I nodded. That suited me just fine. And I figured she needed to shower at some point. The less I had to see of her before our wedding, the better. The less I'd have to think about the reality of it. "Okay, meet me out front at eleven."
She nodded and closed the door, turning and walking through the foliage. I sat there for a minute warring with myself. It really wasn't right to let her stay there. Christ, screw it. It'd been her choice. Maybe a dose of hard living would be good for the princess. Or was it that witches preferred small houses in the woods? I couldn't help chuckling to myself as I pulled away.
**********
The appointment with Mr. Kohler went smoothly and quickly. We weren't agreeing to a settlement "should" there be a divorce, but rather stating we would both leave the marriage with only that with which we'd arrived. The contract was extremely straightforward, and we made an appointment for Thursday to come in and sign the paperwork. And with that, we were finished with the red tape involved in our union. I made an appointment at the clerk's office for the following Friday morning at ten a.m. The only thing left to do was to show up. My stomach felt slightly queasy. If Kira's green-tinged complexion was any indication, she did as well.
I dropped Kira off at her cottage and told her I'd see her on Monday. She didn't look back as she walked away. As quiet as she'd been after our appointment, I half wondered whether she'd return at all. Maybe it'd be best if she didn't. But I didn't believe that. For the first time in a year, I felt an eager anticipation for the future. That morning I'd opened the list Walter had made of equipment needing repair or replacement and felt a flutter in my gut. Soon, I would be able to go down it and check the items off one by one. Tension had released in my shoulders and I'd finally allowed full-blown hope to surge through my system. The power of it had left my heart beating wildly. When was the last time I'd felt that sensation? I couldn't remember. "I won't let you down," I vowed for the hundredth time, addressing my father. "I'll make you proud of me, I swear it." I had to believe that somehow, he'd know. It was what kept me going.
I spent the weekend working with renewed vigor. There was going to be a lot of work to get done, despite the incoming funds. And I still had a meager staff. I'd have to hire a couple more people once I had the actual check in my hands, or at least knew it was coming very shortly.
When I arrived back at the house Sunday night, I remembered the bottle of Vosne-Romanée I'd asked Walter to bring up to the main wine cellar. Pangs of guilt and despair had crippled me when I'd considered selling my father's pride and joy—his rare wine collection—to bring some much-needed income into the vineyard. The thought alone had felt like a betrayal. I'm trying. I'm trying so hard to salvage all that was precious to you. Relief at not having to go through with selling it was overwhelming. Success—another thing I hadn't felt in years settled in my heart.
When I saw Walter, I instructed him to put the bottle back in the lower wine cellar where it'd originally been kept.
"Yes, sir. I'll do it this week."
"Thank you."
"And may I offer my most heartfelt congratulations on your . . . marriage, sir?" The word "marriage" was offered with the coldest disdain I'd ever heard from Walter. And that was saying something.
"No, Walter, you may not."
Walter's lip quirked. "Very well, sir. I do wish you the best, however. My mother used to say that marriage is much like wine. They both mature slowly and grow deeper and more complex with time."
I turned to Walter. "Walter, I think you know as well as I do that my marriage will not be allowed to mature. It's temporary—for business purposes only."
"As you say, sir."
I halted, frowning at him.
"I do say."
"Very well, sir."