Page 15 of Forbidden War (Forbidden 2)
With a sigh, I slide the card and my phone into the top drawer of the nightstand and head to the dining room. The scent of bacon wafts down the hall and momentarily makes me forget my misery. I’ve been too stressed to feed myself properly lately, and I’m delighted when I see plates of rolled French crepes, still-steaming bacon, and sliced fruit waiting on the table. None of the Bellantis are here this late in the morning, but I know the single place setting is mine because the kitchen staff is still cleaning up and clearing away used dishes, and one of them smiles and nods at me when I gesture questioningly toward the clean plate.
“Coffee for you as well, Mrs. Bellanti?” she asks.
“Yes, please. And thank you,” I say.
I’m on my second helping of crepes heaped with juicy blackberries and pure, smoky maple syrup when the sound of the door swinging open behind me makes me freeze mid-bite.
But when I turn around, heart pounding, it’s Frankie standing at the door. Her face is etched with tiredness and worry and her eyes are glassy when she catches my gaze, but she smiles at me through her pain anyway. It only strengthens the kinship I feel with her.
I want to ask about her sister, but I’m sure if there was any good news about Livvie, someone would have told me by now.
“Morning! Marco said I might find you here,” she says.
“Good morning,” I say cautiously, mentally preparing to be summoned to my husband’s office—or worse, Armani’s.
But what Frankie says instead is, “I almost hate to ask, but if you’re not busy today, I was wondering if you’d be interested in helping out at the vineyard? We’re harvesting varietal grapes this afternoon and I could really use another pair of hands.”
My eyes widen. Frankie seems to read this as a no.
“Oh, no worries if not, though. I just thought—”
“No, no, I’d love to!” I interrupt. “That sounds really fun. Except…what exactly does this entail? I have no, um, grape skills to speak of. But I’m game.”
She laughs and then eases into the chair next to mine to explain more. Through a bit of technical jargon, I gather that one of the varieties is at peak ripeness and needs to be picked, all hands on deck, which leaves a deficit of workers on the line to sort the bad grapes from the good. I’m curious about the whole process, and excited that Frankie is offering to mentor me. But I also get the sense that she’s trying to stay busy to keep her mind off her sister.
“That all sounds amazing. I can’t wait,” I tell her.
“Great. We can head over now, except…do you mind if I have a little snack first?” she asks, sliding the plate of crepes toward her.
“Oh, of course not—please help yourself,” I say. “Nothing wrong with a second breakfast.”
“Thanks. It’s just, the baby smelled food and has gone on a ravenous kicking rampage.”
She puts her hands on her belly and a serene smile crosses her face. I’m about to pass her the syrup, but before I can, she loads a crepe with sliced bananas, bacon, and a river of chocolate sauce and then folds it like a taco. She shrugs as she catches my eye and takes a huge bite.
“Mmm,” she groans through the mouthful.
If I wasn’t so full already, I’d have to try a chocolate bacon crepe taco myself.
Minutes later, the baby apparently sated, Frankie takes me to the building where the grapes are sorted. Workers are already busy unloading trucks that contain baskets of grapes and dumping them on the sorting line inside. Frankie stays close to me, explaining more in detail about the different types of grapes and why the particular variety they are harvesting today is so special for the upcoming vintage. She’s thrilled to answer all my questions, from how they know when the grapes are ready to what the stages in the winemaking process entail, from harvest to bottling to aging.
The whole thing is fascinating. Frankie is very adept in her knowledge of the vineyard and what needs to be done, and I watch her direct the process with warmth and efficiency. I could easily be intimidated if she didn’t make me feel so welcome.
An hour into helping sort the grapes, I find myself really enjoying it. Some of the other workers chat quietly, joking and laughing as if this is a genuinely good time and not just work.
“Well, what you think?” Frankie says as she sidles up to me.
“I love it. This whole process is so interesting, especially getting to actually take part in it. And actually, I’m kind of embarrassed to tell you this, but I’ve never had a real job before. This is all so, so cool,” I gush.
She raises one eyebrow and then smiles. “Well then, you’re hired.”
I smile so hard, my cheeks hurt. Glancing shyly down at my hands, I realize my fingers are tinted purple. Frankie said something in the beginning about not wearing gloves because feeling the grapes is important for knowing which is good and which is not, but she forgot to mention that I’d end up with grape-stained hands.
“Don’t worry, I have a trick for getting that off with cornmeal and lemon juice,” Frankie says. “I’ll make sure you’re all cleaned up before we go shopping later.”
“Shopping? I couldn’t ask you to take me, Frankie. You have so many other things to worry about.”
She shakes her head. “It’s okay. I need to stay busy right now. There’s no other way for me to keep my head on straight while my…while all of this is going on.”
“Then I accept. I can’t thank you enough.”
“You can thank me in grape labor,” she teases, and then walks away.
I can’t help admiring Frankie—she’s smart and kind and tougher than I could ever imagine being in her place. I’m so glad she took me under her wing like this. I’ve done something useful with my hands and my time today. Not only that, but I feel…welcome. Like I’m making a true friend here at the Bellanti estate.
Maybe I chose the right cage after all.
