Blend Read online

  “Got it.” And Bridget was off.

  Lindsay stood behind the small bar and surveyed the space. It was rectangular; not huge, but not tiny. The bar had eight stools. Another bar ran along one side of the building that lined the windows overlooking Black Cherry Lake and the unused patio there. Frankly, Lindsay didn’t think they took enough advantage of what was actually a pretty spectacular view, and she pulled out the small notepad she’d stuffed into her back pocket earlier and jotted a note about that. There were twenty small tables that could be dragged together to create seating for larger parties, and Lindsay had no intention of messing with the furniture. Mr. and Mrs. Bradshaw had spared no expense there, the tables solid, dark wood, the matching chairs upholstered with cream cushions decorated with grapevines. The rest of the interior of Vineyard was nice, if a little dated, and she scribbled more notes about possible paint, wall decorations, table décor.

  She needed to step carefully, though. No—she wanted to step carefully. For Mrs. B.’s sake. Vineyard had a super prime location, and Lindsay firmly believed that was the main reason it had survived this long. It certainly wasn’t because it had changed and evolved with the times or because it catered to the ever-changing landscape of wine drinkers. But Mrs. B. had a tough time with change. Big change, anyway. And her trust in Lindsay, her leaving Lindsay in charge and telling her to run with some of her ideas, was huge. The last thing Lindsay wanted to do was take advantage of that trust.

  “All right, Lindsay,” said Kate Childs, a blond in her forties, sitting at the bar alone. “One more, then I need to get home to my dog. What do you suggest?” Kate was another regular, a suspense novelist who often came in during the afternoon for a glass of wine while she wrote. “Some writers prefer coffee shops,” she’d said to Lindsay one day when she’d pulled out her laptop. “I prefer wine bars while I work.” Lindsay had chuckled and they’d started up a conversation about modern-day thrillers.

  Lindsay knew Kate was partial to whites, but not too sweet. “I’ve got a new Sauvignon Blanc from New Zealand. Want to give it a whirl?”

  “You know I love the Kiwi wines.” Kate closed her laptop and slid it into a bag. “Hit me.”

  They were approaching closing time, which was 8:00 p.m. Tuesday through Thursday and 9:00 on Friday and Saturday. Vineyard was about a quarter full; Lindsay could count the number of patrons easily. Kate had had a particularly great session of writing, she’d told Lindsay a bit ago, and was there later than she’d expected to be, so her presence at this hour was unusual, but welcome.

  Bridget returned with the flight carrier and hung it up behind the bar. As if privy to Lindsay’s thoughts, she said, “I still think we should stay open later.” She seemed to be musing out loud, as she didn’t wait for a response from Lindsay, just took a cloth to a nearby table and began wiping it down.

  Lindsay slid the glass of white to Kate, watched as she sipped, then nodded her approval and scrolled on her phone.

  Sucking a large, slow breath into her lungs, Lindsay looked around. It had been almost four hours since Mrs. B. had given her the news, and Lindsay couldn’t help the feeling that this was the start of something new for her.

  Something big.

  Something important.

  Chapter Two

  “Mom. Come on. You’re kidding, right?” Piper Bradshaw sat at her desk and gazed out over the downtown cityscape, phone to her ear. Clouds of dull nickel gray were moving in rapidly, likely confirming the morning meteorologist’s rain predictions. She watched them as they slid across the sky, blotting out the blue and the sun and any slight bit of cheer the remainder of her day may have held. “Why? Why do you feel the need to gallivant all over the place?”

  Ellen sighed at her daughter’s words. “First of all, I have worked nonstop since your father passed away. I think I deserve a break, don’t you?” Without waiting for a response, she went on. “Secondly, I don’t consider a well-earned vacation ‘gallivanting.’”

  Piper could envision her mother making air quotes around the word. She sighed as she grabbed the underwire of her bra and tugged at it, her snug-fitting dress starting to feel constrictive after nine hours of wear. “I know. I’m sorry. I just…I’ll miss you.” That was the truth. “What about Vineyard?”

  “That’s the other thing I wanted to talk to you about.”

  Something in her mother’s voice made Piper brace herself just a bit.

  “I’m leaving Lindsay Kent in charge of the day-to-day running of things.”

  “Lindsay? The hippie?” Piper couldn’t catch the scoff that burst from her lips. “Why would you do that?”

  Ellen’s tone hardened. She hadn’t kept a business running all on her own by being a marshmallow. “Lindsay is not a hippie, and I made that decision because I own the place.”

  Feeling chastised, Piper went on. “I know. I know. But…” She let her sentence dangle, doing her best to back off and find the right path to tread with her mom.

  “What is your problem with her, anyway? She’s smart. She’s good to the customers. She’s a fast learner.”

  Piper opened her mouth, closed it, then opened it again. “I just don’t think she’s right for the atmosphere of the place. She’s super casual. I don’t think she gets wine drinkers or how a business runs or…” Again with the dangling. Why can’t I finish a damn thought? Her mother was the only person on earth who could make Piper feel unsure of herself.

  “Well, you’re wrong.” There was no room for argument now and Piper knew it. “And you’d better change that attitude, young lady, because the two of you will have to work together. I’m leaving both of you to handle the business while I’m away. You will have access to the business account and the money. Any changes that cost money will have to be agreed on by both of you.”

  Piper was nodding even though nobody could see her.

  “Unless you’d rather I leave that responsibility to Gina.”

  At the mention of her big sister’s name, Piper chuckled. “Mom. Please. My sister the college professor wouldn’t know the first thing about running Vineyard.”

  “Then I guess you’re going to have to take care of it.”

  “I will.”

  “Good. Come by tomorrow after work so I can reintroduce you and go over some of the details, okay?”

  Piper agreed to the meeting and hung up the phone. Before she had time to dwell on the topic at hand, her intercom buzzed.

  “Ms. Bradshaw? You wanted to go over that report before I left.”

  “Okay,” she said to Charlotte, her admin. “Come on in.” Thank God Piper had dinner with Matthew tonight. At least he’ll be level-headed about this.

  * * *

  “Sorry I’m late,” Piper said, as she kissed Matthew O’Keefe on his bearded cheek. “I had a morning meeting run long, and it threw off my entire day.”

  Matthew was a big man, bulky and kind. The parents of his kindergarten students called him a big teddy bear, which his husband found endlessly amusing. He stood from the high-top table and wrapped Piper in a hug. “No worries. I’m still on my first drink, so you’re safe. The tradition is still alive.” He signaled to the waitress. “A vodka tonic for the lovely lady, please.”

  Piper held him at arm’s length, took in his khakis and navy blue oxford. “You look good. Lost the tie already, I see.” She winked at him as she slid out of her trench coat and hung it on the back of her chair along with her purse.

  He reached to the pocket of his coat and pulled the end of a light blue tie out far enough for her to see. “By two o’clock, that thing is choking the life out of me.”

  “Sounds like my bra.” Once she was all settled in her seat, she propped her elbows on the sleek black surface of the table, set her chin on her fists, and smiled at the man who’d been her best friend since junior high. “God, it’s good to see your face.”

  “Back atcha. And also, you look incredible.” Matthew’s eyebrows went up high as he took in the red dress that hugged her hips
and framed her figure like it was made for her.

  “Thanks. I had a couple client meetings today. Gotta dress to impress.” She didn’t add that she couldn’t wait to get home and into her slouchy lounge pants and ratty sweatshirt. “How are you?”

  “I’m good.” Matthew smiled and sipped his beer.

  “What dark concoction are you drinking today?” Piper asked, taking the glass from him so she could sip.

  “It’s Red Barn’s new vanilla porter. I love it.”

  Piper tasted it, then wrinkled her nose as she handed it back, and he chuckled.

  “You don’t like beer, P. Why do you insist on taking a sip of every one I drink?”

  Piper shrugged. “Like you said, tradition.” The waitress arrived with Piper’s cocktail and a couple menus. “How’s Shane? It’s been, what? Six months? Seven? Still lost in a haze of wedded bliss?”

  “Married life is awesome. You should give it a try some time.”

  Piper snorted as a response. Another sip of her drink and she said, “Wait until you hear what my mother told me today.”

  “Aw, how is Mrs. B.? I haven’t seen her since the wedding.”

  “She’s taking a vacation.” Piper said it as though it was an unbelievable piece of news.

  “Good for her! It’s about time. Where is she off to and for how long?”

  “That’s just it. She’s off to Disney first, but then she said she’s going to travel some more after that and she hasn’t decided where yet. She said she might be gone for months. Maybe a year!” Piper felt her eyes widen in disbelief, just as they had when her mother had first told her. She still couldn’t believe it.

  “I’ll say it again. Good for her.”

  Piper made a face at Matthew. “Of course you say that. She loves you and you love her. You two have an unhealthy love fest for each other.”

  Matthew gave a mock-gasp and pressed a hand to his chest. “I take offense to the word ‘unhealthy.’”

  “Figures.”

  They grinned at each other for a moment, two old friends enjoying their biweekly time together. Finally, Matthew asked, “So, why does this have your panties in a twist?”

  Piper grimaced. “Ew. Don’t say panties.”

  “Why not? That’s what they are.”

  “No. We hate that word.”

  “We?”

  “All of womankind.”

  “I think you exaggerate. But whatever.” Matthew finished his beer. “Knickers? Undies? Briefs? Wait, you’re not a boxer girl, are you? Thong?”

  Piper clamped her hands over her ears but couldn’t stop the laughter. “For the love of God, stop!”

  “Fine.” Matthew grinned widely, then asked, “Why are you so bothered?”

  “Mom is leaving me and Lindsay Kent in charge.” She stressed the two names of Vineyard’s manager.

  Matthew shook his head slowly, obviously unaware who she meant.

  “Lindsay. The blond hippie chick my dad hired just before he died?”

  Recognition dawned on Matthew’s face. “Oh, her. Okay. Been a while since I was in there, but I remember now. She’s cute. And so not a hippie.”

  “Is too.”

  “I think you need to look up the definition of that word.”

  Piper waved him away with a pfft. Before she could say more, the waitress was back and they placed their dinner orders and a second round of drinks.

  “Isn’t she the general manager now or something?”

  Piper shrugged with feigned indifference. “I guess.”

  Matthew narrowed his eyes at her. “You haven’t liked her since Day One. How come?”

  Their drinks arrived. Matthew picked his up and sipped, his gaze never leaving Piper. She felt that stare, felt it physically. Matthew always could get her to talk to him. She took in a deep breath and gazed out the window by their table while she honestly pondered his question. Once she’d let it out slowly, she turned back to him. “I’m not trying to be unreasonable. There’s just…there’s something about her that rubs me the wrong way.”

  Matthew blinked at her for a long beat of silence.

  “What?” Piper finally prodded.

  He shook his head. “I’m just marveling at how much you sound like the women who refused to vote for Hillary Clinton.” He changed his voice to a whine. “‘I don’t know what it is. I just don’t like her.’”

  Piper groaned. “Fine. The first time I met her, she was…” She searched for the right description. “Overly giddy. Like, way too friendly, kind of flighty. A little flaky. Smiled too much. Like a hippie.”

  “Oh, my God, she was super friendly and smiled a lot? What is her problem?”

  Piper glared at him. “Maybe you should not mock me.”

  “Maybe you should get to know her.”

  “I don’t want to.”

  “Fine.” Matthew tossed her word back at her with a roll of his eyes, then made a sound that said he gave up. “Also, why do you even care? You never go to Vineyard anyway.”

  Piper found herself inexplicably uncomfortable with this subject all of a sudden. Mostly because Matthew was right. Since her father had passed, she rarely set foot in Vineyard. It was too hard. She didn’t know how her mother managed to. “I don’t know,” she said finally, waving a dismissive hand. “I’m just being ridiculous.”

  “Well, that’s not news.”

  She swatted playfully at him across the table. “Hey!”

  He laughed as he dodged away from her. Their dinners arrived and the conversation halted until they were each chewing.

  “I think you just need to chill,” Matthew told her. “You know?”

  “That’s funny. Have you met me?”

  “Good point.”

  “I have to meet with my mom and Lindsay there tomorrow. Go over details. I can hardly wait.” Piper shoveled a bite of salad into her mouth.

  “Open mind, P. Open mind.”

  “I know.” But her voice softened.

  After a moment or two of just chewing, Matthew asked quietly, “You okay?”

  Piper held his gaze, amazed as always by the deep levels of kindness visible in his brown eyes. She smiled and nodded, suddenly determined. “Yeah. I am.”

  “You know…I’m happy to go with you. If you want. I’d love to see your mom…” He let his words trail off, leaving the idea there for her to grab.

  She chewed, swallowed, took a sip of water. Only after all of that did she tell him, “I’m going right after work. I’m not going to ask you to come, but if you want to, I won’t stop you.”

  Matthew arched one eyebrow and tilted his head. “You’re ridiculous.”

  Piper laughed because he knew her so well. “I so am.”

  It was nearly 9:00 by the time she left Matthew and headed home. Edgar made it very clear to her how dissatisfied he was with these hours, meowing noisily at her the second she entered the house, circling her black heels impatiently as she stood at the counter.

  “All right, all right,” she said down to him. “I’m sorry.” She bent and scooped him up before he could dodge her, protesting loudly as she showered him with kisses. She’d found him as a kitten, huddled near the dumpster at the back of her office building two years ago. She’d just lost her father, and her partner, and was living on her own for the first time in a long time. And suddenly, there he was. A little black and white ball of fur, his meow so small and high pitched, it sounded like he’d inhaled helium beforehand. He had a white face with a little slash of black just under his nose, and it looked so much like a mustache that she’d named him after Edgar Allan Poe. He turned out to be exactly what she needed at the time: companionship without too much maintenance.

  Piper kissed him once more, then set him down and finished getting his dinner together. When she set it on the floor, he pounced on it like he hadn’t eaten in weeks, and she rolled her eyes. “You’re such a drama queen.”

  In her bedroom, Piper kicked off her heels and eyed the brand-new life vest leaning against t
he wall. It had arrived yesterday and was still wrapped in plastic, as she’d had no time to examine it. The outer fabric was navy blue and the vest was ultra-thin, made of some newfangled, revolutionary material, and supposedly much more breathable than most. It had cost her an arm and a leg, but she had a feeling it would be totally worth it the next time she was gliding across Black Cherry Lake in her kayak well before 6:00 a.m. Pulling it from the plastic, she unfastened it and put in on right over her dress, then stepped to the free-standing, full-length antique mirror in the corner.

  It was sleek and definitely thinner than her current vest. Once fastened, it was comfortable along her neck, didn’t feel like she was wearing the shoulder pads of a linebacker. The weight of it was surprisingly light and Piper was suddenly seized with such an urge to kayak that she had to consciously remind herself it was dark out right now. And thirty-nine degrees.

  “Soon,” she said quietly, as she took off the vest. The end of March was when she paid close attention to the weather. The lake wasn’t frozen; it never froze all the way across—it was much too big—but at this time of year, it was completely thawed, coastlines and all, and she started to get that itch.

  This weekend, maybe.

  Piper took off her dress and hung it carefully in the closet. While she didn’t consider herself a neat freak by any stretch, she did take very good care of her wardrobe. Mostly because it cost her a fortune. Some people collected art. Some people spent their earnings on vacations. Piper loved clothes, and she was willing to spend the money on a dress or a suit or a pair of slacks if they fit her well. Being in a large corporate office, she needed to look as professional as she could and garner all the respect possible. Managing other managers was never easy, especially when most were male and older than her.

  Slipping into her slouchy gray sweats and worn-to-the-point-of-falling-apart black sweatshirt felt like heaven (just because she enjoyed dressing nicely didn’t mean she was comfortable after wearing those nice clothes for twelve or thirteen hours). Piper headed back downstairs long enough to make herself a cup of chamomile tea and grab her laptop. Then she headed back up to her bedroom where she stacked pillows against the wrought iron headboard, spread work out around her, and clicked on the wall-mounted television.