The Sauvignon Secret

Chapter 26

I drove Pépé to the airport on a gray rainy morning, the day after the funeral. The depressing weather matched our moods.

“Are you going to be okay?” I asked.

“Of course.”

“You mustn’t blame yourself for what happened,” I said. We had driven most of the route in silence. In another ten minutes we’d be at Dulles Airport yet again. “You didn’t believe what Charles said, did you?”

“I should have realized how depressed she was. Maybe I could have prevented her death.” He’d ignored the question.

“No. You couldn’t.” I was adamant. “Look, she thought she was going to be able to commit murder and escape a husband she loathed. When she got caught, she couldn’t face the consequences, so she took her own life. It has nothing to do with you.”

“I believe it does.” He sounded so melancholy that my heart ached for him.

“I’m sure Jasmine had no idea the powder keg she set off when she sent Charles those pictures and that it would result in the deaths of three people. By the time she met Juliette and discovered she had a willing accomplice who wanted Charles killed off—plus she’d found Theo, who was also eager to go along—all the wheels were in motion for their little conspiracy. No one could have stopped anything,” I said. “It played out the way it had to—including bringing you and me into it.”

The highway billboards listing which airlines were located at which concourse began flashing by. I put on my turn signal when I spotted Air France.

“I’ll come to Paris to visit you,” I said. “This year when harvest is over, after you get back from Morocco. Maybe around the end of October?”

“It’s about time. I’d like that.” He smiled and brushed my cheek with a finger. “Don’t park, chérie. Just drop me at the entrance near the Air France ticket counter. I have my boarding pass, so I can go straight to security after I check my bag.”

I didn’t argue with him, but I did wait after he exited the car until I could no longer see him and he’d disappeared in a maze of glass and steel. Though I hoped he’d turn around to wave goodbye, he never did.

I sat there, lost in my thoughts and worrying about him, until a security guard finally chased me away. Afterward, I drove slowly home in the rain, taking the long way on the back roads.

By October when we saw each other again, we’d be okay. Pépé’d bounce back to his old self and I would have finished the last harvest with Quinn.

Ready to move on, write the next chapter.

The next day I told Frankie I planned to advertise for a new winemaker. She looked at me the way a mother looks at a child who is about to do something she’ll regret forever.

“Quinn will be back for harvest in a few weeks,” she said. “Why can’t you wait and talk to him about this? Maybe he’ll change his mind and stay for good.”

“We’ve done all the talking we need to do,” I said. “Look, I need to clear my head. I’m going over to the cemetery to tidy up the graves. That wind and rain yesterday probably brought down some leaves and branches.”

“Give yourself a break. You don’t have to take care of that today.” She paused and studied my face. “Never mind. I shouldn’t be sticking my nose in your business, but I can’t bear to see you looking so sad.”

“I’ll be okay,” I said. “The Montgomery women are tough. I’ll get through this.”

She nodded. “I know.”

When I was done cleaning what little debris there was among the headstones, I sat with my back against my mother’s marker until the sun became a fireball and began to slip behind the mountains. A vehicle—the engine sounded like the old Superman blue truck that Antonio used—came down Sycamore Lane while the flame-colored sky was at its fiercest and most intense. It stopped at the bottom of the hill near the mulberry trees and a door slammed. Frankie obviously told Antonio where to find me.

He came through the gate, backlit by slanting gold light so he was completely in silhouette, but I knew right away it wasn’t Antonio.

“How come you haven’t returned a single one of my calls?” Quinn asked. He sprinted across the cemetery, threading his way between the graves before I could answer, and pulled me to my feet. “I called you every day for a week until I finally wised up and got my news from Frankie.”

“There wasn’t anything else to say,” I said.

“What are you talking about?”

“Especially after you spent the night with Brooke right after we stayed together on the houseboat.”

“What the hell—you think I did what?” He looked up and rolled his eyes. “That’s what this has been about? You think Brooke and I—”

“What was I supposed to think when I called and you were right there while she was getting dressed?”

He put his hands on my shoulders. “Listen to me,” he said. “Brooke is like a daughter to me. That’s it. There is nothing—and I mean that—going on between us. I slept on her couch so I wouldn’t have to drive back to Sausalito.”

“Why are you here?”

“Because you’re so damn stubborn, that’s why. We could have sorted this out sooner and a whole lot cheaper,” he said, “than a oneway plane ticket.”

My heart skipped a few beats. “One-way?”

“I heard you’re looking for a winemaker and I’d like to know why, when you’ve already got one.”

“Do I?”

He nodded. “Unless you’re firing me.”

“No,” I said. “I’m not.”

“Good. Glad that’s settled. Though I would like to make a few changes about the way we do things.”

“Oh God, you want a raise. I should have figured.”

“A raise would be good,” he said, “but I was thinking more along the lines of a change of accommodations. Maybe we could try living together. You know, I could leave a few things at your place, see if it works. That is, if you’d be willing?”

I felt suspended, breathless. “I suppose you could do that. Eli and Hope are living with me now, too.”

“I know,” he said. “You’d be okay with me being part of your family?”

“Yes,” I said. “I would.”

“Me, too,” he said. “Because you’re part of mine.”

I took a deep breath. “Then if we’re family, you need to move in completely. No half measures, Quinn. It has to be all the way.”

He grinned and kissed me. “All right,” he said. “That’s how we’ll do it. All the way.”