11. Gemma
GEMMA
Bas filled my office doorway the same way he had each evening since we kissed and cleaned out his father’s study.
“Ready to call it a day?” he asked.
“Almost.” I’d tell him he didn’t have to walk me home, like I had every time he’d appeared and I wasn’t ready to leave, but he’d sit down and wait for me anyway.
Knowing I had a lot to do, when I left the cottage this morning, I thought about driving my car the few yards we walked every night, but he’d still insist on riding with me so he could make sure I got into the cottage safely.
“It’s chilly tonight,” I said in an effort to fill the ritual silence.
“It’s gonna get colder.”
Our sleeves brushed, but neither of us moved apart. I so longed for him to take my hand, or to put his on the small of my back, and more than anything else, I wanted him to kiss me again.
While he hadn’t admitted it, I knew he regretted it. He probably thought I did too since I was the one who’d written the “no romance” clause into my employment contract. But I didn’t.
At the bottom of my steps, we both said good night.
I wanted to invite him inside and for us to talk like we did the night I served him goulash and potato soup.
I wanted to bridge the ever-widening chasm between us, and even if we never kissed again, I wanted the friendship I believed we’d been building.
When I walked to the main house at nine, Bas had two cups of coffee poured. “The tasting room staff can pull the mailing list for the invitations whenever you want it.”
“This week would be perfect, if they can manage it.”
“I’ll let them know. Is there anything else?”
“I need RSVPs to come in with lots of yeses.”
“They’ll come,” he said, then headed for the kitchen. “Zeke needs me in the vineyard.”
He rinsed his mug while mine was still full. “By the way, I scheduled a meeting with Izzy and Kick for the middle of the week. They asked if we could come to Miremont.”
“Of course.” I hadn’t seen Izzy and her husband since the wedding and looked forward to it.
I took another sip of coffee, cleaned the cup, and followed Bas out of the house.
He went in the direction of the winery, and I headed to the event center.
I was partway there when my phone rang with a call from my mother.
I always heard from her in the morning, because by the middle of the afternoon, she was usually too drunk to carry on much of a conversation.
I couldn’t remember the last time we’d talked, so as much as I wanted to let it go to voicemail, I answered.
“Hey, Mom.”
“You sound out of breath. What are you doing?”
“I’m walking. I’m at work.”
“Already? It’s early.”
“It’s not that early. How are you, Mom?”
“The same as I always am. My damn knee keeps me up.”
“Did you take anything for it?”
“I don’t like taking pills. You know that.”
Of course she didn’t. Instead, she relied on alcohol to kill her pain.
“How are my brothers?”
“Bert’s still in Reno on that construction job that was supposed to be temporary. Seems like he’s been there at least a couple of years now.”
More like five, but who was counting?
“And Tobias?”
“He moved into the barn. Did I tell you that? He fixed it all up. It has a bathroom now and everything. Toby says it’s so he can keep an eye on me, like I need watching.”
“That’s good. I’m glad he’s close.” Because whether she wanted to accept it or not, she did need someone to watch over her.
“Debbie, she’s Karl’s girl, got one of those restraining orders. He drinks, and then he takes it out on her and their kids. It was her place, so he had to leave. He’s staying in his old room for now. When are you coming to see me?”
“Soon.”
“Soon. That’s what you always say.”
“Work is busy, Mom.”
“Your check hasn’t come yet.”
“You got it last week. You cashed it already.”
I’d been sending her money every month since I got my first job, but I always worried she used it to buy booze instead of paying the heating bill. Now that I knew Tobias was living in the barn, maybe I’d start sending it to him. I’d never send it to Karl. She wouldn’t get a dime of it if I did.
“Gemma? Are you listening?”
“Yeah, sorry, Mom. It’s so loud here. Can I call you back later?”
I heard her mutter something, not loudly or clearly enough for me to catch, then the line went dead. That was the way she typically ended our calls, so I didn’t bother ringing her back.
A few days later, I drove to Valerius early in the morning.
Karl’s truck was in the yard, with the hood up. Behind the house, the barn had a new door and a curtain in the window.
The kitchen light was on, and I could see my mother standing at the stove through the window. When I let myself in, her back was to me and she was wearing the same robe she’d had when I was in high school.
“Good morning, Mom.”
She spun around and brought the spatula she was using to her heart. “Oh, you scared the daylights out of me.”
“What are you making?”
“Oh, this and that.”
Code for whatever she’d found in the cupboard or refrigerator that might constitute a meal.
“Where’s Karl?” I asked.
“Still asleep,” she said. “He got in late.”
“What’s wrong with his truck?”
“It’s always something.” She sighed. “I told him to go over and see his kids, but Debbie won’t let him.”
“There’s a restraining order.”
“Doesn’t make it right for a father not to see his kids.”
“She’s got that paper because he hit her, Mom.”
Thankfully, Tobias came in the back door, ending the conversation about Karl abusing his wife and children.
“I saw the car.” He walked over and kissed my cheek. “What are you doing here?”
I raised a brow.
“Sorry. Let me rephrase. How are you, Gemma?”
I chuckled. “I’m fine, Tobias.”
“You see the barn?”
“I saw the curtain.”
“Come look before you go.”
I did the dishes, kissed my mother’s cheek, and said goodbye, then followed Tobias across the yard. The barn had a floor now. The rats and the junk were gone, and there was a bed, a wood stove, and a counter with a hot plate and a coffeemaker.
“It’s nice,” I said, hoping I sounded like I meant it.
“Keeps the rain off.”
I pulled an envelope out of my purse and held it out to him.
“What’s that?”
“Stuff around the house. I worry the money I send isn’t being used in the right way. I’ve been thinking about sending it to you instead.”
He let out a deep breath. “Not a good idea. She’ll be fit to be tied. She checks the mailbox every day when it gets close to the end of the month.” He handed the envelope back to me. “I pay for whatever extra’s needed.”
There was a long list of things that could be fixed in the house and on the property, but where would anyone start? It would probably be cheaper to tear it down and build new, but none of us could afford that.
“I better get to work,” I said.
“You wanna be gone before Karl wakes up.”
“That bad?”
“Worse than Dad ever was, and that’s saying something.”
Bile rose in my throat. “He doesn’t—”
“Lay a hand on Mom? I’d kill him if he did.”
I nodded. What could I say? I’d kill him too.
“Good to see you, Gemma.”
“You too, Tobias.”
When Bas and I arrived at Miremont the day after my visit home, Izzy met us at the front door. She had Anais, who’d grown so much since the wedding, on one hip. “Come in,” she said, stepping out of our way.
“Hey, baby girl,” Bas said from behind me. When I glanced over my shoulder, he had Anais in his arms.
“He’s so good with her.” Izzy led me into the main sitting room, with windows that looked out over the vineyards.
“I’ve missed this view.” Before her and Kick’s wedding, I was here at least once a week.
“Sorry I’m late.” Kick kissed Anais’ forehead, then Izzy’s, before he took a seat beside her.
“Hey, what about me?” Bas teased.
“Not in front of the baby,” Kick countered. “Hey, does anyone want something to drink before we get started? I know Gemma wants water. What about you, Bas? Wine, whiskey, coffee? I never know what you’ll be in the mood for.”
“Water’s good for me too.”
Kick left the room while Izzy got Anais settled in her ExerSaucer. “She loves this thing. I think she’d be happy in it all day.” She returned to the sofa. “So, the 1934 Society. That’s what you wanted to talk about, right?”
“Gemma had some thoughts that I think are good ones.”
Izzy smiled. “She always does.”
I told her about First Pour. “We could make an announcement that night, asking other wineries that qualify about joining.”
“That’s a fantastic idea,” said Kick, setting our glasses of water on the table in front of us.
“Then, in November, we could do the official launch at the Wicked Winemakers’ Ball.”
“Another great suggestion,” said Izzy.
“We could auction off memberships too,” Bas proposed.
Izzy grinned at him. “I’m wondering what you need us for since you already have it figured out. I’m not complaining, by the way.”
“There are a couple of things that we never settled. First is whether we do tiers or keep it to one membership level,” said Bas.
“What do you think?” Izzy asked me.
“I’m in favor of the tiers. It gives people different entry points. They can always upgrade later.”
When all three agreed, we talked about price points and what each tier would include.
“I’ll write all of this up and email it to you,” I offered. “Oh, and there’s one more thing.”
“Isn’t there always?” Kick winked.
“For the ball, I want to talk about how well it’s done in Paso Robles.
Alex uploaded photos from the last five years to our shared drive, and I have a list of the most popular dates and the amount of money they brought in.
Since you’ve made the valley your permanent home, I thought it might be nice to say that the two of you are one of the auction’s success stories. ”
Izzy looked at Kick, who shrugged.
“As long as you only tell the good parts,” she said.
I knew their history, so I didn’t need her to tell it again. “Of course, and it will be brief.”
“So, are you on the auction block yet?” Kick asked Bas.
“Hell no.”
Kick laughed. “If Gemma is half as pushy as Alex, you will be soon enough.” He turned to me. “How many bachelors do you have so far?”