Page 11

Ellen

The kids come running out of the house to greet us when our car pulls up. I truly believe they’re the only things keeping her going at this point and my heart breaks a little just thinking about it.

“Come here!” Oscar shouts, jumping up and down as Olivia takes my hand and begins dragging me up the steps and into the house. Oscar is practically shoving Will as we both enter the house at a rushed pace.

“Look,” he says with flourish as his hand floats out in front of him, motioning to the massive expanse of Legos. “We built the Golden Gate Bridge.”

“You absolutely did,” I say with more enthusiasm than necessary, but the kids thrive on that.

Will shoots me a look from across the room and I smile back at him.

We’re both thinking the same thing. It feels like it’s been forever since Lauren built something out of Lego with the kids.

And as much as this is progress, I know it’s still not enough.

I leave Will with the kids and slip into the kitchen to find Lauren at the sink scrubbing at her hands.

She’s always been prettier than me; tall and leggy with brighter blonde hair and deeper blue eyes, an interesting contrast with her tanned skin.

She’s curvy and toned, where I’ve always been a little slimmer and less, well, Playboy Bunny. I’m the plain version.

But none of that really matters. What matters is the kind of person she is and she’s amazing, but I haven’t seen that person in a while.

She hears me come in and shuts off the water, turning to face me she says, “Happy anniversary.” She wears a fake smile that masks the pain she feels as the words leave her mouth.

“Thanks. Looks like you had a good time out there,” I say, my head tipping toward the living room.

“Yeah, we did, and we spent the morning cleaning out that damn crusher again.” Lauren shakes her head and returns to the sink, scrubbing her hands, but the deep purple remains.

“Windex,” I say and Lauren glares at me. She hates it when I tell her what to do, but we both know I’m right. You don’t grow up on a vineyard and not know what removes wine stains.

“You sound like Mom,” she replies, her tone lacking inflection, but she does give me a small smile.

“Because Mom is always right,” I quip back and we both roll our eyes. “Any luck with the crusher?” I ask, knowing full well the answer is no. She had someone out here this morning to take a look at it and despite it being my anniversary, she would have interrupted my quiet morning with that news.

“No, and he was a total moron too. Kept claiming that there’s no one who’s going to be able to fix it.

After that he decided then would be a great time to hand me his card so we can purchase the best machine on the market from him.

” Lauren lets it all out in one breath, her voice growing more and more annoyed as she relays the story to me.

“We own the best machine on the market, even if it is nearly fifteen years old.”

She’s intense when she talks about getting a new machine.

It’s possible it may even save us some money if we do decide to replace it, but I know that won’t ever happen.

It’s Lauren’s connection to Jack Wilson, the last one she has left.

Memories only last so long and I imagine hers are beginning to fade.

It’s been fourteen years, fourteen years of not speaking to him, of pretending she hates him, of her learning to live with the fact that she can never replace him. I even thought she was over him, but this latest incident has really taken its toll and now she needs a distraction more than ever.

“What if I told you I think I have someone who can fix it?” I say, my expression turning sneaky as I narrow my eyes at her, knowing she will have her suspicions.

“Bullshit,” she replies, her tone snarky, because she’s had more people here to repair it than the number of people who visit the Golden Gate Bridge each year.

I’m the one who hunts them down, talks with them about the repairs, which they always insist they can fix, and then I schedule the visit.

And it’s only that, a visit, because no one and I mean no one can fix the machine.

It’s Australian, and it’s as difficult to decipher as Lauren’s feelings for Jack.

But I’m the lucky one because my involvement ends there. It’s Lauren who deals with their stupid jokes, their sales pitches, and sometimes the random pick up line.

“The guy I found is Australian, so I think it’s going to work this time.”

“Do whatever you gotta do,” Lauren says, indifferently as she pumps an insane amount of soap into her hands and begins scrubbing.

Without saying a word, I open the cabinet under the sink and pull out the Windex. Grabbing her hands, I spray them and watch as the deep purple fades almost instantly.

The side eye she hits me with is comical and I laugh out loud as I give her a quick peck on the cheek and a swat on the ass, leaving her to clean up her hands .

I’ve spent the last week trying to locate Jack Wilson to no avail.

He has suddenly disappeared from Facebook as he if doesn’t want to be found.

But I think I’m on to something now…finally.

Even though Lauren and I don’t involve our parents in the day to day running of the vineyard and winery, I’ve called our father and he’s put me in touch with someone who used to work with Tony Wilson, Jack’s dad.

It was Tony who initially installed the de-stemmer and crusher machine on the property years ago.

It was how Lauren met Jack.

It’s a long shot, but I need to get him back here.

I sent an email to a guy named Mike Anderson, who my father says is a friend of Tony Wilson, and despite the time difference, I hear back from him in only minutes.

While I’ve changed my last name after marrying Will, my email still bears the domain name of Somerville Vineyard which I know carries enough weight for this guy to not think I’m crazy for contacting him.

He gives me an email address for Tony and asks a little bit about my mom and dad, chatting briefly about how the business is going and if we have anything new in the works. He’s cordial and I thank him for Tony’s contact information.

Without waiting, I send an email to Tony and keep my fingers crossed that he’s as prompt in responding, but just as I go to check my email again, Lauren walks into my office.

“What are you doing?” she asks, obviously aware of the weird smile plastered on my face as I sit alone in my office. “You watching cat videos again?”

“No, but that cat video I tagged you in yesterday was really funny.”

“I watched it like a hundred times,” Laurens says. “It gets funnier each time.”

“How’s it going?” I ask, as if it’s a casual question, but there’s more to it than either of us will admit to .

“I’m good. Kids are good,” she says, looking out my office window at the twins as they chase each other up and down the rows of grapevines. “What time’s Will leaving?” The abrupt change of subject doesn’t go unnoticed by me, but I don’t push it.

“Flight leaves at six, so I think I’ll come by and stay with you tonight. What do you think?”

“Sucks that he’s gotta leave for a business trip on your anniversary.”

I shrug my shoulders, knowing it isn’t really a big deal. He never had much interest in the wine industry and I’m eternally grateful for the sacrifice he made in moving out to the west coast to be with me.

“We had dinner together last night and there was this morning,” I say, winking at Lauren and she makes a gagging noise.

“I don’t want to know what you and Will did this morning,” she says feigning disgust. “But yeah, you can come by and stay the night. The kids will like that and we can all watch a movie together and stay up late.”

She sounds natural and normal, like she isn’t still a complete mess, and maybe she is getting better. Maybe things are settling down.

But it doesn’t stop me from opening my inbox the second she walks out the door.

And there it is, the email I’ve been waiting for.

Hi Ellen.

So wonderful to hear from you. I’m so sorry to hear that your crusher is acting up, and had you contacted me a few years earlier I would’ve been happy to help you.

I’m now retired from the wine industry, but I can put you in contact with my assistant.

She handles all inquiries and forwards them on to a list of contacts I have in place for situations like this.

These people have all been hand selected by me and are quite capable of helping you.

Just a word of warning, because you live in The States most will decline the offer to help you because of the travel and the expense, but I’m sure someone will be able to assist you.

Please pass my contact info along to your father. I’d love to catch up with him.

The email goes on to share his contact information and the information of how to reach his assistant.

It’s my last ditch effort to pull Lauren out of this funk, either that or she’ll hate me for the rest of our lives.

I immediately shoot off an email to Tony’s assistant and again with the punctuality, the woman gets back to me right away. She asks for my contact details, all the information on the machine, when we need it fixed by and how much we are willing to pay to retain someone for their services.

I want to tell her I’ll pay anything and that I’m not looking for someone off the list Tony has left her, but that I’m looking specifically for Jack. Yet something about that feels like it will come across rather stalker-ish, so I decide to wait to hear back from her.

I’m hitting refreshing on my inbox for the millionth time when Will appears in the doorway to my office.

“What are you up to, beautiful?” he asks and my heart flutters at his words. After all this time he still makes me weak.

“I’m trying to find Jack,” I reply, the determination evident in my tone.

“But?”

“But nothing. It’s just not happening as quickly as I would like, and when I say quickly, I mean instantly. ”

“You’ve never been the most patient person,” Wills says, winking at me.

“Me, impatient? I distinctly remember someone being rather impatient this morning.”

“I’m always that way when it comes to you,” Will murmurs as he leans down to kiss me.

His lips are soft against mine and I stand, slipping my arms around his waist. “It will happen,” he adds, and I cock my head to one side, confused by his comment.

“You’ll find Jack and if you don’t, something will come along for Lauren.

I know it feels like it won’t right now, but it will. Time will help.”

“You’ve always been so wise,” I say, teasing him with a pinch to his side and his arms tighten around me just as my computer chimes out indicating I’ve received a new email.

I shove Will away and nearly collide with my desk chair as I scramble to read the message that is waiting for me.

“Yes!” I shout out loud and throw a fist up in the air when I see Tony’s assistant’s name on my screen.

“It’s him?” Will asks, equally as excited.

I open the email and quickly scan her words only to find my shoulders sagging and my excitement dwindling fast.

“No, but she has someone who says they can fix the crusher and can be here in the next three weeks.”

“Well, I know that’s not what you were hoping for, but hopefully one positive will come out of this. You’ll finally get that fucking crusher fixed.”

“Yeah,” I say, feeling defeated.

Will walks over to me and presses a kiss to the top of my head as he runs a hand over my hair.

“Why don’t you just tell Jack’s dad you’re looking for him. Tell him about Lauren and everything that’s happened and how she still holds onto Jack’s memory after all these years. I’m sure he’d tell you how to contact him. ”

“Lauren would kill me!” I whisper-shout, hoping she can’t hear this conversation through the wall our offices share. “It needs to be sorta… It needs to not be a set up.”

“It is a set up, Ellen,” Will says, nodding his head at me and giving me a look that says any idiot can see it is.

“It’s not.”

“It kinda is.”

“Whatever. It was a bust anyway,” I tell him, as I reply to Tony’s assistant letting her know we’d like to move forward with having this person fix our crusher.

It doesn’t take her long to send me all the information I need to secure a work visa and when I see the name it stops me in my tracks.

John Wilson

“Will, Will,” I call, jumping up from my chair and knocking on the window outside my office as I throw my hands back and forth, trying to get his attention as he plays with Oscar and Olivia.

“What?” he calls back, his hands thrown up in the air almost in annoyance.

I motion for him to come in here, as the excitement explodes inside me. Just seeing the name on the screen has given me hope that maybe it could be Jack.

“What?” Will says as he enters my office for a second time in just a few minutes.

“She emailed me back, and the guy’s name is John Wilson.”

“So? You’re looking for Jack Wilson.” For a smart guy, he can be really dense sometimes.

“What if it’s actually Jack? What if his real name isn’t Jack? Like your name isn’t Will, it’s William.”

“Um, Ellen, I think you’re losing it. Will is a nickname for William. Jack being a nickname for John is a bit of a stretch. ”

“JFK’s nickname was Jack and his real name was John,” I defend, my hands on my hips, hating that Will is raining on my parade.

“Still seems like a long shot.”

“It is, but it’s all I’ve got.”