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Alana couldn’t remember the last time she stepped foot in the guest shed. Her first few memories were in this space. Her parents lived in it for a brief time, until her grandfather went into hospice care in Ithaca and they moved into the big house. Those early memories were hazy, but the later years when she played with Freya, then eventually Tess and Kaia, they somehow always ended up in the guest shed. They played house or hide and seek, then in middle school had game nights and sleepovers. She grew out of those moments, and eventually her time in the guest shed became a thing of the past.
They called it a shed because originally it was. When Grandma Ida was pregnant, Grandpa Karl wanted more space for his growing family, somewhere for guests to stay. They’d hoped for more children, but they were much older and getting pregnant with a second proved difficult. Yet Grandpa still wanted that guest space, so he added two extensions for a bathroom and bedroom, and before long turned a shed into a cozy home.
A lot of it still looked the same. A basket of colorful afghans sat next to a plush leather futon. The mahogany coffee table and the chess set. The copper pots and pans that hung above the stove, and the kitchen island with a pair of tall matching stools.
But there were also pieces of Leo scattered around too. His work gloves were cleaned and hung neatly by the door. A stack of French novels sat on the coffee table. The fluffy dog bed in the corner where Bear snuggled up, his snout hanging over the edge as he snored.
She gently shut the door to not wake Bear. “You’re up late.”
He shrugged, leaning a hip against the counter. “Was about to say the same.”
She hummed. “Couldn’t sleep. I had too much on my mind.”
“How’d your talk with Tess go?”
She stiffened. She wanted to say it was none of his business, but somehow everything involving her or her family was. Leo was deeply ingrained into her drama, whether she liked it or not.
She pulled out a stool and took a seat. “As expected. She was angry that I left without telling her. She reminded me that everything that happened wasn’t my fault.” She peered down at her plain fingernails, all remnants of the chipped magenta polish gone. “She also wouldn’t tell me much about the guy she’s seeing.”
“Cal,” Leo replied. “I like him. He’s solid.”
She rolled her eyes. “Of course you know him.”
“I don’t know if you know this, but Brent is a small town.”
“Oh, I’ve noticed,” she grumbled.
“You can’t take two steps downtown without getting involved in gossip.” He chuckled, shaking his head. “Want to know something crazy I heard today?”
She leaned her elbows against the cool marble counter, propping her chin between her hands. “Tell me.”
“Apparently Connie and Trent are fighting.”
Her eyes widened, a smile peeling up the corners of her mouth. “No!”
“Yes. There was a heated argument about how Connie is now selling loaves of sourdough at her coffee shop, and Trent is saying it’s detracting from his bakery. He’s claiming they need to set boundaries on who can bake what.”
Alana sat up, clutching her chest. “How dare she steal from my beloved Trent!”
Leo furrowed his brow. “You don’t think that’s a little much? This town can survive having two spots that sell artisanal bread.”
“No way. That’s capitalist kind of thinking and Brent solely survives based on good vibes and a ‘we’re all in this together’ attitude.”
“May I remind you we work in a vineyard next to many, many other vineyards…”
“The rules don’t apply to us.”
“That makes absolutely no sense.”
She leaned back in. “What else have you heard?”
Leo’s eyes sparkled. “Hmm.” He opened his counter and retrieved a wineglass. “I heard a lot of people have strong opinions about the Kasners.”
“This isn’t new news, but go on.”
He lifted a bottle of Marien Cabernet Franc and poured a glass, then slid it in her direction. “This guy Klaus has created quite a reputation for himself. He’s been buying empty plots of land and failing vineyards up and down Seneca. They’re saying he also has his sights set on a few properties along Cayuga Lake as well.”
