The Vineyard (54 page)

Take sharing Simon with the vineyard. With harvest done, he had to aerate the soil, apply fertilizer, replace vines that Chloe had destroyed, and weed out others that were too old to be fruitful. On
occasion something tied him up and he was delayed coming home. The first time it happened, Olivia convinced herself that he had changed his mind about them and was hiding behind work. The second time, she was merely alert. The third time, she was relaxed enough to use the delay for a little quality time with Tess.

There hadn't been a fourth time. As much as anything else, that told her how badly Simon wanted to be with her. Not even the most distrustful soul could hold out against his kind of devotion for long. They grew closer, best of friends now. They saw things the same way, be it designing an addition or parenting Tess. They talked. They laughed. They fell further in love.

Natalie lobbied for a large wedding, but Olivia and Simon were of like mind about that, as well. They wanted something small and intimate, so there weren't even any formal invitations sent. They had made phone calls inviting those people about whom they cared most.

Susanne and Mark would come. They even had their own place to stay, having just bought a house on the ocean, several miles down the road from the vineyard. It was a sprawling Cape with an endless porch, and a carriage house that Susanne would turn into either an apartment for their children or several rooms for B-and-B guests. Visiting every few weeks from New York, she was weighing her options while she fixed up the main house.

Susanne and Natalie were starting to open up with each other. It was an effort at times, what with old habits nearly as sticky as old gripes. But Susanne and her family had come to Natalie and Carl's wedding. Given Susanne's initial resistance to that, it was a big step forward.

Greg's steps were smaller. He came to the wedding and was pleasant enough, but Olivia suspected Jill was the force behind that. As though it was part of the bargain, she returned to Washington with him the next day, and while she continued to do marketing work for Asquonset from there, several weeks passed before anyone heard from Greg. Then he called Carl, perhaps finding that easier. He reported that things were better between Jill and him, that they were seeing a counselor and shopping for baby furniture. He told Carl to tell Natalie that they would be up for the Fall Harvest Feast, and indeed they did come. There was lingering tension, but the pleasantry interspersed with it was more genuine. He and Natalie
talked some—about Alexander, about Jill and the baby, about the changes that he might make in his business so that he could be in Washington more with Jill.

Jill had promised Olivia that they would be up for the wedding. Olivia was honored to call her a friend.

“Okay,” Simon announced. “That's it.”

Tess pointed past him. “I thought we were going
that
far.”

“It was a hope. We'll reach it tomorrow.” He sat back on his heels. “In the meantime, look at what we've done. It's spectacular.”

But Tess had caught sight of the cats. She crawled over to them, then sat and folded her legs. Oliver immediately leaped into the hole in the middle, climbed up her front, and began batting at a long strand of curly hair.

“Homework?” Olivia reminded her, while Simon began gathering tools.

“This baby is just
so cute,”
Tess cooed.

“Homework?” Olivia repeated.

Tess shot her what might have been a dirty look if the light had been better and her glasses cleaner. Seeming to realize that, she scrambled to her feet, went back to Simon, and gave him a kiss before breezing out past Olivia.

Simon pushed himself to his feet and came toward her, wiping his hands on his jeans. “Sorry about that.”

Olivia smiled. “Don't be.” She tipped up her face, slid her arms around his waist. “I don't mind being the bad guy. I'd rather she like you.”

“She's playing us against each other.”

“I think this is only the start. Wait till she drives. Wait till she
dates.”

“We'll deal,” he said. Bracing his hands wide on either side of her, he leaned in. When he took a deep breath, she felt the strength of his body. “Do you know,” he said on the exhalation, as much a satisfied sigh as anything else, “how happy I am?”

Olivia couldn't answer. She never could when he said things like that. The words were too real, too honest, too clearly heartfelt. She always choked up.

So she smiled.

He smiled back. “Nothing to say to that?”

She shook her head.

“The woman who had a comeback for everything I tossed at her when we first met—
nothing
to say?”

She shook her head, smiling wider to compensate for her tears.

“Want to go in and warm up?”

Thinking that the stony grouch he had been when they first met had developed a certain way with words, that he was absolutely, unequivocally perfect, and that she didn't deserve him but would surely take him anyway, she nodded.