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Authors: Beth Kendrick

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BOOK: Once Upon a Wine
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Speaking of which . . . “I have to get up really early and walk the fields tomorrow.” Cammie stifled a yawn and sat down at the kitchen table. “Plants never sleep, you know.”

“Worry about that tomorrow.” Ginger located a potato masher. “Right now, watch and learn.”

Cammie and Kat watched Ginger muddle the berries with warm water and sugar, then drape a dishcloth over the pot.

“Now what?” Kat eyed the faded red gingham.

“Now we wait for two days. In the meantime, don't touch.” Ginger slid the pot on top of the refrigerator with Kat's help. “Cammie, what on earth possessed you to start making strawberry wine in the middle of the night?”

“You and Mom always said I could try it when I grew up.” Cammie rested her bare feet on the edge of the chair and hugged her knees to her chest. “I think I finally qualify.”

The three of them stayed up late into the night, chatting and snacking and playing a cutthroat game of Uno with a deck of cards Kat found in a kitchen drawer. Everyone straggled off to bed as the first light of dawn crept over the dark horizon.

“I'm only going to get like an hour of sleep,” Cammie warned. “There's weeding and fertilizing and watering and pruning to be done.”

“We're with you,” Kat vowed. “Bright and early.”

“Up and at 'em,” Ginger agreed. “Just need a little catnap.”

With the whole house smelling faintly of strawberries and lemon, they all went to bed.

The next thing Cammie knew, it was noon and someone was pounding on the front door.

chapter 8

C
ammie startled awake, glanced at the clock, and tumbled out of bed. She felt disoriented and desperate for a shower and a cup of high-octane coffee.

The doorbell rang, followed by the rapping of knuckles against the window.

“Coming,” Cammie yelled, her voice hoarse, as she threw on a robe and hustled downstairs. She smoothed back her hair and opened the door.

“Josh.” She was shocked to see Kat's husband. “Hey. What are you doing here?”

Even in jeans and a baseball cap, Josh Milner looked like the philosophy professor that he was. Placid and thoughtful, he was the counterbalance to Kat's constant, frenetic adrenaline.

“I thought I'd have breakfast with my wife. Yesterday was the last day of classes.” He shifted, revealing a small brown-and-white dog in the crook of his arm. “Is she here?”

Cammie rubbed the back of her hand across her eyes. She felt like she should hug him or something, but she wasn't wearing a bra and she hadn't brushed her teeth. They could hug later. “Hang on a second. I'll go wake her up.”

“She's still asleep?” He looked surprised, which was understandable, considering Kat's energy level. “Was she out late last night?”

“We all hung out in the kitchen, making strawberry wine and playing Uno.” Cammie smiled. “We're officially old.”

“Yeah, that's what Kat keeps saying.”

She invited him into the front room, where he took in the makeshift bar and upended barrels.

“I like what you've done with the place,” he said.

“Yeah, we're kind of in transition.” Cammie looked at the dog. “Who's this little guy?”

Josh shuffled his feet, clearly self-conscious. “This is Jacques. Listen, Cammie . . .”

Something in his tone made her snap to attention.

“I know we haven't talked much, but I have to ask: Does Kat seem different to you?”

Cammie edged toward the staircase. “Different how?”

“I don't know.” He took off his cap. “Something's going on with her. She won't talk about it. She used to tell me everything, but then she moves out of the house and won't answer my texts.”

“I'll . . . go see if she's up.” Cammie put her foot on the bottom stair tread.

“And since when does she play Uno?” His dark brows snapped together. “She hates card games.”

Cammie moseyed up to the landing, then sprinted the rest of the way to Kat's tiny room at the end of the hallway. Before she could knock, the door swung inward. Kat gripped the doorknob, her eyes wild. “Is that Josh down there?”

“Yes.” Cammie pointed toward the stairs. “He wants to take you to breakfast.”

“What the hell? What is he
doing
here?” Kat clutched the doorframe for support.

“I don't know. Maybe you should ask him.”

Kat hugged the frame even closer. “What am I going to do?”

Ginger cleared her throat, startling both of them. “Are you aware that Josh is downstairs?”

“Yes,” Cammie and Kat chorused.

“Then why are you up here, ignoring him?”

“I'm not ignoring him,” Kat hissed.

“They're going to breakfast,” Cammie said helpfully.

Kat panicked. She turned to Cammie and commanded, “Tell him I'm sick. Tell him I'm throwing up and supercontagious. Tell him—”

“Tell him nothing of the sort.” Ginger pursed her lips. “Kat, you're a grown woman with a marriage and responsibilities. Whatever is going on between you and Josh, running away to the Delaware beach is not going to solve it.”

“I ran here for you, Mother. And this is none of your business!” Kat went from panicked to enraged in a split second. “You have no idea what's going on with us.”

“That's right.” Ginger matched Kat's steely glare. “Because you won't tell me.”

Josh
ahem
ed downstairs. Everyone jumped.

“He's waiting for you,” Cammie whispered.

Kat closed her eyes. “What am I going to do?”

“I thought you were all about confrontation,” Cammie said. “I thought it made you feel alive.”

“Yeah, with you guys; not with my husband.”

Cammie studied her cousin's expression. “You did something bad, didn't you?”

“What?” Kat's eyes snapped open. “Why would you say that?”

Ginger started nodding along with Cammie. “If Josh had done something wrong, you'd already be down there, ripping him apart. But the fact that you're still here, cowering in your room . . . You screwed up.”

Kat pulled her giant Quartersnacks skateboarding T-shirt closer around her torso. “Nobody screwed up. That's not what's happening here.”

“Then what is happening?” Ginger asked. “Enlighten us, please.”

They all fell silent, casting looks of reproach and suspicion at one another. Then they heard a high-pitched yelp from the vicinity of the front door.

Kat furrowed her brow. “What was that?”

“I think it was Jacques,” Cammie said.

“Who's Jacques?”

“Your dog?” Cammie described the brown-and-white dog Josh had been carrying.

Kat looked mystified. “We don't have a dog.”

Another yelp.

Kat finally released her death grip on the doorjamb and started down the stairs. Ginger prepared to follow, but Cammie stopped her with a hand on her arm.

“We should probably give them their privacy.”


You
give them their privacy.” Ginger shook off her hand and crept toward the stairs. “
I
intend to find out what's going on.”

“Eavesdropping is wrong.” But Cammie tiptoed behind her aunt. “If Kat catches us, I'm blaming you.”

“Go ahead,” Ginger whispered over her shoulder. “I'll play the cancer card.”

“For the last time—you don't have cancer.”

“But I
did
.”

They huddled on the landing. Cammie could hear Kat's voice, soft but strained:

“I wasn't expecting to see you. What . . . ?”

Josh answered, “Here, I brought you this.”

There was a rustling of cloth and excited canine yips.

“Josh.” Kat didn't sound excited. “What is this?”

“It's a French bulldog. His name is Jacques.”

“But why?”

Josh started to sound a wee bit testy. “When we first met, you told me you always wanted a French bulldog.”

“I did?”

“Yeah, on our first date.”

Kat paused. “Huh. I don't remember that.”

“Well, I do.”

“Where did you get him?” Kat asked.

“The dean of students' sister is a breeder, it turns out. She trains them and shows them in those fancy dog shows. Jacques here was one of her champions.”

“Then why is he here with you?”

“He's retired,” Josh said. “She said he did great until he was about four years old, and he hasn't won anything since. He went after a garden hose, broke his tooth on the metal, and that was it. He's out of the ring.”

“Forever?”

“Yeah. I guess dog shows are serious business.”

“So, that's it?” Kat sounded upset, almost tearful. “He's not physically perfect anymore, and they just throw him out into the cold?”

“They re-homed him with loving new owners,” Josh pointed out. “Us.”

But Kat wasn't listening. “He didn't turn out exactly the way they expected, so they got rid of him. No blue ribbons, no love.”

Cammie and Ginger abandoned all pretense of stealth and tromped down the stairs to meet Jacques.

“He's adorable.” Cammie scratched the little dog behind the ears. Jacques licked her wrist.

Kat reached for the dog, then pulled her hand back. She took a deep breath and folded her arms. “I'm already taking care of my mother and a field full of grapes. This is not a good time to get a dog.”

Ginger elbowed Cammie in the rib cage. “Did you hear that? She lumped me in with a
dog
.” She scooped Jacques out of Josh's hands and gave him a thorough snuggling. “You did always used to say you wanted a French bulldog, Kat.”

“So I hear.” Kat slumped her shoulders, clearly not enjoying her role as the killjoy. “But I can't deal with one more thing to worry about right now.”

“Ooh, that reminds me.” Cammie looked out the window at the gentle green slopes. “I've got to figure out the irrigation system today.”

“Katherine, you're being ridiculous,” Ginger admonished. “Dogs and grapes are two entirely different things.”

“Yeah, but shouldn't we pace ourselves here? Limit ourselves to one challenge at a time?” Kat glanced guiltily at Josh.

“He won't be much trouble,” Josh said mildly. “He's already socialized and house-trained. He's a good boy.”

“Every vineyard needs a dog,” Ginger said. “I read that somewhere.”

“I can't believe this.” Kat was regressing into a sullen preteen right before their eyes. “How are you so breezy about this? You never let me have a dog. Not even when I begged.”

“But now your wish is granted,” Ginger put down Jacques, who
started sniffing the wine barrels. “Thanks to your doting husband. Now, who wants breakfast?”

Josh looked at Kat. “I'm taking you to breakfast.” This was not a request.

Ginger kissed her son-in-law on the cheek. “Good idea. You two lovebirds go have some alone time. I'll babysit my little grandpuppy while you're out. So glad you came, Josh.”

“I'll get dressed.” Kat practically dragged Cammie up the stairs with her. Jacques followed them, surprisingly nimble for such a short, stout creature.

Kat made it to the top of the stairs before she collapsed against the wall and dropped her face into her palms. “What is he doing?”

“What are
you
doing?” Cammie countered. “The man shows up to take you to breakfast, with the dog you always wanted, and you're hiding up here, freaking out?”

Kat's head sank even lower.

“Tell me,” Cammie urged. “What happened? What'd he do?”

“Nothing.” Kat's voice was muffled. “Nothing happened. He didn't do anything. That's the problem.”

Cammie ushered Kat into the bedroom, closed the door, and waited.

“The problem isn't Josh.” Kat sank down on the whitewashed wood floor. “The problem is me.”

“Okay.”

Kat addressed the ceiling beams. “When he first asked me out, I almost said no because, let's face it, he wasn't really my type.”

“That's true,” Cammie agreed. “I remember that. We had a three-hour text debate about it.”

“But you told me to give him a chance, and I did. I made a conscious decision to be with a guy who was nice and smart and trustworthy.”

“An excellent decision,” Cammie said.

“It was.” Kat looked more pallid by the second. “Even though the spark wasn't there in the beginning, I told myself that it would come. I told myself that eventually my heart would catch up with my head, and I would fall in love with him.”

Cammie sat down next to her cousin.

“And I did,” Kat finished. “By the time we got married, I was madly in love.”

“Then what's the problem?”

“The problem is, I don't know if I still love him.” Kat's whole body trembled. “I don't feel anything. I want to, but I don't.”

Cammie didn't know where to start, what to ask. “How long?”

“The past six months? I'm not sure. And the problem is me—I know it is. I used to be this badass boarder with my own identity. I had tournaments and sponsors and a publicist. I did photo shoots and speaking gigs. I had a life, you know?”

“You still have a life.”

“Yeah, but now I'm just another wife living in the suburbs, and I hate it.” Kat lifted her head, her eyes both furious and glinting with tears.
“I hate it.”

“Okay.”

“All day long, I do stuff like go to the grocery store and the dry cleaner. I go to events at the university, and I'm just Josh's wife. It's like the past fifteen years never happened.”

Cammie nodded. “I'm sure that's hard for you, but it's not Josh's fault.”

“I know. I know!” Kat threw up her hands. “He's so great and supportive, and I know he deserves a wife who's crazy about him.”

Cammie planted her hands behind her and leaned back. “But . . . ?”

“But I'm not attracted to him. At all. I don't want to kiss him, let alone have sex with him.”

Cammie blew out her breath. “That is a problem.”

“I'm just going through the motions with the marriage.” Kat paused. “With my whole life right now, really. I'm just . . . empty.” Kat hung her head again. “And now he's here. With my dream dog. Like the perfect husband he is. And I don't want to deal with him.”

They both pondered this in silence for a minute.

BOOK: Once Upon a Wine
10.78Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
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