Page 62 of Moonshine and Magnolias
Brandi’s desertion made itself even more evident by the stack of dirty pots and pans waiting for attention by the three-compartment sink. Classic rock played quietly on the radio, emphasizing the emptiness of the kitchen. Wendy opened the massive dishwasher to load the plates and utensils. Or to slam them into an open space. Where the hell was her cousin?
“Hey, whoa.” Jordan put a hand on Wendy’s arm. “You don’t want to have to clean up broken ceramics, do you?”
“You know what?” Wendy took another dish off the tray. “I don’t really care.” She shoved that one in the dishwasher as well.
“Those poor plates did nothing to you!” Jordan said.
They existed. Right now, that was enough.
She managed to rein in her annoyance and grumble at the dishes instead of beating them into submission. “I’m just really frustrated. Eulalee was exhausted after cooking, even with Anthon’s help. Thank goodness there was enough wineand whiskey so no one seemed to notice the slow service.” How did her cousin blow off her responsibilities without a trace of guilt? It would be a secret worth selling.
“It was a lovely evening, Wendy.” Jordan’s voice was calm. “The party will be even lovelier.”
“Don’t try to placate me. Mrs. Lurz has been the librarian for over fifty years, and this place is going to be overflowing tomorrow. Brandi needs to learn she just can’t leave on a whim.”
“Are you sure her absence is the only thing bothering you?”
Jordan didn’t need to know part of her anger at Brandi was a screen for hiding her anticipation about talking to Rob. She looked at the plate in her hands and shoved it at Jordan. “Here.”
She left her friend loading the dishwasher and went back into the solitude of the dining room. Rob’s quiet strength was a beacon for her, if she could let herself be part of it. Where she could just be Wendy, and not the fixer or organizer or the voice of reason.
Rob’s heat and hunger had called to the woman inside her, and she’d let herself go with the overwhelming feeling until she crashed. Now the four walls boxed her in while extra energy burned her inside. She needed to get out, to move. No dish or cousin would be safe in her presence until then.
“Screw that.” She straightened her skirt and marched out of the dining room, away from the pictures of her ancestors, ignoring the flutter that told her she was being irresponsible. Her schedule could wait. Or someone else could take care of them for a change. She grabbed her bat from the office and high-tailed it to the orchard.
The sun had fallen behind the great hills when Wendy made it to the rows of trees, casting the sky in ribbons of bright orange and pink and blue. The familiar, welcoming scent of peaches greeted her. As did the familiar thwack of a bat.
Brandi stood with her back toward the house and tossed a peach in the air. With precision timing, she sent the fruit straight into a tree.
Annoyance churned in Wendy’s gut. Based on the mound of peaches at the base of the tree, her cousin had been out here for a while. Instead of where she belonged, helping with the guests and food and table service.
The insanity would be to call Brandi out. It hadn’t worked the previous twenty million times, so instead, Wendy took a deep breath and sat on the lawn next to the bench, watching her cousin toss the fruit in the air and smack it with her bat. Her blond hair was pulled into a ponytail and her gray shirt had splatters on it.
Sitting had the unexpected benefit of calming her down. The grass tickled her hands and the sweet scent of early summer helped her relax.
After a few moments, Brandi lowered her bat and turned around. “What.”
“I didn’t say anything.”
“You were looking at me.”
“Your swing isn’t as fast as it used to be.”
Brandi waited, as if expecting her to say more. “That’s it?”
Wendy shrugged, still basking in the peaceful evening. “I can’t tell you anything you don’t already know yourself.”
Brandi tapped the bat against her toes and studied Wendy as if she was trying to tell what Wendy was thinking. Finally she tossed her bat to the side and picked up a piece of fruit. “Well, let’s see what you’ve got, hot shot.”
Wendy positioned herself with her bat raised and knees bent, though her skirt kept them confined. This was a good approach. No arguing. No demands or excuses or frayed tempers. They were alike in as many ways as they were different. There had to be common ground for them. Peachball practice was a start.
Brandi pushed her three-quarter sleeves above her elbows, then picked up the fruit and tossed it up a few times, a frown on her lovely face. Finally, she drew her arm back and pitched. The peach sailed by Wendy faster than she expected.
No matter. She repositioned herself, and the next time, she tapped the edge of the fruit. They both watched as it careened into the hill.
They repeated the process a few times with no words spoken between them. Playing was easier than talking, and the silent companionship gave Wendy time toanalyze. To assess. To keep her knee-jerk reactions out of the equation that was her cousin. Brandi wasn’t missing her scheduled shifts to piss her off, but there had to be a reason. Maybe it wasn’t something Wendy agreed with, but she should wait to hear it instead of being blindly judgmental. Appearances were only the surface of things. She of all people knew that one too well.
The next two pitches buzzed by her knuckles. “You’ve been practicing.”
