Page 11 of Rare Blend
“Do you have a reason for being here, or are you just throwing a tantrum over a wedding invitation?”
Elyse’s eyes narrow, and her lips draw together. “You should’ve stayed in Woodinville. You’re already annoying me.” She hands me the folder that was tucked under her arm. “I need your signature of approval for a corporate holiday retreat we’re hosting in December.”
Elyse is the event coordinator for the winery, which mostly hosts weddings, and she’s pretty damn good at it. My little sister, the ball-buster who could easily make a grown man cry and rarely dates because she doesn’t put up with shit. Yet somehow, she manages to work successfully with loving couples and plan romantic weddings. It’s as if she can switch into a completely different person.
“Since when do we host corporate retreats?”
She shrugs. “Since some ritzy company is willing to pay us a fuck ton to do it.”
I glance over the contract. I trust Elyse. I don’t ever feel the need to scrutinize her decisions; she’s the most meticulous person I know. I flip to the last page, sign it, and hand it back to her.
“Happy doing business with you,” she chirps on her way out. “I leave tomorrow for a wedding expo in Vegas. I’ll see you on Sunday.”
“Have a safe trip,” I tell her.
Sundays are reserved for the weekly Ledger Family Dinner, one of the few times I allow myself to double up on my anti-anxiety meds. Five siblings, two meddling parents, and my six-year-old niece. Individually, they’re fine; all together, they’re pure chaos.
CHAPTER 5
Marisa
THE MESSENGER, THE SPY
Iguess I should’ve turned right instead of left, because once I’m back on the road, I quickly find my dad’s house. He stayed on the line with me until I pulled into the driveway of a pretty, white farmhouse.
I put the car in park and jump out, but then pause, unsure if I should greet him with a hug or not. Fortunately, he makes the decision for me and pulls me into a familiar, bear-like hug. My body gently sags in his embrace, a combination of exhaustion and a rush of emotions from not having seen him in so long. He still smells the same, and I breathe him in as memories flood my mind. Images of the doting dad he was in my childhood eventually distort to the uncompromising, demanding dad he became in my teen years. I was never good enough, could never quite measure up to the impossible standards he held for me. It only got worse when I went to college. The last time we were in the same room, he told me I was a disappointment. That was the last real conversation we had. Until now.
Too quickly, he releases me, keeping his hands on my shoulders and inspecting me.
“You look so much like your mom,” he says, his eyes tracking me, laced with something I can’t quite identify.
There’s noso good to see you, orI missed you, orI’m so glad you’re here. No, none of that.
A quiet sigh slips through my lips. “Thanks.” I’m not sure if it’s a compliment or not.
He nods, turning toward the house. “Come on in.”
The inside of the house is beautifully decorated with a purposeful mixture of fabrics and finishes that complement the space, making it both modern and classically farmhouse without being kitschy. Jennifer’s doing, I’m sure, because my dad couldn’t identify a throw pillow if his life depended on it.
The house is eerily quiet, too still for anyone else to be home. I know for a fact that along with Jennifer and my dad, there are two teenagers—Jennifer’s kids—who live here, too.
Seeming to read the question in my eyes, he says, “Sadie is at her barista job and Caleb is at football practice. Jenn will be home from work in about an hour.”
We get settled in the open concept living room, and he offers me a glass of water, which I down in less than a minute. I avoided drinking much of anything for the drive because I hate stopping at random places to pee, so I’m sure I’m pretty dehydrated.
An awkward silence hangs in the air between us. Instead of trying to fill the gap with my rambling, I take in the surrounding space. Sunlight streams through sheer curtains, casting a glow on the rustic hardwood floors. Large wooden beams draw attention to the vaulted ceilings, making the room appear much larger. It’s a dream house, vastly different from the 1970s ranch-style home I grew up in. It’s strange to think of my dad living here, acting as some sort of father figure to two kids who aren’t his. Is he as hard on them as he was on me? Does he hold them to the same expectations?
Though it’s been some time since I’ve seen him and our interaction has been brief, it’s evident that he’s different. Calmermaybe? Less tightly wound? I can’t quite put my finger on it, but something in him has clearly changed.
He clears his throat and blows out a long exhale. “Jenn and I did some talking…and we think it would be best if you didn’t stay here.”
My stomach plummets, the water I chugged churning like a whirlpool. He couldn’t have told me this over the phone before I packed up my whole life?
My face must give away every emotion, because he quickly shakes his head.
“I’m sorry, that came out wrong. What I’m trying to say is we’ve arranged with Jack Ledger, a friend of ours, for you to stay in one of the rental cottages at his winery. Give you a little privacy, allow you to have your own space. I figured you would prefer that.”
Both relief and disappointment weave through me. While I appreciate having my own space, it’s clear that my dad doesn’t want me intruding into his new life. Why bother adding me to the mix and tarnishing his shiny house and new family? He can pretend it’s for my sake, but this is equally about him having no idea what to do with me. He never has.
