Grayson's Vow(21)

"Would you like some coffee?"

"Oh, sure," I smiled, "but only if you'll join me?"

Charlotte hesitated, but nodded. I sat down on a bar stool at the counter while she poured two cups and then placed one in front of me with cream and sugar, put a pie dish and two plates with utensils next to her, and sat down with her own mug.

"Grayson went out," I said, taking a sip of coffee.

Her lips came together in a straight line. "Yes, so I heard. Salted caramel pie?" she asked, cutting a huge piece and plopping it on a plate.

"Oh, um, okay." I hesitated as she slid the plate in front of me, the delicious smells of caramel and sweet cream wafting to my nose. "I know this situation probably seems . . ." I shook my head, at a loss for a word other than ridiculous, inadvisable, disastrous.

Immoral.

"Unusual," was the word I finally uttered to Charlotte.

"Yes, it does," she said, cutting her own slice of pie. Despite her agreement, she smiled. "I had hoped for more for Gray. No offense to you. You seem like a spirited girl. I just . . . I hoped he'd marry for love, of course."

"Of course." I couldn't help blushing. I hoped to marry for love someday, too. "You care for him very much." I took a bite of pie, the sweet and salty flavors bursting across my tongue. I tried not to let my eyes roll to the back of my head.

She nodded. "I've been working here since Gray was first dropped off . . ." she seemed to catch herself, "that is, since Gray came to live here."

I wanted to pry, to ask her what she'd meant by "dropped off," but I didn't. This was the first time I was having a conversation with the woman. I didn't want to seem like a busybody.

"But of course," she continued, "I understand why your offer seems appealing to Grayson. He," she shook her head again, looking very sad, "will stop at nothing to bring this vineyard back to what it once was."

"It's his family legacy," I said. "I can't blame him."

She nodded, her eyes meeting mine again, her thoughts seeming to return from somewhere far away. "And what about you? Are there no other options than this?"

"This seems like my best option at the moment," I said quietly, for some reason, feeling shameful in front of this sweet-faced, older woman with the lilting English accent and the kind eyes. "Did Gray not tell you my situation?"

"He gave me the CliffsNotes." She looked at me for a moment, her stare assessing. "All I can say is this situation may have more ramifications than you're considering. I implore you to think this through before you do something you can't undo."

"I do understand what you're saying, Charlotte, and I appreciate the advice, but—"

"You've made up your mind."

"Yes, I've made up my mind. I hope you can try to understand."

"Well," she said, "then that’s that." I looked down at the piece of mostly eaten pie on my plate, not knowing why it mattered to me that I was disappointing this woman. She continued before I could say anything. "And perhaps you'll be good for him. I admit I haven't seen any fire in his eyes for . . . well, for far too long."

"Hmm . . ." I hummed, taking another sip of coffee, not knowing if that was a good or bad thing. It probably indicated we brought out the worst in each other already—and I'd only known him for a few hours. I finished off the last couple bites of my pie.

"Oh hey, Charlotte, can I bother you for some linens? I need some blankets and a pillow to take to the gardener's shed where I'm staying." Charlotte looked at me blankly.

"The gardener's shed? That's only been used for storage for decades. You can't stay in it. Surely, Gray was only joking when he put you there."

"Maybe," I took the last sip of my coffee, "but I like it. And it's a space of my own. I won't bother anyone that way."

"I can't abide by that," Charlotte said, shaking her head. "I don't like this idea of you and Gray getting married, but I won't see you living in a dirty, spider-dwelling shack."

I laughed. "Remember when I mentioned Africa? I lived there for a year. I just got back less than a week ago, actually. The spiders here would be shamed by the insects there. I can handle a daddy longlegs or two. And with a bed and some clean linens, it's a step above the mat on the dirt floor I've become accustomed to sleeping on."

"And why were you in Africa?"

Hiding. Escaping. Being banished. "To help a friend build a hospital of a sort." I smiled, the first one that felt really genuine since I'd arrived back in San Francisco. "It will help so many women and children. I'll tell you all about it sometime."