Page 130 of Let It Breathe
“Yes!”
Clay shook his head. “You’re nuts. No offense. Though maybe you should consider that as a defense?”
Sheila squeezed his hand. “Promise me you’ll try.”
“Why don’t you just worry about yourself for right now?—”
“Promise me!”
“Okay,” Clay said, holding up his hands in surrender. “Fine. Why don’t you promise me you’ll get a lawyer? Someone who’ll make sure you’re not screwing yourself here.”
“I already screwed myself,” she said, turning as the sound of footsteps came trudging down the hall. “Now I’m trying to make it right.”
Clay nodded and felt his heart constrict as Reese walked into the room looking confused and nervous and so damn beautiful he had to clench his hands to keep from jumping up and wrapping his arms around her.
He turned back to Sheila. “I can relate.”
As soon as Sheila finished telling her story, Reese asked her to repeat it.
It still didn’t make sense.
Reese frowned at the cop, then at Sheila. She deliberately avoided meeting Clay’s eyes. “So you did these things on purpose?” she asked Sheila. “The wine, the fire?—”
“I’m so sorry, Reese.”
She stared at this woman she’d loved like a sister. A woman whose shoes she sometimes borrowed, a woman she’d cried with while watching The Notebook. “I thought we were friends.”
“We were. We are. You have to believe I didn’t mean to hurt you.” Sheila covered her face with her hands and sobbed the next words into her palms. “I wasn’t trying to damage the winery. I just wanted Eric to question things and wonder whether he belonged there, and it all sort of snowballed. When one thing didn’t work, I tried another. I just wasn’t thinking.”
“No kidding.”
“Reese, I’m sorry.” Dropping her hands to her lap, she met Reese’s eyes with her own swollen ones. “Truly, truly sorry.”
Reese nodded, not sure what to say to that. You’re forgiven wasn’t right. Not yet, not even close. She looked at Clay. He reached over and squeezed her hand, and Reese felt a small surge of strength.
Sheila sniffed and looked up at the cop. “How long will I be in prison?”
“Look,” Reese said. “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves. I’m sure the cops and lawyers will want to work through the details, figure out the charges, all that complicated legal stuff. Talk of prison might be a little premature.”
“It doesn’t matter right now,” Sheila said, waving a manicured hand. “I just wanted to apologize.”
Reese nodded. “Okay. Can I ask you why? I mean, I understand the whole thing about wanting Eric to move with you, but our friendship—yours and mine, I mean. That was always separate.”
Fresh tears pooled in Sheila’s eyes, and Reese couldn’t help but feel a little sorry for her.
“You have to believe I didn’t mean to hurt you,” Sheila started. “I thought it would be harmless, you know? I just wanted Eric to start questioning his future at the vineyard—the lost wine would make him worry about the value of his work, and the thing with the typo on the wine label—that really was a printer error, but I saw it and I just didn’t correct it.”
“But the fire—you could have hurt someone.”
Sheila shook her head, and Reese sat back a little for fear of being hit by flying snot. “It wasn’t supposed to be that big,” Sheila insisted. “It was just a little trash-can fire. It was nighttime, so I knew no one would be there to get hurt. I just thought—well, you know how superstitious Eric is. I thought if he got to thinking the place was cursed, he might not be so set on staying.”
“Right,” Reese said. “I guess that makes sense.”
If you’re completely crazy.
“Look, I know you think I’m nuts, but I did it for what seemed like good reasons at the time,” Sheila said. “I want to be close to my family, and I want to be with the love of my life. You can understand that, can’t you?”
Reese bit her lip and tried hard not to look at Clay. “I can understand some of it.”
