were huge.
“Oh, it’s you, Lucie. I heard the door bang shut. Guess a gust of wind must have caught it.” She stopped and stared at me. “What happened? Are you all right?”
If it had been Frankie with her calming, compassionate ways, I probably would have spilled everything. But not to lively, gossipy Gina, who began far too many sentences with, “I’m not supposed to tell you, but…”
Sharing a confidence with her wasn’t quite as bad as telling Thelma Johnson over at the General Store or the Romeos, but it would still make the rounds. The only difference was that everybody in two counties wouldn’t know by the end of the day. More than likely it would take a week or two.
“It’s nothing,” I said. “Just a gust of wind, like you said. Scared me, too. Sorry.”
She poured me a cup of coffee and I told her I’d be at my desk. I glanced in Quinn’s office on the way to mine. Kind of a cross between a low-rent motel room and a place where someone had nearly moved out. No photographs. Nothing personal. His cottage was the same. Maybe that’s how he’d been able to keep his marriage a secret—acting like he had no past. I would never understand that about him.
An hour later the heavy wooden door between the library and our offices opened and closed. He went first to his office. A few minutes later, he showed up in my doorway and pulled the door shut.
He jerked a thumb behind him. “We’ve got customers. Gina’s with ’em. If you’re going to yell, might be better if they didn’t hear.”
“I’m not going to yell.”
“But you want to.”
“Yes.” My voice shook. “I want to. What the hell happened yesterday?”
“I got stinking drunk, ma’am, and I shouldn’t have. Reported for work totally inebriated and that’s grounds for firing me. You can have my resignation on your desk, if that’s what you want. I’ll just go next door and write it.” He was staring hard at me but his eyes were haunted and bleak. Like he was going to push this conversation to the absolute limit, test us both…see who cried uncle first.
It felt like I was talking to a stranger.
“Don’t call me ‘ma’am,’” I said, hurt. “Just…don’t. And you know I don’t want your resignation. But I do think you owe me an apology.”
He bowed with mock formality. “Then I apologize. It will never happen again.”
“Quinn…”
“What?”
“I just told you.” He wasn’t going to back down.
“No,” I said. “You told me nothing. I’ve never seen you do something like that before. Ever. I know you’re upset about seeing her…and the fact that she’s with Shane now—”
He cut me off. “You don’t know
“Then tell me! Just tell me!” I shouted back.
“You wouldn’t understand.”
That hurt, too. “Why?”
“It’s complicated.”
For a long moment we just stood there and stared at each other. I knew, just as sure as I knew he loved her, that he wasn’t going to tell me how she had hurt him or what she had done to be able to still torment him like this.
I looked away before he did, picking up the first piece of paper I found on my desk. An unsolicited letter from another local limousine company who wanted us to use their services so our guests could sightsee without worrying about drinking and driving.
“I’ve got to take care of this right away.” I indicated the paper. “I think we’re done here. Apology accepted but I’ll hold you to your word it won’t happen again.”
The fire in his eyes changed to ice and all his interior chambers slammed shut. “And I’ve got business in the barrel room, if we’re finished. Don’t worry, Lucie. It’ll never happen again.” He opened my door. “You want this open or closed?”
“Closed. Please.” I managed to say it and still meet his eyes.
But the moment he left I reached blindly for the sweatshirt I’d left on the back of my chair and buried my face in it until I no longer felt like the wind had been knocked out of me.
Amanda Heyward called mid-morning and asked if I could meet her at Mick’s place to discuss the tent and a few other things about the auction. I hadn’t seen or talked to Mick since the evening at Mount Vernon. Amanda didn’t mention whether he would be there today or not.
Another complicated relationship with another complicated man. I seemed to collect them. Maybe Mick would be busy with his horses, but I didn’t want to ask Amanda. Then she’d ask whether it was on or off with Mick and me and I didn’t feel like discussing it with her. Especially since I couldn’t answer the question myself.
“Sure, I can meet you,” I said. “What time?”
“Four work for you?”
“See you at four.”
“Are you all right, Lucie?” she asked. “You don’t sound too good.”
“I’m fine,” I said. “Sorry to cut this short, but I’ve got somebody in my office.”
“Sure, sure. Didn’t mean to interrupt. See you later.”
I hung up and swung my chair around, resting my bad foot on the credenza. For a long time, I stared at the wall.
Shortly after twelve someone knocked on my door. Not Quinn. Gina.
She poked her head inside. “I brought you lunch. Hope you don’t mind.” She opened the door all the way and set down a plate. A croissant filled with sliced avocado, sprouts, and Brie cheese.
She knew.
“Did you talk to Quinn?” I asked.
At least she didn’t beat around the bush. “I didn’t talk to anybody. Didn’t have to.”
“Oh God. Did those customers hear us?”
“Not everything. They left before you two were finished.” She sat across from me in a wing chair covered in a pretty flame-stitch fabric. My mother had upholstered that chair. In all the years she and Jacques had occupied the offices Quinn and I now used, I don’t think I ever heard them raise their voices at each other. “Want to talk?” she said.
“Not really.”
She traced the fabric’s design on an arm of the chair with her finger. “You had every right to yell at him.”
“What do you mean?”
“Showing up for work drunk like that.”
I closed my eyes and rubbed a spot in the middle of my forehead that had started to throb. “How did you hear about it?”
“Well, I didn’t exactly hear about it from anybody,” she said. “Just put two and two together after what happened just now. My boyfriend works at a bar over in Leesburg. Quinn came in so drunk he wouldn’t serve him. Charlie took his keys and called a cab for him. I guess Quinn was in pretty bad shape for harvest yesterday, huh?”
Sometimes I should just keep my big mouth shut. “Yes,” I said, “he was. Look, Gina, please don’t say anything about this, okay?”
She stood up, her dark eyes big and serious. “Don’t worry. I won’t breathe a word.” She made a zipper motion across her lips. “You can count on me.”
After she left I stared at the sandwich. In two weeks, everyone from here to Richmond would know about our shouting match and my drunken winemaker. I had just started eating when I saw one of the phone lines in the tasting room light up on my phone.
Nah, not two weeks. It’d only take one.
