A Taste of Merlot (11 page)

O
n Sunday morning, from the back seat on the drive home from church, Meri asked Char's advice on what to wear to a football game.

“Since when do you care about football?”

“Since Mark asked her to go see the Forty-niners,” filled in Savvy.

“Awww, that's so sweet!”

“Char, you're the athlete in the family. What do people wear?”

“It's
a football game
.” Char gestured with the hand that wasn't on the steering wheel. She glanced at Meri through the rearview mirror. “You can wear anything you like.”

“But I'm going to meet Mark's friends. People who eat brats.”

“Brats?” repeated Char. Jeanne never served brats.

“Flats, definitely,” said Savvy. “Do you have any sneakers?”

The infinitely pragmatic Savvy had been a gem when Meri told them about the broken business deal. She could have scolded. But both her sisters understood. Especially Char, who had resisted using even her first name on her children's foundation until Dr. Simon, her mentor, convinced her to do otherwise.

“I think I have some Adidas somewhere, still in their box.”

In her walk-in closet, Meri swept hanger after hanger of plastic-sheathed garments along the rod. Past the Marc Jacobs satin suit with the armholes cut so high she could barely move, the spaghetti-strapped Prada that showed beaucoup skin in the back. The lacey Bottega. The vintage Cavalli caftan. All beautiful, but none of them right for a football game. And her everyday clothes screamed
artist
. Which was fine, most days. But not today. Today she was determined to look like a typical fan. Suddenly she realized what she needed was one of those team jerseys. Where did you even
buy
one of those? Oh well. Too late for that.

She left the closet, opened a drawer and pulled out a pair of black velour sweatpants from Stella McCartney.
Parfait.

 

Meri was happy to get back to the busy co-op, early Sunday afternoon. As much as she was looking forward to the company of Mark and friends, she'd always been most comfortable at her workbench.

She propped open the door to her atelier and settled down at her bench hook. While her hands were busy, her mind was free to wander.

In the absence of her family, Meri had always found refuge in her art. But sometimes she'd gone overboard, like the times in college when she'd gotten so lonely that she'd reached out for the nearest warm body to fill the void. Now she lived in perpetual fear that someone would discover the extent of her recklessness.

She entertained a flurry of browsers, and then, just as she sat back down and wedged her ring mandrel into a steadying vise, a barrage of arrogant voices, somehow distinct from those of the other tones ricocheting through the hall, brought her fingers to a sharp standstill and a tiny furrow to her brow. Her head tilted a centimeter, like a blind person straining to hear. And suddenly her heart started pounding in her throat in an instinctual fight-or-flight reaction.

She held her breath, hoping the voices would pass her by. How was it that she could isolate those speech inflections—those particular footsteps—over all the other men, women, and children traipsing through the co-op?

Closer now. Two males, one female. Familiar—but not friendly.

Last June's ugly declaration came back to haunt her for the umpteenth time.
“Everybody knows she'll never be a real jeweler.”
One of the voices belonged to the person who'd uttered those words.

Meri braced herself just in time to see Rainn passing her atelier, accompanied by two guys with boxes in their arms.

It had to happen sooner or later. She had to run into Rainn now that they shared space in the same co-op. At least Rainn had no inkling that she'd been overheard in the ladies' room at the Gates reception. But never in her worst nightmare would Meri have imagined she'd meet her in the company of those two.

Rainn spoke first. “Hey. Heard you just moved in. Sweet sign.” She nodded toward the G
ILTY
A
RTISANAL
J
EWELERS
emblem above her head. Even if she'd wanted to, Rainn was too height-challenged to reach it, to flick it back and forth—one of Meri's favorite little pleasures. That gave Meri some cheap satisfaction.

“Thanks.” Maybe if Meri spoke as few words as possible, Austin and Dylan wouldn't realize it was she and keep walking.

“Working on a Sunday, I see. Guess some things never change.”

Meri smiled tightly. “Have to be here anyway for the public. Might as well spend my time usefully.”

She thanked her lucky stars as first Dylan, then Austin continued on their way.

But something must've piqued Austin's curiosity. Just when Meri thought the coast was clear, he took a step backward, catching Meri's eye. A sly smile bloomed across his thin, drawn face. “Well, would you looky here. Hey, Dyl! Come on back here. Look who I found.”

Meri's heart sank to her feet.

Dylan stuck his head into the opening of her doorway, flooding her with revulsion.
Get out of my space.

“Wha—is that who I think it is?”

“What's new?” Meri managed to chirp. Calm
. Must. Stay. Calm.
She couldn't let them know how badly they flustered her.

Rainn lit up, believing the question was directed toward her, and Meri recalled that Rottweiler grin of hers. Until the day of the Purchase Prize award, it had never affected her. Now she saw how perfectly it reflected the personality of its owner.

Rainn tossed her ebony mane. “My Día de los Muertos line's been picked up by a major outlet, starting in spring.” She nodded toward the boxes in Austin and Dylan's arms. “I just got a shipment of new equipment. Doing a few upgrades.”

“Oh,” said Meri, stupidly.
Chief of NASA here.
In spite of some niggling instinct to the contrary, she had to ask. “Which one?”

Rainn's grin expanded to Big Bad Wolf dimensions. “Harrington's.” The silver barbell centered in her tongue flashed on the first syllable. With her eyes, it formed the lower point of a treacherous Bermuda triangle in her deeply tan complexion.

Rainn watched with obvious pride and pleasure as her words sank in. She shifted her armload of packages. “Most of my clay and gems will get shipped straight to the artisans who're doing the grunt work. No way could I fill all my orders alone. All I have to do is make the molds and my ‘people' will—well, you know. It's like they taught us at Gates—oh, wait.” Her brow scrunched together in exaggerated, mock confusion. “If you're
here,
then you can't be”—she pointed south with her chin, toward San Francisco and college—
“there.
What happened? Did you give up on your degree?”

“I did. I was ready to go out on my own.” Meri was amazed at how normal her voice sounded, given her inner turmoil.

“Mmm.” Rainn made a pitying face. “Sorry. I mean, good luck with that. I mean, whatever.” She shrugged, regaining her superior air. “Gotta bounce. Lots to do.”

With that she disappeared after Dylan, who had already moved on.

Austin hung behind a few steps. “Hey,” he said conspiratorially. “If your gig here doesn't work out, give us a call. Dyl and I got our own little production company now, right here in Vallejo. If you ever need to make a few bucks on the side, we can always use an actress as talented as you. You were a natural.”

Meri smiled drolly and lowered her voice before replying. “That was a long time ago.”

“Not really.” He shrugged. “No matter how much time goes by, you know what they say: ‘video is forever.' Sometimes me and Dyl play back that one scene just for kicks. Dude! That was
smokin'.
” He barked out a salacious laugh. With any luck at all, Rainn was already out of earshot.

Meri's composure held up just long enough for her to flash a tight smile and waggle her fingers, signaling the conversation was over. But as soon as Austin was out of sight, her head fell back, her eyes closed, and she realized she was perspiring.

Rainn still had Austin and Dylan schlepping her stuff around for her, just like in the old days. Until now, Meri had hoped that maybe, just maybe, the recollection of the film had faded away. But now the futility of that hope sank in. He and Dylan and Rainn were probably howling over it this very moment.

Meri swiveled forty-five degrees on her little stool to where her laptop sat.

Her fingertips flew across the keys until Rainn's most current designs appeared. At first glance, not much had changed since summer, the last time Meri had checked, out of mere curiosity, what her fellow students at Gates were up to. Rainn had always been interested in biomorphic designs . . . skulls and bones and fossils. Dark with a touch of darker. That was Rainn.

Only now did Meri notice the black gemstone, burnish set into the reverse of one of Rainn's pendants.
Is that obsidian?
She typed some more, searching for the accompanying description.
The Día de los Muertos Collection is highlighted by a faceted black obsidian, used since ancient times for arrowheads and spear points, burnish set into every piece.

Indignant, Meri scrolled down the page, skimming over more text and visuals as she went. Had Rainn seen Meri's work? Was she aware of the peridot Meri used as her signature? She had to be. Meri's site had been published long enough. She studied Rainn's page again, more carefully this time. Rainn's explanation of the Vedic philosophy of gemology was lifted right off of Meri's site. The only thing Rainn had done differently was utilize obsidian rather than peridot. Arrowheads? Spear points? Meri huffed to herself. How appropriate for sticking it to somebody!

Then she backpedaled. It wasn't in her nature to accuse without justification. She wasn't the only jeweler in the world who incorporated hidden stones. It was an ancient practice, originating in India, though not something they'd been taught in school. The Gates curriculum was confined strictly to the art, science, and business of jewelry-making. Meri had delved into the esoteric stuff on her own. She'd been after a way to imbue her pieces with a deeper meaning, to make them unique and special. To take an ordinary piece of ornamentation to a higher plane, transforming it into a highly personal amulet.

But the timing left little doubt in Meri's mind: Rainn had had the audacity to flat-out copy her. And now, apparently, both of their lines were going to be carried by the same store. The Gilty and Día de los Muertos lines would be in direct competition for any customer who was looking specifically for a piece of jewelry with a burnish set gemstone on the inside, even if the stone's meanings diverged.

Meri rose from her stool and began to pace, hands on her hips.

Why hadn't Mark told her he was buying Rainn's line, too? Why had she had to hear it from her archenemy? She forced herself to belly breathe the way she'd learned to do in yoga class, to push down the panic rising in her throat. Mark didn't know about her history with Rainn. He may not even realize they knew each other
at all
.

But Rainn had seen Mark in her atelier. And now Rainn was going to be working with him!
Closely.
And not for a little while, either. Even though Mark and Meri's business-related conversations were on hold, she had already learned enough to know that, going forward, there would typically be meetings and phone calls and God knew what else between any vendor and her merchandiser.

Would Rainn tell Mark about Meri's little foray into acting, if she thought it would give her a business edge? Maybe if Meri had kept her head instead of freaking out when Mark had first called her Merlot, he would have filled her in. Even if he hadn't confessed to looking at Rainn's work, their talks would certainly have progressed farther than they had now. Humiliation filled her as she recalled tearing up her purchase orders. That had been
so
unprofessional of her. Were the contracts still binding, or had she blown it—her big break? When was she going to grow up instead of acting like a rejected eight-year-old? It was a wonder Mark hadn't already washed his hands of her.

And now, she'd slept with him.

But wait—no. It was the old Merlot who'd carelessly slept around.

What she'd done with Mark was
make love.

She didn't know how to feel or what to think. She didn't know where to put any of this. All she knew was that suddenly she couldn't face spending the day with him. She wanted to run as fast and as far as she could, away from people who could hurt and deceive her. Some primal urge to abandon him before he abandoned
her
welled up inside until it filled every cell of her being.

He'd be arriving in a matter of minutes to pick her up for the game. She had to get out of there. She grabbed her things, stuffed them into her bag, and rushed out the door. Her hand shook so badly she could barely get the key in the lock.

She hurried down the hallway toward the exit, gave the heavy glass door a shove, and pulled up short so she didn't slam right into Mark and Rainn, locked in an embrace.

“M
ark!”

Rainn was last person on earth Mark wanted to see. Especially here. Especially
now.
He still owed her that confirming e-mail with the orders attached, an e-mail that he never intended to send—if he could only persuade Meri to come around to his way of thinking. The deadline was tomorrow morning, and he still had no idea how he was going to get through to the stubborn woman.

He'd tried to dodge Rainn quick, before Meri saw them together. He didn't want to get himself in any deeper than he already was by having to explain to Meri that he was considering buying Rainn's line. That would lead right back to the issue of her using her real name on her work.
Wait a minute . . .
why didn't he think of that before?

“What are you doing out here in the hinterlands of Vallejo on a Sunday?” asked Rainn, barbell flashing in the sunshine.

“Huh?” It wasn't as if Vallejo were a ghost town. He noted the sprinkling of people dotting Georgia Street. Impossibly cool hipsters with long bangs and narrow pants glided in and out of its casual eateries. Young mothers, skirts fluttering in the September breeze, paused with their strollers in front of arty shop windows. “I'm always on the look-out for something new and exciting. You?”

Her smile dazzled. “Got some new equipment to play with. Want to see?”

“Not wasting any time, are you?” Had he said that out loud?

A shadow passed over her face. “Any reason why I shouldn't?”

“No, no reason. Listen, I gotta run. Good to see you.”

He took a step around her, but she grabbed his arm.

“Hey,” she said. “What's the hurry?”

It was weird how certain words exposed tongue rings better than others. People with oral piercings made him crazy, because once you knew they had one, you were always on the look-out for it, which made you feel awkward because you were staring at their mouths. Really, shouldn't
they
be the ones to feel awkward, when they'd paid cash money to have a spike driven into one of the most sensitive parts of the human anatomy?

“By the way, I haven't got your e-mail yet.”

“Ah, no. Sorry, I've been swamped. It's the weekend.... I'll be sure to get to it next week.”

“You better come through for me. I've told everyone we're in bed together.” Rainn's eyes glittered wickedly.

Did everyone include Meri? Rainn wasn't too fond of her, for some reason.

The guys she'd walked out of the building with called to her from down the street. “Tsk. I'm with friends, and they're in a hurry.”

She reached up from her five-foot-zero inches or so to throw her arms around his neck, forcing his head uncomfortably downward, drowning him in the incompatible scents of chocolate and pepper. Like everything about Rainn, it was intriguing and creepy, all at the same time.

The main door to the co-op swung open again, and Mark looked up from Rainn's embrace, straight into the eyes of Merlot. Her face was white as chalk, her green eyes wilder than the Bay in a thunderstorm.

He placed his hands on Rainn's wrists and jerked free of her clutches to straighten up. “Meri!”

“Mark.” Her voice was grimly calm.

Rainn whipped her head around. When she saw who it was, she began to stroke Mark's chest through his jacket.

“I was telling
Merlot
all about us,” said Rainn, rising up on her toes to kiss his cheek.

Meri glared while Mark prayed for a helicopter ladder to materialize overhead to airlift him off the sidewalk.

He needn't have worried. Meri had neatly sidestepped them and was already striding away.

“Where are you going?” he called after her.

“Home.”

“Hold up.” He turned to Rainn and raised a hand in farewell. “Later.”

Rainn held a pretend phone to her ear. “Call me,” she said. “I'll be waiting.”

Mark ran to catch up with Meri. “Where are you going?”

“Like I said. Home,” she said without slowing her pace.

He tossed a furtive glance behind him.

“What's the matter—afraid she'll see us together?”

“What are you talking about?”

“You know what I'm talking about. Rainn. She told me you're buying her line, too.”

They were at her car. It was now or never. The game might have to wait.

“Why should it matter if I am?”

She didn't answer but opened the back door and threw in her bag.

“Meri, we're going to talk.” He put his hand on her arm to stop her before she got in. “We can't put it off any longer. Where's it going to be, in the car? In your studio? I know. We'll go back to Our Little Italian Place and I'll buy you lunch.”

She yanked back her arm and he let it go freely.

“Stop making decisions for me! Sometimes you're just like Papa!”

“If I were making the decisions, you'd be using the name you're destined to use, the name you were born with. We wouldn't be standing here arguing, and I wouldn't be forced to give Rainn and her damn skulls and her stupid cookies a second glance.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Everything! Our time's up. We can't pretend anymore.” He jerked his thumb toward his car, across the street. “Everything's packed up and ready to go for the tailgate. But if we're late, we're late; hell, we can skip the whole thing if you want to. Getting things worked out with you—with us—is more important.”

The desperation in Mark's voice took the edge off Meri's anger. He cared more about her than his dude food, his friends, and the 'Niners?

“What do you mean, our time's up?”

“Just tell me if you want to go to the game or not,” he pleaded. “If not, we'll go somewhere else. But you have to tell me now so I can change my plans. People are depending on me, and friends don't let friends tailgate without the brats they promised to bring.”

She was a complete and total ass. All Mark wanted was to be a reliable friend to his football buddies. He had no way of knowing why she was so upset over his buying Rainn's line. He didn't know anything about her past life at Gates.

She drew a deep breath to clear her head.

“Could we talk on the drive down to the stadium? And could we stop for a coffee before we get on the freeway?”

All was quiet in the car until after their pit stop. He waited until she'd taken a fortifying sip. “Meri, I don't want to control you. You're in charge of yourself and your work. Only
you
can design jewelry like yours. Not your papa, not even your sisters. Don't you get it? You hold all the power.
I
need
you
, not vice versa. You can always find another store to buy you. But there's only one Gilty Artisanal Jewelry. And I want her.”

Meri couldn't help but be touched.

“I need your line to keep Harrington's in business. Right now we're sitting on the brink. We're facing our fiftieth anniversary next year, and everything looks fine to the public, but for the past few years, the numbers simply haven't been there. . . .”

“I hope Harrington's appreciates your dedication. If I didn't know any better I'd think that company belonged to you.”

“I'm going to lay it out for you. I have to make a choice between your line and Rainn's. Gloria wants me to put all my bets on Rainn. She believes in her concept, we can position metal clay at a lower price point, and she thinks Rainn is better educated.”

She felt her blood pressure rising again. “Just because I missed out on some marketing classes my senior year? Will I ever live that down? I'd already learned everything there was to learn about technique! School was holding me back. . . .”

Mark held out a staying hand. “I'm just saying. Gloria's opinion, not mine. When I found out who you really were—”

Meri interrupted him. “By the way, who told you?”

He hated even saying the name. “Rainn. After she saw Gloria and me shopping your line at the co-op.”

Meri made a sarcastic little smile. “Should've known. But why do you have to choose one or the other of us? Why can't you buy both lines?”

Mark fought for patience. “That's a perfectly logical question. The answer is, because when Harrington's—
any
store—buys a new line, we can't just stick a toe in the water. It's all very carefully thought out. We have to dive in, to make a commitment . . . invest in enough stock to make an impact, to cover our ads. Then there's training the sales force, allotting dedicated floor space . . .”

A mental picture of Harrington's upscale San Francisco showroom came to mind, each line with its own, carefully orchestrated presentation.

“I get it.”

“What is it with you and Rainn, anyway? Why all the animosity?”

Meri glared straight ahead, fuming silently.

“It's because she's jealous, isn't she? Jealous that you won the Gates Purchase Prize, not her—and because of your name.”

“Don't forget my money.” Meri couldn't keep the resentment out of her voice. “It's a crime to be rich. Haven't you heard?”

Mark let that slide. “Meri, you have nothing to be ashamed of for being who you are. Nothing to feel guilty about.”

Crickets.

He flashed her a sideways glance before checking his rearview to change lanes.

“Unless there's something else behind your Gilty pseudonym.”

Again, she caught him jockeying to read her carefully guarded expression. “Is there? You can tell me. I won't judge.”

Meri wasn't about to touch that. Because he
would
judge. Anyone would. “So you're saying Gloria doesn't want me at all, unless I agree to market under St. Pierre?”

His mouth formed a tight line . . . clearly reluctant to hurt her feelings, then huffed an apology. “I'm sorry, but there it is. Without your famous name, to my boss you're merely another very talented, but very green, designer. Hell, Gloria wouldn't have sought out Rainn, either—but I was determined to go after something fresh and young, and she was willing to give me that much free rein.”

“And you knew this before Wednesday? Before we—”

She didn't have to finish. He knew he'd eventually have to choose between her line and Rainn's, even before they made love. And he'd kept that from her.

She peered out the window, full of stony indecision. She'd already gushed to Savvy and Char, the most important people in her life, about the Harrington's offer—about Mark. Made a total fool of herself, jumping up and down like a kid with a new pony. They'd been so magnanimous, letting her brag until she was blue in the face. Both sisters had counseled Meri not to quit school, but she'd gone and done it anyway. Now it was coming back to bite her in the butt.

But not even her sisters knew the rest of the story.

“Say the word, and we'll be off on an incredible journey together. I don't have anything in writing with Rainn yet. We can still make this work.”

He reached over and squeezed her hand, his voice milder now. “I've kept quiet about the orders for the past three days because I didn't want to ruin the great time we were having. More than that, I didn't want to lose
you
. No matter what you decide, I won't walk away from us—whatever it is that we have. That's not the hill I want to die on. But as for the business end—I have a planning meeting with Gloria tomorrow morning.”

He shifted uncomfortably. “I shouldn't be telling you this, but I already told Gloria you were on board. She's more excited than I've seen her in years . . . making all kind of plans. Not just for spring, either, but way beyond
.
Are you really going to make me go back and admit that I led her on? And then send Rainn that e-mail she's waiting for, the one with the POs attached that should rightfully be yours?”

Meri propped her elbow on the window ledge and rubbed her forehead.

“Tell me what's bothering you. Your family's not
that
bad. Anyway, no family's perfect.”

But most families' dirty laundry hadn't been hanging out there for all the world to see—for the past half century. And Meri, herself, was no better. “Does Rainn know it's between me and her?”

He looked aghast that Meri would even ask. “Of course not.” He frowned. “What is it with you two—did something happen back at school?”

She returned Mark's hand squeeze and granted him a tiny smile. “I'll let you know by tonight.”

A tight grin of resignation crossed his face. “Fair enough.”

After a moment's pause, his mood shifted and he reached over to ruffle her hair. “Meanwhile, let's enjoy the game. My buds can't wait to meet you. I mentioned your name once, and they've been busting on me ever since.”

“Which name?”

He gave her a sideways smirk. “Not the one you're worried about.”

Once more, Meri was overcome with chagrin. Mark Newman had done nothing but great things for her. Offered her a contract. Accepted her decision to go it alone. Gave her continuing professional advice on building her collection. Invited her into his circle of friends. Sitting there in the plush leather interior of his car, remembering the thoroughness with which he had satisfied her, made her lower-most muscles clench. And how had she repaid him? By being cryptic and mulish. She wasn't about to ruin the football game for him, too.

But on the way to the stadium, she started to get nervous, despite her resolve. She'd been with more boys than she could count, but she never went on real dates....