Taylor resisted texting Julia too soon after seeing her. She didn’t want to come across as overly interested. Still, she couldn’t help but want to see her, talk to her. Fortunately, she had a new set of wine racks to deliver to Fairmount Ridge and, thanks to Julia’s comment, Taylor knew she was now working there. Perhaps she could orchestrate a chance meeting.
She spent the morning in her shop, cutting boards and starting assembly of the latest batch of Adirondack chairs. At one, she stopped for a shower and lunch, obsessing perhaps a little too much about what she put on. The end result—jeans and a Winslow Woodworks tee—felt the right amount of unstudied. Unfortunately, her hair wanted to do this weird flip thing, so she had to add a hat. After one too many minutes of considering her options, she rolled her eyes in self-disgust and slapped a Stihl ball cap on her head.
She loaded the racks into the back of her truck and wished for a second she’d done that part of the task before showering. Not that it mattered. She’d be lucky to see Julia, much less talk to her.
On the drive to the winery, she put the windows down and the radio up. She found herself flipping stations, though, trying to avoid sappy love songs. She might be a romantic, but her reaction to seeing Julia reminded her how little she had going on in that department these days. She pulled into the winery parking lot and cut the engine and the music. Maybe Julia’s return would shake things up.
Inside, Julia stood behind the bar, even more beautiful in real life than the handful of daydreams Taylor’s imagination had cooked up. She had her hair pulled up, but the look was a far cry from the messy bun she’d sported the day Taylor bumped into her. No, today she was all polish. Not formal or fussy, but put together. Like maybe she was getting a glimpse of city Julia.
“Taylor?”
She turned in the direction of the voice and found Rob giving her a look that said she’d been caught staring. She cleared her throat. “Rob. How’ve you been?”
“Good, good. You?” He extended his hand and smiled, but his eyes held questions.
Taylor pretended not to notice. “Can’t complain.”
“You remember Julia, right? Were you a couple years ahead of her?”
She scratched her temple. “No, no. We were the same year.”
“Ah, so you must know her then.”
“I do.” Taylor tried to glean whether she was being teased, or put to some test.
“She’s been in New York for years, but she’s just come home.” There was no mistaking the affection in his voice. She’d yet to determine whether Julia was happy to be home, but she had no doubt how her father felt about it.
“I bumped into her at Nuts & Bolts a couple of days ago.”
“Ah.”
Before he could ask about it, she said, “I’ve got your racks.”
“Right, right. Thank you for taking care of them so quick.”
She’d built the others that filled the hybrid tasting room and shop, so it hadn’t required any design work. “Happy to hear you needed more. They’re in my truck. I wasn’t sure if you wanted them here or around back.”
Rob gestured to an empty space. “We’ve already rearranged, so let’s bring them right in.”
Taylor stole another look at Julia, who seemed thoroughly engrossed in a conversation with a group of women. It would have been nice to share a moment of eye contact, but whatever.
By the time she and Rob made the third and final trip in, the large group had departed. A few people strolled around the retail area, but no one stood at the bar. Before Taylor could decide whether or not to go and talk to her, Julia looked up. “Hi.”
Taylor swallowed. “Hey.”
“I thought maybe I’d missed you.” She came from behind the bar and over to where they stood, trailing her fingers along the top of one of the racks. “These are beautiful.”
Taylor told herself the heat in her cheeks was pride, not embarrassment. “Thanks.”
“Jules, if I bring out cases, can you get these filled?”
“Of course.”
Rob slung an arm around her shoulders and kissed her temple. “See? All those years in retail weren’t wasted after all.”
Julia’s shoulders dropped as he walked away. Before Taylor could think of what to say, Julia seemed to remember she wasn’t alone. She squared her shoulders and the smile returned. “So, you made these?”
Pride. Definitely pride. Taylor swept her hand around the room. “And all of those.”
“Really?”
Taylor tried for a playful smirk. “You don’t have to sound so incredulous.”
Julia laughed. God, she had a great laugh. “It’s not that. I just, well, I guess I hadn’t given much thought to what you do for a living.”
Not surprising, but she couldn’t help the pang of disappointment. “That makes sense.”
“So, is this what you do for a living?”
Taylor thought about the company she’d built over the last decade. “It is. This and rocking chairs and dining room tables and bookcases. If it’s wood, I do it.”
“Wow.” The answer, simple and genuine, did things to Taylor.
“I like it. I’m fortunate people are willing to pay me to do it.” The older she got, the more she realized not everyone got to say that about their work.
“False modesty? I wouldn’t have pegged you for that.” Julia’s tone was playful.
“Not false. And not entirely modest. I do what I love and that’s a luxury I don’t take for granted.”
A shadow passed through Julia’s eyes, but her smile didn’t waver. “Yeah, okay. I’ll give you that.”
“I’d be happy to show you around my shop sometime, if you’re interested.” Yikes. Did she really just say that?
The shadow gave way to mischief. “Sounds like fun.”
“You name the day.” And the time and the place and the activity.
“I’m going to hold you to that.”
Rob emerged from the stock room with a dolly stacked with cases of wine. Any moment she and Julia might have shared, or be about to share, was done. Probably better to escape before she said something really embarrassing. “You’ve got my number.”
* * *
Julia watched Taylor leave, sorry to see her go. Talking to her had been fun, a nice distraction from the flow of drunk and giggly bachelorette parties. And it wasn’t only the low bar of comparing the two. Besides, she thought maybe Taylor was hitting on her. Not in that obnoxious, pushy sort of way, either. No, Taylor was subtle. So subtle, it may have been just her being friendly. Ugh. She was so out of practice, she couldn’t even tell.
Either way, it was nice to snag an invite to Taylor’s shop. She needed to make some friends here. A friend who happened to be handy and hot? Well, that might be just what the doctor ordered. She could sort out whether or not they were flirting later.
She’d just started to indulge thoughts of flirting with Taylor when Caroline came out and set a case of Gewertz on the top of the stack. “Who were you talking to?”
Julia focused her attention on the box, opening it with excruciating precision. She did not want to share the specifics of her pseudo-flirting with Ms. Mc Why Don’t You Maybe Be by Yourself for a Little While. “Taylor Winslow. We went to school together. Graduated the same year.”
“Hmm.” Caroline scrunched up her nose. “Why don’t I remember her?”
“Because she looked like a lesbian even then and spent half her time in shop and the other half in the library.” She’d meant it as more of an insult to Caroline’s focus on boys and cheerleading, but it didn’t stick. Caroline was Teflon when it came to stuff like that.
“Oh, yeah. She owns Winslow Woodworks. Makes furniture. Really beautiful stuff.” Caroline pointed at the empty racks. “Including those.”
“Yes, that’s her.” Julia took four bottles from the box and brought them behind the bar to restock the tasting area.
Caroline leaned on the bar and propped her chin in her hand. “So, were you flirting with her?”
“No.” She couldn’t admit she wasn’t sure. Or give Caroline the impression she was looking for a confidante.
“Isn’t she your type?”
In Caroline’s mind, lesbian was her type, end of story. Julia sighed. That wasn’t fair. If pressed, she could probably come up with a few specifics—arty, masculine of center. Like Erica. Like Taylor. Of course, she’d not really dated enough to even have a type.
“What’s going on?”
Julia started tucking bottles into the cooler under the bar. “What are you talking about?”
“You’re being cagey.”
“Am not.” Because that was a mature and compelling comeback.
“Do you have a thing for her?”
“No,” she said more loudly than she would have liked.
“Okay, I know you’re lying.”
Caroline’s propensity to declare things as fact bugged her. Her being right more often than not bugged her even more. “We’re friends.”
Her face remained suspicious, but she nodded. “Well, she is cute, but I think that’s probably for the best. I’m glad you’ve decided to take my advice.”
“Yeah.” If she only knew. Julia had been mulling over the specifics of her love life for the last few weeks and had settled on dating as the way to break out of her funk. Lots and lots of dating. Hopefully with lots and lots of sex. Caroline would absolutely, positively not approve.
Caroline narrowed her eyes, but ultimately shrugged. “I’m going to head home. You okay here?”
“I am.”
“Do you want to come for dinner tomorrow?”
She wanted to decline, but she’d already deflected once this week. And she had her first of these dates lined up for the following weekend, courtesy of the app she’d installed on her phone. She wouldn’t be able to keep it secret once she started going out with people, but that didn’t mean she needed to broadcast it for commentary. “Sure.”
“Good. Bring dessert.”
Julia offered a salute. Caroline left and a big group came in. Mixed couples instead of a bachelorette party at least. Not that she had anything against bachelorette parties. Well, not too many things.
“Welcome to Fairmount Ridge. How are you all doing on this gorgeous May afternoon?”
She chatted, she advised, she poured. The bus crowd trickled out and a few couples and smaller groups trickled in. She and the two seasonal workers poured glass after glass. Her father mingled and made conversation, and Brandon, the sales guy, worked the register. On and on it went until she flipped the lock on the front door at eight.
Christ, what a day.
By the time Julia got home, her feet hurt, her head ached, and she didn’t want to talk to another person for at least a week. She knew Saturdays would be intense, but damn. It was the volume of visitors to the tasting room, but more, it was the vibe. So many party buses. She didn’t begrudge the good time, but really. So much squealing.
It was good for business. She said that out loud a couple of times, willing it to stick. Because even though she was an hourly employee, she had a vested interest in the winery thriving. And visitors equated to sales and, maybe even more importantly, the kind of word-of-mouth marketing essential in the wine industry. The tips didn’t hurt either.
She peeled off her clothes, chuckling at her use of industry talk. She might not have any interest in that herself, but she’d spent enough time with her parents for it to rub off. The least she could do was rustle up some enthusiasm, considering their pride and joy was currently keeping her afloat.
After taking a shower and pouring a much-deserved glass of wine for herself, she debated whether to sit on the back patio or the front porch. While sitting on the porch and watching what little of the world went by made her feel old, the rocking chairs were far more comfortable than the old patio chairs. She slipped on a pair of flip-flops, grabbed her phone, and went out for some peace and quiet.
That was one of the few things she never got used to in the city. In the ten-plus years she lived there, she was pretty sure she didn’t experience a single moment of absolute quiet. Not that she had that now, but she’d take the sound of chickadees and woodpeckers, a lawn mower in the distance, over cars and horns and the construction that never seemed to end.
Maybe being home wouldn’t be all bad. Her family, for all their little digs and clumsy reassurances, seemed happy to have her around. She’d bumped into a couple of people from school, people like Taylor, who either weren’t judgmental or at least had the sense to keep it to themselves. And maybe most importantly, she’d have the time and energy to focus on herself. Even if the idea terrified her, it was long overdue. She hadn’t made much of her life to date and she sure as hell wasn’t getting any younger.
She unlocked her phone and pulled up the dating app. She responded to a couple of messages, did some swiping. It didn’t take long for her to get bored. Or maybe demoralized was a better word. As much as she wanted to be reassured by so many fish in the sea, the sheer volume of it all proved overwhelming. It didn’t help that so many of them were straight couples looking for unicorns. She didn’t begrudge them wanting new and different sexual experiences, she just didn’t happen to be attracted to the cis dudes or the feminine women.
Julia sighed and closed the app. She switched over to her text conversations and pulled up the exchange she’d had with Taylor. Well, maybe exchange was an overstatement. After sharing numbers and Julia offering her thanks again for the DIY help, they hadn’t talked.
But Taylor had been friendly at the winery, if not flirtatious. She shrugged. Why the hell not?
So what does a girl have to do to score an invite to your shop?
She didn’t expect an immediate reply, but one came. Pretty sure the invite is there. Name the day, remember?
Why did texting with Taylor feel infinitely more satisfying than half the conversations she had going in the app? Okay, if she was being honest, more than half. Are weekdays an option? I’m off Monday and Tuesday.
Fantastic.
They went back and forth for a few minutes, setting a time and confirming Taylor’s address. By the time Taylor wished her a good night, dusk had given way to darkness and the frogs and crickets surrounded her with their motley chorus. Julia collected her now-empty wine glass and headed in to throw together a salad.
She had a date with Taylor in two days. Well, not technically a date. But she was looking forward to it more than all the other potential dates currently on the horizon.