I feel so tired, so bummed, that I want to crawl into bed and stay there for a week.
I thank Samuel when he sets down menus and fills my glass with a bottle of sparkling water that has magically appeared (what’s up with all the magically appearing water at this place?).
“He told you,” Samuel murmurs, setting down the bottle.
I look up at him. Parse through all the words in my head. All the things I’m feeling.
“I’m crushed. How are you? How has he been? I feel like a shit for not knowing. Or asking. I had a feeling something was up, but…”
“We’re doing what we can to help. He’s been…all right. Staying busy with the farm. He’s always kept himself in pretty great shape, and now he’s just doing more of that. Eating well, trying to get good rest, exercising like a motherfucker. I’m happy that I can be here with him. We all are. He’d never say as much, but he needs us right now. His family. He needs you. No matter what he says, he needs all of us, Annabel.”
I fold my napkin across my lap. I will not cry in public.
“I’m happy I’m here, too,” I say.
“Cut yourself some slack. About not knowing. He didn’t want to tell you until he was ready. Until you were ready, which he didn’t think you would be considering that little event right there.” Samuel nods at Maisie. “Although I did say he should’ve filled you in right from the beginning. I don’t like secrets.”
“Me neither. But I understand why he did it. I’m just”—I swallow—“so torn up for him.”
Samuel looks at me. “I know. He’s in good hands.”
“He thinks his life is over.”
“He said that?”
“Not in so many words.” I can’t help it. I have to ask. “I disagree. Don’t you?”
“Of course I disagree. That’s—” Samuel sighs, running a hand through his hair. “That’s just him, Annabel. He’s always thinking about the people he loves first. He doesn’t want to disappoint anyone. So he’s preparing us for the worst—”
“When really, he should be hoping for the best.”
“Right. I wish I could tell you how to make him see the bright side. I’ve tried. So has Milly, and Mama, and Hank and Rhett. Everyone’s on it. But you can’t teach an old dog new tricks.”
“He’s not old.”
“He’s older’n me. Less good-looking, too, but you already know that.” Samuel smiles, and so do I. “Point is, my brother, he’s set in his ways. He’s always been cocky on the outside and serious on the inside. I want him to be happy. I want him to have a real future. We all do. Not to beat these animal metaphors to death here, but you can lead a horse to water…”
I nod, blowing out my cheeks. “In the meantime, we just keep trying?”
“Yep. We keep bein’ there for him. Keep showing him that we care. Maybe he’ll come around. Maybe he won’t. Either way, it’s worth the effort. Stick around for a while, would you? I know you got a lot going on—and he’s sensitive to that, so he’ll go along with whatever you need—but stay at the resort as long as you can. Please. Beau hasn’t been himself lately. But I can already tell with you around, he’s better. Happier. Happier than he’s been in a while.”
My heart palpitates. Weird that I’m proud of that? Being able to light someone up that way?
I just know how good it feels, because Beau lights me up like that. Just by being there, being himself.
But how can I bring him back to that guy? How can I help?
“Yeah,” I say. “Yeah, of course. I mean, let’s be real, Samuel. It’s no hardship hanging out on Blue Mountain Farm. This place is ridiculous in all the best ways. The service, the accommodations. The views. Thank you. For having me and my little family. We appreciate it more than you know.”
“We appreciate you bein’ here and enjoying our farm. We want you to take advantage of everything we have to offer. Food, spa, activities. Speaking of…” Samuel cracks open the hefty wine list. “What can I get you? Our wine list is second to none in the state. Largely thanks to yours truly. Did Beau tell you my private collection formed the basis of our list?”
I laugh. “You get that ego from Beau?”
“Beauregard boys were all born with it, I suppose.” He claps his hands together. Gives them a rub. “You thinking red or w—”
“You must be Annabel.” A woman, petite and pretty, appears at Samuel’s elbow. She holds out her hand. “I’ve heard so much about you. I’m Emma.”
I take her hand. The name rings a bell. “Ah! You’re the sommelier Beau’s told me about. He says you’re amazing.”
Clasping her hands behind her back, she rolls up on her toes, clearly pleased.