Christmas in Wine Country (34 page)

             
Sneaking a glance toward Jake’s party, she noted they’d been joined by a tall man in a cowboy hat and a tux with a familiar strong jawline. Big Bob, she realized, taking another sip of wine. A waiter passed with shrimp on ice. She wondered if there were a subtle way she could slide out a couple of pieces and press them to her cheeks.

Stealing another glance, Jake caught her gaze for a few lengthy seconds that surely defied the typical constraints of time and space. Not a trace of a smile. No nod of recognition. Just a frozen stare that still managed to communicate a cold ‘What are you doing here?’

Lila broke eye contact and tried to focus on the appetizer Phillip had just set on a small plate before her. Beautifully arranged with an artful drizzle of sage cream sauce and a sprig of mint, it looked as appealing as an old shoe. Lila’s stomach clenched into a tight knot.

“You’re taking this all in stride,” Phillip observed. “I’d thought you might put up a show of resistance. ‘I’m happy here’ and all that. But you know a great offer when you hear one, don’t you, Lillian?”

“Excuse me?” Lila asked, barely able to focus on the fact that she was supposedly engaging in conversation with Phillip.

“You’ll have your own office, you know. Not at first, of course. You’ll be in a cube outside my office. But down the line, your own office would be a definite possibility.”

“Outside your office?” Lila asked, drawn in by the incomprehensible nature of Phillip’s words.

“It’s prime real estate. The corner of Sansome and Pine. Great view from my office.” Clearing his throat, he added, “Which you’ll be able to see, of course, when I’m not in with a client.”

“You’ve bought your own office space?”

“This all might be a lot for you to take in at one time.” Phillip put his wineglass down and nodded with understanding. “You probably thought you’d blown your chances in the advertising world. But I’m giving you that second chance, Lillian.”

“But I don’t work in advertising
anymore
.” Lila felt tremendous pressure building at her temples and ferven
tly wished the bidding
would start already so
they could get this evening over with. She also wondered just how many times he was going to use her name—right out of the ‘making a sale’ playbook. And why did it always have to be Lillian? What was wrong wit
h Lila?
 

“Do you understand what I’m offering you?” Phillip adopted the slow, careful tones necessary to explain simple facts to slow and somewhat obstinate learners. “I’m going out on my own. Starting my own firm. And I want you to be in on it with me.” With a warm twinkle in his eyes that Lila recognized from having watched him make pitches—he really knew how to forge the personal connections that sealed the deal—he added, “We’d be in partnership together.”

“You’re offering me a partnership in your new advertising firm?”

“No, not technically a partner,” he admitted. “You’d be my assistant. But we’d be working together very closely. I couldn’t offer you much in the way of salary yet, but you’ve never been motivated by money, have you Lil
l
ian?” There was that twinkle again.

Rubbing her temples, Lila realized that when Phillip looked at her he saw a “Will work hard for peanuts” sign flashing in neon on her forehead. No wonder; back in SF rarely had a week passed without her staying late to help him out with something or other. The tasks hadn’t been related to her actual job description, just her private delusion regarding the significance of their intimacy.

Grasping Lila’s hands, Phillip turned things up a notch. “I need you. I can’t do this without you, Lil
l
ian. I know I can count on you. I’ve always known it.” Looking at him, Lila realized it was just what she, at one time, had wanted him to say. Sort-of. In a different context, with a different meaning. Flushed and overwhelmed by his full-court press, she looked away. Jake stood to her side.

He looked so good it hurt. She re
membered in a painful flash the last time she’d seen him. S
he’d been wrapped in his arms.

“Hi Lila,” Jake said without warmth.

Extending his hand, Phillip oozed, “Phillip Glazier, Glazier Media.”

Still looking at Lila, Jake shook his hand. “How are you doing.” Somehow he turned the benign, welcoming question into a dismissive statement.

Lila tried the “Excuse me” excuse that had worked well before with Oliver. Not so this time as Jake caught up to her before she’d even taken ten steps. “Hey
.” No smile, his voice bristled
. “So, that was fun the time we got together and had dinner…” Snapping his fingers as if just remembering something, he continued, “Wait, we never did that because you never called me back.”

Mouth open in shock, after a few seconds Lila was able to recover enough to ask, “Oh, I blew you off?”

“And now you show up here at my family’s vineyard. Looking all hot with some guy who’s obviously a complete tool.”

“You stole our store,” Lila hissed, realizing that even in the
hubbub
of music and conversation, raised voices could draw attention. “You got the idea from me! And then you stole it!”

“Is that what you think?” Jake leaned a step closer, his incredulity seeming to propel him forward. “You think I stole business ideas from you?

“Like it’s so ridiculous to think I’d have a good idea to steal!”

“You’re not making any sense. Why is this store such a big deal to you?” 

“A big deal?” Lila echoed, suddenly furious and not caring who could hear. “No, you’re right, it’s not a big deal that Annie and I have planning this for months. Make that years since we were talking about running a café together. And all the work getting Marion on board, putting together the business plan, working it out with Joyce—”

“Is it possible I didn’t know all that?”

Lila didn’t like being cut off one bit. “But you!” She was yelling now and throwing
in some grand hand gestures
for good measure. “You swoop in at the last minute—”

“It wasn’t me, it was my father.”

“That’s so convenient to blame him.”

“It was him,” Jake insisted.

“So you had no idea it was happening?” Lila pressed.

“Listen,” Jake ran a hand through his hair, distraught. “I mentioned it to my father, that you were leasing the store. But I didn’t do it so he could swoop in and buy it.” As he said it he imitated her
whooshing hand gesture,
cranking Lila’s temper up an extra notch. “I knew he’d been thinking about leasing it, but I thought he’d decided not to.” 

“So you did tell him we were about to lease the store!” Lila yelled, pinning it all on Professor Plum in the library with the candlestick. Throwing up her hands, she mentally dared him to make fun of her hand gesture once again. Upset to feel hot tears pricking her eyes, she couldn’t help adding, “It was my dream! And now it’s gone!” 

             
With a firm hand on her elbow, Phillip arrived on the scene. “What’s going on here?” he asked, sounding much like the school principal happening upon a schoolyard tussle.

             
“It’s nothing!” Realizing she sounded like a guilty, defiant child, Lila threw up her hands again in exasperation. “I need some air.”

Marching out of the tent, she mustered all of her faculties to keep a straight and true line, chin up, dignity
intact
.

Greeted with a sharp gust of wind as she burst forth from the French doors, Lila realized that the late October night had taken a sharp turn toward freezing. She suddenly felt nearly naked in her backless dress, yet knew heading back in to retrieve her sweater and jacket was an impossibility. She’d already created enough of a scene; over two dozen guests had neglected their chit chat in favor of following the action. Plus
,
when women stormed out in movie scenes they never slunk back to retrieve an outer layer. She also had an urgent need to scream or cry or punch something, all of which more suited the parking lot than the midst of an upscale charity benefit.

Behind her, she heard the doors open and footsteps follow. “Lila,” Jake called out, catching up to say, “This is ridiculous.” Cupping his warm hand around her half-bare shoulder, he added, “You must be freezing.”

“Now what’s going on?” Phillip barked as he hustled toward them. With alarm, Lila noted he wasn’t alone. A small but growing throng of people followed, clearly having decided in favor of watching the dinner theater. Among the crowd Lila spotted a black beret.

“Please,” Jake entreated. “You’re overreacting. Listen to me.”

“Now see here!” Phillip stepped between them and even went so far as to place his hand on Jake’s shoulder. “This is my girlfriend.”

“Oh, now you use the word!” Lila spun on him, incensed. “I’m not your girlfriend! I never was, remember? And why don’t you just go by Phil? Why does it have to be Philip?”

Jake looked directly at Phillip who now
appeared
to awkwardly hold a fistful of Jake’s sweater. “Back
off,” he growled. The crowd
now assembled in a semi-circle around them. Lila half-expected them to start chanting “Fight! Fight” in spite of their fine attire.

“I’ll do as I please,” Philip retorted, releasing the sweater with a petulant push.

Stepping forward, Jake gave him a hard shove direct in his chest, sending Phillip stumbling back. 

“That’s it!” Lila yelled, throwing her hands up in the air in what was quickly becoming a redundant gesture. “I’ve had it!”

A car spun up next to Lila. The tires squealed to a stop.
The passenger door swung open.
Behind the wheel, Sven beckoned.

Lila
hopped in.
Olga
dashed
in back. With
a rev of the engine and
a p
eal of rubber,
they sped off into the night
leaving a plume of dust and smoke in their wake
.
   

“Woo Hoo!” Godfrey
hollered
behind the wheel as he
careened down the winding road away from
Endicott Vineyards
.

“Oh my God!” Lila yell
ed
, pumped through with adrenaline
.

Punching on the stereo, Godf
rey cranked up the volume on some
German techno. Lila knew
without needing to be told that
he’d made a
mix to help him and Zoe get into character.

“You rescued me!” Lila
yelled
.

“That was awesome!” Zoe
shouted
from the back seat.

             
Godfrey nearly bounced up and down behind the wheel. “My favorite part was ‘It was my dream! And now it’s gone!’”

             
From the backseat, Zoe yelle
d, “M
ine was ‘Why does it have to be Phillip?’”

             
“You guys rule!” Lila shout
ed, head swimming, confused, upset, angry, embarrassed, but most of all thrilled at the great escape. 

             
A techno remix of
99 Luftballons
pounded through the car and they all yelled a
long
with the words
, windows down
as they hurtled
home through the darkness.

CHAPTER 12: I Gotta Have Faith

The week that followed rolled by much more quietly. No fisticuffs in parking lots, no disguises, no moments in which Lila declared in front of a large, well-dressed audience, “You stole my dream!” And she liked it that way. But it did make everything that had happened feel that much more surreal. Phillip had re-entered her life with an aggressively attentive push, but he exited in his previous fashion: without a word. No follow-up call, no text. She didn’t know if it was pride or anger or sudden disinterest, but, frankly, she was glad.

She did wonder if Phillip had ever learned the identity of the man with whom he’d tussled. There was absolutely no way he’d know
n
it was Jake Endicott of Endicott Vineyards, Lila was convinced. Had he known, he probably would have shoved Lila out of the way instead, the better to clear the way toward his sales pitch.

Still feeling the need to wrap things up, a couple of days after the auction she’d sent Phillip a text message, “No thanks on your offer. Good luck.” Brief, to the point. She didn’t want to expend any more energy on him than necessary. And she meant it; she hoped he did well. Or, more accurately, she didn’t care if he did or he didn’t. What she knew was she didn’t want any part of it.

             
She also hadn’t heard a word from Jake. She’d con
sidered sending a text to Jake. O
r calling. Maybe even stopping by. It had all been so dramatic, more like a soap opera than real life with two men literally fighting over her. In the moment, everything he’d said had infuriated her. Every protest had corroborated her sense of his guilt. But in the days that followed, certain moments had interrupted her steady condemnation. His
plea that she listen to him, for example. Seemed like a reasonable thing to ask someone and she really hadn’t.