Page 29 of Always Yours

I leave Will with the kids and slip into the kitchen to find Lauren at the sink scrubbing at her hands. She’s always been prettier than me; tall and leggy with brighter blonde hair and deeper blue eyes, an interesting contrast with her tanned skin.She’s curvy and toned, where I’ve always been a little slimmer and less, well, Playboy Bunny. I’m the plain version.

But none of that really matters. What matters is the kind of person she is and she’s amazing, but I haven’t seen that person in a while.

She hears me come in and shuts off the water, turning to face me she says, “Happy anniversary.” She wears a fake smile that masks the pain she feels as the words leave her mouth.

“Thanks. Looks like you had a good time out there,” I say, my head tipping toward the living room.

“Yeah, we did, and we spent the morning cleaning out that damn crusher again.” Lauren shakes her head and returns to the sink, scrubbing her hands, but the deep purple remains.

“Windex,” I say and Lauren glares at me. She hates it when I tell her what to do, but we both know I’m right. You don’t grow up on a vineyard and not know what removes wine stains.

“You sound like Mom,” she replies, her tone lacking inflection, but she does give me a small smile.

“Because Mom is always right,” I quip back and we both roll our eyes. “Any luck with the crusher?” I ask, knowing full well the answer is no. She had someone out here this morning to take a look at it and despite it being my anniversary, she would have interrupted my quiet morning with that news.

“No, and he was a total moron too. Kept claiming that there’s no one who’s going to be able to fix it. After that he decided then would be a great time to hand me his card so we can purchase the best machine on the market from him.” Lauren lets it all out in one breath, her voice growing more and more annoyed as she relays the story to me. “We own the best machine on the market, even if it is nearly fifteen years old.”

She’s intense when she talks about getting a new machine. It’s possible it may even save us some money if we do decide to replace it, but I know that won’t ever happen. It’s Lauren’sconnection to Jack Wilson, the last one she has left. Memories only last so long and I imagine hers are beginning to fade.

It’s been fourteen years, fourteen years of not speaking to him, of pretending she hates him, of her learning to live with the fact that she can never replace him. I even thought she was over him, but this latest incident has really taken its toll and now she needs a distraction more than ever.

“What if I told you I think I have someone who can fix it?” I say, my expression turning sneaky as I narrow my eyes at her, knowing she will have her suspicions.

“Bullshit,” she replies, her tone snarky, because she’s had more people here to repair it than the number of people who visit the Golden Gate Bridge each year. I’m the one who hunts them down, talks with them about the repairs, which they always insist they can fix, and then I schedule the visit. And it’s only that, a visit, because no one and I mean no one can fix the machine. It’s Australian, and it’s as difficult to decipher as Lauren’s feelings for Jack.

But I’m the lucky one because my involvement ends there. It’s Lauren who deals with their stupid jokes, their sales pitches, and sometimes the random pick up line.

“The guy I found is Australian, so I think it’s going to work this time.”

“Do whatever you gotta do,” Lauren says, indifferently as she pumps an insane amount of soap into her hands and begins scrubbing.

Without saying a word, I open the cabinet under the sink and pull out the Windex. Grabbing her hands, I spray them and watch as the deep purple fades almost instantly.

The side eye she hits me with is comical and I laugh out loud as I give her a quick peck on the cheek and a swat on the ass, leaving her to clean up her hands.

I’ve spent the last week trying to locate Jack Wilson to no avail. He has suddenly disappeared from Facebook as he if doesn’t want to be found. But I think I’m on to something now…finally. Even though Lauren and I don’t involve our parents in the day to day running of the vineyard and winery, I’ve called our father and he’s put me in touch with someone who used to work with Tony Wilson, Jack’s dad. It was Tony who initially installed the de-stemmer and crusher machine on the property years ago.

It was how Lauren met Jack.

It’s a long shot, but I need to get him back here.

I sent an email to a guy named Mike Anderson, who my father says is a friend of Tony Wilson, and despite the time difference, I hear back from him in only minutes. While I’ve changed my last name after marrying Will, my email still bears the domain name ofSomerville Vineyardwhich I know carries enough weight for this guy to not think I’m crazy for contacting him.

He gives me an email address for Tony and asks a little bit about my mom and dad, chatting briefly about how the business is going and if we have anything new in the works. He’s cordial and I thank him for Tony’s contact information.

Without waiting, I send an email to Tony and keep my fingers crossed that he’s as prompt in responding, but just as I go to check my email again, Lauren walks into my office.

“What are you doing?” she asks, obviously aware of the weird smile plastered on my face as I sit alone in my office. “You watching cat videos again?”

“No, but that cat video I tagged you in yesterday was really funny.”

“I watched it like a hundred times,” Laurens says. “It gets funnier each time.”

“How’s it going?” I ask, as if it’s a casual question, but there’s more to it than either of us will admit to.

“I’m good. Kids are good,” she says, looking out my office window at the twins as they chase each other up and down the rows of grapevines. “What time’s Will leaving?” The abrupt change of subject doesn’t go unnoticed by me, but I don’t push it.

“Flight leaves at six, so I think I’ll come by and stay with you tonight. What do you think?”

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