“Of course they do,” she laughed and swatted at my chest, her beautiful smile beaming as her deep blue eyes glittered. “I have no plans to just let them run wild, silly.”

  “What day are we doing the craft fair and festival, Pam?” El stood behind the tasting counter with a pen hovering over a datebook spread on the counter.

  “I think it’s Saturday the eleventh,” Pamela answered, leaving me to go peer at the calendar with El.

  “Perfect, okay,” El said, marking the date in the book.

  “We’ll need to make sure the boys are all free to help,” Pamela said. “Jacques, you’ll be here, won’t you? People love meeting the winemaker.”

  I swallowed hard. “Of course.” I did not like thinking about the very few days stretching ahead of me toward that abrupt ending of the greatest happiness I’d known in years. But if that was what Pamela wanted, that was what would be. “Excuse me, ladies.”

  Turning, I headed back through the swinging doors to the back and up to the little apartment I used over the winery. Once I’d let myself into the quiet space, I settled in front of my laptop.

  With an ache in my chest that I knew would dissipate as I had time to process the temporary nature of my presence here, of the relationship I had with the woman I’d really thought I might one day ask to be my wife, I booked a one-way ticket back to France. December twenty-third.

  I would be at my father’s house in time for Christmas.

  I sent him a quick email to let him know to expect me, and sighed, feeling acceptance beginning to mix with the sadness inside me.

  It might be only a couple of weeks, but I would make sure both Pamela and I would remember every day of these weeks for the rest of our lives.

  3

  PAM

  The dress was a little more daring than I normally went for, but desperate times called for desperate measures. Jacques had been his sweet self today, but underlying all the smiles was a sadness I couldn’t seem to pinpoint. The black dress I’d recently purchased criss-crossed across my chest, giving a decent hint at cleavage. Of course, I’d had to harness said cleavage upward a few inches with lingerie that had improved since I was a young girl trying to catch a man’s eye. Thankfully, running the winery had left little time for eating and I was on my feet constantly. My skin may have aged, but I’d staved off the pounds.

  The doorbell rang, and I grabbed my clutch. The heels might already be killing my feet, but they made my calves look amazing, if I did say so myself. Jacques stood there on my welcome mat, the silver running through his hair only adding to his dashingly handsome appearance. He’d worn the deep blue shirt and gray suit jacket that made his eyes pop.

  “Well, hello, handsome.” I leaned in and gave him a kiss on one cheek, and then the other. He smelled good too, his classic cologne mixing with soap and something extra he’d put on his hair.

  “You look stunning, my lovely,” he drawled, stepping back to give me a long, lingering look from head to toe and back up again. The way his eyes heated had me thanking my past self for purchasing this dress, even though I hadn’t had a place in mind to wear it.

  I felt myself blush. “Oh, I got lipstick on you.”

  I reached for his cheek to rub off the red smudge, but he beat me to it, pulling a handkerchief emblazoned with the French flag out of the pocket of his jacket. Yes, the man had a handkerchief. I loved that he was so different from American men. His thick accent, the fashion sense that made you look at him twice to decide if he was from abroad, and even his hair. Most men his age would have either gone bald and shaved their heads, or fought the gray with a vengeance. He embraced it, growing it out long enough to look like he had a stylist come visit him every morning to create a hairdo worthy of a fashion magazine.

  “Come. We must get there quickly.” He tucked the handkerchief back into his pocket and grabbed my hand, waiting while I locked up and then guiding me toward his tiny car that didn’t even have a backseat. He’d put the top up, which I knew he only did for my convenience. He liked the wind streaming through when he drove, but not when he saw what it did to my hair the first time I rode in his car. He’d told me it looked sexy, but he didn’t like how I’d had to fight to keep it out of my eyes and mouth.

  Tonight, the conversation flowed like it always did. By the time we got to the restaurant, I wondered if maybe I’d made up the sadness in my head. Jacques seemed his normal, happy and attentive self. He opened my door and helped me out of the car, averting his eyes when I flashed the whole world in this short dress.

  “Heels, short skirts, and tiny cars don’t seem to mix,” I mumbled, smoothing the skirt down and looking around to see if anyone saw my graceless exit.

  “I shall sell it tomorrow,” Jacques responded, pulling me close to stroke a work-roughened finger down my cheek.

  I grinned, loving how quickly he jumped to make me comfortable. “You don’t need to sell your car, Jacques. I just need to work on my technique.”

  Something changed in his eyes, a look I’d seen more and more since we took our harmless flirting a little further. “Your technique is always perfect. It is the world around you that has not yet accommodated you.”

  My cheeks heated as they always did when he laid on his effusive praise. The man had a way with words, that was for sure. With my heart pounding, I leaned in even closer, my hands landing lightly on his chest. All he had to do was dip his head an inch and our lips would finally meet. His gaze dropped to my mouth and time stood still. This was it. The moment I’d been dreaming about as I laid in bed and couldn’t sleep.

  A horse whinnied right in my ear, startling me so badly, I jolted and nearly fell off one of my high-heeled shoes. I dipped to the right and Jacques caught me. The moment was shattered, and I thought my ankle might be too.

  “What in the—” My heart beat so hard I wondered if I needed to worry about a heart attack.

  “Oh, my apologies, my sweet. The horse-drawn carriage is here.” Jacques sounded so excited, I tried to ignore the pulsing of my ankle and plaster a smile on my face.

  No longer under Jacques’s spell, I looked around and realized we weren’t at the restaurant, but rather just inside the city limits of Waterton, parked in the bank parking lot. Huh. I really needed to check my surroundings more often. The rather large brown horse blew out a gust of hot air and seemed to roll its eyes at me.

  “Horse-drawn carriage?” I asked weakly.

  “Oui, oui. The holidays aren’t the holidays without a horse-drawn carriage, no? Solano Creek doesn’t allow horses, so here we are.”

  “They don’t?” I didn’t realize that, although now that I thought about it, they’d quit the sleigh rides a few years back.

  “Apparently, our new city council does not understand that horses are animals and they excrete certain—how would one say—unmentionables.”

  I bit back a smile. “Horse poop?”

  Jacques shook his head at me, but he was grinning. “You Americans with your bald language.” He took my arm and led me back to the carriage, but stopped when he noticed my limp. “What is this?”

  I waved my hand through the air. “Oh nothing. Just wrenched my ankle a bit. I shouldn’t have worn these heels. Silly, really.”

  “They are not silly. They are very sexy, but not if they cause you pain.” Jacques ducked and suddenly swooped me up in his arms. I clutched his shoulders in alarm.

  “Don’t hurt your back!”

  Jacques lifted an eyebrow at me, a move that made my stomach tighten. How could a man look angry and yet still be unbelievably hot? “I work the fields, lift wine barrels, and I am a man. Of course I can lift you with no problem.” He demonstrated it by climbing into the carriage with a nod to the waiting driver, and placing me carefully on the bench seat before tucking a blanket around me. “Now. Which ankle?”

  I pointed to the offending appendage, and he sat on the bench across from me. I began to pout at his distance, but then he took my foot in his lap, slipped my shoe off, and began to rub my foot and ankle. The carriage lurched forward, and I left my brain behind. I couldn’t tell you the last time someone had given me a foot rub. Michael had been an amazing husband and father, but he worked long hours, which didn’t leave time for things like foot rubs and carriage rides.

  “Waterton has a beautiful Christmas tree in the park. Not as beautiful as Solano Creek, but it should still make for a nice tour. Then we’ll have dinner, a special menu designed for the holidays by my friend. He is French too, so you know it will be excellent.” Jacques winked, and I settled in for a night of entertainment and romance.

  I wasn’t sure what to do to get him to finally kiss me—and I was old fashioned enough to let him be the one to make that move—-but as the storefronts slipped by with lights and garland and festive cheer, I realized that I could get used to a life like this with Jacques by my side. I could envision a future with a different man and not feel guilty about it. Michael would want me to be happy, and more importantly, I wanted to be happy. I wanted a partner. I wanted to be pampered and cared for. I wanted to love Jacques and be loved in return.

  Jacques dug his thumb into the arch of my foot and a shiver of pleasure rolled across my skin. I may be waiting for him to make the next move, but there were things I could do to nudge him along. I could enlist my daughters-in-law help to come up with some ideas that this old gal just wouldn’t think of.

  Maybe I could hang mistletoe all over the winery. Or buy him red boxers for Christmas with an invitation to see me in a matching holiday ensemble. Just the thought of being that forward made my skin feel like it was on fire. Or maybe I could make the ultimate move and clean out my house. It was time for Michael’s office to be cleared and repurposed. I knew deep down that no physical thing would ever erase what he and I had. That life was precious to me, but so was this one that I wanted to have with Jacques. Maybe then, once the past was properly dealt with, I could ask Jacques to move in with me. Maybe then he’d understand that he didn’t have to woo me any longer.

  I was already in love with him.

  Decision made, I enjoyed the rest of the carriage ride and dinner, which was as excellent as Jacques had promised. By the time he dropped me off back home with a hug that lingered on my doorstep, but still no kiss, I’d given myself a due date. I had until Christmas to see where we stood. If he still hadn’t made his move, I’d tell him straight out how I felt. If he didn’t want a committed relationship with me, then I’d move on like the grown woman I was. But a girl had to try, right?

  4

  JACQUES

  For the next week, I spent every spare moment with Pamela. We had brunches and dinners, walked the small boardwalk in town next to the creek, and spent long afternoons in the back office of the winery, talking about many things that sometimes even included the winery.

  The warmth between us was not in my imagination, but I was beginning to wonder if the longing of my own heart was muddying my perception of her behavior. More than once I’d caught her watching me with heavy-lidded eyes, her chest rising and falling more quickly than usual. And when I’d held her hand to pull her close and softly kiss her cheek as I’d bid her farewell yesterday after taking her for hot chocolate, she’d inhaled sharply and let out a tiny little moan that had my mind spinning for the rest of the night.

  Pamela was not behaving like a woman intent on ending things between us. But the certainty of my expiring visa could not be denied. I’d reminded her to renew it months earlier, during the hustle and stress of Dillon and Sophia moving into their new home, and she had waved me off. And then I’d received the notice of it being renewed. But only for these two months. It was not my place to question why. Only to accept her decision and move on.

  “But I don’t get it,” Dillon was saying as he pulled me to the corner of the tasting room. The entire Cunningham family had gathered so we could proceed as a group to the tree lighting ceremony in the center of town. El had recently purchased a mini-bus for the winery, a way to incentivize wine tourists to begin and end their wine tours with Cunning Ham, and we were all preparing to load up. “Why don’t we just ask her about it? Surely she didn’t mean for you to leave. I haven’t heard her saying a word about hiring a new winemaker or anything.” Dillon had never especially liked me, but he was the only one who I’d mentioned the issue of my visa to. And now he was a rather unlikely confidant.

  “It is her decision, Dillon,” I reminded him. “She is a strong, capable woman, and I don’t want to question her about it.”

  “She is also a disaster with anything involving a keyboard,” he said, making a face that changed his handsome appearance from polished to terrifying.

  “Don’t make that face, it will give you wrinkles,” I suggested, ready to change the topic. “And do not doubt Pamela’s intelligence or intentions.”

  “She doesn’t want you to leave,” Dillon whispered as Pamela approached.

  “And yet,” I said. I’d begun to make peace with the situation. I did not want Dillon to ruin the time I had left with Pamela by questioning her.

  Pamela moved to my side and Dillon walked away, shaking his head.

  “What was that about?” Pamela asked me. “Is he still being rude to you?”

  “Not at all. We were discussing whether our driver is wearing enough festive attire to conduct us appropriately to the ceremony.”

  Pamela turned to take in Robin, El’s mother, who was dressed from head to toe in glittery red and green. “I have no idea where she found those green sequined leggings,” Pamela said, her voice filled with admiration.

  I found myself hoping they were no longer available in the shop where Robin might have found them. I loved Pamela’s legs, but the leggings in question were garish and flashy, or perhaps it was the combination of them paired with the red sequined jacket and chauffeur’s cap, or the flashing light earrings Robin wore. Or perhaps it was the glinting silver sequins that covered her wrist braces, or possibly even the shiny silver pants being worn by her date for the evening, a man she called “the Shaft” for reasons I did not want to contemplate or inquire about.

  “Load ‘em up!” Robin cried, swinging a lanyard with keys on the end of it over her head. The keys caught Dalton in the back of the head as he moved near her, and a second later, there was chaos in the crowded tasting room—a hallmark of Cunningham family events.

  Dalton sprawled forward into Boston, who turned, looking ready for a fight. Sophia had jumped out of the way, backing into Hannah, who dropped her wineglass, the sound of it shattering almost inaudible over the noise of our small crowd and the chorus of “Grandma Got Run Over By a Reindeer” piping from the speakers on the walls.

  El was trying to herd her mother from the center of the crowd, but in her backwards motion, one of her legs caught the edge of a stool and she began to go down, Robin heading to the floor with her as she tried to catch her.

  “You have to be more careful!” Robin shrieked, as El sat hard on the tasting room floor.

  Sophia had moved to the stereo, finally shutting off the music, and Pamela put her hands around her mouth. “Everyone freeze!”

  Lincoln had been sneezing at that exact moment, and he actually followed Pamela’s demand, freezing in a hunched over position with his hand to his mouth. He’d always been a good boy, she’d told me.

  “Is anyone hurt?” she asked calmly once everyone was looking at her.

  Heads shook, and Boston helped El up off the ground, putting an arm around her and whispering in her ear with a concern that touched my heart.

  “Good. Okay.” Pamela glanced around at everyone. “We are leaving in five minutes. Robin, please go warm up the pig-mobile. Dalton, you sweep up that glass while Hannah goes to check that she didn’t get any in her pretty Christmas shoes. Hannah, we will be discussing where you found those gorgeous plaid pumps once we are all on the bus.” Pamela turned to me and smiled, and then swiveled back to her children and their significant others.

  “Everyone else, please make your way quietly out to the parking lot in twos. Use the bathroom now if you need to. Take a water bottle on the bus in case you get thirsty. I already put some popcorn out there. Good, good.” She was herding the crowd out the doors. “I’ll lock up.”

  There was a moment, after everyone had finally gone out and the two of us were alone in the quiet tasting room, that I felt my heart swell inside me so painfully I thought I might break down and beg her to let me stay. Watching her so competently manage her family made me realize how many years of this marvelous woman’s life I’d already missed. Would I really only get to enjoy her another few days?

  “Are you ready?” she asked me, her voice soft and her eyes glittering with happiness.

  “I feel I may never be ready,” I told her honestly, though of course she had no idea what I was talking about. “But let’s go see the tree lighting.”

  She smiled happily and took my hand. We locked up the winery and took our seats on the bus. Pamela held my hand as we sat, and her smooth skin against mine settled my heart and mind. I would love her fiercely while I could. There was no point thinking of anything else.

  “You are beautiful,” I whispered to her as we parked along the road leading to the enormous tree in the center of town. “I am the luckiest man here.”

  She giggled and kissed my cheek, and desire for her flared within me. I wanted to kiss her at that moment, but it would not have been right. Not with her family all around, bustling to disembark the bus. I wanted the moment to be perfect.

  The night air was chill and fragrant, thanks to the spiced cider booth at one side of the town square. Christmas carols filled the evening, and there was a palpable excitement among the many people gathered beneath the branches of the huge evergreen tree.

  “One… two…” the crowd joined in the counting coming from the speakers, and when the tree came to life, glowing merrily with dancing white lights and sparkling silver and red ornaments beaming from the deep green branches, Pamela leaned into me and I wrapped my arms around her.

 

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