Page 32 of Wild Abandon

I turn around to face him again.

“See you around.”

I nod and walk out the door, and I keep walking until I am at the corner and slap my palm to my forehead.

Olive juice?

chapter SIX

My arms feel like jelly, and there’s a severe ache from my elbow up to my shoulder. Just a few more strokes, and I’ll be finished with my masterpiece.

I started my day with the backside of a hammer, removing every nailhead from the walls of the main room of Russet Ranch. Standing on a tall ladder with a paint can of white paint in front of me and a paintbrush in hand, I spent my morning doing all the trim, stopping when I reached the tower of wine barrels because there was no way I’d be able to get behind them.

When the top and bottom of every wall was painted, I broke out the painting tray and a pole for my roller. Using large strokes, I tackled every wall, twice, transforming the room from a dowdy pink box of dread to a bright and airy room of ivory linen. The newly painted hardie board walls look shabby chic, something any HGTVer would be pleased with.

Plus, with the front and back doors wide open to help with the fumes, sunlight has been pouring in here all day, making it feel fresh and clean.

I hope Big Ed likes it. He’s been gone all day. I learned he is not here on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Saturdays. He’d better get his social calendar in check because, when this place opens for business, he’ll need to be here. Our mini lessons on the art of wine are not enough for me to hold court by myself.

My big hope is that he will start harvesting grapes again. I’d love to smash them with my feet or whatever it is they do when they make wine. It looks like fun when they do it in the movies.

“What in God’s name are you doing?”

I jump back, nearly causing me to drop the roller I’m holding. “You scared me!”

Cane in hand and a flat cap on his head, Big Ed sets his eyes and mouth into a grim line.

I hold my arms out to the sides and ask, “You like it?”

He looks around the room, the setting sun from the outside doors casting a faint orange tinge in the room with plenty of light for it to have that open, airy feel.

The frown of his mouth is still there, “How did you pay for the paint?”

“With my own money.”

It’s an interesting topic to be having, considering he has yet to pay me. I don’t even know what my salary is.

Big Ed walks to the back room where his office is and slams the door. I stand there, confused but not enough to leave. If that were the case, I would have stopped coming here weeks ago.

After a few moments, the office door opens, and I wait for the lengthy time it takes for Big Ed to hobble from the office back into the main room.

Leaning on his cane, he brings his free hand out and holds an envelope up to me. Tentatively, I grab the envelope from his hand. Just from the weight of it, I know it’s full, and from the shape of the contents, I know it’s money. I stare into it and see bills. Countless and countless of green bills inside.

“There has to be five grand in here?” I say as more of a question.

He clears his throat and points his cane at me. “Take what you feel you deserve, and use the rest to get whatever you want for the place. I can’t have you spending your own money. I was raised right, and a gentleman never lets a lady pay.”

I smile a bashful smile that makes my stomach curve in. I want to tell him that it’s too much. I want to show him my ideas for the rest of it. I want to ask him what he plans to do with this place, so I know where to start.

Instead, I just say, “Thank you.”

The frown of his mouth is still there, but his head is slightly nodding. “These fumes are enough to get an elephant high. Looks like we’ll be working out on the veranda tonight.”

Not one to argue with the man, I take my last few strokes of the walls, knowing I’ll have to do an evaluation tomorrow when it dries to make sure I didn’t miss any spots.

After packing up the supplies and washing my hands, I walk out to the veranda where Big Ed is sitting on a stone bench. His argyle socks show as his pants are hiked up mid calf. A bottle of chardonnay along with a plate sit on the bench beside him. Behind him is the setting Napa sun.

I take a seat on the bench and look at Big Ed, who is gazing out at the roses, lost in thought. I clear my throat, and he snaps out of his memory.