Chapter 23
Savvy was tempted to leave work early—again. Maybe because it was Friday. Or was it spring fever? After the oppressive winter, the weather was finally gorgeous. From her office window, daffodils teased her, nodding their heads in the grass along the border of the office park.
While the firm’s partners hadn’t exactly broadcast that they were blowing off the rest of the day to play golf, the white belts and khakis they’d worn to work had made any pronouncement superfluous. Mid-morning, the men had simply vanished.
For about five seconds, Savvy wondered if she should feel snubbed at not having been invited to tag along. Really though, why bother? She was the only female lawyer in the firm. The next youngest had at least twenty years on her. Not only that, she’d sucked at every sport she’d ever tried. Okay, she could swim, but it wasn’t pretty.
With the partners gone, the whole suite seemed to take on a more relaxed air. Maybe she could use this time to finally make some headway with the other women, as soon as she tied up some loose ends. She proofread the document she’d just typed and sent it to the printer in another room.
On her way to retrieve her copies, the sound of feminine chatter coming from the break room buoyed her hopes. She made a detour in time to see Karen popping another K-Cup in the Keurig, and Sylvia waiting her turn.
“Guess it’s just us girls this afternoon,” Savvy said, pasting on her best Miss Congeniality smile.
Midsentence, Karen’s mouth clamped shut. Sylvia’s eyes filled with resentment.
All righty, then. There were at least two people who wouldn’t miss her if she bugged out early.
She tried to look at the bright side. At least the assistants weren’t pretending to like her, and then dissing her to her back. This way, she knew for certain that anything and everything she did would be duly reported.
She grabbed a handful of hard candy from a dish. All she’d put in her stomach that day was that disgusting kale drink.
Back at her desk, she found herself watching the clock. Peering out the window yet again at the clouds drifting by, she worried her lower lip, considering. She was salaried, not hourly. It wasn’t like she needed permission. But cutting out early two days in a row was no way for a junior associate to make an impression.
Still, it was Friday.
She called Esteban on her way home, and he asked her to go out later. While they talked, she thought about her last conversation with her boss, racking her brain to figure out some way she could make Esteban’s father see that that offer on his land was a boon, not something to be dismissed out of hand. She still didn’t get the Moraleses’ reaction. Most people would jump at the chance to painlessly unload a property that only afforded a meager living, in exchange for never having to worry about work or money again.
As she pulled into Domaine St. Pierre, she realized she was starving—and tired. Maybe it was a good thing she’d gone home early after all. It was all she could do to haul her bagful of work up the steps and into the house.
She entered the kitchen to the smell of fish baking.
“Salut,” sang Jeanne. “You are never the first one home from work. You are surprising me every day, ma petite chou,” she said from over at the island, where she tossed a green salad.
Normally Savvy found it touching when Jeanne called her “my little cabbage.” But today, the endearment was overshadowed by the way the island was swirling around like a kaleidoscope. The awful kale drink tasted even worse going down the second time, mixed with hard candy. Her knees felt like jelly. At the sound of her steadying hand smacking down on the edge of the breakfast table, Jeanne looked up.
Savvy’s fingers curled over the table edge as stars danced before her eyes.
In a flash, the cook was at her side, one hand on her back, the other supporting her elbow.
“Mon Dieu. Sit. Sit down.”
Savvy dropped into a chair with a thunk, her black satchel falling over on the kitchen tile, documents streaming out of it.
“Are you ill?” Jeanne’s face was the picture of concern as she bent over Savvy, cupping her cheeks.
“No. I don’t know. I felt dizzy, all of a sudden.”
“Stay there. I will get you a drink.”
“I forgot to eat today. That’s all.”
Thirty-one days since Salt Point. Forty-five since her last period. She didn’t need a clear head to figure those numbers. She recalculated them daily. No—hourly.
“You look like a ghost,” Jeanne said, standing over her to ensure she drank the full glass of water she brought. “I told you before, you work too hard. Go upstairs and lie down, and I will bring you something.”
It wasn’t in Savvy to argue. As she dragged herself out of the room and across the foyer to the stairs, she heard Jeanne muttering a scolding in French. “I heard that,” she called out over her shoulder.
She awoke sometime later to answer her phone, still in her work clothes, the bedroom in shadow. A silver tray of tea and toast sat on the bedside table.
“What time do you want me to pick you up?” asked Esteban, when she answered.
“What time is it?” She rubbed her eyes. “I can’t remember the last time I fell asleep during the daytime.”
“Seven-thirty.”
With an effort, she hoisted herself up on an elbow. “Um . . .” The thought of eating anything other than toast made her stomach somersault.
Jeanne walked briskly into the bedroom with a cup and saucer. Did she have a mom-cam, with that timing?
“You are not to even think of going out,” Jeanne said, loud enough to be overheard by whomever was on the phone.
Warily, Savvy watched Jeanne fuss . . . replacing the untouched cold tea with the hot cup, motioning to get Savvy to roll over so she could turn down the duvet. Not since Savvy had had that bad stomach flu back when she was six had she seen Jeanne act this way. Ugh. The thought of that made her stomach flip again.
“Who’s that?” asked Esteban through the phone.
Like a beached whale, Savvy let Jeanne roll her back over, sighing as the duvet was pulled up and tucked in around her. She had to admit, it felt good to be mothered occasionally, even if she was full grown.
“That would be Jeanne . . .” was all she dared say within the tyrant’s hearing.
“Esteban?” Jeanne asked Savvy pointedly.
When Savvy glared at her like the madwoman she was, Jeanne took the phone.
“Here is Jeanne, mon chér. Mademoiselle Sauvignon is too tired to come out tonight. I am very sorry, but there it is. Give your mother my regards. Good-bye.” With that, she matter-of-factly handed the phone back and left the room.
Savvy tucked another pillow behind her head and chatted with him for a few more minutes, the tea settling her stomach enough to make her not-sick claim sound almost convincing. Esteban told her he’d be busy all day tomorrow getting ready for the opening of the Napa farmers’ market the following weekend, but he wanted to take her hiking on Sunday, if the weather held.
“Bye,” she cooed finally, the phone wedged between her ear and her pillow.
“Bye.”
“Don’t have fun without me,” she pouted.
“Not a chance,” replied her gentle giant.
So. Sunday it would be. She had ’til then to figure out how to make him see the obvious advantages of accepting NTI’s offer, and then get him to convince his dad of same.
Bwawp! Bwap-bwap!
Esteban turned from his gray-green shrubs tucked into their new earthen beds to see Tomas’s pickup coming up the lane, followed by a hand waving out the window of the latest-model Jeep Wrangler.
“¿Que pasa, my friend?” said Tomas. He slammed his door and strode up the lane to meet him.
They shook hands, Esteban clapping Tomas’s arm for good measure. “Not much. Just checking on the lavender.”
“Still? How long you going to keep beating your head against the wall, man?”
Esteban’s hopes were up this morning. “Got some exceptional plants from a place over on the county line. I feel good about it this time.”
Tomas shook his head. “I hope the parentals appreciate what kinda son they got.”
How could Esteban make people like Tomas and Savvy understand that what drove him to farm was more than merely a desire to be a good son? His passion to put his own stamp on the property he’d someday inherit? To make it his own?
“What’s going on with you two?” Esteban said, changing the subject.
“George and I just came from the dealership. I gave him a ride to pick up his new toy. He had to stop and show it off to you.”
“Hey there, E!”
They sauntered down to where their mutual friend had jumped out of his Jeep. George grinned and slapped a proud palm down on its hood.
“She’s a beauty,” said Esteban, slowly circling the vehicle.
“Four-wheel drive, V6, AT tires, seven-speaker sound system . . .”
“Sweet. Making journeyman’s paying off, I see.”
George’s chest puffed out a little. “Not doing too bad.” He gestured toward the vegetable gardens. “You ever get tired of playing Old MacDonald here, let me know. I’ll hook you up,” he said, teasing him the way only an old friend could get away with.
It wasn’t the first time George had offered to get him a job at the utility company. Esteban had always dismissed the idea out of hand. Still, he had to admit it was decent of George to offer. “Four-year apprenticeship, is it?” he asked, to show his appreciation.
George shrugged. “Gotta start somewhere. For no college, pay’s pretty damn good, even for an apprentice. I started at thirty-four an hour, and now I’m making forty-two.”
“They have to pay you good. Wouldn’t catch me climbing those poles, grabbing those high-voltage wires,” put in Tomas.
George said, “We can always use a hard worker like you, E. One word from me, you’re in like Flynn.”
“Thanks. I’ll keep it in mind.” It was his stock response.
“What’s going on this weekend?” George asked.
“Getting ready for the market. Opening day is only two weeks away.”
Tomas raised his chin in acknowledgment. “Long couple of weeks for your family, eh?”
“Lot of work, but it’s all good. First day’s always special. Big crowds, music, and special events for the kids.” It had always been one of his favorite times of year.
“It’s a great event for the community.” After Napa Valley Community College Tomas had gone on to the police academy before getting his job as a deputy sheriff for the county.
George tossed his head toward his new vehicle. “I’m taking her out tomorrow to see how she does off-road. Tomas said he’s riding along. Want to come?”
Esteban grimaced. “Man, sounds great, but I already made plans for Sunday.”
“Work?”
Sheepishly, Esteban shook his head. “Not this time.”
George slid him a sideways look. “Hey. That true what I heard?”
“What’d you hear?”
“You were at Bodega with one of the St. Pierre sisters last week?”
Esteban couldn’t restrain his shit-eating grin. “Could be.”
George smacked Esteban a high-five that turned into a rugged, congratulatory handclasp. “You fucking kidding me?” He looked at Tomas. “How do you like that? Dude hits the big time without telling us.”
“How long’s that been going on?” asked Tomas with a look in his eye that made Esteban vaguely uncomfortable. As if Tomas had just pulled him over for speeding and was debating whether or not to search his vehicle.
Esteban shrugged. “Not long.”
His friends sized him up, digesting the surprising news.
“That’s . . . cool,” said Tomas.
“All right, well, if you’re sure you can’t go with us, we’ll do it again another time. I’m out of here.”
“See you tomorrow,” said Tomas.
“You’ve heard about Xavier St. Pierre,” said Tomas as they watched George drive away with still more honks and waves. “The whole valley has. It’s like they say: the rich are different than us.”
Esteban looked down for a second before meeting Tomas’s eyes. “Guess I’ll find out.”
“Guess you will,” Tomas replied as he headed to his truck. “Take care, buddy,” he added, opening his door. “I hope you know what you’re getting into.”