* * *
THE APOLOGIES WERE wearing thin. The skunk smell was not.
Christine apologized to Slade for the skunk spraying his daughters, to his daughters for the skunk spraying them on winery property, to Flynn and Truman for the skunk spraying their dog. Slade and Flynn apologized to Christine for not being able to help in the vineyard anymore, as they had to de-skunk children and pets.
Nate was the only one who didn’t apologize. Instead, he found a list of ingredients for ridding skunk smell online and drove to Cloverdale for supplies. Enough supplies to rid the skunkiness from two girls, one dog, and an empty winery.
In hindsight, Nate was the smartest of them all for getting out of town.
While waiting for Nate to return, Flynn and Truman took Abby down to the river, planning to throw a stick for her until she tired out and hopefully rolled in the mud.
Slade walked the girls home, planning to have them sit in the bathtub until Nate returned. Christine hoped he trash-bagged their cute outfits before they sat on anything.
After everyone had dispersed, Christine tentatively entered the barn.
And then she backed quickly out.
Between the heat and the smell, it was stifling inside. She whipped out her phone, looked up the nearest pest-control company, and gave them a call. They agreed to come out and set skunk traps two days from now.
Nothing left to do but continue the vineyard work.
Christine went back to it, falling into a rhythm. Ten feet of tying up, backtrack, ten feet of thinning.
Her cell buzzed: Taking the girls for some TLC after the remedy arrives.
She didn’t answer Slade, maybe because she was thinking how nice some tender loving care would be for her. So the girls had been sprayed by a skunk and lost an outfit? She was sure they had outfits to spare. There was work here that needed to be done.
Way to show sympathy, Christine.
They were just kids, after all. Slade was being a good papa bear. And she was succumbing to stress.
Maybe having Flynn and Slade work in the vineyard this morning would make them realize that their growth plan was overly ambitious. Growing grapes and making wine was a meticulous business, and if they couldn’t get field-workers, harvest companies, or other winemakers this far out, they couldn’t possibly expand and uphold Christine’s quality standards.
It was a shame. In some ways, Harmony Valley was just what she was looking for.
* * *
“SORRY IT TOOK me so long.” Nate stood on Slade’s front porch with a bag of supplies for skunk-odor removal. “I texted the recipe to you. Once you’ve made the paste, apply, let sit, remove.”
“Thanks, man. The girls have been soaking in the bathtub since you left. I can smell them from the stairwell.” Slade took the shopping bag from the sheriff with one hand, keeping his other hand on the doorknob, ensuring the front door didn’t swing all the way open, which most people would take as an invitation to come inside. “How much do I owe you?”
“Nothing.” Nate glanced toward the stairs behind Slade. “Not after what you did at the jail.”
Slade glanced over his shoulder, too, feeling Nate’s questions pressing on him. No one was there, of course. The girls were still upstairs in the bathroom. The ghosts of the house were memories only he could see. “It’s not so bad,” Slade surprised himself by admitting.