.”
She wrinkled her little button nose. “Why? We already had dinner and a games night with them last night. Why would it be weird?”
“That was a group of us. If we had them for dinner, it would just be the five of us. You don’t think it’s a little early for that kind of thing?”
Her shoulder bounced as she cut up her chicken. “I don’t think so. I like Mabel. I had fun hanging out with her at Tom’s today. Portia loved her.”
Austin snorted. “But did she like Portia?”
“She was more interested in the different species of ducks Tom has, but she didn’t ignore Portia.”
And just like that, the difficult conversation I’d been dreading to have with my children was over.
I was sure there would be follow-up questions—particularly from Honor—down the road, but as far as disclosing my relationship with Lennox, and even the sensitive topic of Mabel’s parentage, were concerned, it all went better than I ever could have expected.
They were accepting of my new relationship, and accepting of Mabel.
Now, all we had to do was work on keeping Lennox’s age a secret from the island, and the existence of one Kyla Tupper-Murchie more hush-hush than Voldemort.
It was Monday afternoon, and I was busy in the tasting room.
We opened the vineyard for tastings and tours on Saturday, and there was still a lot to do in the next five days to get ourselves ready.
Luckily, it was all-hands-on-deck. Maverick was pressure-washing the stones for the patio while Gabrielle weeded the flowerbeds.
Raina and Danica had just arrived back from the garden center with Tom’s truck loaded up with plants to pot in all the beds and planters, while Tom and I worked together on the patio and in the tasting room to change out the burnt-out lightbulbs and sweep away the cobwebs and dust.
Normally, Jagger would have pitched in too, only he had some brewery business to attend to with his brothers, but he said he would be by a bit later to help.
Our seasonal staff was set to arrive tomorrow, but we wanted to get as much done as possible before they showed up so that we could spend the rest of the week training. The vineyard was always a bit of a mess in the spring as well and would need tending too. So we’d send the staff out to do that.
“That young girl, Mabel, is very smart,” Tom remarked as he handed me a new bulb while I balanced on the ladder in the middle of the tasting room. “She loves birds, si?”
“Loves them,” I confirmed.
“She has the autism?”
I smirked softly at the way he said “the autism.”
“Did Austin tell you? Or did Mabel?”
“I guessed. It is not something she is able to hide very well. Nor should she. But it is very strong with her.” He chuckled.
“No eye contact. Very direct. Very polite, but very blunt. As a European, I am used to it, but I will guess that Americans don’t always take kindly to such bluntness. They see it as rude. I do not.”
“We can be a sensitive lot sometimes.”
He made a noise of agreement in his throat and held the ladder firmly as I climbed down, then moved it six feet to the left so I could replace another bulb on the modern hammered metal and iron light fixture.
I climbed the ladder again. “She is a good kid though.”
“Si. I saw that on Saturday and Sunday. Even though she likes birds, the horses responded to her well. Even little Mouse. And Mouse doesn’t trust easily.”
“No, she doesn’t.” Mouse was a sweet, albeit skittish, little gray horse with a sad past and timid nature. “That’s great that Mouse considers Mabel a human she can trust. How is she doing anyway? Will she let anyone but Danica ride her yet?”
“No. She has let me pet her a few times now. And Sam can feed her and brush her. I am wondering if it was a man—or men—that were cruel to her, and she has a fear of men. She takes to women much easier. Even when Cameron, or Maverick comes into the barn, Mouse hides in the corner. But when Francesca or any girl or woman comes in, Mouse does not hide.”
“Could be. It would make sense why she hasn’t warmed to you yet.”
“Maverick suggested we invite Lennox over for our beer night. What do you think?”
I handed him the burnt-out bulb. “Why are you asking me?”
He smirked. “Because you two are friendly and testing the sauce of a relationship.”
“Testing the water. But how did you know?”
“I have the eyes. I see the things.”
I shot him a look when he handed me the new bulb. “What things did you see?”
“The looks. The flirting. And when he was milking you like a cow, both of your faces were redder than a Sangiovese.”
My cheeks instantly filled with heat. “He wasn’t milking me like a cow. When you say it like that, it sounds horrible.”
“Fine. He was making you milk a cow that did not exist. But if you didn’t have feelings for him, you would not have been so pink in the face. Nor would he.”
“You’re too observant for my own good, Tommaso Barone.”
He held the ladder steady for me so I could climb down, and we moved outside to the next set of burnt-out bulbs. “Do you think he would want to join us for a beer at my property tonight?”
“Are you inviting him with the hope of his joining your boys’ club?”
“We are men. And it is not a club. We simply get together and drink a beer each from Jagger’s brewery and discuss how lucky we are to be in love with such strong, smart, beautiful women.”
I snorted so hard I nearly fell off the second rung of the ladder. “I call bullshit.”
“I shit no bulls.”
“Well, something smells. You three get together and discuss how to manage us. How to deal with our strong opinions and independence.”
“We do not.” His face was a mask of innocence, but I knew better.
My cousins and I weren’t shrinking violets or doormats.
We’d been both for too many years under the thumbs of our fathers and husbands that now we gave zero fucks and took zero prisoners.
We lived in a constant state of peaceful survival mode.
Our children, our safety, and our winery were our utmost priority, and God help anybody who got in our way or threatened us.
“Fine. Whatever. Invite him to your men’s social evening. Just don’t expect him to crack open like a softshell crab and spill all of his secrets.”
He gave me a strange look. “We would never do something like that. Secrets are secrets for a reason. If he wants us to know them, then he can tell us.”
“What’s this about secrets?” Gabrielle asked, a smudge of dirt on her forehead, as she crouched down in the corner of the patio and stuffed fuchsia starters into a round planter that we’d hang on the pergola.
“None of your business,” I shot back at her.
She rolled her amber eyes.
We were able to talk without yelling at each other now because Maverick had stopped with the pressure washer and was now using the broom to sweep up all the crud and debris he’d unstuck from the pavers.
“Naomi says we can invite Lennox to beer night,” Tommaso said to Gabrielle.
Maverick glanced over and stopped his sweeping. “Yeah? Hey, how old do you reckon he is? Think he’s older than me or younger?”
My cousin, her boyfriend, and the Italian silver fox all frowned in thought.