Christmas in Wine Country (17 page)

True, she hadn’t gotten in touch with him, either, but that was due to great effort. Or, at least, it had been at first. Back in the mopey days of January and February she’d deleted his number from her phone—though of course she also had it memorized—in hopes it would provide that one extra step between her and a 2am “how could you leave me” voicemail message. Then, in March and April, she’d been tempted to send him a flaming bag of poo or the equivalent as an F-you for his callousness. What had stopped her—besides an objective recognition that that
would be
borderline psycho—was the realization that the best revenge was feeling…not so much at all. If you were still caught up in the rages and swells of emotion, you were still caught up. As her Gram would say, “love and hate are two sides of the same coin. It’s when you can say ‘fiddle-dee-dee’ that you’re set free.”

Lila wasn’t sure she was quite at fiddle-dee-dee, but then again she wasn’t sure she had enough Scarlett O’Hara in her to ever say that phrase. What she could honestly say was that she could now think about Phillip without her chest feeling all tight. It was like thinking about a movie trailer for a Hollywood romance or a wedding photo inside a frame in a store—vaguely evocative but not directly painful. She could recall a handful of lovely moments: in bed on a Sunday morning talking about the dogs they’d had growing up. Him kissing the base of her neck. Looking up from a crossword puzzle to see him smiling at her over his coffee. But just as clearly, she could see all the holes in between those moments she’d had to fill to patch things together into what she could call a relationship.

Warmed up enough to remove her outer longsleeve layer, Lila tied it around her waist and smiled as she realized it was one of the LL Bean sale items her Gram periodically sent her. Never one to miss a bargain, Gram liked to send Lila sturdy, reliable garments—which had mostly lain dormant during her years in the city. An LL Bean shirt was the kind of thing that would cause Phillip to roll his eyes and make an ironic reference like, “You’re such an Ivory girl.” She shuddered to think what Phillip would say about some of the people in her life now. He’d dismiss Godfrey as an emo/Goth wannabe. One sun salutation from Zoe and he’d be headed for the door. He’d probably say something snarky about why Annie couldn’t just lose those extra 20 pounds and he’d undoubtedly alert the proper authorities if he were to catch a glimpse of Lila and her storytime puppets in action. Probably only Vanessa would pass muster as she swept in and out of Annie’s chocolate shop with impossible demands, ridiculous timelines and gobs of cash.

Good thing Phillip’s not here, Lila thought to herself with a smile, lightening her step for the last mile. She and Annie had a date tonight. After Charlotte went to sleep they were going to sit out on her front porch and start working on the business plan for their bookstore café.

Rounding a turn in the trail ahead, a runner approached her in the opposite direction. Moving toward the edge of the trail, there was just enough room for two at this point in the path and Lila pressed forward taking advantage of another burst of energy.

“Hey,” the runner said, slowing down as he approached her. Lila looked up to see Jake Endicott greeting her on the path. Baseball cap shielding her eyes, she focused down again and blew by him with only the slightest of nods. She was damned if she was going to waste any more time on creeps.

*
             
*
             
*

Saturday morning bright and early, Lila and Annie strolled around Redwood Cove’s farmer’s market. Lila pushed Charlotte in a stroller; from her vantage point all she could see was the gigantic pink sunhat swathing Charlotte’s bobbing head and the bright purple Dora the Explorer sandals strapped onto her kicking feet. Annie liked to visit every stand, both to check out the goods and to chit chat. Lila, less outgoing, enjoyed smiling, waving, and simply taking in the scene.

Early May brought the first of the season’s blueberries. Tempting though they looked, at five dollars a pint Lila decided to pass. A vendor had an entire table devoted to different shades of cauliflower—purple, orange, white and green. Another had all the
bee-related products one could ever desire, from beeswax soaps, balms and candles to plain old honey.

“Oh!” A fortyish woman in a blue sundress and a floppy sunhat stopped and placed her hand on Lila’s shoulder. “Storytime!”

“Hello?” Lila replied, confused.

“You do the storytime at Cover to Cover! My daughter loves you!” She clapped her hands together much the way a toddler would in delight.

“Thank you.” Lila basked in the glow of the compliment.

“Listen,” the mom unzipped her nylon fanny pack and pulled out a business card. “We’re always looking for talent. Maybe you could do a storytime one morning? I’ll stop by the shop.” With that, she whisked away leaving Lila to read her card: Redwood Cove Farmer’s Market President. OK, not a talent scout from LA, and it probably wasn’t so much a paying gig as an opportunity to provide free babysitting, but, still. Tucking the business card into her wallet, Lila found new spring in her step.

Toward the end of the row, a mammoth tent-like structure monopolized about three times the space of the typical vendor. Ahanu stood within the Endicott Vineyards lair and waved to them as if greeting old friends. Watching Annie get a big, stinky hug, Lila kept her distance and offered a warm smile. Above a tattered visor, Ahanu’s thick straw-colored dreads shot out of his head like fat worms trying to escape. Lila realized she’d missed that aspect of him when she’d met him since he’d been wearing a Cowboy hat.

Surveying the array of goods, ranging from olive oils to jams to cheeses to, yes, wine, Lila realized the Endicott Empire had a good deal of range. “Not just wine,” Lila remarked to Annie.

“Thanks to the local businesses they’ve bought up,” Annie reminded her.

After picking up some tapenade and goat cheese and continuing along their way, Lila remembered the gossip Annie had passed along earlier. “So, Zoe and Ahanu?”

“Captain Planet.” Annie nodded with confirmation.

“He’s really nice, but…” Lila recalled the truck ride at the vineyard, thankfully punctuated by multiple stops with the door open. “Kinda ripe.”

“Oh, they met in a hot tub,” Annie explained. “So he was all hosed down. It didn’t last too long after that.”

             
Later that morning, market goods put away back in her apartment, Lila reported for her shift at work. Storytime wasn’t for another half an hour but the store was already teeming with toddlers and their mothers. Even with the expanded showtimes, now Mondays, Thursdays and Saturdays, they were playing to a packed house. Last week they’d run out of room in the carpeted children’s area and a few moms had actually stood holding their child in the outer ring. Toddlers could get heavy. Lila was aware that with that kind of pressure in the audience, she needed to deliver.

             
Thankfully, Mr. Meows—rapidly becoming the star puppet due to popular demand—
never
failed to disappoint. He was developing a rambunctious personality, liking to interrupt Lila and almost willfully misunderstanding the stories she tried to read.
It was a low tech affair—no marionettes or ventriloquism with a dummy (too scary, anyway, they always seemed to get demonically possessed), but thankfully preschoolers didn’t seem to require much more than wiggling the puppet to make it entertaining. Take it one extra step—an interrupting, somewhat fresh puppet—and it became drop down, kick your feet on the floor hilarious. They nearly peed their pants. Actually, one had a couple weeks back but Lila chalked that up to incomplete potty training.

It also helped that Redwood Cove didn’t have much going on; Lila wasn’t exactly competing with a Disney ice show. Hand puppets still stood a chance in Redwood Cove. She was pretty amused by the whole thing. Becoming a village’s favorite puppet storytime lady had never been her life’s ambition. But perhaps this was what her old boss had been referring to when he’d laid her off, telling her “It’s not the right fit for you, Lila.” Perhaps it was because she had Mr. Meows inside her all the time waiting to break free…

The bell on Cover to Cover’s door jingled as yet more people entered the store. Lila turned to greet what were likely more storytime arrivals, then quickly ducked down behind the cash register. Jake Endicott. In the book store. Pretending to look for something in the shelving below, Lila wasn’t exactly sure why her instinct had been to hide. Perhaps now she was not only entertaining preschoolers, she was becoming one of them. Now that she was down there, though, she worried that not only had he seen her duck down but when she came up he’d be standing right there looking incredulous. If only they had a secret passage from the front desk to the stockroom. She’d have to talk to Marion about that. She was a Brit—they loved that sort of thing.

“Who are we hiding from?” Godfrey whispered, suddenly crouched by her side. All in black, he lent an air of stealth to the operation.

“No one,” Lila laughed nervously, loving Godfrey for being even weirder than she was.

“I’m great at spying if you need some intel,” Godfrey continued whispering.

“Excuse me,” a woman’s voice sang over the cash register. “Can someone help me?” With a guilty look, Lila bounced up while Godfrey slowly rose. Searching for gift wrap while Godfrey rang up the sale, Lila snuck a glance toward the entryway where the best-sellers, employee pics (Fresh and Local cooking was Lila’s repeat choice) and local travel books all were displayed for easy gifts and browsing. The area was Jake-free.

Tearing off some Scotch tape, she snuck another glance toward the gathering crowd and, amidst the moms in sweatpants and oversized bags (not the trendy kind, the kind harboring apples and wipes and first-aid kits), she spotted Jake. Hair rumpled and wearing faded khakis, old running sneakers, and a wine-colored Henley t-shirt he was bending down to talk to one of the little kids. Grabbing Jake’s wrist, the toddler firmly pulled him through the throng toward the front where she set down her blankie close to Lila’s chair.

Lila taped her finger to the book as she tried to register the seeming reality that Jake was here for storytime. With her and Mr. Meows. How could this be? Picking at the tape to try to get it off the shiny hardcover book so she could re-wrap, Lila snuck another glance. Jake was pointing to all of the other children seated behind the little girl
in what looked to be an unsuccessful attempt to relocate her further back. Yes, he appeared to be with the child. What was he, her dad? Watching him awkwardly rake his hand through his hair, give up and retreat toward the outer circle of parents leaving the girl front and center, she didn’t think so. He looked too out of his element. Plus, she remembered, that magazine spread definitely would have mentioned fatherhood.  

Lila watched as the presence of the Bay Area’s 7
th
most eligible bachelor sent a ripple of flirtation through the moms. One stood a bit taller, sucking in her tummy and thrusting out her chest. Another took her hair out of her scrunchie and shook it down as if in a slow-motion shampoo ad. Another threw her head back to laugh and laugh at something someone said. Surveying it all, an idea struck Lila. Had he rented the little girl? Perhaps from an Adorable Rent-A-Child service? That would be a fantastically evil ploy, drawing in the ladies with a pint-sized cutie pie and then keeping them there since he was no baby daddy, just a good guy helping out a needy child. Squinting her eyes to inspect the girl at a distance, Lila didn’t see anything like an “if found, please return to…” tag on her back or an ID bracelet on her wrist.

“I want cat lady!” a shrill, demanding child’s voice broke through the hubbub.

“Cat lady!” Another yelled.

“You’re on,” Godfrey murmured, taking the gift-wrapped book out of her hands with a questioning glance at the job. It looked like one of the toddlers had broken into Mommy’s gift wrap and had a party.

Her legs feeling wooden, mouth dry, Lila began inching her way toward the story area. Where she would put on cat ears and engage in puppet play in front of the
scowling Mr. Endicott. Could she cancel? Too risky. The children might turn on her, Lord of the Flies style. Perhaps she could feign a sudden illness? Too complicated. The requisite fainting or vomiting would create even more of a scene. Picking her way around the edge of the circle, she made her way over to the twin baskets she’d laid out with books and puppets. Jake stood near them.

“My son just loves you,” a mom said to Lila, giving her a pat on the shoulder. “He talks about Mr. Meows all the time.”

“Thanks,” Lila choked out, wondering why she hadn’t kept storytime simple. A few sweet stories, holding the picture book out and showing it around the room for all to see. Why puppets? As she approached the baskets, her feet moving twice as slowly as usual, Jake turned. Though she kept her gaze steady on the baskets—just a few more feet away—she could sense him looking at her.

“Lila?” he asked.

“Hey, Jake,” she mumbled.  

“Busy in here today,” Jake observed as a toddler stepped on his foot and shoved his leg in an effort to make it to the front of the crowd. “I’m taking my niece to storytime. I had no idea it was so popular.”

“Your niece?” Lila asked, looking at the little blonde girl. She did have curls like him. Now that she got a closer look, she thought she recognized her. She usually came with her nanny.