16. Mackenzie
Mackenzie
They probably spread the rumor that I’m on my monthly on Saturday at work. I’m on the warpath, that’s for sure, picking nits, crossing t’s, dotting i’s and mixing every metaphor I can lay hands on. I am furious with Jake Cavendish and if he was in my vicinity, I would do him physical harm.
How could he be such an asshole?
He was probably not even as far as London when I had heard from three different people what he did at the Cavendish house.
The entire town is talking about the way he humiliated his father’s second family, how he left them without transportation or any money, how he took everything back to Toronto with him, abandoning them completely.
Everyone is sure that Jake Cavendish is the biggest dickhead in the world, a nastier piece of business than even his father ever was, and that whatever horrible thing happens to him in future, it’s deserved.
I wouldn’t go that far, but I don’t think he was very kind.
I want to smack him. I want to shout at him. I want to make him understand how wrong he was – and I hate that he has this much power to influence me and my feelings.
Everything about him is infuriating.
Except, you know, for the memories that aren’t. I’m all shook up and I tell myself it’s a very very good thing that he’s never coming back to Empire again.
Yet, I’m annoyed that he didn’t even try to defend himself when I called. He barely said a word. And he never phoned me back.
So, he’s a coward, too. I didn’t expect that.
I fume and I march through the vineyard and the warehouse and my smart co-workers stay out of my way
Just before lunch, my mom calls, right on time. (I wasn’t born punctual: I was trained.) She, of course, has no idea of my mood before she calls, but as soon as I answer the phone, she gets it.
“You sound grumpy,” she says lightly. “Lover’s quarrel?”
“No.” Even my denial sounds grumpy. I force a laugh. “Hardly that.”
“Oh, good. I was afraid for a moment that you’d finally found a nice young man.”
“No,” I say again, biting off the word. “Not that.” I can call Jake a lot of things, but he is not a nice young man. He’s hot. He’s handsome. He’s smart and he’s blunt and he makes love as if he invented it, but he is not nice. He never will be.
He is the world’s biggest asshole. He is…
Wait. What did Mom say?
“What do you mean you were afraid of that?” I ask.
My mother laughs. “Well, I had this little idea.”
I sit back, fighting a smile. My mom is the most organized person in the world, and her best trick is matchmaking.
She is naturally social and people open up to her immediately.
She invariably creates connections, introducing this person to some other person they didn’t even realize they needed to know.
It’s more about business than romance, but she definitely has a talent for networking – and I realize now that if I thought our being thousands of miles apart would stop her from meddling with my connections, I was wrong.
“I met the most wonderful couple at a fundraiser last weekend,” she says. “They were introduced to me because they own a vineyard in the Okanagan, and we had a great conversation about the challenges of the business. They’re looking for a new viticulture manager, and naturally, I thought of you.”
“I have a job, Mom.” I have more than a job.
I have a chance of running this vineyard myself, both through inheritance and hard work, and I have a vision for its future that will put Rhodes Vineyard squarely on the map of great vineyards of the world.
I’m standing now in the living room at the big picture window that gives a view of the fields, the fields I walk every morning at dawn, just the way my Opa used to.
I can see the Grahams’ acreage beyond our vines, planted this year in corn, which is tall and waving in the breeze.
I want that land so very much. It’s been organic for thirty years.
My mom, oblivious, is carrying on with her argument. “And your father always said he wished he had more varied experience than just working at the family firm. He thought he might have been more appreciated if he was.”
“But I have a lot of experience elsewhere.”
“And Empire is a tiny place, with a very small number of eligible men, and you are not getting any younger.”
“Mom!”
“It’s just reality, Mackenzie. If you want to marry and have a family, you need to start soon. Tick tock. You’re thirty-five! Of course, I’m not telling you what to do.”
I shake my head. “Of course not. You would never do that.”
My mom laughs. “But a year in a different environment might be exactly what you need.”
“I can hardly apply for a job with the intention of leaving in a year.”
“You can’t plan those things in advance.
We’re not psychics, you and I. It’s perfectly legitimate to apply for a job and subsequently discover that it isn’t a good fit for you.
You can also get a job and realize that it’s the opportunity you’ve been waiting for all your life.
” My mom takes a breath, a warning that she’s getting to the point.
“And they have a son. He’s thirty-six. He’s here with them.
Oh, Mackenzie. What a delightful young man.
As soon as I met him, I thought of you.”
I smile. “Here we go.”
“You can’t blame me for trying to help. You could take some vacation and come out here.
If you came now, they’re still in town. They’re thinking of moving here and passing the business over to their son sooner rather than later.
You could meet them all. I’ve already been invited to visit them in Okanagan. I’m sure you would be welcome as well.”
“Have you picked the wedding date?”
“Mackenzie!”
“What time is my flight?”
“You know I’d never push you into anything.”
“Well, Mom, it does sound like you have it all worked out.”
She takes a breath. “It’s July and the lull before the storm. Come out for a week before the harvest starts. I’ll buy your ticket and you can stay with me.”
“You just want to monitor the progress of your plan,” I tease.
“I just want you to have no excuses to decline.”
“I’ll think about it.”
“There’s a seat sale on flights leaving on Sundays, provided you stay more than seven days.”
I’m not surprised she’s looked it up. “That sounds like more than a week.”
“Eight days is not the end of the world. Even you aren’t that indispensable. And if your Opa says you are, let me talk to him.”
And rope him into the Mackenzie-making-babies plan. I know he’ll be on board in a heartbeat. He’ll be driving me to the airport for the first available flight.
“I’ll think about it,” I repeat and she sighs.
“Don’t think too long, Mackenzie,” she advises, then changes the subject.
My phone rings that evening. It’s too late to be about work. I’m watching a movie without much interest, debating my mother’s suggestion.
Unknown caller.
Hmm.
I should let it go to voice mail, but I don’t feel like doing what I should. Not right now. I answer.
“How does a person learn to be kind?” Jake asks, his voice a soft murmur that makes my toes curl. He could be whispering right in my ear.
My anger melts. Just like that. I’m officially a pushover.
“You must know,” I say, trying to sound fierce.
“I have so little experience of kindness that I’m not sure I’d recognize it if I saw it. I certainly don’t know how to go about being kind.” He pauses. “As you’ve obviously heard.”
“And why did you call me?”
“Because you suggested kindness.” He coughs a little. “And because I wanted to apologize.”
“Seems like you should apologize to someone else.”
“Maybe. Maybe I need some help figuring out how to do that.” He pauses again. “Maybe there were extenuating circumstances.”
“Like what?”
“They keyed my car,” he says wearily and I catch my breath. “And not just a little scratch. The entire left side of the car is so damaged that it needs extensive body work, before the paint repair.”
“Oh.”
“I was in full agreement with you, Mackenzie, until I walked up the drive and saw my car.”
“And then you were mad.”
“I shouldn’t have responded in anger. I know that.”
“But it was your car.” I know, just as anyone who has ever seen Jake with that car, that it is his pride and joy. Someone found the perfect target for their retaliation, and maybe it’s not entirely unjustified that they got a reaction.
“And besides all of that, I wanted to hear your voice,” Jake says.
“Why?”
He takes a breath then speaks quickly, as if he’s embarrassed about his confession. “I could not bear that you were alive in the world and thinking ill of me,” he says, perfectly quoting Pride & Prejudice.
I smile. I can’t help it. I’m glad to hear his voice, too, but I’m not going to tell him that. I stretch out on the couch, thinking about his opening question. “Well, often kindness starts by understanding the other person.”
“That is never going to happen.”
“You’re talking about Candace.”
“Yes.”
“I thought you didn’t care about being kind to her.”
“So did I. Then I did what had to be done, and now I feel like a complete asshole. Thanks for making sure I knew my impressions were on point.”
“But you are an asshole, by your own admission. It’s a point of pride, I think. Why does this incident bother you?”
“I don’t know. It does.” He doesn’t want to talk about that. “I don’t want to spend the rest of my life or even my weekend feeling like this, so I’m asking for advice.” His voice drops lower. “Please, Mackenzie.”
For the record, I think there are few things more appealing than someone admitting that they are or were wrong. Asking for help is even more attractive. And when both come from a man who probably never does either, I’m a goner.
Even better, I probably know something Jake doesn’t.
“Actually, I think you do have something in common with Candace, or you did, once upon a time.”
“I suspect not.”
“You haven’t always had a credit rating.”
There is a beat of silence and I know Jake is connecting the dots. “They were his credit cards,” he says softly. “And she was the secondary person on the account. His credit rating, not hers. Fuck. That changes everything.”
“Yes. Now she can’t access his credit and she doesn’t have a credit rating of her own. She doesn’t have a job. She’s not sitting on a fortune.”
Jake makes the conclusion before I do. “They might not even approve her for a card with a five-hundred-dollar limit.”
“They might not.” I take a breath. “The same thing happened to my mom, and she was a bookkeeper. She never thought about it before my dad died. They held everything jointly, and when my dad died, my mom had to start over again.”
Jake swears softly but I’m not done with him.
“And think about it. Unlike my mom, Candace probably has no experience with paying the bills. She likely never even saw them. She didn’t juggle money around between accounts, or probably even know how much her lifestyle cost. She could tell you the retail price on a certain purse from a certain designer or label, but I’ll guess she has no idea what the annual property taxes are on that house, let alone the monthly hydro bill. ”
“I can’t blame her for not knowing something she has never needed to know.”
“Exactly. Feeling any kinder?”
Jake laughs a little. “You know, I am. You’re good at this, Mackenzie.” His voice is warm and I have the urge to curl up against him. To snuggle and maybe a little bit more.
But that’s crazy. He’s in Toronto. I’m in Empire. He’s never coming back and I’m not going to go there just to see him. Plus, there’s no future in anything between us. We’ve been over all of that.
I grab my laptop and start searching for airfares to BC, one step closer to making my choice.
“I’ll call her tomorrow,” Jake says. “If she’ll talk to me.”
“She’ll talk to you. Candace knows you’re the only one who can fix things for her right now. She’s smarter than you realize, Jake.”
“Maybe.” His words slow. “I’ll have to take a day off this week and come down to Empire to go to the bank with her. She won’t know what to ask or what to accept, after all.”
“That would be kind.”
There’s a small hesitation, which tells me he’s uncertain of me. “Can I call you?”
“You can but I might not be here.”
“I thought you were married to your job.”
“Well, everyone gets a vacation once in a while. My mom suggested I come for a visit before we start the harvest. It’s a good idea. If I go, I’ll be gone for a week or so.”
“That’s great that you can visit your mom.” He doesn’t sound enthused.
“Maybe, maybe not. She’s matchmaking. Seems she’s impatient for grandbabies.”
The silence is long and loaded.
“I thought you weren’t looking for a relationship.” Jake’s speaking with care, but it has to be a game. He doesn’t get to be possessive when we’ve decided neither of us are interested in a thing.
Do I want him to be possessive? Yes. Yes, I do.
I frown. I don’t like knowing that whatever I want is unattainable.
“I haven’t been, but lately I’ve started to wonder whether that’s been a mistake.
I’ve always been afraid that my expectations would mean asking too much of someone.
Instead, I wonder if it means I’ve been asking too little.
” I can put the credit for that at Jake’s feet.
“Sometimes you need to mix things up and confirm that you’re on the right path,” he says lightly, as if none of this really matters.
“Or maybe change to a new one.”
“I suppose he’s rich and handsome.”
He’s fishing but I’m enjoying that too much to shut him down. “Ticks all the boxes from what I understand. Rich, handsome, single, fit, in line to inherit the family vineyard. He’s their winemaker.”
“Lots of common ground then,” Jake says. Does he sound a little strained or am I making that up?
“Match made in heaven from what I understand.”
“Well, good luck, Mackenzie,” he says heartily. “Remember your own resolution and don’t expect too little from him. You deserve the very best.”
And before I can thank him for the compliment, Jake is gone. I stare at the phone for a minute, willing him to call again, then chuck it aside.
He won’t call.
I won’t call.
Time to embrace my new perspective. Still, I hate the idea of being fixed up by my mom. If I go to BC then it will be perceived as interest, if not more.
Right now, I’m not very interested in any man whose name isn’t Jake Cavendish.