Chapter 10
Since Ophelia wasn’t sure what she should wear on her first day of work at the winery, she dressed in a pair of jeans and a knit shirt. She checked her reflection in the mirror on the back of the door and decided her jeans and shirt were far too casual. She would be working in a winery, not a fast-food joint. She went back to the closet and tried on a pair of navy-blue dress slacks and a hot pink silk blouse. When she turned around and looked in the mirror, she shook her head—way too stuffy.
Of all the sisters, Ophelia had never been the indecisive one. Metaphorically speaking, she didn’t sit on the fence and worry for hours about which side to take on any issue that came up. She made a decision—like she did in her sophomore year of high school to go into the air force—and didn’t look back. So, why was getting dressed for work such an ordeal that morning?
Another trip to the closet netted a yellow gingham-checked sundress. She remembered it being cold in the winery, so she topped it off with a lightweight denim jacket. She twisted her curly red hair up in a messy bun and held it there with a big white clamp. With her plain white sneakers in her hands, she made her way down the stairs.
When she reached the bottom step, Luna was coming in the front door with Aunt Bernie right behind her. They both stopped and stared at her. Bernie frowned when she saw the shoes. Luna shook her head at the jacket.
“What?” Ophelia asked.
“You should wear jeans, and I bet Jake has shirts with the winery logo on them for you to wear,” Luna answered.
“Those shoes do not go with that dress,” Bernie said. “You need to wear high heels.”
Ophelia sat down on one of the two ladder-back chairs beside the hall tree and put her shoes on. “I’m going to be on my feet all day, so I’m wearing something comfortable. If Jake wants me to wear jeans and a logo shirt, he can give me one and I will wear it tomorrow. But today this is what I’m wearing.”
“You never was one to take advice,” Bernie said with a long sigh and turned to face Luna. “Talk some sense into her. She’s so bullheaded that she won’t listen to me, not even about something as serious as her biological clock.” She raised one bony shoulder in a shrug and headed toward the kitchen with Pepper prancing along behind her like he was leading the Thanksgiving Day Parade in Saint Jo.
“What have my dress and shoes got to do with relationships and babies?” Ophelia asked.
“Actually, I think you look cute,” Luna whispered, “kind of like a Sunday school teacher.”
“Good Lord!” Ophelia growled. “But you aren’t going to talk me into changing into jeans with reverse psychology.” She tied her shoes and stood up. “What are you doing here so early?”
“Endora called, and I came to tell Tertia that I’m in on her secret about Noah.” Luna answered in a low voice. “And so is Ursula. You know very well that Endora and I share everything, and it didn’t seem right to leave Ursula out. Since we all know Tertia can say that she’s coming to my place or Ursula’s as well as to the winery. That way…”
“What are y’all whispering about?” Tertia asked as she made her way down the stairs.
Ophelia slung her purse over her shoulder. “I’ve got to get to work. I don’t want to be late for my first day on the new job. Luna can tell you what’s going on.”
“Tell me what?” Tertia asked.
Ophelia waved and hurried out the door. Not even Aunt Bernie could win a battle with five of the sisters banding together. Bless the old gal’s heart. She would have to commune with the Universe awhile longer. Ophelia giggled when a visual popped into her head of her aunt dancing around a black cauldron and chanting something about a clock not working properly. She shook the image from her head. Thinking like that meant that Bernie was rubbing off on her.
The commute would have taken only five minutes from the Paradise to the winery if she hadn’t slowed down when she turned off the two-lane highway onto the gravel road, so it took a little longer. She didn’t notice the CLOSED sign in the window until she walked up on the porch. Rather than going back to her vehicle, she sat down on the top step and started thinking about her outfit. Did she really look like a Sunday school teacher? And if she did, would that throw bad vibes toward anyone coming into the winery that day? Would they take one look at her and feel guilty about buying alcohol?
All those thoughts flew out of her head without answers when she heard the unmistakable whirring sound of a drone. When she first came home last Christmas, she had mistaken the sounds of the washing machine and Joe Clay’s table saw for drones coming to exact punishment on her for what she had done. Yes, it was sanctioned by the United States government, and she had been deemed psychologically fit for the job, but that didn’t wipe out the adrenaline rush when she heard a noise that sounded like a swarm of bees.
She looked up in the sky, expecting to see only big white fluffy clouds, but sure enough, there was the little demon, hovering right over her head. Immediately, her chest tightened, and her breath came out in short gasps. This was no dream. It was real. She couldn’t look away from the thing, but she couldn’t figure out whether she was looking at a camera or a small load of explosives on the underbelly. Somewhere some person was sitting in front of a camera, either looking at a picture of her or else had their finger on a button ready to turn Jake’s winery into a pile of ash. She squinted against the bright sun and was so engrossed in figuring out what the silver thing was carrying that she didn’t hear the front door open.
“Good mornin’,” Jake said.
His deep voice startled her so badly that she bent forward and covered her head with her hands. The buzzing sound got fainter and fainter as it flew away.
“Are you all right? What scared you so bad?” he asked as he sat down beside her.
She raised up and managed a weak smile. “I’m fine. I heard a buzzing noise and thought a bee was attacking my red hair.”
“What you heard was that drone up above us,” he said. “It’s been flying around these parts for a week. I suspect that it’s from one of the wineries down around Saint Jo that is looking at what the rest of our vineyards look like. Did you fly that kind of thing when you were in the service? Is that what scared you? You are pale as a ghost. Let’s go inside, and I’ll get you a bottle of water or a glass of wine. Whichever one you need.”
“I’m good. Pale is my norm, but I might like a bottle of water when we are inside.” She managed a weak smile. “I’m the only sister with red hair and a buttermilk complexion. The hair comes from Aunt Bernie. They tell me that my great-grandmother was also a redhead and had pale skin like I have. And I talk too much when I’m nervous, so I’m shutting up now.”
Jake stood up and extended a hand. “You look very pretty today, and I’m sure glad you wore comfortable shoes. And honey, your voice is so soothing that I could listen to you read one of those old-fashioned phone books to me.”
Ophelia put her hand in his and allowed him to pull her up to a standing position. “Thank you.”
“You are trembling,” Jake said.
“There were no bees,” Ophelia admitted. “I don’t like to admit that I still have some scars left over from the job I did in the service. I can’t give you details, but it involved doing things that go against my nature. That drone brought back some bad memories.”
“Well, darlin’…” He gave her hand a gentle squeeze. “I hereby declare that working at Brennan Winery will erase all those memories.”
The heat from his hand to hers and the smile on his face almost made her believe that he could be right. “Are you sure about that, or did you travel to Ireland and kiss the Blarney Stone?”
“I did kiss it a couple of times, but not in Ireland.” He chuckled. “I drove my grandparents out to the Texas Panhandle to a little town called Shamrock. There’s a real Blarney Stone out there that was sent over from Ireland.”
“My sister Tertia just moved from that area, and she and I visited that small town,” Ophelia said. “And before you ask, yes, I did kiss the stone.”
Jake opened the door. “I’d say that since we both put our lips on the stone and since we are working together, this should be our lucky summer. The winery will make lots of money, and your ugly memories will fade and die. Today you look every bit the part of a lovely Irish lass. My grandfather would have told me that I got the gold at the end of the rainbow when I hired you.”
“Because I have red hair?” she asked.
“For that and other reasons. My grandmother had red hair before it turned gray. I miss them both very much.” He removed his glasses and cleaned them on the tail of his T-shirt.
Ophelia had always thought of Aunt Bernie being an extra grandmother, and even with her meddling, she would miss the old gal when she was gone. “Thank you for those compliments, and do you really think that kissing a big round rock can bring us good luck?”
“I think that having someone like you here in the winery is going to bring me even more luck than the gift of gab could ever do,” he answered. “Right now, I want you to meet the guys who work with me.”
He crossed the room, opened the door, and yelled, “Hey, everyone, can y’all come on up here and meet Ophelia?”
In just a few seconds, three men ranging from young to old paraded into room. “Guys, this is Ophelia. She’s the lady I told you about who is going to run the front of the store. Ophelia, this is Rodney, Frankie, and Lester.”
“Pleasure to meet you,” Lester said.
Frankie and Rodney both nodded.
“I’m glad to meet all of y’all,” Ophelia said with a smile.
Lester was a short man with a rim of gray hair around an otherwise bald head, and a thick gray mustache. Frankie was taller, maybe the same height as Ophelia, and had brown hair, brown eyes, and arms that looked like they could bench-press one of Remy’s Angus bulls. Rodney’s red hair was that burgundy color that was all the rage among women those days. If he walked into the shop and wanted to buy a bottle of wine, she would ID him for sure.
“Welcome to the winery,” Frankie said. “We’d love to stay and visit, but we need Jake to test a batch of watermelon wine that we’ve got going.”
“There’ll be plenty of time later,” Ophelia said.
“That’s my cue to get to the back,” Jake said. “If you need me, just hit the intercom button right there”—he pointed to a place beside the cash register—“and yell right loud. I’ll come running. We’ve got a batch of strawberries going so I should get to the business in the back room. Oh, and there’s a key on a Brennan Winery fob over by the cash register. It’s for you to keep so you don’t ever have to sit on the porch and wait for me to open up again.”
Ophelia wondered what he’d meant by that statement about her bringing him good luck, but not for long, because for the next couple of hours she was steadily busy selling bottles of wine as fast as she could ring up the sales. At a few minutes past noon, Rodney came in the front door with two boxes of doughnuts in his hands and set one down on the counter.
“May I help you?” Ophelia asked.
“Hey, Miz Ophelia,” Rodney said with a grin. “Jake sent me out to get doughnuts for our break time. He’ll be up here in a minute. You might want to put on a pot of coffee if you have time.”
“I can sure do that,” she said. “And thanks for the doughnuts, but where is the coffeepot?”
Ophelia wondered if having red hair of any shade was a prerequisite for working for Jake, but then she remembered that Lester had gray hair and Frankie’s was dark. She looked around the winery but didn’t see a coffeepot anywhere.
Rodney pointed toward the door leading into the reception hall. “You’ll find it in the kitchen behind the stage.”
“Thank you,” she said and started in that direction.
“No, ma’am,” Rodney called out as he disappeared into the back. “Thank you! We haven’t ever gotten doughnuts for break before now. See you around.”
Before the coffee was done dripping, Jake brought in the box that had been set on the counter. He smiled and said, “Today we have doughnuts to welcome you to Brennan Winery, and to celebrate getting a really good batch of strawberry wine bottled up and set in the cellar to age.”
“Well, thank you,” Ophelia said. “It’s already been a busy morning. Is that normal for a Tuesday?”
Jake got two mugs and two plates from the counter, then added a couple of forks. “Nope, it is not. I usually only see a couple of people on Tuesdays. The doughnuts are on a table in the reception room. We can take our coffee out there, and please feel free to make it whenever you want. We keep a pot brewing in the back room all day.”
She filled two mugs and handed one to him. “Are the rest of the crew joining us?”
He headed out of the kitchen. “I asked them, but they like to take their breaks out in the yard when it’s pretty weather. There’s a picnic table back there, and Lester smokes.”
He set his coffee on a nearby table beside the pink box and pulled out a chair for her. Then he sat down beside her. “So how has the first hour gone? Did you get bored? I meant to tell you that…”
She held up a hand. “I didn’t have a lot of time between customers, but when I did, I dusted the shelves and swept up the crumbs that folks let fall on the floor when they tasted the wine, cheese, and crackers.”
“That’s great,” Jake said. “I hate to dust, and usually only clean on Saturday or Sunday afternoons when the shop is closed.”
“Well, now you’ll have those afternoons free.” She took a sip of her coffee. “Do all three of the fellows I met this morning live around here?”
“Nope, they all live north of Nocona,” he answered. “Lester worked with the construction crew that helped build the winery. Frankie is his son and Rodney is his nephew. Lester and his son had worked at a winery down around Galveston before they moved up in this area. Rodney is taking online college courses at night to be a teacher, so I won’t get to keep him but another year or so.”
He opened the box to reveal an assortment of doughnuts—sprinkles, green sugar on top of cake doughnuts, glazed, and maple iced—and motioned for her to choose first.
She picked up one with multicolored sprinkles. “Did Rodney drive all the way to Nocona for these?”
“Yep, he did,” Jake replied. “Too bad we don’t have a pastry shop in town. Maybe I should buy the old store and put one in. It’s probably big enough for that.”
“How would you ever manage to do both a winery and a pastry shop?” Ophelia asked.
“I hear you’ve got another sister or maybe two coming home this year,” he said. “Think one of them would want to get up at three in the morning to make doughnuts? They could be off work by noon.”
“I kind of doubt it,” she said. “But that is a good idea. It would put another business in town, but come on, Jake. In practically a ghost town?”
“Hey, other people drive all the way to Nocona for doughnuts. If there was a shop in town, they wouldn’t have to do that. And if we sold cakes and pies as well, it could be profitable,” he argued.
Jake picked up a chocolate doughnut, dipped the edge into his coffee and then bit into it, chewed, swallowed, and took a sip. “My grandpa ate doughnuts that way. Granny fussed at him for it, but it didn’t stop him.”
“So does my dad, Joe Clay,” Ophelia said, still amazed at how comfortable she was with Jake. “He says it’s the only way to eat them. And he dips cookies and graham crackers in milk.”
“That’s a man who could be my friend,” Jake said.
“He’s been mine since I was a little girl.” Ophelia finished off the last bite and picked up a maple iced one.
“Little girl?” Jake asked.
“He came into our lives when we moved to Spanish Fort. Ursula is the oldest sister and she was about twelve, or maybe nearly thirteen. Anyway, Mama wanted to raise us girls away from the big city life. She read an article about the old brothel and decided to drive up here and look at the house. The elderly lady who had lived in it for fifty years died, and her grandchildren that inherited it wanted a quick sale. Mama got it at a good price and moved us into the place just like it was.”
“Was that a good thing?” Jake asked.
“Not in our minds. There was one electrical outlet in each of the seven upstairs bedrooms, one sink in the bathroom, and no closets. Mama reminded us that we had been whining for our own rooms, and now we had them. Then she told us to be patient. She hired Joe Clay to remodel the Paradise. He didn’t want to do it at first, but she offered him room and board in addition to his wages. He didn’t know that the deal came with seven girls,” Ophelia answered with a giggle. “He had just retired from the military, and he didn’t even like kids, but we changed his mind. He became a fantastic daddy and friend to all of us.”
“Is your father dead?”
“No, he’s alive and well, and he is a very wealthy doctor, but his wife has more money than Midas. She married him, not his family, so we don’t have a lot of interaction with him.”
“So, Joe Clay is the reason you joined the military?” Jake asked.
“Yep, he is, and Mama is the reason that Ursula and now Endora are novelists. Ursula writes romance and Endora is working on children’s books,” Ophelia answered. Talking about her sisters was a lot easier than revealing things about herself.
“And you are my good luck charm, so that makes you more important than all your sisters,” Jake said.
“Good grief! Is that a pickup line?” she teased.
“No, it’s the truth, but if it was, how would it be working?” His eyes twinkled and his smile lit up the room.
“Pretty good,” she answered at the same time the bell above the door rang announcing another customer. “Break time is over. Thank you for the doughnuts and coffee.”
“Anytime,” Jake said. “I’ll clean up here.”
A man who was thoughtful, romantic, and wasn’t afraid of dirty dishes. Aunt Bernie would hop up on her soapbox and sing his praises to the top of her lungs.
“I need something to do. I thought maybe I would take over supper duties if it’s all right with Tertia,” Endora suggested at the dinner table that Tuesday. “I don’t want to get all up in Tertia’s business, but sometimes I need an outlet after working on children’s books all day.”
Tertia could have hugged her youngest sister. Not even Aunt Bernie frowned at the idea. “I’m good with that.”
“I don’t care how you girls divide up the jobs.” Mary Jane passed the bowl of potato chips around the table. “I’m just grateful y’all are taking on some of the chores so I can help more with the wedding plans and still not miss a deadline.”
Bernie took out a fistful of chips and sent the bowl on to Endora. “That’s a wonderful idea. Tertia will have more time to date once I find a suitable feller for her. I need to get onto that project soon, or Noah Wilson might try to wiggle his way into her life. We can’t have that—no, sir!”
Tertia swallowed a mouthful of tea quickly so that she didn’t spew it across the table at her aunt. “I keep telling you that I’m”—she sputtered—“not ready to even start down that path. Maybe in a year, but not now.”
“In a year you could be in a relationship and expecting the second grandbaby to arrive here at the Paradise,” Bernie argued. “When I’m dead and layin’ in my casket, you’ll be sorry you didn’t have children before I kicked the bucket, and that I didn’t get to help train up your daughters to be sassy like me.”
“What if I have all sons?” Tertia asked.
“Joe Clay can take care of teaching your sons to be responsible young men”—she shifted her gaze over to Tertia—“and to help them learn that being a bully has consequences. But remember this, I’m already old, and Joe Clay and Mary Jane ain’t getting no younger. You want to raise your kids without grandparents or me, either one?”
“Aunt Bernie, don’t talk like that,” Endora scolded.
“I agree with Endora,” Mary Jane said with a shiver. “I don’t want to think about you not being here, so we’ll hear no more about caskets or death.”
“That’s right,” Joe Clay said. “But that said, Mary Jane and I are sure looking forward to being grandparents.”
“Please don’t die, Aunt Bernie,” Remy said. “Ursula would be so sad if you were to pass away. She was crying last night wishing all the family was here together.”
“Yes, I was,” Ursula said with a nod.
“Ursula just has a case of pregnant brain,” Mary Jane chuckled. “Hormones are what cause the weeping.”
“See!” Bernie snapped and shot Tertia another dose of stink eye. “Other people in the family listen to my advice.” She turned to face Remy. “Most of my influence with the Universe has been in another direction, trying to take care of Ophelia and Tertia, but I can ask that Bo and Rae get so miserable that all they can think about is the Paradise.”
“I don’t want them to be unhappy,” Joe Clay said.
Bernie tipped up her bony chin and smiled. “Sometimes just a little unhappiness makes a person appreciate the joy that they find at the end of a rainbow.”
Tertia pushed back her chair and stood up. “Endora, will you help me bring out the dessert? I made a pan of brownies—just plain ones with no dusting of Aunt Bernie’s magic powders—and thought we might top them off with some ice cream.”
“Glad to,” Endora answered and followed her sister into the kitchen.
“Do you think Aunt Bernie really has marijuana gummy bears in her trailer?” Tertia whispered as they put a plate of brownies and half a gallon of ice cream on a tray.
“I wouldn’t put anything past her,” Endora answered. “I’ll be super careful not to let her near the food when I’m cooking.”
“Me too,” Tertia said, “and thank you for doing this. I owe you.”
Endora picked up the tray and winked at her sister. “Don’t worry about it. I will collect sometime in the future.”
Tertia didn’t have a single, solitary doubt that her sister was dead serious, despite that cute little wink that reminded her so much of how Endora used to be before she had gotten her heart broken.
Her phone pinged right after she sat back down at the table. She pulled it out of her pocket, but before she could even glance down at it, Bernie shook her long, bony forefinger at her.
“If that’s Noah Wilson, you can text him back to drop dead.”
“I expect if he wanted to talk to Tertia, he would call on the house phone,” Endora said. “How would he get her cell phone number?”
Smart girl! She hadn’t told a lie or even stretched the truth a little.
“Maybe he’s got one of them phones that steals phone numbers from just being close to another one,” Bernie argued. “Bullies grow up to be con men, and he did stop and talk to her today.”
Tertia held the phone out for everyone to see. “It’s Ophelia telling me that she wasn’t coming home until the shop closes. Jake keeps sandwich makings at the winery, and they don’t take a lunch break until about three.”
Bernie smiled so big that her wrinkles deepened into crevasses. “I’ve gotten three good men right—Remy, Shane, and now Jake—so listen to me when I tell you that Noah Wilson isn’t the one for you.”
“Thank you,” Remy said. “I needed all the help I could get, and Ursula and I appreciate whatever you did for us.”
Tertia shoved her phone back into her pocket. “What if Noah is just my boss in my dream job, and we never date or even become close friends?”
“Not even!” Aunt Bernie snapped.
Joe Clay passed the brownies over to Mary Jane. “Dream job? I believe I missed something.”
Tertia raised her shoulder in half a shrug. “My favorite memories are when I helped Mama in the kitchen. I always thought I’d like to be a chef.”
“I wanted to be an actress,” Endora said.
“What did you want to be when you grew up, Aunt Bernie?” Remy asked.
“I wanted to own a bar,” Bernie answered, “and now I want to run a successful business where I match up couples and make them live happily ever after.”
Mary Jane took a brownie off the plate. “How did you buy your bar? I never heard that story.”
Bernie smiled. “I won it in a poker game.”
Tertia’s phone pinged again, but she ignored it. No sense in tempting fate a second time.
“Who would put their bar up as stakes in a card game?” Joe Clay asked.
“A drunk fool who thought a straight flush would beat a royal flush,” she grinned. “His name was Buford Clifford, but everyone called him Slim.”
“What did you bet?” Remy asked.
“A night in my bed with whoever won the game.” She giggled. “I was down to my last dollar and didn’t have anything else to wager.”
“Aunt Bernie!” Endora gasped.
“Honey, with the hand I had, I knew I wasn’t going to bed with any of those fools. I won the bar, a thousand dollars, and this ring in that game.” She held up her hand to show off the ring they were all familiar with—a pretty emerald in a filagree setting. “It’s brought me good luck ever since the night I won it, and I told the undertaker to bury me with it. I might need a little more luck to get past them pearly gates.”
Thank you!Tertia rolled her eyes toward the ceiling. Steering Bernie away from the Noah Wilson topic had been pure genius, so Endora wasn’t the only one she owed that day.