My Secret Fantasies

“I dropped off some tea and bread for them while they were touring a local winery. I guess Violet writes some kind of blog about wine.” I peered over Damien’s broad shoulder as he held aside the blinds. “I’ll admit I timed my stop at their suite when I was certain I’d miss them.”

He pointed to a large white vehicle almost directly below where we were standing. “You know anyone with a white Cadillac?”

“Joelle!” I squealed, and squeezed his arm.

“The tea shop owner?” He let go of the blinds as the bell chimed again.

“Yes.” I hurried toward the door. “Do you mind if I go answer it?”

“Of course not.” He didn’t follow me. “I’ll probably hit the shower and check on Stretch. Let you two visit.”

“Okay. Thanks.” I hit the hallway and took the stairs two at a time, shouting, “Coming!”

Skidding to a halt in front of the huge double doors at the front of the house, I grabbed a wrought-iron ring and pulled open one of the oak behemoths that made me feel like Alice in Wonderland during her small phase.

“Joelle!” My girlfriend and former boss stood on the welcome mat with arms folded and toe tapping.

She quit tapping when she saw it was me. With her shoulder-length brown hair worn in a flip, she looked like an artsy Stepford wife, or maybe a cross between Martha Stewart and Zooey Deschanel. At the tearoom she normally wore floral aprons over an all-black uniform of a pencil skirt and silk blouse. Today, she’d ditched her normal clothes for a T-shirt and jeans covered by a knee-length gray cardigan sweater. Her white Cadillac had been pulled up to the front step, parked squarely in front of the doors as if she’d planned to stay for only a second.

“Miranda?” Her amber eyes landed on my hair, her freckles visible in the morning sunlight, since she wore no makeup except for long, fake eyelashes. A diamond stud winked just below one eyebrow. “What on earth did you do to your hair?”

Before I could answer, she reached for my sleeve and gripped a handful of white Turkish terry cloth.

“And what are you wearing?” she asked, staring at me as if I’d dropped out of the sky from another planet.

“What does it look like?” I teased, and crossed the threshold to hug her. “Is that any way to greet a friend?”

She hugged me hard until I tugged her inside and shut the door.

“Sorry. I’ve been worried about you.” As she stood back, she peered past the foyer into the heart of the house. “But you look like you’ve made yourself at home here.” She gave me a sly grin and a wink.

“How did you find me?” Joelle hadn’t said anything about checking up on me so soon. I’d left only on Friday, and here she was, late Monday morning.

“You told me you were visiting the farm stand on the Fraser Farm property when you texted me Thursday night, don’t you remember?” She wrapped the sweater tighter around herself and then ran a hand over a heavy Mexican-style armoire in the hall. “You sounded like it was a sure thing.”

“I vaguely remember.” I motioned her toward the kitchen. “You’ll notice this isn’t the farm stand.”

“No kidding. But you’ve been ignoring my messages all weekend. I visited my aunt in San Francisco yesterday and thought I’d check things out for myself, so I could see if you needed a hand getting settled.”

“To help or to spy on me?” I pulled a pub stool out from under a table in the dining area and waved for her to take a seat.

She didn’t. She roamed around the breakfast bar as I found mugs, spoons and tea bags in a sideboard covered with coffee paraphernalia.

“A little of both,” she confessed, her platform heels tapping softly along the marble tiles. “I drove around that empty old farm stand building and some young guy mending fences along the road told me you might be at the ‘big house.’ So I kept going until I found a big house.”

“Sorry, I haven’t been checking my phone.” Lighting the flame under a heavy stainless-steel kettle, I started heating the water.

Sunlight poured in the windows along the back of the house, bathing us in warmth even though the sheen of dew on the trees outside told me it was cool today. The kitchen had high ceilings with exposed beams that looked as if they came from ancient redwoods, they were so large. Stainless-steel appliances and a six-burner cooktop had made it a fun kitchen to bake in the day before. Everything in here seemed brand-new, as if a decorator had outfitted it but no one ever used it.

“Here.” Joelle pulled a small square tin from her pocket. “Try this.”