Page 25 of Love Among Vines

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

JADE

Gravel crunched under Jade’s feet. A charming cottage came into view, stone-fronted with ivy climbing the side. A few yards away, a catamaran bobbed in the lake.

The tingling was back again, just a little bit.

She had never imagined living anywhere other than the concrete jungle of New York.

But there was something so quaint and perfect about this tiny lakeside cottage.

And it was all hers for two weeks. It was a sizable step up from a dilapidated tent in the middle of a field.

Penny pulled the leash from Jade’s hand and began sniffing—and peeing on—her new surroundings. Rett had dropped her off before heading back to the winery.

Their interaction earlier had left her feeling all weird and prickly inside.

There had been fire in her veins when he pressed against her in the lake.

A kind of lust she had never experienced during one of her sweaty club hookups.

She craved the feel of him against her, inside her.

But despite all his talk about friends with benefits, he hadn’t really moved the needle. Maybe he was having second thoughts?

“Yoo-hoo, Jade!” A screen door slammed, and Margie came bustling out of the main house fifty yards away. Something furry and striped was draped over her shoulders.

“Are you sure about this?” Jade asked as Margie approached. She gestured at the cottage.

“Yes,” Margie said firmly. “It’s been awhile since I had a guest. I think I’ll enjoy having someone else nearby.”

“I can’t thank you enough.”

“I don’t want to hear another word about it,” Margie said. “Let me give you a quick tour and I’ll get out of your hair.”

Penny darted over to greet Margie and then froze. She growled softly, staring at the furry stripes on Margie’s shoulder. Jade picked up her leash. The last thing she needed was for her dog to attack Margie’s cat. Or fur stole. Whatever it was.

Margie opened the front door of the guest house, and Jade followed her inside.

It was charmingly rustic. Rough-hewn boards came together to make the pointed ceiling of the foyer.

A pottery wheel stood by the window. Floorboards creaked underfoot as they went deeper.

A small living room with a TV and cozy stone fireplace stood to their right, while a kitchen with shabby chic green cabinets and white appliances gleamed to their left.

“It’s beautiful.” Jade hefted her bag into the foyer.

“Thank you. I hope you’ll be comfortable here.” Margie started to leave, then stopped. “Also, there’s a bike on the porch. I want you to use it. It’s not safe to walk on these roads.”

The furry mass on her shoulder made a chittering sound, and Jade jumped.

“Oh, this is Steven. He’s an indoor-outdoor raccoon, so don’t be alarmed if you see him around at night.”

“And he’s…domesticated?” Jade regarded him warily. She had seen more than one rabid raccoon in Queens.

“One hundred percent,” Margie said with a smile. “The bedroom’s through there, bathroom over there.” She indicated two separate doors. “If you think of anything you need, just give me a holler.”

With a squeeze of Jade’s hand, Margie left. It couldn’t have been more different from her apartment in the city. But strangely enough, it felt like home. It was easy to imagine waking up here every morning, greeting the morning sun on the lake, and darting out the door for a run.

Jade shook a couple ibuprofen out of a bottle in her bag and headed to the kitchen in search of ice. While her wrist looked better than it had this morning, the impromptu painting session in the vineyard had brought a new wave of pain.

She caught a glimpse of herself in a mirror and gasped. Following her dip in the lake, she was indistinguishable from a drowned rat. Scratched cheeks, pale as a beluga whale. No wonder Rett had left. She needed a shower before tackling anything else.

An hour later, she curled up in the armchair next to the gas fireplace she had finally figured out how to operate.

A notepad was open on her lap, full of research on hosting a paint and sip night.

Since Rett was so pathological about working, it might be the only way she got to spend some time with him.

She sent him a link to an article.

Jade: Thursday? We’ll need to meet to chat about what supplies we need.

Minutes passed, but there was no response. Something about that shattered case of sparkling wine seemed to have broken him. It was just as well. The more time he spent at work, the less likely she was to fall in love with him. Or be murdered by him. It was too early to tell.

She set her notepad down and Googled the vineyard. Their Yelp page came up. Her heart jumped into her throat. How the hell did they only have three-and-a-half stars? The wine was incredible, the staff was friendly and professional.

She scrolled through until she found the one-star reviews. All of them but two had been left on the same day. Either Rett had tremendously dropped the ball that day or someone had a vendetta against him.

“Worst wine I’ve ever had in my life.” Jade shook her head. Whoever Lexi D was, she better hope Jade never ran into her.

She strolled to the window and looked across the lake. He was over there somewhere, probably spiraling about something. He really needed to have more fun.

She turned away and shook her head. She needed to worry less about the hot-and-cold vintner and more about her future. While she had produced something today, it wasn’t anything sellable. There was a long way to go.

Shit, what had happened to those paintings anyway? Hopefully Rett had put them somewhere safe. She wasn’t about to text him to find out.

She turned her attention to studying for her driver’s license exam and was immersed in dull facts about school buses when a message from Rett came through.

Rett: Let’s have dinner tomorrow. Bring your current budget and a full financial accounting. Savings, checking, retirement, investments, any passive income.

Jade: Do you really think I’d be here if I had a passive income?

Great. More homework.

She Googled budgeting for beginners. Thirty minutes later, a distressing financial reckoning was laid out in front of her.

Even lowering her biggest monthly expense—rent—wasn’t going to be simple. Finding a new apartment meant first and last month’s rent plus security deposit, and possibly roommates. Finding a place that accepted large dogs was going to be a nightmare. Her fortress of solitude would be gone.

Even moving into the more affordable boroughs wasn’t necessarily the answer. Rent appeared to be at an all-time high.

But if she moved away from the city, public transportation became sparser.

And she didn’t have a driver’s license. Or a car.

Her only real choices were to suck it up and find a place in Brooklyn with three roommates, or look around the country for a walkable/bike-friendly neighborhood with everything she needed.

On a whim, she went to a real estate website and searched for apartments in Hammondsport.

Her mouth dropped open. She could save two fricken thousand dollars a month and give Penny her own bedroom if she decided to move here.

But moving here would make no sense. If she couldn’t paint anymore, she would have no income.

And what was the job market like in a tiny-ass town like Hammondsport?

What would she do, work three part-time jobs to make ends meet?

There was no future here, and having constant exposure to Rett wasn’t going to help anything. Maybe there were similar neighborhoods on neighboring lakes? Seneca, maybe?

“Fuck.” She slammed her laptop shut and pushed it away from her.

There was no easy answer. It was going to take a lot of quick soul-searching. Her future security rested on her ability to reclaim her artistic identity. Maybe spending some time alone in town tomorrow after her shift at the café would help.