This was a surprise. Margot looked at Elliot, but he was looking at the old plan that she’d tacked up on her office wall.
“I’d love that,” she said, carefully. Like if she talked too fast, it would scare him away. “If you have time, that would be amazing.”
Elliot turned from the wall to look at her.
“I know there isn’t time before the party to put vegetables and stuff in them, but we could get herbs, flowers, some things like that. I’ll check with Pete about it all.”
This was one of the only times he’d ever brought up the party himself.
“That sounds great,” she said.
He turned to walk away. Then he turned back.
“I hate those things, you know. The auctions.”
She had no idea.
“No, I didn’t know,” she said.
He nodded quickly.
“Makes me feel like a vulture, grabbing up everything from a winery, from people who tried their best and failed. It just makes me think . . . I’m always in a bad mood, after. I thought maybe bringing you along would help, but I . . .”
Her phone buzzed, and Elliot took a step back.
“You’re busy, you probably have to get that. Talk to you later.” He walked away, and left Margot staring after him.
Was that his attempt at an apology? If so, it actually did make her feel a bit better about Sunday. And explained why things had felt good between them early in the day, and it had all gone south later.
At the end of the day, she stood in her office, staring at the wall she’d devoted to the party, with her many lists, the old plan, and her own bad sketch of what the property would look like, so she could envision the layout of the party.
Taylor knocked on her open door.
“I think we’re done for the day, boss, if you— What are you staring at?”
Margot laughed.
“Just trying to figure out how I’m going to arrange everything, and what the schedule is going to be. We’re only a month out now, and I know that sounds like a lot of time, but . . .”
Taylor stared at the wall.
“This has gotten significantly more complex since the last time I saw it. I’ll be right back.” She disappeared out the door and came back a few minutes later, with Luke and Marisol in tow. “You guys, look at this wall!”
“This wall has really . . . expanded over the past few weeks,” Marisol said.
“That’s putting it mildly,” Taylor said. “Has Elliot seen this? It’s incredible.”
“Is this your conspiracy wall?” Luke asked. “All you need are little red and green and blue strings to connect all the dots, and . . .”
“Enough out of you three.” Margot fought back a grin. “But, if you know where to get strings like that . . . just let me know.”
They all laughed. Margot met Luke’s eyes, just for a second, and they grinned at each other. Motherfuck, that grin of his was dangerous. Margot swung her eyes back to the wall.
“Now that I have you three in here, you might as well help me with something. Okay: The party is over a three-hour time period—ideally, there will be plenty of food for at least the first two hours. The goal is to have people be able to taste a variety of different things, so there will be reasons for them to stay and chat and taste more wine and then also buy more wine. These are the potential food choices, and I have to decide on them soon.” Margot gestured to the list on her second whiteboard. “We want them staggered, not ready all at once. I want everything to work together, but also not be too similar, and to have a good variety—for vegetarians, et cetera—and I can’t decide. I’ve been staring at this board for hours, please help.”
“This sounds like a standardized-test problem.” Luke rubbed his hands together. “I loved those.”
Everyone in the room turned and stared at him.
“What?” he said. “I was a real dork in high school. I think we’ve established that?”
Taylor and Marisol burst out laughing, and Luke grinned at them. Margot felt a stab of jealousy at the way they all laughed together, at their casual ease with one another, at this inside joke she wasn’t a part of.
Oh no. She wasn’t jealous of Taylor and Marisol because she thought there was anything going on with either of them and Luke—she was jealous because they got to talk to him all day, they got to hear his stories, they got to know him better. That time in the car hadn’t been enough for her. She wanted more.
She cleared her throat.
“Well, then, it seems like I’ve come to the right place,” she said. “Any ideas?”
Luke looked at the board for a moment and then turned to her.
“Do you have any index cards? We need index cards.”
Index cards. Why hadn’t she thought of that?
“You’re brilliant.”
Margot grabbed a pack of index cards from her supply closet and tossed them to Taylor, who wrote all of the options down and put them up on the corkboard.
“Tacos should go second,” Marisol said. “You don’t want them first—you want everyone smelling them for a while and getting hungry, especially those people who planned to just stop in for a minute on their way to somewhere else. Then they’ll stay, and eat tacos, and taste more wine. And buy more wine.”
“Okay, but where does that put the wood-fired pizza?” Luke asked.
They debated and argued about the food for the next ten minutes, as Margot moved the cards around. And then, finally . . .
“I think we have a lineup,” she said, with a smile at the corkboard and another at her staff. “Everyone happy with it?”
They all nodded, satisfied smiles on their faces.
“Good job, team,” Margot said. “Thanks for your help, I never would have managed that without you. Now, everybody, go home, it’s late.”
They all grinned at her as they left her office.
“That was fun,” Marisol said.
“Agreed,” Luke said. “Let’s do that again. The next time you need to work on the conspiracy wall. We’re here for you, Margot.”
He turned and met her eyes just before walking out of her office.
“Brilliant, huh?” he said under his breath.
She had said that to him, hadn’t she?
“Don’t let it go to your head,” she said, trying not to smile.
He didn’t even try.
“Oh, don’t worry. It already has.”
* * *
THE NEXT MONDAY MORNING, Luke left home earlier than usual so he could drop by his mom’s place with flowers for her birthday on his way to work.
Craig had texted him again today. They’d texted a few times over the past week—just about what was going on with him, how Craig was doing, stuff like that. It was sort of weird, to get reminders of his old job. He hadn’t been gone for even two months, but it felt like forever. Especially after working at the winery, which felt so different from his old job. He felt so different about it. Like, he was eager to get to work, every single day. It almost felt . . . too easy? Too good?
Of course, he knew part of the reason he was eager to get to work every day was Margot. He’d worried that things with her would be awkward after their car-ride confessions on Sunday, that she’d be stiff and uncomfortable with him, like on his first day at work. He’d been embarrassed that he’d told her how he felt about quitting his old job—he was still embarrassed about that. Would she be self-conscious about talking to him like she had? But on Monday, she’d smiled at him like she was happy to see him, and he’d smiled back in the same way, because he sure as hell was happy to see her. And then she’d called him brilliant in her office that day. Ever since, things had been easy between them. Friendly. Good.
I hate this, too.
Had she meant that when she’d said it? Really meant it? He had. He wasn’t sure how much longer he could take this. Because as much as he loved working at the winery, he hated that it meant nothing could happen between him and Margot. If she even wanted anything to happen, which he had no real idea about.
He shook thoughts of Margot away as he parked a few doors down from his mom’s house.
When he knocked on the door, Pete opened it.
“Oh good, you’re here,” he said, and turned and walked toward the living room.
That was a weird reaction.
“Hey, Mom. Happy . . .” His voice trailed away as he saw his mom, sitting on the couch, her arm in a blue cast. “What’s wrong? What happened?”
She looked startled to see him, and then smiled at him like nothing was wrong.
“Oh, Luke, look at those flowers! They’re beautiful! Thank you!”
He set the flowers down on the coffee table.
“Oh no, don’t put them there, you should get them in some water, the vases are in the—”
“Forget the flowers,” Luke said. “What happened?”
“Oh.” She looked away from him. “Nothing major, it’s really no big deal. I’m fine, I really am.”
He looked at Pete, who shook his head.
“Lauren.”
His mom sighed.
“I really am fine.”
“Mom.” Luke sat down next to her, and she winced. Shit, he should have sat down a lot slower. “Why is your arm in a cast?”
“I got in a—very minor—car accident last night. That’s all.”
“What?” He stood back up, and his mom winced again. This time he moved to the other side of the room. “You got in a car accident, and no one told me?”