“Gah!” she growled aloud and sat up. Furiously, she kicked back the sheet and climbed out of bed. Opening the doors to her porch, she leaned out over the railing. The Napa morning was glowing as always. The vines were silvery with dew, and the air was fresh and piney. These facts did nothing to lift Maddy’s 196
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spirits. “Ahhh!” she shouted out into the yard, not worrying who heard.
Maddy slammed the balcony doors and turned back into her room. Man, it was a mess. She hooked yesterday’s dirty clothes out from under the bed, dumped them into the hamper, and pulled on cutoffs and a green T-shirt, jerking the dresser drawers so hard one of them cracked. She took a deep breath and forced herself to unclench her aching jaw. Her headache continued drilling farther into her temples. She closed her eyes. A vision of herself screaming at David in the orchard and his shocked, angry expression flashed through her mind. Maddy pounded down the stairs to the kitchen, where she gulped an enormous glass of water and pressed a damp paper towel to her forehead for a minute to try to cool off her raging thoughts. The room was empty. She wondered where everyone was and then looked at the clock for the first time. It was only six. Mom and Dad weren’t even awake yet. Whatever. She definitely wasn’t going back to bed.
She yanked open the back door and crossed the yard to the shed where they kept the gardening tools. The threat of a nice collection of snakes, mice, and lizards in the dark, musty depths always terrified her, but today she didn’t even pause to look around. She grabbed a trowel, basket, and rake and stomped outside to the garden. She had to do something today, and it wasn’t going to be in the 197
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tasting room. She couldn’t just lie around or she’d wind up jumping out a window. She might as well garden. A pang of sadness pierced her frustration as she thought of David, alone in the tasting room. Today he was going to install shelving to hold the wine bottles. She really wanted to see how it looked. But more than that, she wanted to see him. Maddy shook her head. Fat chance, she told herself. You can bet that he certainly never wants to see you again. Why humiliate yourself even more, Madeline?
Rows of peppers, eggplant, zucchini, and tomatoes stood neatly, soaking up the morning sun, which was already strong, even this early in the morning. The carrots and onions were almost choked with weeds. Maddy put her tools down and started with a row of carrots. On her knees in the sandy yellow soil, the sun beating through her thin T-shirt, she yanked out one weed for losing her temper in the orchard. Another was for wasting half the summer worrying about Brian. A giant prickly nettle was for not seeing how great David was right from the beginning. The cluster of dandelions was for all the chances to kiss him she’d never get, and the huge, spiny thing was for her parents dragging her up to Napa so she could get all confused, instead of letting her enjoy her old life back in the city.
Maddy sat back on her heels for a minute and wiped at the sweat on her dusty forehead with the back of her hand. She took a breath and looked behind her at the 198
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trail of yanked-up weeds left in her wake. She felt a little better.
“Wow, this is great.” Maddy looked up. Her mom stood at the edge of the garden in her old blue bathrobe, holding a glass of iced tea. She handed the glass to her grubby daughter. “I thought you could use this. Dad and I were watching you out the window.” Maddy got to her feet, accepted the frosty, wet glass, and downed the tea in three long gulps. “You know, it’s nice to see you enjoying your work here in the vineyard. You’ve adjusted so well since the beginning of the summer.”
Maddy smiled grimly. If “adjusted well” meant she was confused and mad about everything in her life, then her mom was right—she was doing just peachy. “Yeah, well, I needed a little exercise this morning,” Maddy explained. Her mother smiled and turned to go back to the house. Halfway across the yard, she stopped. “Oh, Maddy, I almost forgot. David and Fred are coming for lunch today.”
“What? I thought they only came to dinner!” Maddy cried. Her mom looked at her strangely. Maddy dropped her eyes and started gathering some of the weeds up into a little pile.
“Daddy and Fred are going into town for the Winemakers License Hearing at the town council, and you know that’s a big deal. So I thought they should come straight here after, and we’ll all have a nice sit-down lunch together, to celebrate clearing another hurdle.”
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Maddy sank back on her heels. Great. She’d get to stare David in the face for an entire meal. Her headache started coming back. Then her eyes widened as something stirred in her mind. David had accused her of being the girl he’d always thought she was, the spoiled brat from the city. But what if she could show him that she wasn’t—that she had changed? What if she could catch him by surprise?
Maddy leaped to her feet. “Hey, Mom,” she called across the yard. “You know, I could make lunch today, if you want.” Her mother stopped short and turned around slowly, an incredulous look on her face.
“You want to cook?” she asked carefully.
“Yeah, sure. I’d love to.”
“Well,” Maddy’s mom said delicately, “that would be great. What do you want to make?”
She hadn’t gotten that far yet. Maddy looked around the garden. “Um, I’ll do something with the veggies here.”
Her mother looked doubtful. “Okay, well, that’s fine. Can you have it ready by one?”
“Sure!” Maddy sounded a lot more confident than she felt. She looked around the garden as her mother disappeared back into the house. The vegetables stood shining in the sun, looking intimidatingly raw. She groaned a little to herself. What had come over her? Was it momentary insanity? She had made scrambled eggs and spaghetti before but . . . eggplant? Maddy rose and 200
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walked over to the shiny purple vegetables. She picked one and held it up. It was light. The smooth skin and springy flesh underneath made it feel disturbingly alive—
like it might actually be an animal and not a plant. Maddy turned it slowly in her hand. How the heck do you cook this? Do you eat the skin? What about the hard green leaves on top? What the hell? Everyone was always raving about how good eggplant was. She’d figure it out. She picked six big ones and set them aside.
Picking the zucchini, Maddy found that they were covered with spiky little hairs, which she’d never seen before, and the tomatoes were all misshapen and bulgy, not round like she was used to. There was something else growing that she couldn’t even identify—it was a green object with a long, feathery top and a bulbous bottom. It kind of looked like deformed celery. Whatever it was, there was a lot of it, so Maddy picked several of those too, along with onions and peppers. At least those looked normal. She loaded everything into a basket and lugged it across the lawn, feeling the sun beating down on the back of her neck, and banged back into the kitchen. Her parents sat at the table, the newspaper spread out in front of them, sipping their coffee. Her father was peacefully munching a plate of toast. In the corner, the radio was playing classical music.
Maddy dropped the basket on the floor and scowled at them, panting. The dirt from the garden had mixed 201
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with the sweat on her arms, leaving long dirty streaks. Her head was pounding and the mosquito bites on the backs of her knees itched ferociously.
“Mom says you’re cooking for us, sweetie!” Her father chirped.
“Mmmm.” Maddy stomped over to the fridge and took out some blueberry pie, which she began devouring straight out of the pan without cutting a piece. She realized her parents had put down the newspaper and were staring at her.