Chapter 15

DORIE AND DANA WERE WAITING FOR THEM IN THE KITCHEN.

Dorie nodded and sat down at the table. “Getting too old for all this excitement.”

“I didn’t mean to cause all this trouble. I’ll pack my things.” Dana started for the door.

Dorie smacked her hand on the table. “Between you and Van I’ve never seen two people in such a hurry to leave a place and people who want them to stay. And I got three words for the both of you.”

“Get over yourself,” chorused Suze, Van, and even Dana who spoke the words under her breath.

“So was Joe okay?” Dana asked.

“He was until Van finished him with a one-two punch.”

Dana shot a look at Van. “You didn’t.”

“I didn’t hit him,” Van said. “I just . . . we had a little misunderstanding.”

“All on Van’s part,” Dorie said.

“Yeah, okay, all my fault. I’m going to bed.” Van didn’t wait for anyone to protest. She was pretty sure no one would.

Van didn’t sleep all that well for obvious reasons. She’d jumped to conclusions and hurt someone she cared for—had cared for. Who according to all accounts was a good person. And it was because of her own insecurities and preconceptions.

Okay, so she was a bitch. She’d apologize. She’d even go and apologize in person. That would be better than having to listen to Suze moan, Dorie chastise her, and God only knew what Dana thought. Probably glad Van had made a fool of herself.

And there it was. She might as well admit it. She was petrified of appearing anything but completely put together, the happy, educated, professional success story.

Was her success so tenuous that it couldn’t withstand a few honest mistakes? Would it fall in shambles if she forgave people who had also reaped the consequences of their, and subsequently her, actions?

And if the life she’d carefully built could fall apart so easily, why was she holding on to it so tightly?

THINGS DIDN’T LOOK much better when Van came down to the kitchen the next morning. She felt even more embarrassed, and she was dreading the apology she would have to make.

Dorie set a cup of coffee down at her place. Her place. Funny how after a few days, they already had their own places. She sat.

“Before you go apologize to Joe, will you drive Dana over to pick up some clothes? I’m getting sick of seeing that red T-shirt.”

“She doesn’t have to,” Dana said.

“I’ll be glad to,” Van said, resigned. She was determined to try to be at her best today.

“Could you drop me off at Thirtieth, or is it too far out of your way?” Suze asked.

“Of course,” Van said. “Have you been summoned by les parents?”

“La mother. For lunch. I’m sure she thinks she can entice me back to the manse to work on, as Gigi called it, my little thingy. But, Dorie, don’t you dare think of renting out my room. Not only is it a great place to work, but the rest of the time it’s like living in reality TV.”

So after a breakfast of eggs and toast that Dorie made and refused help for, Van dropped Suze off in the next town over and drove Dana across town to get her things.

DORIE HAD JUST taken the wash out of the dryer and was folding sheets when the doorbell rang. She hadn’t heard Van’s car return, and she didn’t think Suze had been gone long enough to have come back already.

She tossed the sheet on the top of the dryer. The bell rang again before she could get down the hall to answer it. She peered out the side window.

It was Gigi. Dorie let her in.

“How come the door was locked?”

“Because we had a Bud Albright alert last night, and I decided it was better to be safe than sorry. Come on in.”

“Where’s Van’s car?”

“She had to drop Suze off at her parents’ house.”

“Is Suze leaving?”

“No, she’ll be back after lunch.”

“So when is Van coming back?”

“I asked her to take Dana over to pick up some of her things. She’s going to stay here for a while. Come on back while I finish folding the clothes.”

She led Gigi back to the laundry room. Dorie saw a volatile situation on the horizon. She didn’t know Gigi that well. She’d hung out at the Crab with the others and had joined them in a few of their less outrageous escapades. Even stayed overnight here a few times. But not because she was in trouble. It was more like a sleepover to her.

“Help me fold.” Dorie handed one end of the sheet to Gigi. “How are the kids?”

“Fine. Did Van say when they’d be back?”

“No.” Dorie made the last fold, but held on. “Are you thinking about going back to work soon?”

“I have to.” Gigi’s voice cracked. “I don’t see why Dana doesn’t go home and take care of herself.”

“She isn’t in a place where she can really take care of herself right now.” And neither are you.

“Because everyone else is taking care of her.”

Dorie took Gigi’s end of the sheet. “It may seem that way, but everyone has to take care of themselves. Look how well Van has done, and she only had herself to rely on.”

“I would have helped her. I gave her money.”

“I know and she was appreciative. But there comes a time—”

“Did you hear that?”

“No. What did you hear? You don’t have to worry about Bud breaking in.”

“I’m not worried about him.”

Gigi stressed the “him,” but Dorie was at a loss as to why. There was no reason why she should be worried about Bud or anyone else.

The more Dorie saw of Gigi, the more she realized that her family and friends had done the girl a disservice. Always one of the “good” girls, that goodness had led to something close to total apathy. And to make it worse, she seemed incapable of standing on her own two feet.

“Shall I carry these upstairs?”

“Thanks. The linen closet is just outside the front bathroom.”

That was a good sign. Trying to be helpful. She’d get Van to put her to work helping to restore the Crab. Maybe that would push her out of this awful lethargy.

Dorie sat down and poured herself a cup of coffee. Well, life certainly wasn’t dull with these girls around, though she’d better stop thinking of them as girls. They were women, had been for a while. But hell, they still came to Dorie when the chips were down.

Gigi came back into the kitchen a few minutes later. “I put the linens away. The mail came. I put it on the hall table.” She frowned. “Still nothing for Suze. I wonder what’s going to happen.”

“Don’t you worry. Suze will take care of it—if she has to drive to the grant committee and wrestle them into giving her another chance.”

“But the deadline.”

“Yeah, that’s a problem. I guess we’ll just have to wait and see.”

VAN AND DANA didn’t talk much, except for Dana giving her directions to the apartment complex where she shared an apartment with Bud. Dana didn’t invite her in, and Van didn’t offer to help her pack. She waited in the car looking at the two-story strip of apartments that must have been converted from an old motel. It was pretty depressing.

“Are you sure Bud isn’t going to waylay us?” Van said.

“Jerry called. He’s still in jail. I guess he tried to call me to get him out, but I had my phone turned off.” Dana smiled; her face was less bruised today, and she’d pretty much covered it up with makeup that she had borrowed from Dorie.

Van didn’t comment. She’d forgotten how much people got into fights here. And how often it escalated into worse. “You wouldn’t have gone to get him?”

Dana shrugged and got out of the car.

She was gone so long that Van was beginning to worry that she wasn’t coming out again. Horrid things began to go through Van’s mind: Bud had gotten out of jail and was waiting for Dana upstairs; Dana had given in to despair and was guzzling a bottle of pills.

Van was just about to go up and knock on the door when the door opened and Dana lugged out a heavy duffel bag.

Van got out to help her down the stairs. They hoisted the bag into the backseat.

“You rival Suze for heavy suitcases.”

“She’s planning to stay for a while, isn’t she?”

“I know she’d like to. I guess it’s dependent on her getting this grant. If she doesn’t, she’ll have to go back to Princeton to teach and try to write at the same time.”

“That doesn’t sound too bad.”

“I guess, though I can’t even imagine trying to write anything more than an apartment prospectus. Hell, even a grocery list is sometimes beyond me.”

“Me, too,” Dana said. “I’m not going back this time. I’m really not.”

“Good for you.”

“But I feel bad.”

“Good God, why? He beats you, and he gets drunk and beats other people. You should have seen Joe last night. Your boyfriend is a gorilla.” Van sucked in her breath. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that.”

“He’s not. Okay, maybe he is, but he had an abusive childhood. His father was a bully.”

Now, there was an excuse. Van’s father was a bully, a drunk, and just plain mean. But she didn’t go around beating people up.

“I thought— Well, I thought he would change.”

“But he didn’t,” Van said, trying to sound sympathetic. Actually, she guessed she felt sympathetic. Though she didn’t understand how Dana could love someone like that. Of course her mother had loved her father. Hadn’t she?

Now that she thought about it, she could only remember her parents fighting. And her mother had yelled just as loud as her father. Van pulled to the curb.

“What? You want me to get out?” Dana’s hand was already reaching for the door handle.

“No. No! I just freaked out for a second. Just sit. It’s not about you. Well, it’s sort of about you. And Bud.”

“What? I’m pitiful, aren’t I? I know it, and I keep going back for more. I don’t know how to get him to stop what he’s doing, so we just fight.” She stopped, then said more quietly. “It’s what we do best together.”

Van turned to look at her. Really looked at her.

“I know it’s no good. But I don’t want to lose him.”

“Why?”

Dana took a long time to answer. “I love him?”

“Is that a question?”

Dana buried her face in her hands. “I don’t know. I feel sorry for him, and he knows it. And I think that’s what makes him crazy.”

“Well, I can understand that, because who would want someone to stay with them just because the person feels sorry for them? But I don’t accept the hitting-you part.”

“I know. I’m so screwed up.”

Van sighed. She didn’t have a word of encouragement. She had no idea what to say, more so because suddenly she began to understand what Dana was talking about. “I think there are therapists who can help.”

Dana snorted. “Sure, just try to get Bud to go to one.”

“What about you?”

“Me? Why would I go to one?”

“I don’t know. Maybe because it takes two of you to make an argument.”

“You don’t know Bud.”

And Van was glad she didn’t. “When is he going to stop, Dana? When he breaks your bones, when he kills you?”

Dana finally looked up. “Joe says the same thing, but Bud wouldn’t kill me, would he?”

“I have no idea. I lived with an abusive father, but he stopped at yelling at my mother. I don’t think he ever hit her. I never was aware of it if he did.”

“You told everybody that he killed her.”

“Well, he did in a way. She wanted him to pick her up from work, but he was drunk and told her to get a ride. She walked home instead. It was rainy, the streets were slick, and a car slid into her when she was only two blocks away. She almost made it home.” Van sucked in air as the pain of that night filled her.

Dana stared. “That’s it?”

“You need more?”

“Why didn’t she just get a ride?”

It was Van’s turn to stare. It was just what Nate had said. And for the first time in her life, Van asked herself, Why hadn’t she gotten a ride home? If she had . . . if she had, what? Life would have gone on, all of them miserable and trapped in a cold, unloving family. As it was, the family dissolved. She didn’t know what had happened to her father, and she didn’t care.

Her mother’s death had driven Van and her father apart. They struggled along for a couple of years, living in the same space, ignoring each other. Instead of being happy that the wife he didn’t love was dead, her father spiraled down to a place that Van couldn’t imagine, locking his bedroom door and not communicating. Van went to school and work, came home, and left the money she made on the kitchen table.

Then the rest of her life fell apart, and it was the best thing that had ever happened to her.

“I think you have to leave him permanently, Dana.”

Dana nodded, and Van looked away as the tears started to fall.

She pulled back into traffic and drove back to the beach. She was totally out of her area of expertise. She might not have helped Dana, but she’d made things clearer for herself. No more expecting the worst—from people or from life. She’d drop Dana off and then go to the marina and apologize.

VAN STOPPED AT Dorie’s and went inside. She knew it was stupid, but even though she was just going to the marina long enough to apologize, she didn’t want to look thrown together. A little light makeup was in order.

She stuck her head into the kitchen before she left.

“I’m going to apologize, Dorie. When I get back, if you want, we can start going over some ideas for the Crab.”

“Okay. Just so you know. Gigi was here.”

“Oh damn, I forgot about Gigi.”

“I told her Suze was out for the day and you had business to take care of and we’d see her tomorrow. I think we could all use a break. And, besides, I think we should have a little chat about her. But it can wait. Get going. And don’t hurry back.”

Van gave her a look that made Dorie shrug innocently.

SHE ARRIVED AT the marina much too quickly. She had tried to think of a way to apologize that would sound intelligent and sincere, and that she would still come out unscathed. She wasn’t having much success.

She saw Joe standing on the bow of a fishing boat, giving instructions to another person. They were laughing. Joe’s rich baritone and a higher tenor.

She couldn’t see the other person, and for one mortifying second she was afraid she’d interrupted something she shouldn’t.

Then a head appeared from the cabin. It was a young boy. He tossed some rope to Joe. Joe reeled it in and climbed down to stow it in the utility hutch. The boy leaned over, looking in, and Van could tell Joe was explaining to him how to keep the coils from tangling.

And the image burned into her heart. This is the way she had always imagined Joe, his son beside him working at the dairy or, she guessed now, the vineyard, with her inside with dinner ready, waiting for their return home.

But that had been then. And here he was with a child. What about the wife? She hadn’t thought that Joe had been married. Surely someone would have mentioned it.

There was a cold, rapidly growing pit in her stomach. She wished she could just back up and drive away. But she knew she couldn’t until she’d apologized.

Joe looked up and saw her car. Said something to the boy, who had stopped to look, too.

Reluctantly Van got out. She wasn’t sure of her reception. She watched Joe say something else to the boy, who went back to work, then Joe jumped to the ground and started toward her.

She met him halfway across the yard.

“Hey,” he said.

She looked past him. “Who’s your helper?”

Joe looked back. “Owen. And I’m not exactly sure what his story is, but Bud caught him clamming one night; the others got away.”

“Leave it to Bud to pick on a kid.”

“Yeah; anyway, I told Bud that he was working for me. He didn’t believe me but there wasn’t much he could do. And damn if the kid didn’t show up the next day, ready to work.”

“Lucky kid.”

Joe shrugged.

“No, really. This was always such a great place to hang out.”

“When the tide was in,” he said.

“When the tide was in,” she agreed. They had all sat on the old pier with sodas, sometimes beer, waiting for a breeze, or for the next round of friends to show up.

Sometimes they’d pile into someone’s truck or walk down to the Dairy Queen.

“It’s gotten a little shabby. Well, a lot shabby. Grandy’s been sick.”

“Dorie told me. Is it serious?”

“Yes, but things are looking better now. He’s coming back next week. And I have to get back home.”

She nodded. “Joe, I’m sorry about the way I acted last night. I jumped to the wrong conclusion. It was a stupid thing to do. It was just . . . I . . . preconceived ideas . . . stupid . . . uncalled for.”

He was smiling at her.

“What?”

“I don’t think I’ve ever known you to stumble for words.”

“Especially last night, you mean.”

“Well, appearances did lean toward your analysis. It just happened to be wrong.”

“Well, I’m sorry. Truly. That’s all.” She turned to go.

“Wait.”

She stopped.

“You didn’t give me my turn.”

She turned resolutely around. She should have known she wouldn’t get off this easy.

“I’m sorry I lashed out at you. I just got so angry that you would think— Well, I take those words back. If I can.”

“No need. I know I’m an uptight bitch. Well, not a bitch most of the time. But I like to be in control.”

“You always did.”

“Because there was so much that I couldn’t.”

“I know. I always admired that about you.”

There was a pause in the conversation, a perfect time for Van to turn around and leave. But she didn’t. “Dorie says you’ve planted a vineyard.”

“Hence all the wine bottles. They’re local wines that I’ve been studying.”

“Why wine?”

He shrugged.

Standing face-to-face, Van finally took the time to look at Joe. In spite of his bruises from the previous night, she could tell that he’d matured well, filled out but not too much. He was trim and fit and still had his hair as far as she could tell. Close shaved. Even with all that dark hair, he’d never had much of a beard when they were young. And he’d grown into the determined jawline and the sun-crinkled eyes of the older Enthorpes.

“I needed something that could compete with other farms when I only had twenty acres to play with.”

“Is that enough to compete?”

“Well, I decided to go organic. That was the best chance we had of turning enough profit to, you know, to live comfortably. Plus, I like the idea of organic. Get the real flavor of the wine, not just the additives.

“I should be able to hold my own if the vines are productive and barring any disasters.

“Sorry, your eyes are probably glazing over. It’s something that I don’t get to enthuse about too much. The guys at Mike’s aren’t exactly connoisseurs.”

“I think it sounds fascinating. Really. I was just wondering . . . how you went from dairy farming to vintnering. Is that what it’s called?”

“Viniculture. Growing grapes for wine. When Dad and Granddad sold the dairy farm, I looked around for some way to make the land productive. Actually, first I got really angry. I’d just spent three years learning how to streamline the dairy. Then it was gone.”

“Oh, Joe, I’m sorry.”

“Yeah, well, I was pretty pissed, there were a few scenes, then I packed up and left home.”

“You? Left home?”

“Well, I packed up and went back to school. Where I began studying viniculture. I’d already taken some courses. It’s kind of fascinating.”

“So you learned how to grow grapes and came home and planted them?”

“Granddad and Dad thought I was crazy. There were a few rough years. So I went to work at a New York State vineyard. Learned the ropes. Spent a year and a half in California, same thing. I even went to France and Italy.”

“You’re kidding.”

“I know; crazy, right? Joe Enthorpe in Europe.”

“Not crazy. Did you learn the language?”

“Sure I did.” He smiled. “Tres bien and arrivederci.”

She punched his arm.

“Well, I did learn a bit more than that. By the time I came home, they were willing to listen. I think my mother had something to do with it.”

Van smiled. Mrs. Enthorpe was quiet and never even raised her voice, but she ruled the roost in that household.

“That’s so great, Joe. When I heard you’d sold the farm, I was afraid—”

“That I had gone to work at the marina, became a drunk, and started fights in bars.”

She blushed.

“It’s okay. If I had been more coherent last night, I could have explained. You want to see the vineyards? I have photos on my computer upstairs.”

“I’d love to.” Awkwardness and disappointment had morphed into a kind of comfortable familiarity.

They went up the steps and Joe opened the door for her.

“Sorry about the mess. All my stuff is living on top of Grandy’s stuff.”

The room was definitely crowded. Last night Van had only been aware of Joe and all the wine bottles. In the daylight without the drama, the room appeared just as it had years ago. The counter. The shelves of fishing gear and emergency angler and boating supplies. A case of new and used rods and reels. A wall mount of fishing nets, bags of lures, hooks, coils of nylon rope, plastic containers of wax, oil, and sealant, and a display of candies and chips that looked like they might have been the same ones from years ago.

To that Joe had added a desk and chair that abutted the glass window, a bookshelf filled with books. An easy chair had been shoved into a far corner. He must sleep in the tiny office whose door Van could see over the counter.

Joe led her over to the desk where his laptop was set up. “Have a seat.”

He closed the book he must have been reading, tossed it to the side, then turned the desk chair toward her. She sat down. Joe dragged a plastic molded chair over and sat beside her, rummaged through some papers on the desk, and found a pair of horn-rimmed glasses.

She looked over to him and smiled. “You wear glasses?”

Joe held them up and looked at them as if this was a surprise to him, too. “For a few years, for reading.” He put them on.

He reached across her and opened a file. The screen was filled with rows of lush green grapevines.

“Is that your land?”

“Yep. Renzo, that’s my foreman, just sent these photos over a few days ago. This is our third year, so the vines are producing their first real crop.”

He clicked through a few photos. “Here’s what they looked like when we first planted them.”

Van leaned closer to study what appeared to be little sticks rising up from the plowed earth.

“And this is the next spring.” He brought up more photos.

Straight rows of wire trellises supported by evenly spaced metal posts. The area between the rows neatly mowed. And the fledgling vines, trained to grow up and along the wires.

“They’ve really grown,” she said enthusiastically. Then shrugged. “At least it seems that way to me.”

“They’re doing well. Knock wood.” Joe knocked on the desk, and so did Van. This gained her a smile from Joe. They looked at each other until Joe pulled away. “And here’s last fall.”

Another photo at another angle, some close-ups, then one with a young man and woman with a little girl.

“Is that Maddy?” Van asked.

“Yeah. They were back visiting for Thanksgiving.”

“They? Is that her family?”

“Yeah. She and her husband and little girl, Josephine—we call her Josie. Three Joes and a Josie all in the same house for the holidays is little confusing, but hey. They live in Ohio. They’re expecting another kid pretty soon now.”

Van smiled, but she suddenly felt very sad. And that was something new for her. She’d long ago accepted that she would never be a mother, nor a part of this boisterous family.

“Are you doing this by yourself or did your dad finally come around?”

“Drew and Brett decided to invest. We made a chunk of change on the land we sold. And a big chunk of it was divided up among the kids.

“Dad retired, but the Enthorpes have never been a family to sit back and do nothing. He was alternating between watching television and walking out to look at the condos where the pastures used to be. Granddad was cranky and . . . well, they were driving Mom crazy. Since they’ve gotten involved they still make fun and complain, but they’re happy as two clams.”

He changed the photo again. An aerial shot of the acreage planted in grapevines.

Van could see the stream where they sometimes fished and swam and that edged the planted land. She remembered the fun they’d had. And eating early dinner with the family, a loud raucous crowd, who had opened their home to her. As Joe spoke she could see them all as if she were back there again. And she realized that those dinners and afternoons had been the bright spots in her life and she’d forgotten them in the overpowering memory of unhappiness.

“Thanks.”

Joe frowned at her. “For showing you photos of our vineyard?”

“Yeah.” And your enthusiasm, your family and your love for them, and for being an anchor for me when I didn’t even appreciate it. Didn’t even know I should appreciate it.

“If you’d like to see it, I mean up close and personal, I’d love to take you out there. I’m sure everyone else would love to see you. Dad was just asking about you the other day.”

“Thanks. I’d like to see it, but I— I’m only here for another ten days and I promised Dorie I would help streamline the Crab. It hasn’t come into the twenty-first century. She’s trying to do it all herself, and she’s got overlap, and inefficiency, and well . . . It could take me some time.”

“Is that why you’re back? To help Dorie?”

“No. I was on my way to— I’m on vacation. I stopped to attend Clay Daly’s funeral and the rest as they say is history.”

“Dorie suckered you into staying?”

“Pretty much. I didn’t see you at the funeral.”

“I couldn’t make it.” He clicked out of the file; the screen went dark.

Van wondered about the abrupt change in mood.

“You do restaurants, too?”

“Too?”

Joe shrugged. “I’ve seen your website.”

“Yeah. I own and operate a sort of glorified cleaning, housekeeping, scheduling service. You know, for busy Manhattan families that don’t have time to do it all, and aren’t organized enough to do what they do efficiently.”

“Basically you fix people’s lives.”

“You mean since I didn’t do such a great job with my own?”

He lifted her right out of the chair, held her arms, and looked directly into her eyes. “You did a great job with what you had. I always admired that. If you— I understand that you had to get away, but I’m sorry if I was the thing that drove you to it. I’m still not sure what I did, but if it was me, I’m truly sorry.”

“Joe, it was just circumstances. Better left in the past where it belongs.”

“So you aren’t going to tell me?”

“Joe, I don’t—” What could she say? She didn’t remember? That was a blatant lie. And he would see through it; he’d always seen through her. That had been what she loved most about him; he saw through her and still liked—loved—what he saw.

She shook her head, suddenly having trouble trying to talk. She took a breath. “It’s all good. And I’m so glad things are working out with the vineyard. But I have to get back.”

They both seemed to realize that he was still holding her in place. He let go, she stepped back.

“So you’re staying at Dorie’s.”

“Isn’t that a kick?”

“Suze, too?”

Van nodded. Reluctantly smiled. “And Dana, too, though please don’t tell Bud.”

“How do you think I got these bruises?”

“Not a drunken brawl.”

“Well, I can’t speak for Bud and the other bozos that joined in, but last night I was wearing all those beers, not drinking them.”

“I just—”

Joe put his fingers over her mouth. “Jumped to the wrong conclusion. I know. It’s okay, as long as the next time you jump, give me the benefit of the doubt.”

“Deal.”

“So it’s like a weeklong slumber party over there, huh?”

She gave him a look that made him laugh.

“That is so you. I’m glad to see that hasn’t changed.”

“Unlike the rest of me?”

“The rest of you seems fine, too. I just wasn’t at my best last night.”

“Neither was I.” Van walked to the door.

He opened it for her. “So if you finish up with the Crab and change your mind about going out to the farm, or if you just want to have coffee or something, give me a ring.”

“Okay. Thanks.” She stood there for a second, indecisive. Did she just walk away? Shake hands? Give him a quick hug?

He walked down the steps ahead of her, and she followed him. He opened her car door and she climbed in, smiled at him before he closed the door.

And she drove away.