Chapter 2
Ivy finished packing her car, satisfied that in this second time, she’d combed through her things and was only taking the absolute essentials to Lost Creek. She had left Houston a month ago with two suitcases and a few art supplies and driven to her childhood home, where her parents had welcomed her with open arms. She had even moved into her old bedroom as she had taken over management of the tasting room, where she had met employees Sarah and Melanie, two sisters who worked various shifts. They were in their mid-forties, their kids out of the house and in college, and they had both decided to work part time since they had more free time on their hands. Ivy liked them quite a bit and had found the women knowledgeable about wines, especially those produced at Lost Creek Winery.
Now, she was renting a house in town, a few blocks off the square, with Harper and Braden Clark, the tall, rangy Californian with sky-blue eyes who was the vineyard’s new viticulturist. Braden was a quiet man, thoughtful and deliberate, and the best cook she knew. He had agreed to cook for the trio, while Ivy and Harper would handle the housekeeping. Braden was becoming a good friend to her, but Ivy sensed the sparks smoldering between him and Harper. Hopefully, with her in Houston this weekend, the pair might have enough time alone to figure out they were attracted to one another—and act upon it.
She walked to the leasing office and dropped her keys in the slot, having spoken to the manager yesterday. Her lease would end in four days. Obviously, she would not be renewing it. Over the weekend, Ivy had hauled several sacks of clothes to the local Salvation Army, as well as donating what little furniture and kitchenware she had to one of her neighbors who had recently graduated from college and was starting from scratch. What she brought home with her this time included several art books, as well as her winter clothes, coats, and boots. These items would certainly fill up her closet and the chest of drawers in the rental.
Because Braden had agreed to move in with them, Ivy hadn’t been able to use the third bedroom as her art studio. She decided she would look for some space in town this next week, determined to return to painting. The tasting room was running smoothly now, and she had contributed her ideas to the new tasting room which would be built at the same time the event center was constructed. Harper had hired Trey Watson to design both, and the two sisters had met with Trey, explaining what they wanted.
After seeing Trey’s finished plans, Ivy was glad Harper had hired him as their architect. At first, she had been wary of Trey working so closely with them, but he made it clear that he had parted ways with Atherton Armistead. Trey had incorporated not only their ideas into both spaces, but he had used many natural elements from the Hill Country to bring a unique perspective to both buildings. The current tasting room, which shared space with her parents’ offices, would become Harper’s headquarters for Weddings with Hart, her event planning business.
The new tasting room would be almost three times as large as the current one. Along with the typical tasting bar, it offered seated spaces for wine tastings, as well as a couple of areas for visitors to sit and enjoy any extra glasses of wine purchased after their tasting. She was working with The Cheese Connoisseur now, and they had created tasting plates that were an additional cost to the wine tastings, but the plates added a nice element to the experience. So far, they had proven to be a successful addition. In the new space, they would have ample room to refrigerate these pre-made plates, as well as carry additional cheeses and fruits. Ivy already stopped by the new construction of the building every day and was eager to keep her eye on the progress being made.
Harper also had Trey add a large patio to the tasting room being built. It would be covered and have seating for those who wanted to stop by and buy a bottle of wine and sit outside, enjoying the weather and some wine. An outdoor bar would be available for buying wine by the glass or bottle, along with soft drinks and Cecily Hart’s famous lemonade for children and non-drinkers. In addition, picnic tables would be scattered throughout the area adjacent to the tasting room. Harper’s intention was to eventually have local bands play on Friday and Saturday nights, encouraging people to bring picnic baskets. Of course, baskets would also be available for purchase at the tasting room.
Ivy had been the one to push for the addition of a gift shop. She had gotten online and viewed other wineries and what they offered and was determined to get Lost Creek Vineyards merchandise into the hands of people who visited the winery. Her suggestion of wearing shirts with the Lost Creek Vineyards label had been enthusiastically accepted, as well. Some of the merchandise would be displayed at the tasting bar, and she would direct those who wanted to purchase it to head to the adjacent gift shop. Trey had thought her idea of locating the restrooms at the rear of the gift shop brilliant, with people having to pass by all the goodies to reach the restrooms.
Already, she had stocked some of the items at the current tasting bar, simply to get a feel for what moved and didn’t. On display were ball caps, T-shirts, and golf shirts, as well as few bar items such as corkscrews and wineglasses with the Lost Creek Vineyards brand etched into them. Her father, who would soon turn over winemaking duties to Braden once the current crop of grapes was harvested in a few months, would then concentrate all his efforts on sales and marketing. In the past, he had managed both. Bill Hart already had Ivy working on some new labels for the upcoming blends and updating the current logos for the reds and whites the winery produced.
She liked this design work, wanting to freshen the family’s brand and make it more appealing to customers. Ivy was also working on designing Harper’s website and would be overhauling the winery’s website, too. While she liked using her artistic talents in these endeavors, she was determined to get back to painting. Returning home to Lost Creek and taking the job as tasting room manager would give her time to paint, especially now that the work on the new tasting room had begun. She had free time on her hands, and she was itching to dip her brushes into paint and begin to create. Painting filled her soul. After years of neglecting it because of the hours she put in at the art gallery, Ivy was ready to listen to her heart and follow her true calling.
Since she hadn’t had the time to spend her salary on things most people in their twenties did, other than on some nice outfits to wear as she hosted events at the gallery, she easily had enough in savings to be able to rent a place in which to paint. Of course, she would also be out and about in the Hill Country sketching, and she knew she would do some of her painting outdoors, especially since the weather was warming up. Even so, she wanted a studio where she could work, as well as store her supplies and finished canvases. Her goal was to find a spot by the end of this coming week.
She reached the restaurant where she was meeting Arlo and Paloma for brunch, then she would drive back to Lost Creek. While she was looking forward to seeing her friends, she knew they would want to gossip about work.
That was the last thing Ivy wanted to hear about.
Still, they had been good friends for several years, and Arlo and Paloma had supported her in so many ways at the art gallery. If they needed to gripe, she would offer a sympathetic ear.
Entering the restaurant, she stopped at the hostess stand and gave her name.
“Ah, yes, your party has already arrived. Follow me,” said the hostess, leading Ivy to a prime spot. On the way, she passed several buffet tables, eyeing the chicken and waffles and Eggs Benedict.
Arlo shot to his feet the moment he spied her. “Ivy!” he cried, wrapping his arms about her and kissing her on both cheeks.
Paloma was waiting for the moment her brother released Ivy, and she did the same, their Italian heritage showing in their exuberant greeting.
“Have a seat, mio dolce amico,” enthused Paloma, and Ivy knew from her years being in their company that Paloma had called her my sweet friend.
Arlo held out a chair for her, and they took their seats as a server appeared.
“A mimosa? Or a Bellini?” he asked.
“A Bellini,” she agreed to, thinking those would be scarce in Lost Creek, where neither the Lone Star Diner or Country Hearth served alcohol, and Hill Country Hangout, the sports bar, served mostly beer. She also knew to limit herself to one drink since she would be driving to Lost Creek after brunch ended.
Arlo took her hand as the server left and kissed it several times. “It is so good to see you, Ivy. We have been miserable without you.”
“Worse than miserable,” Paloma agreed. “Lawson was a bear before you left, but at least he wasn’t around very much. He would merely swoop in and make an appearance every now and then. Now, he is in our hair all the time. He’s actually having to work! That is not a very Lawson thing to do.”
“No,” Arlo agreed. “He has the knowledge, but he hates having to be there. Paloma and I keep to ourselves. We do only what we were hired to do and no more.”
“You used to help me with all kinds of things,” Ivy protested. “Even if it didn’t appear in your job description.”
Arlo sniffed. “That is because it was you, Ivy. I refuse to lift a finger to help Lawson Everhart look better. He needs to be a true director and manage things.”
“The first exhibition held after you left was decent,” Paloma told her. “After all, you had already planned every detail as you always did. But the artist?” She shook her head. “You remember how temperamental he was.”
Ivy laughed. “I will never forget how hard he was to work with. I called him Mr. Nasty. Here we were, giving him his big break, and he was being impossible.”
“Shall we say how bad it got that night, with you not there to keep him in line?” Paloma continued. “I can tell you that Lawson had no idea how to handle him. Of course, Lawson had to hang all the pieces himself. He was trying to prove to everyone how essential he is. And Mr. Nasty hated, absolutely hated, the design of the show.”
“But I had already drawn up the entire placement,” she said. “Every single piece. We had agreed—after much discussion—on the look of the show.”
Arlo laughed. “Lawson said your plans for the exhibition were trash.” He laughed harder. “Little did he know how you had coaxed your way to every piece’s place. And when Lawson tried to change things and Mr. Nasty saw that, fireworks erupted. It got ugly, Ivy. Worse than ugly.”
Her Bellini arrived, and she took a sip, grateful she was no longer under Lawson Everhart’s thumb.
“The fighting continued right up until we opened the gallery’s doors. You had invited some key art critics. While they may have liked the art being displayed, they couldn’t help but observe the tension and arguing that went on all night between Lawson and Mr. Nasty.”
“Did the work sell?”
“Not as well as if you had been there, steering people to certain pieces, and suggesting they buy it. Lawson has none of your ease with clients. He is too pushy. Too obvious,” Paloma noted. “And then Lawson had to plan an entire showing himself after that. Oh, you could see he was missing you then. He had no idea what to do. How much food and drink to order. Which clients to invite. Which critics to cozy up to.”
“It was a disaster,” Arlo confirmed. “The gallery is already losing clients. Several have asked where you went. I told them you were no longer with any gallery. That you would be painting your own pieces. You are doing that, aren’t’ you, Ivy? I ask because clients are curious about what you will produce. I know several you could sell to.”
She had shared with her friends how she longed to paint again, and they had encouraged her to do so.
“I’m going to rent studio space this week,” she confirmed. “Let’s go hit the buffet, and then I’ll tell you about what I’ve been up to.”
The remainder of brunch, she shared the designs for the new tasting room and how it would complement Harper’s event center. Ivy walked the pair through what her day was like and encouraged them to come for a weekend and do a tasting with her.
“You have always had a good nose and taste buds,” Arlo told her. “You definitely know your wines. I suppose you enjoy sharing that with others who stop in.”
“It is nice to expose people to different wines. The average person has no idea how to really taste wine. How they need to use their other senses, beyond taste. I teach them to observe the color. I go into how to smell a wine and pick up the different scents within it. Then we do the actual tasting and talk about the various flavors in the wines we sample. I hope by the time they leave, they have a greater appreciation of wine itself and that they’ve found some new ones to their liking.”
“How is Harper doing?” Paloma asked. “She is lucky to have you living so close to her again.”
Ivy had shared with her friends how Harper’s engagement had been broken and that she accompanied her sister to Bali.
“I’ll admit that it was rough those first few days. But Harper is the most resilient person I know. She felt she had to leave Austin because of Ath’s family being so prominently connected to many of the clients her event planning company serviced. She is definitely excited about running her own business, though, and the plans for the event center at the winery are simply spectacular. You’ll have to come to the grand opening once it’s finished.”
“We would love to do that,” Arlo told her. “It will depend upon if we are still here.”
“What?” she asked, surprised. “Are you leaving?”
Paloma nodded solemnly. “We cannot work for Lawson. He is impossible to be around. He yells all the time. He demands things which no boss should ask of an employee. Both Arlo and I have put out resumés. We hope to hear something soon.”
Ivy was afraid the gallery would fold if they left. Then again, Lawson had brought all of this upon himself.
“Tell me where you’ve applied,” she encouraged.
“Where haven’t we?” Arlo said, laughing heartily. “Dallas. Los Angeles. Chicago. New York. Atlanta. Denver.”
“We aren’t going to be picky,” Paloma insisted. “And we know we may not find a place to work together. But for our health and sanity, we simply can no longer be in Houston under Lawson.”
She held up her glass, having saved the last sip of her Bellini. “Then here’s to a successful search. I hope you both find a position in a place which will appreciate you and your talents.”
“Salute,” her friends echoed.
Arlo insisted upon getting the bill, and Ivy kissed both of them goodbye. “Keep me posted,” she told them. “And if you need me to write any references for you, I’m happy to do so.”
“Thank you,” Paloma said, hugging her tightly. “We cannot let Lawson know what we are doing, or he will fire us on the spot. And truthfully, he has no idea what either of us do at the gallery.” She smiled mischievously. “And if he thinks work is hard now, wait until we are no longer there to bail him out.”
She bid them goodbye and went to her car. As she pulled out of the parking lot, Ivy was thankful she had quit her job. She had known she was under a lot of stress, but it had taken getting away from the gallery before she truly relaxed. She was sleeping better, and her skin glowed once more. Every day when she awoke, she had no knot in her belly and no worries. Her former place of employment was in her past.
And she was eager to see what the future held.