Page 13 of Wild Abandon

A harrumph sound coming from the back of Ed’s throat stirs me from my bewilderment, and I am brought back to reality. I turn and look back at the overweight man with the incredibly long beard, who just hired me for a job I’m not entirely sure I want.

“Naomi mentioned you needed someone to play music during wine tastings.”

Ed waves off my comment and takes a seat on one of the stone benches. “That girl is insistent. What do you play?”

“The cello.”

“You any good?”

“Good enough,” I counter. Then, I look back out at the gorgeous red roses. “How long have you owned this place?” I ask. Then, I realize I never actually asked him who he is. “You are Ed Martin, right?”

This causes Ed to laugh just a touch, and then he goes back to his grimace. “Yes. Everyone calls me Big Ed.” He puts a hand on his round stomach and gives it a pat. “And that was before I had this.”

The comment is self-deprecating yet endearing in a way that makes me smile.

Big Ed looks around the place and continues, “I’ve owned Russet Ranch for seventeen years, worked here for eighteen before that. You think it looks bad now? You should have seen it when I first came here. Old Man Russet nearly had this place collapsing before I came along. Used to have alpacas roaming free. Those bastards ate through everything.” He looks at the back of the building with a fondness in his eyes. “Together, we brought this place to life. Made some great wines, and swung a decent profit.”

I sway from one foot to the other, wondering how a place that was once brought to life is now in shambles and in need of a change. I feel awkward about asking such questions, so I settle on what I do need to know. “What is your plan? Do you want to revitalize the place again?”

Big Ed places his free hand on top of his other, which is resting on his cane. With his two hands perched in front of him, he looks out at the roses. “What do you know about wine?”

“Not much.”

“You’re not from here?”

“No, sir.”

He looks back at me. “You got red hair.”

I look down at my braid and raise a shoulder in acknowledgment. My hair is a deep auburn. For a long time, I used to say my hair was brown, but when in the light, shades of red would show through.

“You say what’s on your mind,” he says, referring to my comment earlier about the bad wine.

Again, I just shrug my shoulder. “You haven’t answered my questions.”

Big Ed rises from his spot. “And you ask too many. Be here on Monday morning at nine.”

He starts to walk away, toward a garage that I didn’t see when I pulled up but can now see is far off from the property.

“But you haven’t even told me what I’ll be doing,” I call out to him.

With his back to me as he walks away, he raises a hand and yells back, “Don’t be late!”

My mouth opens, then closes, and then opens again.

Look like I have a job.

“You have a job!” Naomi is throwing her hands in the air and doing fist-pumps at the dining room table.

“Did you not listen to a word I just said?” I start ticking off the many reasons I should not be working at Russet Ranch. “The place is falling apart, the wine tastes like crap, and the man wants me to play the cello, yet there isn’t a person in hell who would pay to go there for a tasting. And,” I exclaim, “we didn’t even talk about pay or hours or anything!”

Naomi closes her laptop and looks up at me with a beaming smile. “I think it all sounds wonderful!”

I turn to the only other rational adult in the room. “Scarlet?”

Scarlet closes the book she’s been reading, leaving it on the sofa. Her long brown ringlets bounce as she walks toward me. She puts her hand around my wrist in a move that I think is supposed to be comforting. She looks up at me and says, “What screws us up the most in life is the picture in our head of what it’s supposed to be.”

I fall to the seat beside me and place my head in my free hand, wondering how I can be schooled by an eight-year-old quoting—