The Crush (Oregon Wine Country #1)(66)
His orientation week had just ended.
“Do you have any lingering questions?” Amanda asked, cocking her head provocatively.
“I’m good,” he replied absentmindedly, looking out to sea.
“I was thinking of going to the beach bar and getting another Carib. Want to join me?”
“Do you think they got any pinot over there?”
The tinkling sound of her laughter came to him on the sea breeze. “Belize and fine wine aren’t words you usually hear in the same sentence.”
“Sure, I’ll have another beer. Why not?” He shrugged. He didn’t have anything better to do.
At the bar, Amanda made an admirable effort at small talk. “A proper infrastructure is crucial for the local community here. You’re providing a great service.”
“Great,” replied Manolo, peeling the label off his Carib.
“Manny?”
“Huh?”
“Did you even hear what I said?”
“Yeah. I’m providing a great service.”
“That’s right. I’m really excited you’ll be here for the next six months.”
“Me too.”
“Are you?”
He scowled. “Sure I am.”
“Because you seem to be a thousand miles away.”
Two thousand six hundred seventy-three miles, to be precise. He couldn’t help it. All he could think about was Junie.
He wanted to violate his number-one policy, to call her up and ask her how the first full week of crush was going, if the guy she’d hired to man the bistro was working out, her impression of last year’s vintage now that it’d been safely bottled and stored, and a hundred other details.
But if he was going to forget her, he had to cut himself off, cold turkey.
“Manny?”
“Yeah.”
“What’d I just say?”
“Something about the catch of the day. What were the choices again?”
“Queen lobster or grouper.”
“You order for me.”
For once in his life, food was the last thing on his mind.
Chapter Forty
Autumn, Clarkston, Oregon
When Manolo left town, Junie felt as if she were sinking gradually to the bottom of a well.
He’d never promised her a thing he didn’t fulfill. He’d said he would make her tasting room the talk of the town, and he had. He’d promised to have the bistro finished in time for the crush, and he had. He’d told her he was a vagabond, and he was.
Work was her salvation. There was a break in the vineyard chores, but the crush season had only just begun. Hart Vineyards was the star of the show this year, with Sam bringing busload after busload out, and carsful of thirsty tourists arriving from dawn to dusk.
Keval convinced her to formally change the name to Broken Hart Vineyards, saying that it hinted at a melancholy yet intriguing story.
Broken Hart Vineyards, indeed.
Keval set up interviews with the local press and Wine Spectator.
Northwest Distributors sent one of their managers to wine and dine her at the Radish Rose, Clarkston’s bastion of fine dining.
She was grateful for the distractions. They kept her from thinking about Manolo.
Best of all, she met with Jed Smith at Clarkston Savings Bank and crafted a plan to pay off Tom Alexander and write a check to Manolo, even though he hadn’t asked for it.
Once those debts were paid, she breathed a sigh of relief.
The next challenge was to buy out Storm. But that shouldn’t be too hard. He’d only bought out Mom’s half interest to help her afford her townhouse.
Or so Junie thought.
And then, one day in early November when the grapevines were withering and the air held the promise of snow, Jed Smith called and asked Junie to meet him at Poppy’s Café.
The crush was just winding down. It had been a record year, not just for Junie, but for the entire Willamette Valley.
Poppy took their orders and pretended not to eavesdrop.
“So. What’s new?” Junie asked, biting into her sticky bun. She still didn’t cook, despite Manolo having left a folder with all his family recipes in it on the tasting room bar, along with detailed instructions for the seasonal cook she’d taken on.
“I heard from your brother, Storm,” Jed replied with a grim expression.
Chapter Forty-one
November, Hoboken, New Jersey
Manolo bent over and kissed his mother’s cheek. “How’s the knee?”
He’d managed to incorporate a side trip to visit his mom at the rehab hospital following November drill.
“Coming along. They had me up walking the very first day.”
“Amazing what modern medicine can do, isn’t it?”
“It sure is. Hand me my glasses, will you?”
She put them on and studied his face. “Where are you these days?”
“You know, Mom. We talked about it. Belize, remember?”
“That’s right. It’s all these medicines I’m on that makes me forget things. You didn’t like it out west, then?”
Manolo looked at the floor. He tried not to think about the wide open spaces, the big sky, and, most of all, the unique people. “Liked it fine. It was just time.”