“Jeremy,” he said. “Just one second, okay?”
“Sure.”
To ask or not to ask. That was the question. Levi glanced around. O’Rourke’s was almost empty; two people at the bar, two more at a table. Connor was behind the bar, tallying up receipts.
“What is it?” Jeremy asked.
“You’re getting married,” Levi stated for clarification.
He nodded. Levi didn’t say anything, just looked. Maybe lifted an eyebrow. Jeremy swallowed, then forced a grin. “Yeah. So?” He wiped his forehead, suddenly sweaty, and that was clue enough. If he was this nervous, then maybe he was just waiting for someone to bring it up.
“I guess I was always under the impression that you were...” Levi waited, hoping Jeremy would supply the word.
“I was what?”
Shit. Levi took a deep breath and held it. “That you were gay, Jeremy,” he said very, very quietly.
Jeremy’s face didn’t change for a long second. Then he took a deep breath. “No! Uh...I don’t think so. I mean, everyone has...thoughts. But just because...” He looked away. “No. I’m not. I’m not gay.” His voice was hollow.
Levi didn’t say anything—what do you say, after all? “It would be okay if you were.”
Jeremy looked back at him, and something crossed his face. The truth, maybe. Then he shook his head a little. His eyebrows drew together, and he looked at the table. “I love Faith.”
Right. Jeremy certainly was wrapped around Princess Super-Cute’s little finger. Levi looked at his friend, who’d been so loyal and decent and constant. He exhaled, nodding. “Okay. My bad.”
Again, that thing flickered through Jeremy’s eyes, but he put on his game face and smiled. “Well, whatever. If you’d be my best man, that’d be great.”
“Sure. If I can get the time, I’m in.”
“Excellent! Faith will be thrilled.”
Probably not. “Is she around?”
“No, sorry to say. She and her sisters went to the city to shop for wedding gowns and all that. Girls’ weekend. Anyway, my parents are giving us the house after the wedding; they’re ditching me for San Diego, but it’s all good. Can’t see that Faith would want her in-laws around all the time, you know?” Jeremy kept talking, firmly back in the role of doting fiancé.
Levi told himself it wasn’t any of his business. If Jeremy wanted to marry Faith, he could. But, hell, you had to wonder. How Jeremy could marry a woman he didn’t know how to kiss.
You had to wonder how Faith could not know.
You said your piece; now shut up, his brain told him. Be a good friend. Be a good best man.
He almost pulled it off.
CHAPTER NINE
FAITH STOOD AT THE TOP of Rose Ridge and looked down through the woods. Once, this area had been fields, and Faith’s ancestors had grazed cows up here. In the hundred years since, maple and oak trees had taken over, as well as ferns and moss. Today, a cold front had moved through, bringing heavy-bellied clouds over the lake and a chilly wind. Rain couldn’t be far off.
Down below, she could see Ned driving the grape harvester down in the Tom’s Woods chardonnay vines, could catch the hum of the engine when the breeze stopped. There was a certain smell to late summer; the air was so sweet with the scent of grapes, but there was a hint of melancholy in the air, too, as the leaves prepared to die their beautiful deaths and the earth prepared for winter.
As she did each time she came home, Faith wondered how she’d ever left. San Francisco seemed like a distant dream life compared to this.
Blue Heron was to the Hollands what Tara was to Scarlett O’Hara. You were from here, and here defined you more than you knew. History and family were as much a part of the soil as the dirt itself, and every Holland felt the bond right into their bone marrow.
As the youngest of the four Holland kids, Faith often felt like there wasn’t a place for her in the family business. Jack was the wine-making, chemistry genius, could talk for hours about yeast and sugar fermentation till people begged him to stop. Pru was the farmer, tromping through the fields, strong as a linebacker. Honor...well, everyone knew Honor ran the world. Her sister barely stopped working to breathe; every issue came to her, whether it was restocking the gift shop, going on sales calls with their distributors or doing a charity event. She handled all the marketing and sales for the vineyard and did her job beautifully.
And then there was Faith, the child who hadn’t had a place waiting for her, the only one who hadn’t focused her education around viniculture. There were only so many people who could run the roost before they started eating their young.
She’d played up here as a child, sat in the old stone barn and pretended it was her house. Had tea parties with imaginary friends, made fairy houses and lay in the grass, sheltered by the rocks, staring up into the blue sky, wondering how she could tame a hawk or fawn. It was so magical to her then, she could just about hear the soft footfalls of a unicorn or hobbit. Of all the places on their land, the vines and the fields, the woods and the falls, this had been the most special to Faith.
And now, finally, she could contribute to the family business. It felt good. Just because she was the youngest didn’t mean that this place wasn’t part of her soul.
Blue nudged her hand and dropped his tennis ball. “Again?” Faith asked. He didn’t answer, just stared at her, willing her to throw the ball. “You got it, big guy,” she said, hurling the ball into the woods.
Faith had spent the morning at the library, taking photos of the courtyard off the children’s wing, measuring, taking notes. It was a sweet little space, and she intended to make it great. Flowering trees (she was already shmoozing the nursery for donations), a winding path, a water installment, because she loved the sound of gushing water (who didn’t?). And then, for the centerpiece, something really special, though she didn’t know just what yet. She had to spend a little time there first and feel the mojo before she decided. One of her clients in San Francisco used to laugh at her for lying down on the ground of any given project, but, hey, he kept hiring her for more jobs, so clearly it worked.
Just this morning, Faith had probably seen a dozen people she knew: Lorelei from the bakery on the green; her old classmate Theresa DeFilio, and her parade of children, following her like beautiful, dark-haired ducklings. Faith’s old Sunday school teacher, Mrs. Linqvist, who still made Faith feel guilty. The football coach’s wife. Jack’s high school girlfriend. The nurse from Jeremy’s office.
As for Jeremy himself, she’d be seeing him tomorrow night.
Faith took another breath, and, as ever, the uniquely sweet smell of the Finger Lakes air—grapes and grass—calmed her. The smell of home.
Blue was back, but he raced past her, woofing joyfully around his tennis ball.
“Hey, Faith.”
“Hey, Pru! What are you doing here?”
“Just
