Christmas in Wine Country (21 page)

The lead guitar player was clearly the star of the show, wailing out the classic lick from Purple Haze. After the recognizable chords, however, the noise that came out of the band could only be described as the screeching cacophony of hell demons punishing the wicked. Over and over the scrawny preteens proudly churned out a mash of feedback and yowls blasted through not two, not four but eight giant speakers wired around the circumference of the flatbed truck.

Every now and then the assault was punctuated by moments of recognizable sound. Onlookers, plugging their ears and grimacing, would pause, hesitantly, wondering whether it was safe to listen. Was that Purple Haze on lead guitar? Then it would start again and mothers would have to cover the ears of their small, frightened children; Lila saw one crying. 

Deep in the belly of the beast, Lila watched Jake grip the wheel. Knuckles white, he still managed the occasional wave out to the crowd and the flicker of a smile. How had he gotten trapped into driving the truck that featured the public massacre of Jimi Hendrix? She never got a chance to ask; by the time the parade ended she had to get Charlotte back home for her nap. Any questions or apologies would have to wait.

*
             
*
             
*

Gazing out the front window of the shop, Lila enjoyed the sunlight glinting off of the ocean waves. She’d traveled 3,000 miles, but it still felt like home whenever she looked out at the surf. And in a few weeks she’d get to show it all to her Gram.

It had taken months of prep work talking through the details, plus Lila actually purchasing the tickets, but it was official: Gram was coming for a visit. She’d sent Lila a check to reimburse her for the ticket—which Lila hadn’t cashed—and insisted she didn’t want to inconvenience her in the slightest—though Lila planned to clear out half her closet and drawers so Gram could settle into her bedroom while she slept on the futon. A 74-year-old on a fixed retirement income, Gram didn’t travel often. It would be her first time coming West in the nearly six years since Lila had moved to California. It was also the first time Lila had felt like she had a home to come visit. 

             
“Why don’t you take your lunch break,” Marion said as she approached the counter. Nodding, Lila started toward the stock room to grab her straw market basket—peaches were in season and tonight she wanted to add them to her salad—but then she paused. She didn’t want to be too pushy, but she and Annie had given Marion their big pitch, followed up by their written business plan, last week.

             
Clearing her throat, she began, “Marion, I’m wondering, have you had a chance—”

             
“Yes, Lila,” Marion answered, “I have read it through. And you two have done a nice job.” Lila brightened at the praise, wondering if Marion could actually hear her heart pounding in her chest. “It’s a big decision, though,” Marion continued. “I need some time to mull this over, discuss it with Joyce. It’s a risk, Lila.”

             
“Yes, but it could really take off,” Lila responded in a rush. “Have you looked through the market analysis, how all the other coastal towns like Redwood Cove—Carmel and Monterey and Half Moon Bay—they all have thriving independent bookstores. And coffee shops. And we wouldn’t be starting from scratch, we’d be building off the success we’re already having—”

             
“Lila,” Marion put her hand up, her voice gaining a slight note of annoyance, “I’m not going to be rushed into this.”

             
“I know,” Lila apologized, “I’m sorry, it’s just that the storefront won’t be vacant forever and when an opportunity comes along like this it feels like we should take it.” She didn’t quite know where this surge of sales pitch was rising from within her, but she was going with it.

             
“It’s a good idea,” Marion admitted. “I wouldn’t be considering it if it weren’t. But even if I do decide to invest, it’s going to take time to move to move some money around.”

             
Lila broke into a smile. “You’re thinking of moving your money around?” She had enough experience with Marion to know that contemplating the logistics of the sale was a highly positive sign.

             
With a sigh, Marion gave a slight smile back. “I know you girls are excited. And I’m feeling somewhat excited myself.”

             
“It would be so fun!” Lila exclaimed, adding, “And a really smart business investment.”

             
“But I’m in a different time of my life than you two,” Marion continued. “I’m thinking about retirement in ten years. I’m worrying about what would happen if Joyce or I got sick. We’d need reserves.” She shook her head. “But I do like the idea,” she added.

             
“Maybe we could all have dinner and talk it over?” Lila suggested, on impulse. “I could have you and Annie over my place. Maybe Joyce would like to join, too?”

             
“All right.” Marion nodded. “Let me see what next week looks like and I’ll get back to you.”

             
“Great.” Lila responded, trying to sound measured and grown up instead of like an overly excited puppy. “My schedule’s open, so…” Telling herself to wrap it up instead of jumping up and down, she walked nonchalantly toward the stock room, just another entrepreneur taking another meeting.

             
Stepping outside, she closed her eyes for a moment, turning her face skyward to bask in the sunshine. Knowing that with her pale complexion she should really have on
a big hat and 50 SPF all over her shoulders, bare due to her sundress, she told herself she was just making up for the vitamin D deficiency everyone supposedly had. Not that she was suffering for outdoors time these days, but she still had to make up for those five years in the city when even outside she’d either been enveloped in fog or shadowed by skyscrapers. 

             
Peaches purchased, Lila wove her way along the Main Street cobblestones back to the bookstore, smiling at the European feel Redwood Cove adopted in the summer sunshine. Each restaurant had set up tables and chairs outdoors under bright umbrellas where patrons now sipped lemon-accented iced teas and enjoyed artisan wood-fired pizzas. Lila made a mental note to the bookstore café concept: outdoor seating. They had to get in on this when weather permitted. 

Lila spotted a figure seated outside three stores down. Long legs stretched out, ankles crossed, Jake looked like the poster boy for relaxed Redwood Cove living as he took a sip of wine. Cursing the sunlight for playing just so in his chestnut curls, she took a deep, steadying breath. Grasping her basket of peaches more firmly, she told herself that she was the light and sophisticated Sophie out for a stroll on the streets of Paris. The kind of girl who’d effortlessly graze by a gorgeous man leaving him with a smile and, if the moment presented itself, a gracious yet brief apology.

Jake looked up as she approached and, for a moment, that version of reality seemed to be working. They met each other’s gaze. Each began a slow smile.

Then Jake’s lunch companion turned her blonde, helmet-haired head, revealing herself to be Vanessa and the cobblestone sidewalk lurched up to take a small yet
dramatic bite out of Lila’s knee. Peaches upended and sprawled at Jake and Vanessa’s feet, Lila quickly tried to right herself from her spill.

“Are you all right?” Jake asked, bending down and offering his hand to help her stand.

“Absolutely!” Lila exclaimed far too jauntily. Her knee flashed bright red with a scrape.

“You’re bleeding.” Pulling over an empty chair, Jake offered it to Lila. “Why don’t you sit down.”

“Oh no,” Lila laughed incongruously at nothing, picking up the peaches. One had fallen square into Vanessa’s lap. She now held it in her grasp with a cool air of disbelief. Giving another laugh like the loud bark of a seal, Lila took it from her.

“I know you,” Vanessa said, scrutinizing her through her Dior shades. “You work in the shop with Annie.”

“Bookstore, actually,” Lila corrected brightly, testing out putting weight on her right leg. It hurt, but it was nothing total mortification couldn’t overcome in propelling her the remaining 300 feet to the bookstore. “Well, I’ll be off then!” Lila realized in mounting panic that she’d just spoken in a British accent.

“You sure you’re OK?” Jake asked, looking confused.

“Never better!” Lila declared over her shoulder with Mary Poppins élan. Thrilled to reach  those large wood and glass doors, she pulled one open and disappeared into the safe haven of the bookstore. Happily, she still had ten minutes of her lunch break to
try to find a band-aid. Also, she needed the time to create an alternate version of reality in which she hadn’t just taken a nose dive in front of Jake Endicott and launched a peach directly into his bitchy girlfriend’s lap.   

CHAPTER 8: Show me Show me Show me how you do that trick

Seated at what had become her favorite table at Ted’s, Lila sipped her beer and wondered at the depth and breadth of the bragging going on across from her. Trucker Tom was, apparently, King of the Road. He liked to prove it with off road illegal drag racing. He also liked to talk about it in excruciating detail. Unfortunately for Lila, he had multiple methods in which he asserted his dominance.

“There was this one time with my Road King Classic.” He placed a square, white napkin on the table as visual aid. Gesturing to it, he explained its superiority to another white napkin, representing “the other guy’s bike.” Lila watched as the two white squares battled it out on the table, Tom supplying the roars and whines of the revving engines. As with the other four napkin fights dramatized so far that evening, it reached its inevitable conclusion. Tom’s napkin reached the edge of the table first while the other square met an undignified end, crumpled in Tom’s fist. Lila glanced over at the door and used all of her mental powers to summon Annie and Pete; they had to arrive soon. 

Tom rose to get another beer and Lila realized he was wearing a Harley t-shirt. And, she had to admit, it hugged his biceps nicely. Covered with tattoos—yes, that was a Harley Davidson logo, Lila noted—they were great biceps. She should know. She’d made out with him last weekend in his truck in Ted’s parking lot. Because that’s where the classy girls liked to get busy.

She couldn’t quite explain how it had all gone down. There hadn’t been a logical progression to the evening. In retrospect, she attributed it to the general restlessness and smidge of boredom that had crept into her safe and easy Redwood Cove life.
Officially done with her Recovery Phase, for that was how she thought of the first half of the year, she now found herself in the middle of August tanned, rested and ready. With nothing in particular to do.

Nothing was wrong, exactly. Everything in her life at the moment was just…fine. Her friends were fine. Her Gram was fine. Her job was fine. Though Marion had yet to give the green light to the bookstore café plans, it looked as if—albeit with the speed of a snail—she was progressing toward a yes. And so she guessed she’d taken matters into her own hands and found herself some action.

Not that it had been much action, she recalled, watching as Tom took a couple of coins out of his pocket and placed them on a new set of the napkins for further explication. Though he didn’t look like the type of guy who had trouble with the ladies—his Gold’s Gym physique had a certain magnetic pull—back behind the steamed-up windows of his truck Tom had had a devil of a time with Lila’s bra. Fumbling with, twisting around and finally angrily cursing at the undergarment, Tom had given Lila enough of a break in the romance to think the death-knell words: ‘Wait, what am I doing?’ Excusing herself from the cab of the truck, she’d made a quick getaway in her Honda Civic, knowing she was going to have a phone call from Annie bright and early next morning.

“He likes you,” Annie had declared to Lila.

“Yeah, I made out with him in his truck,” Lila said. “What’s not to like? He didn’t even have to take me out of the parking lot.” Annie laughed, told Lila it was good for her, and now Lila found herself on yet another quasi-double date at Ted’s. 

Sighing with relief as she saw Annie and Pete finally come walking through the front door, Lila took their entrance as a cue to excuse herself. Pete never let her pay for anything and she wanted to at least buy the first pitcher.

Up at the bar, it wasn’t that crowded yet and she placed her order with ease.

“Hey Lila.” Recognizing Jake’s voice before she turned to greet him, Lila cursed her stomach for doing a slow flip of response. Giving him a quick smile, she checked on the status of her pitcher and wished she felt half as breathless and flushed over Trucker Tom. It would be so easy; they could hang out with Annie and Pete, spend quality time in his truck.

“How’s that knee?” he asked, pointing at her leg. 

“Oh. Pfft.” Lila gave a short puff of air signifying the utter insignificance of the incident three weeks ago. In fact, it was the sort of thing they should both forget ever happened.

“No surgery required?”

“Just a knee transplant,” Lila said, “but it’s taken nicely.”

“It’s that cobblestone,” Jake nodded. “I have it on good authority that stuff is really dangerous.” Looking up at him hesitantly, Lila saw no trace of superiority, no smugness, just a smile.