Chapter 20
Wednesday made up for the slow day on Tuesday. By closing time, Ophelia’s feet were aching and the cash register was overflowing. At six o’clock she flipped the sign in the window, kicked off her shoes, poured the last of the tasting wine in a plastic cup, and perched on one of the barstools behind the checkout counter. The door to the back room opened, and it didn’t take a clinical psychologist to see from the expression on his face that his day had not been nearly as good as Ophelia’s.
He didn’t even speak to her but took a bottle of elderberry wine from a cubicle, popped the cork, and drank it warm right from the bottle. “Looks like I have no choice but to sell the winery,” he said as he hiked a hip on the second barstool.
Ophelia was almost too tired for a goodbye kiss that afternoon. She sure wasn’t up for joking about something as serious as the future. “That’s not funny!” she snapped. “I’ve had a long, busy day. My feet are hurting, and I’m tired. Don’t tease me.”
“I’m as serious as a sober judge.” Jake took another long swig from the bottle, set it to the side, and pulled a magazine from under the counter. “I was going to surprise you today and tell you that I had a vendor who could put my wine in a lot of Texas convenience stores, and even in some grocery stores around these parts. Then this came out, and he called and backed out on me.”
“A magazine can’t do that,” Ophelia argued.
Jake turned to the back page and stabbed a review with his forefinger. “This goes out to millions of households. Right here is a one-star review from a well-known critic for the Brennan Winery. He says that my strawberry wine is subpar, and the watermelon tastes worse than cheap punch.”
“When was he even in here?” Ophelia asked.
“According to the date that he says he came in for a tasting, it was before you came to work,” Jake sighed again. “I’ve had a couple of interested folks wanting to buy the business before now. One from an existing winery down south of here, and another from a man from Napa Valley in California who would like to relocate. I’m sure neither of them are interested after that thing.” He glared at the magazine.
“Aren’t most of your sales local?” she asked.
“Yes, but…”
She shook her finger at him. “No buts…and think about it. How many people in this whole county subscribe to that magazine?”
“Probably none, but what if this is a sign that I shouldn’t…?” he started.
“Do you want to sell?” Ophelia asked.
Jake shook his head. “But this morning, Lester, Frankie, and Rodney all gave notice. Seems like every sign is pointing me out of Spanish Fort.”
Ophelia could feel her almost perfect world dropping out from under her so fast that it made her dizzy. “Why are they leaving?”
“Lester’s wife and Frankie’s run a little taco wagon and take it around to different towns each day of the week—Nocona, Saint Jo, and Henrietta, plus Bowie and a couple of others. They’ve wanted to expand into a café for a while and a place came up for sale in Henrietta. The bank loan got approved yesterday. The whole family is going to move over there and work in the new place. It opens a week from next Monday, so they’ll only be here until the Friday before that. When it rains, it pours.” He turned up the bottle again.
Rather than sympathizing with Jake, Ophelia’s Irish temper shot to the top. “So, when things are going good, you are happy. But when a little obstacle gets in your way, you throw in the towel and quit? Is that the way you approach everything?”
“I thought you would…”
“What?” she snapped as she slid off the stool. “Hand you some crutches so you won’t fall down and wallow in your pity party? Get drunk with you and whine because things aren’t going good right now? We were saved from a tornado, for God’s sake. Your grape arbors were spared and are producing wonderfully well. The cash register is overflowing from today’s sales. Who needs a vendor? You are doing well right here.” She started toward the door.
“Where are you going?” Jake asked.
“I’m going home. You need to do the same and count your blessings rather than diving into one day’s failures. So, one critic didn’t like your wine. Boo-hoo! So, your crew is leaving. Conor is coming to help, and I’m willing to learn, plus there’s folks begging for jobs in this part of the world. When you get done whining, call me. I’ll be here tomorrow morning ready to work if you haven’t decided to sell the place. If you do, then just send me a text, and I’ll go find a job somewhere else,” she told him as she slammed the door behind her.
You could have been a little more sympathetic,the aggravating voice in her head scolded.
“What if he just cuts and runs every time the going gets tough? Why waste my time on a man like that, even if his kisses do melt my insides? He’ll just leave after our first big argument,” she muttered as she put the truck in gear, stomped the gas pedal, and slung gravel all over the porch as she drove away.
Looks like you’ll never know the answers because you just burned all the bridges with your hot temper.The voice in her head was definitely Aunt Bernie’s that time.
She came to a stop at the end of the gravel road and slapped the steering wheel so hard that her palm smarted. “Maybe so, but better to burn them now than cross over the rotten thing and find out that I’d made a big mistake by getting into a relationship with someone who can’t fight for what he wants.”
She made a left-hand turn with the full intention of going home and sneaking up to her room to cool off. But when she came to the short lane to Ursula and Remy’s house, she came to a long, sliding stop and made another left-hand turn. She was still too angry to go home, and she didn’t want to hear about how wonderful Tertia’s day had gone while she and Noah were trying out new recipes. Or worse yet, listen to Aunt Bernie fuss at her for not being more sympathetic.
Remy’s truck was nowhere in sight, but Ursula’s vehicle was parked out front. Ophelia decided that if they were both gone, she would sit on the porch until she calmed down. She really wasn’t ready to talk about the argument with anyone, anyway. She eased her truck in beside Ursula’s SUV and sat there for several minutes before she finally turned off the truck engine, threw open the door, and marched across the yard.
She sat down on the porch swing, pulled her legs up, and wrapped her arms around her knees. As if the inanimate object knew that she needed something to distract her, the chains creaked as it barely moved back and forth, easing the anger a tiny bit. Not enough that she wanted company, but she had no choice in that matter when her sister opened the door and brought out two glasses of sweet tea and a plate of cookies on a tray.
“What has Jake done?” Ursula set the tray on the swing and then sat down on the other end.
“What makes you think he’s done anything?”
“I heard you drive up, saw you stomp across the yard, and I know you, so spit it out before you explode,” Ursula answered.
“I may have just lost my job.”
“Well, if you did, I’ll hire you to help Remy in the hayfield this summer,” Ursula said, “but what makes you think you’ve lost your job?”
“Because I threw a hissy fit.” Ophelia groaned and went on to tell Ursula what had happened. “All I could think about was the fact that he didn’t stick it out through tough times, and you know that there’s a lot of difficult things that come up in any relationship. And long-distance ones…” The adrenaline rush had died and left her weepy.
“Usually fizzle out.” Ursula finished the sentence for her.
“Yes, but I really felt something for him when he kissed me yesterday,” Ophelia said with a long sigh. “I’ve never gotten a heat rush as hot as that one.”
“Now who’s whining?” Ursula fussed. “If you want something, fight for it. If you have doubts, shut the door and never look back at what might have been.”
“You sound like Aunt Bernie,” Ophelia said.
“Nope, that’s straight Endora,” Ursula told her. “When I had a problem with Remy, that’s pretty much what she told me.”
Ophelia laid a hand on her heart. “I’m shocked. That had to have been last winter when she was still trying to pull up out of her depression over being cheated on.”
“Yes, it was, and I was just as surprised as you are,” Ursula admitted. “Want a beer or a glass of tea? Or maybe stay with me and Remy for supper? I’ve got a tortilla soup in the slow cooker.”
“I better not stay for supper. Endora has been so good at taking over supper duties that I don’t want to disappoint her by not showing up.” Ophelia picked up a glass of tea and took a long drink. “And I suppose that one or two or half a dozen of those cookies won’t spoil my supper too much. When is Remy coming to the house?”
“About dark, which is a couple more hours,” Ursula answered.
Ophelia took a cookie from the stack, bit into it, and thought about the next step. Did she go back over to the winery and confront Jake right then, or just show up for work the next morning?
“What’s your advice? Go back and fight tonight, or wait until tomorrow?” Ophelia asked.
Ursula ate half a cookie before she answered. “When I was angry with Remy, I went home with a broken heart and thinking all kinds of mean things about him. Endora set me straight, and so I came back over here and cleared the air. But my situation was about another woman and wasn’t like yours at all. When Luna and Shane had their fight about her tiptoeing around Endora, she and Aunt Bernie polished off a lot of whiskey, and then she went to talk to him the next morning. I’d say in your situation, maybe you should let him stew about things until tomorrow. The shock of everything that happened will be past, and he might be thinking about alternative ways. Maybe you should have a few drinks with Aunt Bernie. It might not cure the anger, but it would mellow you out so you could sleep tonight.”
Ophelia couldn’t think of a single scenario where drinking would help with the problem. “I could tell him that a magazine is like a newspaper. Once it’s read, it’s tossed aside to either be a liner for a birdcage, or else used to start a fire.”
“That’s right, and there’s not much opportunity for jobs around here, so he shouldn’t have trouble hiring other folks to work,” Ursula added. “And you could mention that Mama doesn’t get in a tizzy when she gets a one-star review on her books.”
“I could, but if I have to be the strong one every time problems arise, I’m not so sure that I’m up for it,” Ophelia declared. “I might need to lean on him at times.”
“This could be a one-time moment of doubt for him,” Ursula suggested.
Ophelia cut her eyes around at her sister. “Whose side are you on?”
“Yours, forever amen,” Ursula said. “We are sisters but think about what you would say if the tables were reversed, and I was mad at Remy for wanting to sell the ranch and move away from Texas.”
“Let’s hope it’s a one-time thing and not the norm,” Ophelia said.
Tertia sprinkled freshly grated Parmesan and a little parsley on the green beans she had prepared to go with Noah’s crumb chicken that day. Chatpata baby potatoes were ready to serve, and two small salads waited in the refrigerator. The table was set and glasses were filled with ice and sweet tea.
“We should publish a cookbook with all our recipes in it,” Tertia said as she carried the two sides to the table.
“No way,” Noah said in an edgy tone.
She set the bowls down and turned to face him. “That was pretty definite.”
“Yes, it was and is.”
That mean tone reminded her of the fight they had had back when they were kids and he was a bully about her mother owning a former brothel. A bit of anger surfaced but she really wanted to give him the benefit of a doubt. They weren’t kids anymore, and maybe he just had a bad day.
“What’s going on with you?” she asked. “Did I say or do something to upset you?”
“There are some things you have to understand if you are going to work for me.” His tone was cold and indifferent. “And there are rules that you’ll have to follow.”
“I just thought we could sell the cookbook, along with the locally grown jellies and jams,” she said. No more our café, but now he was saying that she would be an employee that had to follow rules. Where did all this come from and why now?
“Not just no, but hell no.” Noah raised his voice. “I don’t want folks to be able to make my food at home. I want it to be a treat for them to come to my café and…”
“Noah, I got the recipe for the green beans and potatoes off the internet and just tweaked them a little bit so they would be slightly different,” she reminded him.
“The customers won’t know that.” His tone was still harsh. “We don’t give away recipes. If someone asks, we just say that they are old family recipes that we can’t share. That is rule number one. Understand?”
She had argued with him about saying our café and our food in the past, but it riled her when he suddenly said my café and my food. Aunt Bernie had been right—his ugly side had surfaced. Not only did Tertia not like it, but she wouldn’t tolerate it for a single minute.
“Do you understand?” he asked again.
“I’m not going to black your eye this time, Noah Wilson”—she pulled off her apron and tossed it on the cabinet—“but nobody talks to me the way you are doing. I don’t have to work for you or help you anymore. I quit. You are on your own.”
“I’ve had a bad day,” he tried to explain. “Henry won’t be able to start work on my café for another week.”
“That’s a lousy excuse, and there is never a reason for you to take your frustrations out on me. I’m going home and sitting down to supper with my family.”
She marched out of the house and didn’t even slow down when Rocky whistled at her and yelled that company was coming. Maybe Noah should teach him to say that company was leaving and probably would never come back again. She wouldn’t be working with Noah anymore. He could take his café, his attitude, and his supper and go straight to hell with all of it. He could test his own recipes without her help and build his own café without any more input from her.
“You’ve got more personality than he does,” she told the statue of the bull as she passed by it. A crow flew down from a nearby tree to light on the bull’s horns and cawed loudly.
“You don’t have a dog in this fight, so hush,” she growled and kept walking. At the end of the lane, she stopped to let a vehicle pass.
“Hey, you need a ride?” Ophelia stopped her truck and rolled down the passenger-side window. “I’m headed home. Crawl in and ride with me the rest of the way.”
Tertia climbed in the truck and folded her arms across her chest.
“Bad day?” Ophelia asked.
“Good day,” Tertia answered. “Horrible last fifteen minutes. I don’t want to go home. Can we go down to the old store and just talk for a few minutes?”
Ophelia nodded and drove past the lane to the Paradise. She parked in front of the old store, turned off the engine, and turned around in the seat. “Get it off your chest now, or have to listen to Aunt Bernie gloat when we get home. I just came from Ursula’s, where I had to either talk or explode, and it’s pretty evident that Noah has made you mad enough to chew up railroad spikes and spit out staples.”
“I’ve always had a secret dream of getting a cookbook published,” Tertia said through clenched teeth. “Mama and Ursula are writing romance books. Endora is working on books for children. And I want to work on a cookbook, maybe several.”
“Why does that make you angry?” Ophelia asked.
Tertia could still feel hot adrenaline rushing through her veins. “It’s not the cookbook idea. I’m determined to do that now, no matter what Noah Wilson says. And you can bet Aunt Bernie is going to crow over this.” She gave her sister a detailed play-by-play of the argument that she and Noah had just had. “His tone was downright nasty, and he talked down to me. I’m not a submissive little woman that will take his hatefulness.”
“Did you black his eye?” Ophelia asked.
“No, but I damn sure wanted to,” Tertia answered. “Only this time, I would do more than just give him one black eye like I did when we were kids. I just realized that what he said back then made me mad, but it was his smart-ass attitude that really set me off enough to punch him.”
Ophelia took a deep breath and let it all out in a long whoosh. “We’ve been paddling our canoes in parallel creeks.”
“What does that mean?” Tertia hated to be wrong or to hear those four words—I told you so—but no one was going to talk to her like Noah did.
“Kisses yesterday,” Ophelia said with half a shrug. “Fights today.”
“You and Jake?” Tertia’s eyes popped open so wide that they ached. “I thought y’all were going to be like Ursula and Remy—so perfect together that you never had an argument.”
“Didn’t happen,” Ophelia said. “Aunt Bernie might have been right about Noah, but she was wrong about Jake.”
“Good lord!” Tertia almost forgot about Noah. “Tell me what happened.”
Ophelia gave her the short story and then shrugged again. “Do you think we could keep our arguments a secret?”
“Maybe for a day or two, but when I don’t go to Noah’s to test recipes or invite him to Sunday dinner, there will be questions,” Tertia answered. “I really thought Noah had changed, and I would have never thought Jake would let something like a stupid critic’s opinion of his wine affect him that way. I’m mad at Noah, and I probably won’t work for him, but I don’t have a doubt that he would carry a whole line of Jake’s wines in his new café.”
“I bet Shane will, too,” Ophelia nodded. “That would be two places other than the winery itself. And chances are that I won’t have a job either after the fit I threw, and there will be questions there too. But hey, better to burn the bridge now than to cross it and wish we had stayed on the other side, right?”
“Maybe you and I should put a pastry shop in the old store building, and I’ll sell my cookbooks there,” Tertia said and then shook her head. “That won’t work. Noah owns that place now, and after the hissy I pitched, he probably would burn it before he’d lease or sell it to me. But nothing says we couldn’t buy one of the empty houses in town and start a business.”
“Look at us,” Ophelia finally smiled. “Nothing gets a Simmons sister down, especially not an argument with a man.”
“Think either of them will apologize?” Tertia asked. “Not that I’m ready to forgive Noah, but it would be nice if he was man enough to admit he is wrong.”
Ophelia started the truck engine. “We won’t hold our breath because neither of us…”
“Look good in that shade of blue,” Tertia finished her mother’s old saying.
Ophelia pointed the truck toward the south and headed to the Paradise. “Another one of Mama’s sayings. As soon as Aunt Bernie ferrets out what happened today, she will be trying to fix one of us up with Parker.”
Tertia giggled, and then laughed out loud. “As tall as you are, and as short as he is, he would have to carry around one of those little step stools to even kiss you.”
“Put a smile on your face, Sister,” Ophelia said as she turned into Paradise lane. “Aunt Bernie won’t be the only one to drag out a soapbox. Endora will preach at us too, and say that she was right about men being scoundrels.”
“I’m smiling, see,” Tertia flashed a fake grin at her sister. “Maybe we’ll get one evening of peace before they figure things out.”