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I choose to ignore her points about how long I take to respond—June says the same thing and the last thing I want is to compare these two in my head—and answer only her last point. “People who work with their hands, Maggie, that’s who.” I flip my phone over and over in my hand, not looking at the screen, but not looking at Maggie either.
I don’t know how to fix this, what to say to stop her being so angry. I don’t know who’s right or wrong, but I don’t want to fight with Maggie—because for all of my grumpy, growly ways I really like her. Besides, the last thing I want is for the Suttons to see me fighting with my girlfriend in the tasting room. I’m still racking my brain for something to ease this tension when Maggie’s next words get me riled up again.
“There’s no need to be condescending, Kel.”
“I was being professional.”
“Professional and rude are not the same thing.”
I freeze, staring at Maggie. She thinks I was being rude? Was I? Was she expecting me to be as touchy-feely with her in front of the Suttons as I was on our date? My irritation dissipates as worry takes its place. Have I blown it with her already? “I wasn’t being rude.”
“It’s rude not to acknowledge your girlfriend when you see her.”
I almost drop my phone with relief when she says the g-word, scrambling to keep it between my fingers as I choke out a response around the relief in my throat. “Girlfriend?”
“Person you’re dating, whatever—” Maggie crosses her arms, shoulders hunched, and I realize that she doesn’t know how relieved I am. “Whatever I am, it’s rude not to be happy to see me when I surprise you at work.” I’m about to pull her into my arms when my phone buzzes in my hand. A text preview flashes on the screen and all my thoughts of Maggie come careening to a halt.
Greg: 911. Fell. West pinot field.
One more swipe and a glance reveals two missed calls from him and another text from ten minutes prior.
“Fuck. I have to go. Right now.” I turn on my heel and sprint toward Jackie, my heart pounding. Fuck, fuck, fuck.
“Kel? What the fuck just happened?” Maggie’s voice follows me across the room, but I don’t stop to acknowledge it as I near Jackie. She looks up from her conversation with Lauren and freezes at my expression.
“Call 9-1-1, now. Something happened to Greg.” I show her my phone and her face goes white.
Lauren intercepts Jackie’s shaking hand to grab the tasting room phone and start dialing. “Go, I got her.” Lauren shoos me away and I take off. Footsteps follow behind, but I don’t stop to see who it is.
“Greg!” I call out as I approach the west field. Thank god this field has already been harvested and most of the leaves have already fallen, giving me a clear view of a lump on the ground between two rows on the far end.
“Greg!” Theo calls from behind me.
I sprint through the wet mud, my feet nearly slipping out from under me a few times in my hurry. “Greg? Greg, what happened?” I ask as I approach him. “Lauren is calling 9-1-1.”
His face is pale and drawn with pain. Fuck, this is not good. “Greg? Talk to me.” Theo squats beside me, watching as I do a quick evaluation. He’s a competent, reassuring presence as I check Greg over.
“Thought I saw something on these vines when we were showing Theo…came back to look and slipped.” Greg takes a slow breath, his voice shaky with pain. “Landed right on that rock before I slid down a ways.”
By the time paramedics manage to get here, it’s clear that Greg has broken his hip in the fall. They get him loaded on a stretcher and start up the hill with him. Jackie is beside him, holding his hand as they load him into the ambulance.
“You should go with them.” Sophie lays a hand on my shoulder, startling me.
“But—”
“Theo and I were planning to spend the weekend here anyway. Go. Take care of your family.” She gives me a little shove toward the path leading down to my house.
Family.
Oh fuck. I have to call Nate.
I pull out my phone and dial, not bothering to check the time difference like I usually do. My feet take me toward my house as it rings, my mind more focused on what I’m going to tell Nate than where I’m going.
“Kel?” Nate’s voice on the line, not his voicemail, is a surprise. He so rarely answers when I call. His next words are muffled, like he’s talking to someone next to him. “I know…reviens au lit.”
Entering my house, I only stop to grab my keys before locking up behind me “Nate? I wasn’t sure you’d pick up.” I have to clear my throat as I head to Jackie and Greg’s. Maggie’s car is parked beside mine. Fuck. Maggie.
“You called at eleven p.m. To be honest, I thought maybe I was going to get some kind of drunken confession out of you.”
