Chapter 8
CHAPTER EIGHT
They weren’t getting any work done.
Some of that might have had to do with the sheer number of people at the Inn and the swell of varying conversations taking place in unison around them. But the main reason was the fact that Cal and Josh kept going head-to-head at every turn.
Honestly, at this point, both men deserved a ‘doesn’t play well with others’ badge.
“The Riesling is too close to the Moscato.” Cal steepled in his hands in front of his chin and gave Josh a look. “We should pick something different.”
“You’re serious? The complexities of those two grapes alone are vastly different, let alone the changes that take place during the fermentation process. They’re nowhere near the same.”
“To the lay person, they’re too close to be considered different,” Cal combated.
“And you’re telling me The Signal and The Beacon aren’t the same? Because to the lay person, they’re both paintings of lighthouses.”
“One is a photorealistic piece and the other is pointillism. Not even close to the same.”
“And one varietal is grown in Germany, while the other comes from Italy. Not even the same countries!”
Edie stood from the table, and honestly, wasn’t sure either man would even notice. This unnecessary, continual argument over wines and artwork was wearing on her nerves, down to her very last one.
“I need a drink,” she said, finding Tabitha, Ben, Foster, and Camille at the kitchen table, freshly opened bottle of cabernet in Ben’s hand like a waiter at a fine dining establishment.
After he had filled the four glasses on the table, she reached out to commandeer the bottle and gripped it by the neck to throw back a long pull.
“We could get you an actual glass,” Camille suggested, but Edie sliced a hand through the air to cut her off while she continued gulping. Coming up for air, she wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. “Not necessary.”
“I’m afraid to ask how it’s going in there.” Tabitha grimaced.
“About as good as it sounds.”
“I don’t think it’s really possible for two men in love with the same woman to get along,” Foster said flippantly as he stood from his chair and motioned for Edie to take his place. “I’ve never seen it done.”
She accepted the chivalrous gesture, mostly because his words had knocked her off balance and she desperately needed to regroup. “They’re not in love with me.”
“Um, I’m pretty sure they are,” Camille contested. “Love makes men do stupid things.”
“I don’t think we can disagree with you there,” Ben said, and over the lip of the bottle she’d lifted back up to her mouth, Edie could see the tender look he gave his ex-wife. Edie wondered just how long they would remain exes. There was definitely some rekindling going on.
“The question is,” Camille started in, “are you in love with either of them?”
Was she? At one point, she had been in love with Cal. Or in lust. She wasn’t sure. The line was so thin between the two emotions, sometimes it wasn’t even distinguishable.
And she had certainly started to develop feelings for Josh. But that hadn’t quite been love, either.
She had an affection for each man. And—up until quite recently—an admiration for their passion for their work. But goodness, they’d been acting like children lately. And there was absolutely nothing attractive about that.
“I’m not in love with either of them,” she said boldly, wondering if the wine had a little to do with that quick declaration.
“To be frank, I’m not entirely sure I like either of them right now.
They’re making this whole gala planning an impossible task, what with the bickering and the grumbling and the griping at every turn. ”
“It’s a pissing contest.” Foster crossed his ankles and leaned against the window frame.
Ben chuckled in agreement. “That’s exactly what it is.”
“It’s a what?” Edie returned the now empty bottle to the table.
“A pissing contest. A show of superiority.”
“It’s juvenile,” Edie stated.
“Oh, absolutely, it is,” Foster agreed. “But no one ever accused a man in love with being mature.”
“Maybe one of you should talk to them.” Camille motioned between Ben and Foster. “Bring to their attention how ridiculous they’re being and how they’re unintentionally pushing Edie away with their childlike behavior.”
“We could, or Edie could be the one to do it,” Ben said. “It would mean a lot more coming from her.”
She knew that and had hoped to avoid it at all costs.
Honestly, she figured they would pick up on her subtle hints and the fact that she consistently removed herself from every situation where they continued to debate.
But they were too preoccupied with their own juvenile battle to give that any notice.
Ben was right. It needed to come from her, and soon because she couldn’t endure this back and forth of wills much longer.
With the bottle drained, she snagged Camille’s nearby glass and tossed back another long swallow for courage. “I’m going to take care of this.”
“Right now?” Tabitha’s voice pitched.
“Right now.”
Like the storm brewing outside, Edie stormed back into the dining room where the disagreement over white wines had somehow shifted into bellyaching about napkin colors.
“This needs to stop.” She planted herself on the opposite side of the massive dining table and slapped her hands to the surface with a thunderous clap.
Both Josh and Cal fell instantly silent.
“Edie?” Cal was halfway up from his chair, but Edie motioned for him to remain seated.
“I need both of you to listen to me right now, because I only want to say this once.”
Two pairs of stunned eyes blinked in unison, the only thing the men had yet to be in sync on.
“This arguing—this pissing contest—whatever this is needs to stop, because we have a gala to put on and it’s not just about us.
It’s about the artists we will be showcasing, the ones displaying pieces they’ve worked months—some even years—to complete.
It’s about the vineyards that are sharing their wines with us, at a deep discount, no less.
It’s about the venue and the fact that this will be the first time they’ll be officially open to the public.
We have a responsibility to so much more than just ourselves with this event.
And right now, I think we’re focusing on the wrong thing entirely. ”
Was that enough to knock some sense into them? Or did she need to implicitly spell it out?
“You’re right.” Josh relented first. “We’re not getting anything done by arguing over every last detail.”
Or by arguing over her, but that went without saying.
“I agree.” Cal gave a quick nod. “We’ve gone a little sideways and need to get back on track.”
“We’ve gone more than sideways,” Edie said. “We’ve gone completely off the rails.”
She waited for their disagreement, but it didn’t come, thank goodness.
“We have a long checklist of things to cross off, and we need to be on the same page in order to get it all done.”
Josh thumbed his chin. “I think the most pressing item is to decide who the proceeds of the benefit event will go to. The venue said once they’ve been paid and we’ve squared up with all the vendors, we’re welcome to donate any remaining proceeds to a charity or cause of our choice.”
“There’s an after-school art club down at the Seascape Shores Rec Center that could really use the funds to get up and going,” Cal suggested. Edie had heard of the program. She knew he volunteered there a few times a week.
“That could be a good fit,” she agreed, then passed a look over to Josh.
“I know Morgan could really use some of the proceeds. She’s starting an introductory class for young bakers and right now it’s all coming out of pocket. Since she’ll be getting some exposure as the caterer of the event, it might be a nice tie in too.”
Edie liked Morgan and she absolutely loved the sweets that came out of her bakery. It was an endeavor she would gladly support. “I’m sure we can allocate some funds to both programs.”
The men nodded. Their reaction wasn’t quite the same as Edie’s. She was cheering internally, marking this day in history as the first time Cal Burton and Josh McMurtry actually agreed on something. It was a monumental occasion. One for the books.
“See?” Edie glanced between them, grinning. “That wasn’t so hard. We actually agreed on something.” She scanned the list, refusing to become daunted but knowing they had a long, long road ahead. “Only thirty-three more items to check off.”