One Perfect Year. Melinda Curtis

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СКАЧАТЬ held up a very sharp-looking knife. Back in high school, after she’d sliced open her finger while dissecting a pig—twice—Mrs. Bernhardt had forbidden Shelby to wield sharp instruments in her biology class.

      “Plant your feet. Grab hold of the vine. And...” Shelby smoothly slid her knife beneath a leaf, made a cut, freed a grape cluster bigger than her hand and set it in the bin next to her. Then she demonstrated her technique again, slower this time, surprising Gage with how capable and confident her movements were. “Hold the cluster in one hand, make a diagonal cut with your knife and then show the grapes some love as you put them gently in the bin.”

      “Nicely done,” he said.

      She ignored him and cut another grape cluster free. “Remove any leaves or excess stems. When your tub is full, empty your load into the large wheeled bin and move ahead to another section. And if the knife makes you uncomfortable—” she made eye contact with everyone but Gage “—let me know. We’ll find something else for you to do. Nobody’s getting hurt on my watch.”

      He realized in the past two years he’d missed out on something: Shelby had changed.

      She wasn’t the cute, naively optimistic, bumbling young woman he’d fallen in love with and his best friend had married.

      She was something more.

      Something that made it hard for him to remember he should only have come to say goodbye.

      * * *

      EACH WINERY’S HARVEST was different. The weather, the slope of the property, the crew.

      Some crews spoke very little English. Some sang rowdy songs.

      This crew was like being at a high school reunion without the alcohol or cocktail dresses. They fell into an easy camaraderie—joking, reminiscing, telling stories about college, jobs, spouses and kids. Everyone, that is, except Shelby and Gage.

      “Three kids already?” With a waggle of eyebrows, curvy Tanya ribbed Emily. “You’ve been busy, girl.”

      “I love my kids.” Emily had that look about her that many young moms seemed to have—equal parts joy and weariness. “But every mom needs a break. That’s why my husband is home with them tonight.”

      They all laughed.

      Carl hadn’t changed a bit. “I couldn’t wait to get out of here after graduation. Santa Rosa has everything I need—sexy cars, sexy women and the food...” He’d always been focused on the trappings of success and quite the talker. Only now, his brown hairline was receding. “I sell solar panels for swimming pools. I drive a company truck, and as a perk they put solar panels on my roof for free. If anyone needs to heat up their pool, let me know.”

      Broad shouldered Umberto’s grin was just as wide as always. “California’s been hard up for water. How’s the pool biz working out for you?”

      “It’s been tough,” Carl admitted begrudgingly. Then he gave Umberto a friendly slug to the arm. “But I’ve always been a survivor. Remember that baseball game against Cloverdale senior year? I was not going to let their superstar score and beat us.”

      And Carl hadn’t. He’d decked the runner trying to steal home, hitting him so hard the boy got a concussion.

      Shelby glanced at Gage. He and Nick had played in that game. Afterward, they hadn’t been proud of the win. Gage said nothing.

      Seeing Gage triggered so many memories. Bright ones—laughing with their heads bent over a science book, racing Nick and Gage on bikes to school, dancing with Gage on her wedding day. And darker memories—her calling to ask Gage if he’d heard from Nick, him showing up at their apartment in the middle of the night to drive her to identify Nick’s broken body, him fading into the crowd of mourners at the funeral.

      A part of her ached anew trying to imagine the reason he’d disappeared. He was hurting as much as I was.

      A part of her rose up in indignant anguish. He left me when I needed him most.

      Wounded pride stiffened her backbone. She refused to need anyone anymore. Needing, attachment, loving. It all led to heartache.

      For two years, she’d coped with the loss of his friendship by creating the metaphor of Dead Gage. If she was dead to him and not worthy of a phone call, he’d be dead to her. Tit for tat. Quid pro quo. Right back at you.

       Then why did you claim him for your crew?

      Because... Because they’d been close once. Because there was a look in his eyes now that echoed hers on difficult days. And because his happy-go-lucky smile when he’d arrived was the one he used to hide his true emotions.

      Before she could ask Gage how he was doing, Tanya started up again. “Do you remember that time Mrs. Horvath took us on a field trip to the coast?”

      As the night wore on, fog blanketed the vineyard. Cold seeped through her work gloves, the same as it had seeped through her heart at the sight of Gage.

      “Do you ever hear from Maria?” Tanya cut a thick cluster free.

      “I heard she’s living in Vegas.” Emily straightened, pressing her thumbs into the small of her back. “I’m using muscles I haven’t used in years.”

      Umberto dumped a tray of grapes into the big bin on wheels. “My grandmother said she went to prison.”

      “My grandfather said she’s dead.” Carl’s chortle echoed through the vineyard.

      The group fell silent and cast covert glances toward Shelby and Gage, whose gazes collided. The cowlick over his forehead stuck up the way it did when he got frustrated and wouldn’t leave it alone.

      Dead Gage. When Gage hadn’t answered Shelby’s calls or texts after the funeral, she’d had a meltdown. Not a week earlier, her husband hadn’t answered her calls or texts, and he’d turned up dead.

      “I heard Vegas,” Shelby said thickly.

      “Me, too.” Gage bent to the vines.

      “I bet Maria dances in one of those topless shows.” Carl filled the silence gleefully. “I need to track her down. I’d love to score some front row seats and maybe land a date with a dancer or two.”

      “Two? That’s the attitude that led to Tracy Jackson dumping you.” Umberto chuckled. “Now her brother’s a millionaire and is one of the owners of this place. I heard one of them bought his sister a condo and a new car. You could’ve been on easy street.”

      “Tracy Jackson. I haven’t thought of her in forever.” Carl showed not a hint of remorse for breaking Tracy’s heart in high school. “Does anyone have her number?”

      Shelby smiled at his perseverence, although if she had Tracy’s number there was no way she’d pass it on to Carl.

      * * *

      “LET’S BREAK,” CHRISTINE called out shortly after midnight.

      Agnes, Umberto’s grandmother—who owned the Mexican restaurant in town—and Mayor Larry had arrived with hot СКАЧАТЬ