Rom-Com Collection

THERE WERE PROBABLY five hundred people crowded onto the green and the streets around it for the Seventeenth Annual Cork & Pork, which sounded disturbingly perverted but was in fact a pig roast and wine tasting. Five hundred people, Faith noted, and it seemed like at least half of them were dying to console her—still—over being jilted on her wedding day.

“You were the most beautiful bride,” Mrs. Bancroft was saying. “Really. We were all so shocked. So shocked.”

“Thanks.”

“Have you seen him? Is he here?”

“I haven’t seen him yet, Mrs. Bancroft. But we’re getting together next week.”

Mrs. Bancroft stared at her, shaking her head. “You poor, poor thing.”

“Oops. There’s my brother. Gotta run.” She left Mrs. Bancroft and went over to the Blue Heron tables and looped her arm through Jack’s. “You needed me desperately, dear brother?”

“No,” he said, pouring a one-ounce taste for a woman whose T-shirt proclaimed her as Texan and Carrying. “In fact, I’m not sure we’re even related. How many sisters do I have, anyway? You seem to be multiplying.”

“Mrs. Bancroft is the eighth person to call me a poor thing and ask how hard it is to see Jeremy again.”

“You are pretty pathetic,” he agreed. “Your name again?”

“Why are so many people in my way?” asked Mrs. Johnson. The long-time Holland housekeeper managed somehow to convey terror in her beautiful, lilting Jamaican accent. “Shoo, children. If you don’t leave soon, there will be body parts everywhere, and I washed and starched and ironed this tablecloth this morning. If you want to live, move, I say.” She straightened out the bottles so they were perfectly aligned.

“It’s a wine tasting, Mrs. J.,” Jack said. “We can’t move.” He turned to the gun-toting Texan. “What did you think? Can I pour you something else?” he asked.

“I’ll just have more of the white zin,” she said.

“It’s a rosé,” Jack said. Faith imagined he was trying not to weep over the misnomer of his beloved wine. The lady drained it, smiled and wandered off.

“Jackie,” Mrs. Johnson said, “did you eat this morning? I brought you a sandwich. I don’t want you eating any of the slop they’re serving here.” This earned her a dirty look from Cathy Kennedy, who was staffing the sausage booth for Trinity Lutheran. Mrs. Johnson returned the look hotly, till Cathy Kennedy broke. Most people did.

Mrs. J. unwrapped the sandwich and put it in Jack’s hand.

“Yes, little prince,” Faith said. “Eat up. Maybe Mrs. J. will chew the food for you so you don’t have to work so hard.”

“Don’t be so disgusting and unladylike, Faith, and here, Jackie. Eat.”

“Where’s my sandwich?” Pru asked, joining them.

“Did I not make you griddle cakes this very morning?” Mrs. J. asked.

“Oh, God. I hear Lorena,” Jack said. “Pru, uh, come help me with something really important. Faith can handle the tasting.”

“Get back here,” Faith hissed. It was no good. Both siblings bolted, leaving her to staff the tasting table with their housekeeper, who clucked in disapproval. “Mrs. J., why can’t you marry Dad and make us all happy?” Faith asked. Though she wasn’t completely sure, Faith thought Mrs. Johnson was widowed. Then again, the woman didn’t spill about her personal life. Ever.

“Don’t get me started on your father’s many flaws, the least of which is his recently terrible taste in women.” Mrs. Johnson stared at Lorena, her face swelling with regal disgust. “Five o’clock in the afternoon and she, with a dress that exposes more than half of those tired breasts. Shameful, shameful.”

“I’m working on a replacement,” Faith murmured, unable to tear her eyes off Lorena, who wore a strapless tiger-print sundress several sizes too small. The bodice was smocked, the stitching stretched to the “we can’t hold on much longer” point. Dad, on the other hand, was in his customary aging Blue Heron shirt, stained Blue Heron cap and stained jeans, yucking it up with Joe Whiting, another winemaker from farther up Keuka. Dad was probably unaware that Lorena (and everyone around them) assumed he was on a date.

“You’d better work fast, my dear,” Mrs. Johnson said. “Your father, he is not the most observant of men.”

“I know.” If it wasn’t related to grapes, Dad tended not to notice. So, yes, it was possible that, before he fully realized what was happening, Lorena could move in, change his will and sell off ten acres to a water park developer. But finding the perfect woman, that was a challenge. Dad worshipped the memory of St. Mom.

“Can I have a taste of the Gewürztraminer?” a man asked.

“Absolutely,” Faith answered, snapping to attention. “This one got a 91 from Wine Spectator, and we’re very proud of it. It’s been aged for eighteen months, so it’s just now starting to speak. The nose is lovely, don’t you think? Passionfruit, pepper, a little honeysuckle, just a touch of pencil lead in the body, with a whisper of lychee in the finish.”

Mrs. Johnson snorted, and Faith bit down on a smile. Yeah, yeah, she’d made that all up, not having tasted the wine yet. Faith wasn’t even sure whether or not lychee was an actual fruit. Those descriptions got a little silly sometimes, but it almost seemed the more ridiculous the description, the better the sales. Still, Honor would kill her if she heard. She took wine descriptions very seriously.

“Oh, yeah,” the man said. “Pencil lead. I love it!”

At that moment, her dog bounded over to her. “Hi, baby!” she said bending over to ruffle his wet fur. “Where’ve you been? Did Ned take you swimming?”

“My brother and your dog just took a shower together,” came a voice. “Kinda pervy, if you ask me.”

Faith looked up. “Sarah! I haven’t seen you in a long time. How’ve you been?”

Faith had always envied Levi for having a little sister; he’d always been very protective of her, one of his few (only?) redeeming qualities. Sarah had the same green eyes as Levi, though hers weren’t filled with dismissal. Yeah. That was it. Levi could dismiss a person in one glance. He was, in fact, doing it right now.

“Keep a better eye on your dog, Faith,” he said, deigning to speak to her. “He was terrorizing the Knoxes’ chickens.”

Right. Like Blue would terrorize anything. “Branch,” she said. Ass, she mouthed.

“Chief Cooper! You’re a sight for sore eyes,” Mrs. Johnson said, getting a kiss on the cheek from Levi. Weird, seeing him acting with social graces.

Faith turned back to Sarah. “You must be in college now, right?”

“Yeah, I just started at Hobart.”

“Great! Do you like it?”

“I hate it, actually.”

“Hey, Sarah,” Ned said, coming over and slinging an arm around Faith. “Faith, I’m here to take over, because Honor says you don’t know what you’re doing.”

“Hi, Ned.” Sarah blushed. Ned was very cute.

“How’s school?” he asked, and the two started talking about classes and clubs. They looked nice together, Sarah with her blond hair, Ned tall and dark. And while Ned was already out of college, that didn’t really matter. He didn’t have a girlfriend that Faith knew of, and she interrogated him frequently on the subject.

Levi was watching the two of them. No smile. He glanced at her, scowled, then resumed his staring. Faith suppressed a sigh. It wasn’t like she was playing matchmaker; she was just standing there. Like a lump, now that she thought of it.

Dad came over and handed her a bottle of water. “Make sure you drink enough, sweetpea,” he said, his kind blue eyes crinkling. “It’s hot compared to what you’re used to.”

Alas, Lorena appeared at his side. “Finally!” Lorena boomed. “Something decent to drink around here! Blue Heron has the best wine ever! I haven’t had anything but swill all day long!” She gave Dad an exaggerated wink, and Faith suppressed a cringe. The winemakers in the region were a very tight bunch; there was some quiet competition, of course, and everyone wanted to win a medal or snag a great review. But what was good for one vineyard tended to be good for them all, so Lorena’s type of PR wasn’t scoring any points.

“Hi there, Sarah,” Dad said. “How are you, sweetheart?”

“Fine, thanks, Mr. Holland.”

“Levi,” Dad said, “you’ve seen Faith since she got back, haven’t you?”