Chapter 11
Chapter Eleven
FRANKIE
Y ou know when a fly’s been buzzing around a room that you’re in, and even after it’s flown out, you can still seem to hear it? Well, all this afternoon, I’ve been bugged, so to speak, by the phantom buzz of Danny Durant. After he stormed off in a huff this morning, I didn’t see him again. I know he was in the office because Nate came back to the house to nail Shelby down to a winemaking schedule. Shelby’s more a seat-of-the-pants operator, which drives methodical Nate insane, but they worked it out together with minimum fuss, even though I did see Nate pause for a few deep breaths during the discussion. I’m not sure Shelby’s blood pressure is the only one under strain here, but it’s not my place to say.
Afterwards, Shelby and Nate went to meet Cam to talk winemaking and barrels and stuff, and I was left to my own devices. I decided to set up my home brewing kit in the shed space Shelby earmarked for me. I could have brought more gear, but my car is small, so I packed the basics: kettle, hydrometer, couple of carboys, testing jar, stirrer, sanitizer, and, of course, bottles and caps. I didn’t bring all the ingredients I need with me because I want to check out what’s available around here. Might visit the new local craft brewery Nate mentioned. It’ll probably be run by a couple of blowhard bearded dudes sporting beanies and tattoo sleeves, but their beer was pretty good, so I’ll chance it.
I sound super chill, don’t I? But no matter what I did today, the whole time, my mind kept circling back to Danny. I’d expected to see him back at the house at the end of the day, and when he didn’t appear, I confess I went to the office looking for him. I had no idea how I was going to explain myself, but as it turned out, I didn’t have to. Office was empty. Pride meant I couldn’t bring myself to ask Nate or Shelby where he’d gone, so I cooked dinner for us three, and ate it hoping that somebody would comment on his whereabouts. And then I had to excuse myself because when I’m frustrated, I am not my best self.
“You all right, Frankie?” Shelby asked me, as I headed upstairs early.
“Sure,” I said. “I think the long drive has caught up with me.”
“Okay,” said Shelby. “Sleep well!”
Spoiler: I did not sleep well. I didn’t even try to sleep. I heard Nate and Shelby head up to bed around ten, and I continued to lie awake for hours, wondering where Danny was, but most of all, wondering why the heck I cared.
End result: this morning, I’m a grouch. I have a cold shower to see if that helps. Now I’m shivering as well as grumpy. I dress and schlep downstairs to the kitchen, only to be greeted by my ever-cheerful sister.
“Hey!” she says. “Coffee?”
Why not? I can be cold, grumpy, and now wired.
“Granola or eggs?” Shelby asks.
“Eggs!”
Why did she even ask? She knows my views on the edibility of seeds and nuts.
Shelby’s unfazed. “I’ll make them scrambled, and not too sloppy, the way you like them.”
“You’re the best sister in the world,” I say, and I mean it. I’m starting to feel better. No bad mood can withstand the combination of Shelby’s sunny nature and her coffee.
“Nate out organizing?” I ask.
“He and Danny have actually gone to visit their parents,” says Shelby. “Their dad, Mitch, kind of insisted they went. They’ll take their mom out for lunch. Mitch will stay home because he’s a little … obsessive about what he eats. They’ll be back for dinner.”
So, that’s another whole day I won’t see him. Damnit, what’s wrong with me? Why do I care?
Shelby places a plate of eggs in front of me. She’s spooned the scrambled eggs into two piles to make eyes and curved bacon rashers underneath to make a smile.
“Cute,” I say. “Sorry for being bad-tempered. More than usual, I mean.”
“You’re probably still tired,” says Shelby, sitting down to her own eggs. “Unless it’s something else?”
My sister doesn’t have a sneaky bone in her body, but I still go on the defensive. “What kind of something?”
She frowns. “Well, I know it’s hard for you to be back here. At first, I was sure I wouldn’t ask you, because it didn’t seem fair to put you in this position. But I really needed family, and?—”
“Mom wasn’t here,” I say, bluntly. “So you were stuck with me.”
“No! You were my first choice!”
“I was?” My sister is a horrible liar, so I know she means it. I’m just confused that she chose me over Mom. “Can I ask why?”
Shelby pinkens with embarrassment.
“Okay, here’s the truth,” she says, rapidly. “I’m glad Mom’s overseas right now. She’s great, don’t get me wrong, but I always feel like she wishes we’d sold Flora Valley Wines. That it was gone and out of the family forever. I feel…” Shelby gets to grips with her thoughts. “I feel like Mom genuinely has to force herself to visit me here. Like being back here saps her soul or something. Does that sound crazy?”
No, it does not. A little woo, but fundamentally sane. I tend not to share personal stuff with anyone, especially family, but this revelation of Shelby’s has sparked one in me.
“She was over the winery life years ago,” I say. “All my childhood, I felt like she wasn’t present . Like her body was here but her inner being was somewhere else.”
“Oh, Frankie.” Shelby looks stricken. “I always worried that you felt you were on your own.”
She reaches out and squeezes my hand. “I’m so sorry. I should have been a better older sister.”
“How?” I’m not saying it to be rude. “We were all in the same boat. Caught between parents who loved us, sure, but didn’t value us, not really. Mom and Dad never saw us as us. As Jackson, Tyler, Shelby, and Frankie. We were cogs in the big Armstrong family/Flora Valley Wines machine. We were Borg. No individual identity.”
I’ve gone too far. Shelby’s face is all pale and tight. Teach me to break my rule about sharing personal stuff.
“Ignore me,” I say, brusquely. “I’m in a bad mood. Let’s talk about something else.”
Shelby is never upset for long. Sometimes, I marvel that we’re related.
“How about you and I go somewhere for lunch?” she suggests. “Somewhere close, so I don’t get overtired. Like Iris’s café? Or The Silver Saddle? We could get a burger there.”
I wonder where Danny, Nate and their mom are going to be. Probably that upmarket place in the center of Martinburg that sells chi-chi kitchen wares. It’s well patronized by ladies who lunch.
Before I can respond, Shelby’s phone beeps. Again, she frowns.
“It’s Chiara,” she says. “But I’ve no idea what she means. It says, ‘ One down. One to go .’”
Chiara, Jordan, and Shelby have been a ride-or-die trio since elementary school. They were nice enough to me growing up, but I was never going to be invited into their group. I had my own friends at school, but we’ve all long since drifted apart. Chiara, Jordan, and Shelby will be tight forever. And, yep, I’m envious.
I’m also wary of Chiara. Jordan’s like Shelby, outgoing, cheerful, and kind. Chiara likes knowing things you don’t, and she uses her beauty as a weapon. As I said, both of Shelby’s besties treated me well, but I’ve always had the sense that Chiara views me like a cute, short, bad-tempered toy, an angry Furby. One she could play with, if she had the mind.
Shelby texts a reply. Another beep. “Oh, goody. Chiara can come to lunch, too! She gets off at twelve thirty, so we’ll meet her at The Silver Saddle at one.”
Oh. Goody.