Love Me for Me(84)
“Libby? Need anything?”
“No, thanks,” she said, wanting to get back to Pop’s story about Mitchell. “Did she tell him ‘no’—or just ignore the letter?”
“She sent him a letter with a heartfelt ‘Thanks but no thanks,’ and then she told me all about it. Years later, I asked her if she had contemplated his offer.” A smile broke out on Pop’s face. “Anne let out the most splendid laugh and said, ‘If I had married Mitchell, I’d have lost out on the greatest love of my life.’ That was all I needed to hear. I’ve still got the letter around here somewhere, God knows where. It was a reminder that Anne loved me enough to be completely open with me. Plus, I couldn’t quit thinking, my wife’s still got it!” He winked at her.
Libby giggled. It was so good to have Pop back. And she’d never heard a love story sweeter than that one. Life can throw a lot at a relationship, but right there, right then, she had proof that there really could be a perfect happily ever after.
Pete came in with a tray of food, and Pop patted Libby’s arm. “Go on over to the sofa and get comfortable.”
“Thank you for telling me the story,” she said, sitting down, some of the anxiety she’d felt finally melting away. She knew that Pop wasn’t like that all the time, and things would get hard again. She wanted to stay there in that moment where nothing was wrong; Anne’s letter wasn’t hanging over her head, Pop was lucid, and Pete was pleasant.
Chapter Thirty
It was July fourth. Independence Day. Libby could feel the excitement in the air as she arrived at the winery for tonight’s fireworks. She hoped to see Pop. If he was himself, he would probably be there. He’d always gone. She remembered how he’d sit on the quilt or towel—whatever they had that year—and smoke his cigars while chatting to everyone who walked by. To this day, whenever she smelled a cigar, she thought of him. Libby said a silent prayer that he’d be well enough tonight. She couldn’t wait to celebrate with everyone—her mom, Pop, Jeanie, Helen… Pete would surely be there.
She was apprehensive to see Pete because this day had always been a day they’d spent together. As the evening breeze wrapped around them, he’d shield her with his arms, sitting behind her, his chin on her shoulder. They’d watch together, the smell of sulfur from the fireworks mixing with his scent, his fingers entangled with hers, the feel of his breathing at her neck. She’d never get to feel that again. Seeing him tonight, and knowing that, would add a layer of tension to the night that she didn’t welcome.
Libby stood next to the bar consisting of a slab of ultra glossy wood resting on top of a line of oak barrels while the man in front of her explained the type of wine that was in her glass. A grid of bottles, cork sides out, blanketed the wall behind the bar. She took a sip of her wine and set it down. Holding a linen table napkin against the bottle, the barman poured her next taste into a fresh glass. She took another sip, glad that the wine was taking the edge off her worry.
Pete came up beside her. “How are they?” He eyed the wine glasses on the bar.
There was something different about him tonight. As she looked at him, she didn’t see the kid she’d dated so many years ago. She saw the grown man who had told her that day in the woods that he didn’t want her. She also realized right then that she didn’t still love the kid she’d known. She had fallen for the man who was standing in front of her now. The man she could never have. She chewed on her bottom lip to keep it from trembling.
She looked out at the lawn to steady herself. The sun was floating just above the horizon. Its light was coming in through the wall of glass doors leading out onto a veranda. “They’re all very good. I like this one,” she said, pointing to a bottle of dessert wine she’d tasted.
“Do you have a place to sit yet?” he asked.
“Mom’s here somewhere. She’s probably found a spot. I’ll walk out with you.”
“Would you grab us a couple of bottles of her favorite, please, Phil?” Pete said to the man behind the bar. The man smiled warmly at them and then disappeared below the bar top. It was barely sunset and people were starting to take their spots on the acres of manicured lawn outside. Beyond the grass, endless rows of grapevines stretched along the hills of the grounds.
Phil slid two slender bottles across the bar to Pete then set down fresh glasses and a corkscrew with the name Sandy Grove Vineyards etched in script along the handle. Pete dropped one of the bottles into a straw bag containing large towels. He grabbed the other bottle and led Libby toward the glass doors, their wine glasses dangling between his fingers at her back. She followed him down onto the lawn.