Winter's End

by ModernTsunami

Cliff's life in Mineral Town changes with the arrival of a new farmer in need of guidance. As his relationships grow more complicated, he finds himself grappling with the doubts of his past and present. (Updates Fridays)

41. Work Your Way Up

Chapter 41: Work Your Way Up

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Dirt and leaves crunched with each step I took toward the winery, their sound joining the thoughts hammering in my head.

It's over. It's done. Get focused.

Claire's footsteps started against the cobblestones behind me, and every muscle tensed for me to face the wind and look back at her.

Get focused, dammit.

Straining to hold my eyes forward, I wiped my palms against my pants and began a rushed prayer to the Harvest Goddess.

Please don't let me mess this up. Help me do a good job. And for the love of everything good in the world, don't let me fall in lo—

The winery door swung outward with enough force to create its own gust of wind. Manna's voice rang cheerfully over the shop bell.

"Welcome! I've been waiting!" she greeted, her words as musical as a wind chime.

"I'm not late, am—?"

She didn't grant me enough time to start worrying fully.

"Not at all. You're exactly nine minutes early!" she informed me without consulting a clock.

"Sorry, I hope—"

"Hello, Claire!" Manna called out, her large round eyes peering past my shoulder and her hand fluttering in the air. "Why don't you—?"

Claire's hurried apology grew increasingly distant behind me.

"Oh, another time then!" Manna's wave fell, but her eyes smoothly tracked Claire. "Those almost look like her same clothes from yesterday, but it's hard to tell from here." Her dark eyes were suddenly searching mine. "Don't tell me—?"

"Nothing like that," I interrupted her this time. "She just forgot something last night."

I hoped my false assurance was strong enough to squash any rumors before they started. It wasn't even strong enough to hold down a sigh. What was I even thinking, trying to lie for her after everything I'd said?

Manna arched an eyebrow. "You're not a good liar, are you?"

"I hope not."

"Ha! Even if you were, it's pointless to try fooling me anyway! I have a sense about these things, you see. Harris tells me I'll have to assist him if he ever needs to interrogate anyone, and I've been waiting for the opportunity. So, confess!"

"I…I'd rather not talk about it if you don't mind. It doesn't have anything to do with me anyway. Sorry, Manna." I rubbed at my aching head before I recalled Doug's warning and added, "Just, please don't mention it to Anna."

Her hand patted my shoulder, and I was too surprised to step away.

"Tell you what; I'll drop it—for now. I think I have enough to go off from that alone," she said, gesturing towards my face with an understanding nod. "Besides, we have more important things to talk about! Now come inside! This wind wants to blow me away!"

She waved me inside excitedly. Heat hit my face from the shop's warm air and my embarrassment.

Just how much did my face give away?

The winery was dully silent until Manna's heels rapidly clacked across the floor.

"I thought we could start with a little tour today. Step lively now!" she chimed, already several paces ahead of me. "Duke may run the vineyard, but the shop is all mine! We sell everything wine and wine accessories! Aerators, accompaniments, bottle openers, bottle stoppers, decanters, stemware of every kind—coupes, flutes, hocks…"

The day before, I had passed the storefront without much consideration, my focus almost entirely held on Claire. Now, I sidled between precarious displays of drinkware and the towering wine racks that lined the walls. Dark bottles gleamed inside wooden diamonds, both intimidating and fragile. My arms were glued to my side as I imagined a dozen ways I would end up knocking a bottle over. Then an entire wine rack. Which would then fall on every other breakable thing in the shop. And then my job would be shattered into a purple puddle of wine and glass shards.

I stashed my hands in my pockets.

Manna didn't share my overstated worries. She progressed to naming wines as she zoomed towards the counter, her skirts swishing as they chased her around each display. I did my best to cautiously keep up with her.

"…and occasionally Duke will make a field blend. Those were Aja's favorites. Have you tried one yet? I bet you'll enjoy them too! We have one—"

A shrill ring cut her list short, and Manna flew under the swing-up counter to answer the phone. I hesitated on the other side, unsure if I was welcome. She spouted a lengthy greeting through the receiver. As she listened, her smile gradually fell.

"But you'll have the first payment next month. Who am I supposed to buy from in the meantime? Jeff? Jeff, are you there? Wait, you're breaking up…" Manna began to fiddle with the cord, and her fingers froze as Jeff's voice apparently cleared. "Won? Did you say Won? No, you can't be serious. After the trouble he got Duke into—I said the trouble—! Agh, wait!" She adjusted the cord again. "Can you hear me? Jeff?"

Embarrassed and feeling like I shouldn't hear what she said either, my attention drifted to a series of photographs hanging behind the counter. Each featured a family similarly posed in front of the winery. The faces, many of them bearing the same dark features, changed over time, but the striking difference was how the scene changed behind them. From left to right, the winery sprouted additions in fresh stone. But by the fourth frame, the walls were stained the same dreary shade with wear. A few photographs down the line, and the winery cowered behind the family in glaring disrepair. But the next and final photo was strikingly different from the rest: it was the winery as I knew it, restored in its own long-lost image. Peering from the not-too-distant past were two familiar faces, but there were three people in the photo. I leaned closer and squinted.

Is that…?

"That's it!"

Manna smacked the phone down so hard into its housing a faint ring escaped it, and I jerked back from the counter reflexively.

"I'm ordering a new phone as soon as possible—from Won," she added through her twisted mouth. "Jeff always saves those chats for over the phone precisely because this old thing is so busted I can't talk myself out of anything! Though, I'm certain our connection isn't as bad as Jeff would like me to think it is."

"Is…everything alright?"

She smoothed her skirts as her smile returned. "It will be, don't you worry. I'll smooth things over with Sasha later—Jeff always listens to her! Now, where were we?"

"The tou—"

"The tour! Right! Oh, but you were looking at our portraits!" Manna smiled. I hadn't realized she was paying attention to my staring while she was on the phone.

The countertop squealed as she swung it up for me. "Come and take a closer look!"

I tentatively crossed the threshold dividing visitor and employee.

"The winery's been in Duke's family for generations, see?" she explained, pointing out a man in the picture next to the most recent.

It was Duke, but decades younger. He stood tall and undeniably handsome beside a sun-faded couple who must have been his parents. His hand rested on an equally weather-beaten sign, and I read its cracked letters twice to make sure I wasn't mistaken.

"Duke Winery?"

"Oh yes, the old name. Also passed down in the family." Her nails tapped the glass as she pointed out different men in the photographs. "You see, Duke's father was named Duke, and his father before him, and his father before him, all the way back since before this first picture was taken."

Manna began to recount the winery's earliest history, and I stared at the photos of the heirs as I listened. Father to son, father to son, father to son.

My family never had formal portraits like this…

As far as my family lineage, I'd only known Dad's side of the family, and even then, I don't think we had a photo of Grandpa. According to Ma, he had an uncanny ability to step out of the frame the second before someone snapped a photo. He was similarly sparse with his words. When he did speak, his voice always sounded hoarse from what I imagined was disuse. But Terra and I loved to watch him work. When he'd saddle up a horse, we'd make ourselves unmissable by climbing onto gate planks and stretching as high as we could, hoping he'd be generous enough to set us on the horse's back too. Sometimes he was. The smell of leather riding tack still made me think of him and a few of his raspy phrases I'd remembered.

"A horse always has the choice to do right," he'd explained to Terra and me after he swiftly corrected a stubborn gelding. He didn't have to correct them often.

"Live and you'll get grass," he'd tell Ma on Dad's low days. I didn't understand what that meant until I was older, and Ma started saying it to me.

"Get your house in order," he'd say after he'd drag his foundering son back home again. And Dad would, for a time.

Like the winery, Grandpa's land fell to Dad when he passed. Father to son. Father to son. Then just son.

My focus eagerly shifted from my past back to Duke's most recent photograph. His hand rested on the winery sign as it did in the photo before, only this time, his hand gripped it. "Aja Winery" was embossed onto varnished wood in elegant letters, the years before carved out around her name. Aja herself stood flanked by her parents, as tall as her father, as wide-eyed as her mother, but uniquely captured in a way that went beyond the borders of a photograph and frame.

Guilt inexplicably touched me, and my fingers searched my pocket. My stomach knotted a second later—I had left my photo in yesterday's clothes. With nothing to hold to, I felt more uncomfortable with the family photographs than I was around the breakable wine bottles.

I glanced at Manna, expecting her to have already picked up on my discomfort, but her complete attention was on Aja's photograph as her story concluded.

"…and Duke changed the name the day Aja was born. She was so mad when we took this photo—you can tell by the way she's tilted her head, see?" she explained, pointing out a subtle angle to Aja's neck. "She was supposed to go and visit Harris back when he was in the city, training at the police academy, but Duke insisted we take the photo on her birthday—it was also the twentieth anniversary of us restoring the winery, you see. Her trip was delayed one day, but you would have thought we had sentenced her to live out her days locked in the cellar by how she was acting."

Manna tore her gaze from the photo and grinned.

"But enough about that—the tour!" she gushed. "Come down the hall, and I'll show you our sampling room!"

She spun away, and her hands flitted through the air, adjusting merchandise, curtains, frames—whatever she could reach as she passed. Her mouth moved just as rapidly. I chased her at her heels, trying to catch each speeding word, but I wasn't fast enough.

"…haven't hosted in some time…when Aja…Duke swears by it, but he's…shouldn't take three full bottles…both needed a palate cleanser for sure!" she laughed and spun to face me as we entered a private room. "We'll have to have a proper tasting for you too, soon as things settle around here!"

"Sounds great," I said as if I heard everything.

"It does, doesn't it? Oh, what the hey, I'll get you started early!"

And suddenly Manna was guiding me behind a wine bar.

Wineglasses in all shapes hung over my head, and their reflections joined Manna's and mine on the lacquered bar top. I had never looked so terribly out-of-place before, so tired and dull next to everything polished.

Manna tapped her nails along the wooden wine racks to internal music as she hurried past bottles. The sound stopped when she plucked out a wine without glancing at the label.

"Here! It's not pinot, but I think you'll really like it."

"Thank you, Manna, but I shouldn't drink right now."

"Of course you shouldn't! It's not even lunchtime, and you clearly indulged last night!"

I swallowed hard. Of course she noticed.

Manna fetched a wooden wine box from below the bar and rested the field blend inside.

Oh no, she's giving me a whole bottle?

"It's alright, that's too much."

"One bottle? Hardly," she laughed and slid the box shut with a snap. "Consider it part of your training! You need to know your product."

Once she handed the box to me, she halted. "Oh, but you'll need a wine key to open it, won't you?"

And Manna was gliding back to the storefront, her chatter echoing down the hall.

I tried to catch up to her. "I can just use a knife."

"A knife? That's not very safe. Where are you from that you open a bottle of wine with a knife?" she tutted and set a corkscrew on top of the box in my arms. "This will do much better! Oh, do you have your own wine glasses at the inn?"

"No, but—"

"Now you do! Here, a set of two. Don't you love our logo? I designed it myself!"

She held onto the boxed wine glasses and admired them wistfully before adding the box to my arms. Aja's name was elegantly etched onto the glasses in the same beautiful font that decorated the winery sign.

"It's very pretty, but the inn has—"

"And how about some snacks to try with the wine? You're looking a little skinny."

That's an understatement, I thought, my face warming as she piled packets of chocolates, nuts, dried fruit, and crackers in my arms.

"Oh, and do you like these?" she said, holding up dangling earrings in the shape of grape bunches. "Another one of my designs! Take a pair!"

I weakly laughed and shifted my arms under the increasingly teetering pile of gifts forming in my arms. "They're nice, but how exactly are earrings part of my training?"

"You're familiarizing yourself with the merchandise," she sang as more little gifts dropped against the wine box. The way she flew around the store, collecting little gifts and talking a mile a minute, was dizzying but fascinating to watch. But here I was, taking again. My objections weren't effective, but maybe I could distract her.

"Shouldn't we finish the tour?"

"The tour? The tour's over!" she laughed. "We're a small business, after all. But Duke will be happy to show you the vineyard and cellar!"

"Where is—?" I began, but a packet of chocolates slid from my arms and slapped onto the floor. I bent to grab them, and a wave of other gifts tumbled on top of them.

"Goodness, what are you doing, carrying all that?" Manna demanded before scooping up the fallen items and fetching a canvas bag from behind the counter. "Hand it over!"

My arms gradually lightened as Manna loaded the gifts into the bag, an endless stream of "there we go" and "where do I put you?" flowing from her. Interrupting her would be akin to lifting the needle off a record player in the middle of a chorus. But I needed to know what I'd be doing.

"Are you wanting me to help in the store?" I asked, glancing up at the wine racks.

"Oh no, not yet. Most of my business is wrapped up by noon nowadays anyway!"

If the way she flew around the shop were any indication of how she worked, she'd give Ann a run for her money. "You must be a very fast worker."

"Ha, you're sweet! While I do consider myself something of a go-getter, I'm not going to deny my days have been getting shorter as business declined this past year. But don't you worry!" she suddenly tried to comfort me, and I wondered if I was wrinkling my forehead again. "You're here to change all that!"

If my forehead hadn't wrinkled before, it definitely did under the pressure of that announcement.

You do know I'm a complete screw-up, right? I wanted to ask.

"What do you want me to do?" I said instead.

"Goodness, everything you're able to and then some!" she winked. "But there's cane cutting, canopy management, erosion control, fertilizing, fruit thinning, harvesting, hoeing, irrigation, leafing, perimeter maintenance, planting, pruning, root removal, shoot tipping, staking, suckering, trellis maintenance and repair, and that's just in the vineyard!"

I steadied myself against the counter before she began to list cellar duties. She threw around words like "battonage" and "racking" as if I knew them.

Dammit, why don't you know them? You don't even—

"But first things first, you'll be helping Duke process the grapes," Manna interrupted my thoughts. "I wish we could start you with some proper training, but you're going to have to hit the ground running for a bit! We usually have Saturdays like these off, but it's absolutely imperative we get the wine making as soon as possible. We're awfully behind schedule—Gotz is delivering the barrels tomorrow, and we haven't even crushed the reds!"

I glanced around the winery.

If they're so far behind, why are we just talking? Where's Duke?

"At least we've had our white varietals fermenting since last week—goodness, was that a disaster! Duke will be hard-pressed turning those grapes into quality wine if we want a decent profit for the year, no pun intended. But if anyone can turn things around, Duke can! Though, if I'm being honest, he's been on a bit of a decline this past year himself."

It was strange hearing something personal voiced so casually.

"But I digress! What was I talking about again?"

"Um, the whi—"

"Yes! Our whites! Heavens, our whites. Why did you remind me?" she sighed. "Duke was waiting for Aja to come home for the harvest, even sent her a ticket and everything, but we haven't heard from her, and we could only wait so long before the grapes start to turn. And did they! After that mess, I marched right over to the church and offered a few lengthy prayers to the Harvest Goddess, asking for some healthy ripe reds and another set of hands. I can usually talk my way into getting what I need, even with the Goddess! And so here you are, the answer to my prayers! Oh dear, did I say too much?"

I had taken a step back to the door without thinking, and Manna strode forward, closing the distance I made.

"Oh, come now, don't look so worried! Everything will work out for us all; I know it! So get excited! You've got a big day ahead of you! Duke's going to have you working hard to destem and crush the reds, not to mention all the monitoring and testing of the whites: nutrients, temperature, volatile comp—" Manna stopped herself and watched as I bumped back against the door. "Didn't Duke discuss any of this with you over lunch yesterday?"

"Er, not exactly."

"I see." Her arms folded over her chest and her eyes rolled up to the ceiling. "Well, he was supposed to."

I tried to ask again. "Where is—?"

A thud from above reverberated through the old wood, answering my question before I finished asking it.

"Sounds like he's finally up," Manna chimed over the hacking coughs echoing from upstairs. "Let's get you ready! Do you not have a coat? We keep the cellar cool, and that wind!" she shivered.

"I have one," I said, not sure if I should be more embarrassed for showing up unprepared or the dire condition my coat was in. And after the morning's dream, I wasn't keen on wearing it. "I can run back and grab it."

"Nonsense, stay! We have a spare." Her heels clicked a rapid staccato over to a closet near the front door.

"I live next door. It'll only take—"

The sound of sliding hangers interrupted me.

"You can't just run out of here and into the cold!" Manna declared.

Her hands searched the packed closet and pushed a flash of red aside. It was a woman's winter coat, glaringly modern compared to everything else in the winery. Other outerwear soon buried the pop of color, but it was apparent who it must've belonged to.

I dropped my eyes to the floor.

Why do I keep feeling like I've done something wrong?

I ignored the obvious answer.

"Here, one of the many Duke's outgrown," Manna chose, drawing out a wool-lined sheepskin jacket. "The man has so many clothes."

"You don't think it's…a bad idea?"

"Why would it be a bad idea? It's just a jacket."

"A really nice jacket," I corrected her. "I don't want to ruin it."

Manna waved my concern away. "You worry too much! I doubt you'll 'ruin it,' and even if you do, no one will mind. Come here! You'll need it to work here."

I wavered but propped my bag against the wall and reached for her latest donation.

"Turn around!" she instructed.

"O…kay." I awkwardly obeyed, and she held it for me to slide into. Putting on a coat with someone helping made it twice as difficult. After some back-bending and sleeve-searching, the soft leather slid over me, along with the faint scent of expensive cologne.

"Let me fix that," Manna offered, and her fingers skimmed against the back of my neck.

I wheeled around and pulled at the collar. "Ah no, I got it, thank you."

She grinned appreciatively as she watched me straighten Duke's jacket.

"Very handsome!"

Heat crept up my neck as I shook my head.

"Oh my, you're blushing? I'm flattered! Should Duke be worried? Or is it just that easy to get you flustered?"

She says everything!

My face burned hotter. "I-It's nothing like that."

"Remember, you're not a good liar!" she sang. "Say, how about we get to know each other better? Strictly professional, mind you!" she added with a teasing smirk. "I only have a few simple questions for you, like what kind of work have you done? And what training have you had? Where are you from? And what brought you to Mineral Town? Oh, and what are your plans for the future?"

My mouth opened and closed with a stammering reply, but it wasn't the number of questions that rattled me—it was the last two. Thankfully, a sudden crack rescued me.

The wooden staircase popped under Duke's lumbering steps, and my eyes widened at the sight of him. Yesterday, Duke had looked like a different person in his work clothes compared to his usual debonair style. Today, despite wearing the same work clothes he'd likely slept in, he was completely unrecognizable. His half-untucked shirt untucked fully as he sluggishly grasped at his suspenders and hooked them slapdash and twisted over his shoulders.

"Good morning," Manna said, her greeting surprisingly short.

Duke grunted back without turning his head and staggered down the steps. As he came nearer, the smell of dried sweat, cigarette smoke, and alcohol tinged the air. He lurched to a hallway drawer, rummaged until he found a pair of sunglasses for the cloudy day, and slung them over his craggy face.

Maybe it should have upset me to see Duke so unapologetically hungover, but all I felt was the tension leaving my body.

Thank the Goddess; he's even worse than me. Maybe I'm not so out of place after all?

His hands were struggling to unclasp his cigarette case when he finally faced his wife. Then he stiffened. Bloodshot eyes squinted over his sunglasses at me.

"What're you doing here?"

"Duke…" Manna warned.

"I work here," I explained, dumbfounded.

Just how much did he drink yesterday? And I thought they didn't go to Basil's?

The way Duke stared at Manna didn't look like he'd forgotten anything, and an irrational doubt nagged at me. Sure, Duke seemed a little reluctant when he offered me the job, but we had shaken hands. How do you misinterpret that?

If anyone could misinterpret it, it'd be you.

I cast a sidelong glance at Manna."I do work here, right?"

"You do," she confirmed with a definitive nod, though she aimed her large eyes at Duke.

His gaze locked with hers as he leisurely slipped an unlit cigarette between his lips.

"So you do…" he drolled, the cigarette bobbing at Manna with each word.

Her mouth twisted the way it had when she bashed the phone, and Duke snapped his cigarette case shut with a flourish.

Clearly, neither of them was actually talking to me, but I wasn't going to get caught in the middle of whatever unspoken argument they were trapped in. At least, not any more than I already was. It was best to keep my head down and keep a distance.

They held each other's challenging stares without speaking, the silence too obvious in a room with three people. It didn't surprise me that Manna succumbed to the quiet first.

"You know you're not supposed to smoke."

"You're right—I do know that."

He fished a lighter from his pocket, but only Manna's eyes flashed—he didn't dare strike the wheel. Who knows what would've ignited if he did?

Manna may have been the first to speak, but it was Duke who turned away first.

"Well, don't just stand there," he muttered to his lighter as he plodded to the door. "Let's get moving."

It took me a second to realize he meant me.

Manna's smile returned victorious. "I'll keep your things here for later!" she promised before the phone rang again. "Good luck!"

After a shaky thanks and another wipe of my palms, I hurried after Duke, barely catching the door before it smacked behind him.

The clink and snap of a lighter sounded the instant we stepped outside. Duke stood motionless until his shoulders fell and the wind carried away a loud rush of deeply breathed smoke. Without checking to see if I was behind him, he headed toward the cellar.

Unlike Manna, he walked heavily, slowly, and most different of all, wordlessly. I dropped behind him, careful not to outpace him, and part of me wondered if he deliberately moved that way to keep me in check. I tried to think of something to say to show it wasn't necessary.

"Thank you again for the—"

"Shh." He held up his hand. "Didn't think I'd need to tell you to keep your voice down. Don't you hardly talk?"

I'm not that quiet, I thought, but I kept my mouth shut.

"I came up with a job for you over here," Duke muttered, and I stumbled when he turned toward the grapevines.

"Manna said you would be needing my help crushing—?"

Duke swerved to face me. The tip of his cigarette glowed red, but his words were cool.

"How long have you been in town by now?"

I eyed him warily. "A year this winter…"

"And you still haven't learned it's best to ignore my wife?"

His dismissive comment about her made me uncomfortable.

"It's just, she sounded very certain, and everything made sense…"

Duke shook his head. "Let's be clear about this from the beginning; all you're going to be doing around here is grunt work. Leave the artistry," he gestured to the cellar, "to me."

My face unexpectedly sank. Sure, the extensive list of job duties Manna rattled off sounded overwhelming, as I was sure almost everything Manna said did, but…

I should be grateful for any work at all. And now there's less of a chance I'll screw up.

But still…

Duke pushed his sunglasses up over his eyes and shuffled away into the vineyard. "Maybe, if you do a good enough job for a long enough time, I'll think about showing you the cellar. But don't get your hopes up," he instantly amended as he led me deeper into the vines. "This is the kind of thing I'd need you for if I needed you—which I don't."

"I got it," I flatly assured him. "So what don't you need me to do?"

The words flew out of my mouth before I could stop them, but Duke didn't pay them much attention. He didn't seem to pay much attention to anything I said.

"I want you to clean this up and cut these vines out."

He had led me to the row of grapevines he told Claire and me to leave untouched yesterday. They remained overloaded, but now parts of their knotty branches were snapped and ripped from the trellis. Wrinkling grapes and dying leaves slumped to the ground on sagging wires, and the trellis post leaned unsteadily, threatening to send the whole row collapsing into the next.

I searched for any other signs a violent storm blew through while I was passed out and found none.

"What happened?"

"It's rotted," Duke shrugged, talking about the grapes and ignoring the wreck. "Once that happens, the vine's a waste as far as I'm concerned. You can make a bad wine from a good grape, but you'll never make a good wine from a bad grape. I barely saved our whites from the disease that spread from this one."

I looked to Duke, hoping he'd explain why he didn't do anything about the decaying plant before, but I was too reluctant to ask.

"Tools are behind the cellar. You'll find everything you need," he casually explained before taking one last glowing inhale and stamping out his cigarette in the dirt. It joined a scattering of old cigarette butts that littered the ground of the sick row but no others.

I was still staring at the ground when Duke's freshly scuffed shoes turned away.

"What about the trellis?" I called after him.

"I don't care. Burn it down if you want."

A weak laugh escaped my lips, but my unsure smile vanished when Duke tossed his lighter back at me. I narrowly caught it.

"Make sure it doesn't spread," he yelled. "See you at lunch."

My reflection blinked up at me, dumbstruck in high-polished steel.

"Wait, what?"

I whipped my head up, but Duke trudged silently into the cellar where I wasn't welcome to follow. Only the wind replied by rustling the crowd of leaves around me.

Is he really going to leave someone with no experience working alone and setting his vineyard on fire on a windy day?

The bent trellis post groaned as a gust bent it further, and the drooping vines shivered. With a sigh, I headed behind the cellar. Duke wasn't exaggerating when he said they had every tool I'd need. I brought a wheelbarrow of equipment back, grabbed a pair of loppers, and made the first cut.

The vines I chopped were thinner and younger than the others I had picked from the day before. I found myself peering through the leaves the way I had then, looking for taunting glimpses of Claire as more cuts fell. I didn't want to see her, but the loppers grew heavier each time I didn't find her.

Why'd she have to help here yesterday? Can't the vineyard be free of any memories of her at the very least?

Or the inn. I'd been so excited for her to come over. Invited her to visit more often, even. I flinched as I remembered how the jukebox had lit her smile in colorful light.

"I'd like that!" she'd yelled.

Yeah, right, only when Trent's too busy to sneak over.

Or my room. She changed it, and she'd never even stepped foot inside. All it took was her voice through the wall.

Why'd she have to do that where I live, for Goddess's sake?

The blades chomped through the vines with each biting thought.

Or the church. I could practically feel the flood of sunlight and warm air that filled the sanctuary when she'd first darkened that door. And Carter practically threw me at her.

Gee, thanks, Carter. Might as well throw me off Mother's Hill next time—oh, that's another one.

Mother's Hill. The library. The beach. The supermarket. The square.

I chopped through the trunk and untangled the last of the tendrils from the damaged trellis, then moved to the next vine.

I got attached very fast. And because…why? Because she's pretty? So are a lot of other girls. I've been with prettier. And I never fell in—caught feelings like that for them either. But that doesn't mean she's special. It means I was pathetic and desperate. She's not that special. Nothing was.

A deep sigh escaped from my chest as I realized even I wasn't being honest with myself. It had felt special. The few unspoiled memories I still held began to rise to the forefront of my mind. Watching her land transform around us, feeling her hand in mine during a muted prayer, listening to her voice over the rain, knowing everyone was safe from the weather outside…

Fine, so she made me feel something after that winter of feeling nothing. But that didn't answer the question of why she did. I could've just as easily fallen for Ann, right? It would've been better if I did fall for Ann. I should've fallen for Ann. So why Claire?

I tossed the loppers aside to collect the branches that fell below. As the wheelbarrow filled with the remains of the plant, I spotted the rot Duke had mentioned. Hidden in the most crowded branches, mummified fruit shrunk under black-specked leaves. I handled them cautiously, making sure no part of either came near the healthy vines nearby.

I kept working, both at the job and at an answer. As the wheelbarrow filled, my thoughts wandered to the first time we had talked. We talked about Mineral Town, I thought about home, and then we made the deal—there was nothing more there. At least, that's what I thought until the sorry state of the grapevines reminded me of the abandoned mess Claire's farm had been that first day. I could still picture it; the weeds sprawled across the land, the debris littering her field, the overwhelmed expression on her face. And I had seen all that after I had just talked about home.

Was that why then? Was working for her actually me making reparations for running away from home or something?

I wanted to shake the thought away, but I had felt better for helping someone left—someone on their own.

Well, she's not on her own anymore. Hasn't been for a long time.

The thought would have put a better person at ease, but it made me grit my teeth. It was irresponsible of her to have stayed at the inn and to have slept in so late. Didn't Trent know that? Didn't he know anything about her work?

Okay, so she's working on her own. Has been for a long time.

I hated that, even if I knew I shouldn't care—I was the one who left and stayed away, again. But I still wouldn't want her to overwork herself.

She said fall has been the hardest season…

An imagined scene cut through me. Ma, sunburned and sweat-drenched, twisted with a scythe in her hand. The sound of her wheezing on grain dust rattled over the smooth, slicing breath of the blade. She worked deliberately through the tall grass, but her shadow in the waning sunlight stretched over so much untouched ground.

…but winter is only a couple of months away.

The scene shifted. Now Terra's boots crunched into deep snow as she clambered off her horse, both of them stiff from the cold. She didn't cover her wide eyes from the scratching wind as she waded to the snow-buried mounds huddled against the pasture fence.

My breathing grew heavy, though not from work. A remnant of the morning's chill snuck over me as I stared at the wires of the trellis. They weren't so unlike a fence—

The chill crawled inside.

I never told Claire about her fence needing repairs. What if something—?

The last of the cut vines crashed from the trellis as a gust of wind blew through the rows. I jumped back, knocking into the wheelbarrow and nearly dumping the diseased vines onto healthy soil.

I steadied the wheelbarrow and sighed. It seemed like sighs were the only way I breathed today.

Here I am, thinking about her too much again.

It was hard to make sense of anything to do with Claire. And why was I trying? I should've been focusing on myself, right? That's what I had told her. I'd made a decent speech about how I needed to figure myself out, but how does anyone actually do it? This confused feeling wasn't a new one—I'd felt it anytime I'd gotten lost when traveling. Back then, I would stare down at my creased map and retrace my path, trying to find where I went wrong. Now, not only was I lost, but I was completely at a loss for where to even begin to get back on track. I just knew what I'd been doing wasn't working.

I collected the last of the cast-off vines and cigarette butts until the row was nothing but cut stumps under a trellis. Or what was once a trellis. The beaten wood and wire barely stayed standing in front of me. The next strong gust of wind would likely lay out the falling post and send the skeletal structure falling to the ground. Still, there was no way I was setting fire to anything.

It really does look something like a pasture fence, I thought as I examined the loosened parts. Shouldn't be too hard to fix.

My eyes studied the stable trellises behind me, using them as a blueprint. As I picked up the tools I'd need to begin repairs, I tried to find when things had gone wrong for me in Mineral Town. And, well, it was from the start. I'd stumbled into town solely because my finger fell there on my map. I'd been content to spend my money just to sleep all day in the inn or hide in the church. I'd told myself I looked for work, but did I ever seriously try at all? I had no real purpose when I arrived, and I hadn't found a lasting one since.

The post groaned again as I struggled to drive it back into the earth and reinforce the wood. The task was all the more difficult when it felt like there was no ground below me.

Is my life so empty...?

But I'd been aimless since I first left home—how could I be shocked that years of traveling without a destination got me nowhere?

What do I do to get somewhere then? Who do I have to be?

Back in spring, I used to want to be like my old self—restless enough to make a change, confident enough to strike it on my own, reckless enough to lose everything. Was that someone to really aspire to be again? Only the confidence sounded right, but where did my old self's confidence even come from? And confidence creates blind spots.

What good is it if it led me to who I am now? And me now…

I cringed away from the thought.

What have I been doing with my time? Goddess, what have I been doing with myself?

Everything about me was so pathetic—the loneliness, neediness, using people…

A sudden image of Ann in the hallway made me want to crawl under the trellis, but there wasn't any shade to hide under. Instead, I swallowed the guilt and continued to hammer away at the posts.

What was I even thinking earlier? Nothing would be better if I'd fallen for Ann, least of all for her. I'd still be just as lost, only I'd be dragging her along with me. And my using people went well beyond kissing Ann. There were all the complimentary meals, free drinks, borrowed time, and stolen company I'd taken from everyone. I'd been so selfish, and that wasn't a new feeling either.

What have I given back to anyone that I didn't get something out of—or worse, been paid for? What do these people even see in me?

With the posts secured, I started tightening the wires.

Well, I don't want to be the person I was or the person I am, so who do I want to be then?

I didn't know. I didn't know anything! I didn't know myself, and I sure as hell didn't know anyone else. Ann, Gray, Carter…Maybe I knew more about them than I ever knew about Claire, but that wasn't saying much.

Have I really been so wrapped up in…nothing?

I mulled over my faults and future until a stable trellis stood in front of me. A small smile tugged at my mouth—it felt good to know I repaired it, even if the woodwork was much simpler than what Gotz had assigned me.

I ran my thumb along the smooth lighter in my pocket.

Hope Duke will approve. He did say he didn't care what I did with the trellis.

"…Cliff!"

A knot tightened inside me the second I recognized the distant voice. I turned to see Ann waving me over from a second-floor window of the inn.

I looked back at the winery—Duke still hadn't resurfaced from the cellar, and Manna said she didn't need my help.

If I make it quick…

I hurried over and pulled my sore body over the fence into the inn's seasonally abandoned outdoor dining area. The last time I had seen it occupied was at the Cow Festival.

Shut up about the damn Cow Festival, you idiot.

Ann leaned out the window, her braid hanging down over her shoulders like a rope. I searched her face, looking for any trace of the worry Doug had described over breakfast. But the smile she wore grew wider the closer I came. Trying to ignore the guilt tensing inside me, I offered her a small smile.

"So, you're actually yelling from the window."

"Duh! I told you yesterday I would. Just be grateful Dad isn't hanging out the window with me!" She pointed down at the jacket. "Is that new?"

I fiddled with the collar. "Not exactly. I'm borrowing it for the day."

"It looks good!"

"Thanks…"

My face pricked with heat, but unlike when Manna complimented me, it wasn't from flattery. "What's going on?"

"Dad was supposed to give this to you before you left," she explained, holding up a familiar bundle—lunch. The queasiness I thought I'd finally overcome turned inside me again. "I think he 'forgot' on purpose so I'd have to make a special delivery and run it over to you. I can't have him thinking he's clever, though. Dropping it out of a window will have to do!"

That still sounded like a special delivery to me, but Doug's potential scheme felt familiar.

"Do your dad and Carter spend a lot of time together?"

"Not particularly. Why do you ask?"

"No reason." I shuffled. "But you should have that for lunch yourself. I'm fine."

"Yeah, right, like you're going to turn down food!" she joked, and my face burned. "C'mon, hold out your hands."

"Really, I'm fine. I—"

"I don't think you're in a position to say no, Cliff," she smirked and playfully dangled the bundle out the window.

My hands instinctively dove out to catch it, but she only let it slip an inch.

"Ann, don't—"

"Okay, okay, for real this time," she grinned. "Look out below!"

The package landed heavy and warm in my arms.

"I appreciate it, but—"

"I know you do," she interrupted.

Heat from the lunch flowed through the jacket and stung at my skin.

"…but I can't accept it."

"It's a little late for that, don't you think?" Ann teased. "Besides, I'm too busy to come down there and get it."

I glanced back over my shoulder. Still no sign of Duke, but I needed to hurry back. The window wasn't too high…

"Then I'm throwing it back," I decided.

Ann cocked her head. "What?"

I took a few steps back to get a better angle.

"Cliff, you better not!" Ann laughed as she drew back from the window.

I cocked my arm back. "Get ready."

"Stop! You're going to end up splattering it on the wall or something! Then no one gets to eat it, and I'd have to clean it up!"

"I'd clean it up…" I promised, but my resolve began to crumble. I looked back at the winery one last time. "But okay, just give me a second, I'll run it inside."

I launched into a sprint, but Ann called after me before I rounded the building.

"Geez, what's gotten into you?! Keep it! It's rude to give it back!"

I wavered.

She has a point.

"Fine."

Ann let out a triumphant cheer.

"But I'll pay you when I get off work!" I yelled.

Her cheer fell into an exasperated moan. "No way! It's a gift for your first day!"

"No," I insisted, and I felt my jaw set around the word. "I want to pay for it, and I'm going to pay for it, and that's that."

She leaned slightly out the window, a slight flush coloring her cheeks. "O-Okay."

Maybe that came out too forceful.

I sighed and tried to relax. "Honestly, Ann, you give me too much as it is."

"I know I do," she shrugged.

No, you really don't, I thought as I glued my eyes to the ground. How am I even facing her after this morning?

I eyed the mysterious lunch in my hands. It smelled good…

"What is this exactly?" I asked her.

A short laugh burst from Ann. "After all that, that's what you say? What about a thank you?"

I held my eyes on the lunch. "Thank you…"

"You're welcome," she overly enunciated. "And it's the curry recipe Kai shared with me last night."

My former favorite food, I realized glumly. It's a different recipe, at least.

"Are you okay?"

Determined not to let her worry about me, I forced myself to face Ann. I was still so caught up in my petty troubles, I hadn't even asked how she was doing.

"Are you? Your dad was worried about you this morning."

Ann's smile faded. "What'd he say?"

"That you ate a lot of pancakes."

"Well, yeah. I needed the energy; I stayed up so late cleaning," she explained as she revealed a cloth and began wiping at the window.

I pressed on, guilty but unconvinced.

"He thought something was bothering you…is something?"

"Not really."

"Really?"

"Really!" she insisted, the glass squeaking loudly under the pressure she put on it.

Doug's insistence her worries stemmed from me seemed more likely than ever.

"There's something on my mind, though," I confessed, fighting the urge to keep my mouth shut. "Can we talk later—alone?"

Ann returned her gaze to me. "Sure…"

"When do you think will be a good time for you?"

"Probably not until close…but you'd have to stay up pretty late. Really late. And I bet you'll be dead tired." She scratched at the back of her head before a sheepish smile stretched across her face. "Hey, maybe we should put it off for another day?"

"I'll wait up," I promised her as I began to walk backward. "But I should get back before I get fired for walking off the job."

"I'll be sure to throw your lunch over the fence next time."

"There's not going to be—"

"Yeah, yeah, better hurry up! Harris is coming!" Ann laughed before she brought the window down.

I wondered what Harris had to do with anything but ran to lift myself over the fence nonetheless. The movement was made all the more awkward by the lunch I carried.

I returned to the line of grapevine stumps and had only just set my lunch down when Duke yanked the cellar door open. He hustled past my work without a glance, his shoulders shaking from a round of crackling coughs he didn't allow to slow him down. After the way he'd been in the morning, it was strange to see him moving so quickly—and even stranger to see the grin he coughed through.

"Harris! Is it that time already?"

His panting and flustered face undermined his attempt at nonchalance. He had obviously been wanting to catch the policeman.

I peered around the harvested vines as Duke rushed to Harris, who warmly smiled as he marched into the yard. I couldn't hear their words over the wind, but the way Duke greeted him couldn't have been more different from the way he greeted me that morning.

Harris craned his neck over Duke's shoulder and spotted me. I whipped around and slunk back into the vines, but I was too late.

"Hey, kid!" Duke hollered. "C'mere a second!"

Feeling as if I'd been caught doing something wrong, I hid my hands in my pockets and hurried over.

Harris's uniform was sharply cut, pressed, and intimidating, but the boyish-faced man who wore it seemed to be doing everything he could to sap it of all authority, from the ruddiness in his cheeks to the mailbag strapped over his shoulder.

"Harris, Cliff. Cliff, Harris," Duke hastily introduced us.

Harris extended a gloved hand. "Hello, Cliff. I was just telling Duke that I don't think we've had a proper introduction before."

"Nice to meet you," I said with a slight smile, feeling compelled to use my best manners as I attempted to match his firm handshake.

"Officer Harris here is our glorified mailman!" Duke clapped a friendly hand heavily on Harris's burdened shoulder. The mailbag jostled under his grasp, and I half expected Duke to steal it from him.

Harris flinched. "Watch it, Duke. You know that's a sore spot."

I wasn't sure if he was referring to his shoulder or Duke's comment.

"I deliver mail during patrol," Harris hurriedly explained to me as he pulled at his perfectly crisp collar. "This town is so peaceful; I might as well make myself useful. The winery's my last stop before a quick lunch at the inn, then duty resumes."

"Uh-huh. Got anything for me today?" Duke interjected.

"A few things."

Harris had barely retrieved the mail from his bag when Duke snatched it and began sifting through the envelopes. Harris awkwardly pulled at the cuffs of his uniform before he turned a smile towards me again.

"So, you're working here, Cliff?"

"Yeah, started to—"

"'Til Aja comes home," Duke interjected, his eyes reading one envelope after the next.

My jaw fell loose before I pressed my lips back to a resigned line.

"When is she supposed to be back?" I sighed.

"I'm willing to bet money she'll be home before the year's out." Duke's face lit up as he smirked at Harris. "Hey, what do you say? Willing to put down 3000G against me?"

The amount he suggested blew me away.

He must be very confident…

My thoughts turned toward Barley's old offer to put in a good for me to other ranches. It wouldn't be a bad idea to have a backup, just in case.

"I only gamble at festivals," Harris awkwardly declined, but he stared at me as if trying to tell me something. Before I could catch anything in his expression, Duke let out a loud laugh.

"You only say that because you don't want me taking your money year-round!"

Harris faintly laughed along and shook his head, his eyes still held on mine.

A hinge squeaked as the ivy-enclosed window above us swung open. Duke's laughter abruptly stopped.

"Harris!" Manna piped, her head poking out. "Any news?

"Nothing you don't know already, I'm sure."

"I'll be the judge of that! Wait for me!"

The window clattered shut as Manna dashed away.

"That's my cue," Duke grumbled and handed the mail back to Harris. "Give these to her."

Without a glance at me, Duke retrieved his cigarette case from his pocket and skulked away. My stomach tightened as his path veered towards the vineyard.

"I'm glad you're helping these two," Harris said before I could follow. "Manna needs someone new to tell her stories to. And Duke…" He looked at envelopes he tapped against his hand. "Keep an eye on him for me, will you?"

My eyes fell to the polished badge shining on his chest. "Keep an eye on him…?"

"Don't misunderstand—I don't think he's doing anything illegal," he immediately clarified, though the way he straightened made him look almost flattered by my misunderstanding. "Or rather, nothing too illegal. I'm asking as his friend, not as an officer. I worry about him sometimes."

"I…I'm not sure what you expect from me, exactly."

"Having your help and company will be enough, I think, but I know he's not the easiest person to work with sometimes. Give him a chance for me, okay? And don't take the things he says to heart. Ah, but don't be afraid to set him straight if you need to, either."

"I don't know," I hesitated. "I can't risk losing this job any earlier than I'm already going to."

"He can take it, trust me. And I wouldn't worry about your job." His smile faltered slightly as he lowered his voice. "Aja's not coming home any time soon."

I felt my eyebrows raise at his unexpected guarantee. "Do you—?"

The shop bell rang out as Manna scampered into the wind towards us. The shawl tightly wrapped around her was unable to restrain her enthusiasm.

"What are you two whispering about? You're not leaving me out of anything fun, are you?"

"We wouldn't dream of it," Harris smiled and presented the mail to Manna. Her eyes sped across the envelopes as hungrily as Duke's had, but she swiftly returned her attention to the company in front of her.

"You're looking sharp as always, Harris! A uniform suits you, but you know that already, don't you?"

"You've mentioned it before; usually when you want some information I can't give."

"Do I really?" she teased, but then her eyes zeroed in on me. "Oh, Cliff, are you wanting a uniform too?"

Heat rose into my face again as I realized I was in the middle of absentmindedly straightening the jacket I wore.

"That's not—I—this just—"

"Mm-hmm?" she gave me an encouraging nod as she lightly laughed, and Harris chuckled along with her. I was beginning to suspect her large eyes captured every sight fully.

"N-no, thank you."

"That's a shame! My mind is positively buzzing with designs, and I'm positive I could talk Ellen into whipping up—!"

"Hey, kid!"

The three of us turned our heads to Duke, who held up a beckoning finger towards me. His scowl instantly sent my thoughts spinning.

What'd you do wrong? You're such an—

Manna loudly scoffed. "I swear, he's such a child sometimes. If he's feeling left out, he should come over here and join us instead of pouting. No need to steal you away."

"I doubt he's—" I stopped myself. Manna would certainly know better than me. "Nevermind, I should see what he needs. It was nice talking to you, and I'll, uh…" I took a few uncertain steps back from Harris, aware Manna's eyes were on me. "I'll keep what you said in mind."

His short nod became a startled duck when his name exploded from Manna's mouth.

"You are holding out on me!" she chided and playfully swatted at his arm. "What have you two been talking about? Tell me everything!"

I was jogging towards Duke before she could demand the same of me.

He stood at the edge of the vineyard, looking as if he wanted to lean against a trellis post but knew better.

"Fire," he mumbled around a new cigarette.

I knew it. I should've burned the trellis down. Maybe it's not too late?

"Sorry?" I asked, stalling while I gripped the lighter in my pocket.

He pointed at his unlit cigarette. "Fire."

"Oh."

I flipped the lighter open with a clink and brought the flame to his cigarette, my free hand carefully shielding both from the wind. As Duke held his cigarette steady, I found myself staring at his nails—they were perfectly manicured. The moment his cigarette began to glow, I pulled back and was surprised to see a smile playing around his mouth.

"You could have handed me the lighter."

"Sorry, here."

"Nah…hold onto it for me. I always lose the damn things, and I've got a couple more like it around the house anyway."

I studied the lighter, careful to angle it away from myself to avoid catching my reflection again. It looked expensive—heavy and stylish in what I now realized wasn't steel, but silver. And he had more than one?

It would be a shame to lose it.

I slipped it into the jacket pocket and glanced up to find Duke looking at me curiously. I shifted—it was odd, suddenly being seen by him now.

"You have good taste," he declared, pointing towards his jacket.

"Ah, well, this is yo—"

But Duke sauntered down the vineyard, ostensibly having little time for appreciation or gratitude. He headed for the row I had cut down, and I struggled to match his pace as nerves hit my stomach. He froze the moment we turned the corner, and I all but hurtled into him. His chest raised and his cigarette glowed as he inhaled deeply, then silently began to scrutinize my handiwork. I scrambled to collect tools and brace myself for his reaction as he slowly moved down the row.

At the end of the line, he bent to touch a vine stump. The sunglasses slid down his nose as he hunched over them, but he didn't trouble with adjusting them. The only sound was his smoky breathing. The silence unnerved me, and soon I found myself launching into a wordy explanation to fill it.

"Well, I cut the vines like you wanted. I have them all in that wheelbarrow—I wasn't sure if you wanted to compost them or bury them—or burn them? Maybe, depending on what exactly the rot is. I haven't worked the roots up yet—this whole trellis was on the verge of collapse—but an herbicide might—"

"Leave 'em," he ordered.

"Oh, okay…" I shifted. He wasn't even looking at the trellis I repaired. "I fixed up a few things if you wanted to replant, or, I guess, if these regrow…maybe…?"

Why are you still talking? There was no way the vines would regrow after the way I mangled them, but that's what he'd wanted me to do, right? It was what he'd told me to do, at least.

"Great," Duke droned as he nodded, the movement exaggerated and fast. "Just great."

A hard laugh escaped as he abruptly straightened and held his back rigid.

"She's gonna be angry when she sees this. Yep, she's going to be royally pissed off when she comes home, but what did she expect, neglecting her vines like this? But I told her I wasn't going to touch them. I told her. She knew what'd happen, and she didn't care."

Duke began to steal a puff from his cigarette, but he hardly breathed before he threw his hand out at the stunted plants to emphasize his final point.

"She's the one who chose this."

Guilt that had nothing to do with the vines wrung at my chest.

"You and Manna really miss her…"

"Manna doesn't get to miss her." Duke blew smoke from the side of his mouth in one agitated breath. "If it weren't for her, Aja'd still be here, and—"

His dark eyes bore at me before he righted his sunglasses.

And I wouldn't be.

So the tension between Duke and Manna earlier wasn't simply over me working at the winery—it was me working in Aja's place. The idea made me squirm with an only recently deepened discomfort.

"You know what? Let's drop it," Duke said as he tapped the ashes from his cigarette over the stumps below. It wasn't a suggestion.

I hastily agreed.

"I'll be in the cellar."

Before I could ask for another task, Duke nearly tripped over the bundle I'd recklessly left on the ground.

"Sorry, I shouldn't've left that in the walkway—!"

"Whatcha got here?" he asked, bending to pick it up. "Lunch?"

I nodded. "Curry."

"Smells good. I suppose it's lunchtime by now…"

"I don't need to eat. I can keep working."

Duke scoffed as he held the lunch out to me. "That's crazy talk. Eat your food, kid."

As I took it from him, I noticed his grip seemed reluctant to hand it over.

"What about you?"

"Well, it's best if I stay out of Manna's way right now. We got into it a bit last night."

"Oh…"

Duke waved his hand, leaving a trail of smoke in front of him. "It'll blow over soon enough. Always does."

I took in his disheveled appearance. It seemed he had rolled out of bed this morning and went straight to work without breakfast, and I wasn't that hungry anyways…

"Want to split it?" I asked.

A crooked smile pulled at Duke's mouth. "Well, if you're offering. Here." He handed me his cigarette. "Take everything to the table and wait for me."

He hurried to the cellar while I wandered over to the same terrace we ate lunch at yesterday. Manna and Harris were nowhere to be seen. I wiped dead leaves from the tabletop and waited for Duke. Claire's empty seat waited beside me.

Another memory, I lamented as the wind blew cigarette smoke in my eyes with a scolding sting.

Thankfully, Duke returned before another round of heartache racked me. He carefully carried two tin cups in his hand.

"You should've worked up a thirst by now," he grinned, his tone more chipper than it had been all morning. "Here, straight from the barrel!"

He traded the cup for his cigarette, and wine sloshed over the cup's brim—it held more than a traditional pour.

As I unpacked the lunch, Duke took a long, luxurious drink. I could feel every bit of it just from watching the way his Adam's apple bobbed. My throat still burned from last night's whiskey and vomit.

Duke released a satisfied sigh. "Why're you just watching me? Drink up!"

I handed him the better of the plastic utensils in apology. "Thanks, but I think I'm done with drinking for a while."

"Ha, must've been a good party! If I had a coin for every time I said the same thing after a night out, I'd be able to pay off Won." He pushed the cup closer to me. "But I can't have a damn teetotaler working in my winery."

"I don't even know what that means."

"And thank the Goddess for that!" he laughed. "Just take a drink, and you still have a job."

My mouth went dry as I stared down at the wine. It wasn't whiskey, but…

Duke's hand squeezed my shoulder and shook me slightly.

"Hey, relax, kid; I'm not genuinely gonna fire you if you don't—not this time, in any case. I'll fix you soon enough."

"Thanks," I breathed and took the first bite of curry, trying not to think of Ann, or Claire, or Trent, or worse, Claire and Trent.

I didn't take a second bite.

"You really need to unwind yourself, huh?" Duke eventually said between forkfuls of curry, gulped drinks, and cigarette puffs.

"I-I've just got a lot on my mind today."

"Yeah?" he leaned back leisurely and crossed his legs. "Lay it on me."

"Oh, uh…"

"Spit it out."

"Well, I'm trying to figure out…what I should be doing with my life, I guess?" My face burned at the embarrassing confession. Wasn't I supposed to keep my distance?

"Your life, huh? How old are you anyway?"

"Twenty-three," I sighed. I should have it all squared away by now.

"Twenty-three!" Duke burst. "Everything is right in front of you for the taking! You could be doing whatever you want!"

"Not exactly…"

"Yes exactly! Goddess, if I was twenty-three again…!" He jabbed his cigarette in his mouth to calm himself. "Ugh, I never could listen to kids complain about life. Not you, not my kid, not even myself."

"You're the one who told me to lay it on you," I mumbled.

"I thought it'd be something interesting," he lazily defended. "So, what is it that you want?"

"I don't want to bore you."

"Aw, don't be that way."

I pushed a bite around with my spoon, fidgeting more than eating.

"I don't know," I finally admitted.

"C'mon, now. That's flat-out wrong. You must want a lot of things—who doesn't?"

Duke smoked as he waited for my answer.

What do I want?

To be a better person, a happier person, a stronger person, a deserving person—but it's all so vague. And there was no way I was going to admit something so pitiful to my boss.

"It's just, the things I want, I don't know how to get," I phrased carefully. "And I've been thinking—"

"There's your problem right there."

"What?"

"You aren't going to sort your shit out just sitting around, stuck in your head and looking serious. That's just wasted time. You can think all you want, but if it doesn't add up to action, you'll only sit there and rot. You need to get out there and do something while you're still young enough to. 'Seize the day' and all that."

A frustrated laugh escaped me. "But thinking is how you figure out what to do."

"Is it? How much have you been thinking, and how much have you figured out?"

It was a compelling argument.

"Okay," I cleared my throat. "Then what do I do?"

"How am I supposed to know? It's your life, not mine. I say do whatever you need to do to make something of yourself." Duke's voice turned mocking. "'Take a chance,' 'push yourself,' 'learn something,' 'if you're not growing, you're dying,' and all those other platitudes priests like to throw around."

Duke inhaled another chestful of smoke, and ash crumbled onto his shirt. He didn't bother to sweep them off.

"…Is that how you live?" I doubted.

"Does it look like that's how I live? I've done my growing, time to enjoy my dying!" he chuckled, and I couldn't help but smile in response, even if what he said was a bit worrying. "But no, I never listen to advice, definitely not from priests and least of all my own. You have to admit it sounds good, though."

"It does."

"And you didn't even have to go to church for it! Here, have a drink instead of a prayer," he urged, pushing the wine even closer to me this time.

The curry is spicy, and I'm not a tee-whatever after all…

I drank, feeling the alcohol slip over my tongue. Wine from the barrel was different from bottled wine—more acidic, more aerated, less…finished. It was wine in transition.

"There you go," Duke held his cigarette in his lips to clap. "Talking, eating, and drinking? Welcome to the land of the living—or dying, whichever. Now, are you going to finish that?" Duke asked, pointing to my essentially untouched half of the curry. Despite the hunger finally developing in my stomach, I passed it to him.

Duke raised his cup in thanks, and I returned the gesture.

"Well, one thing's for certain in your life, kid—" Duke let out an exaggeratedly beleaguered sigh through his smirk. "—you're working for me now."

He drank deeply, and I sipped at my wine, savoring the lightness and warmth his words sparked in me. His advice, though flippant, felt true. I had allowed my life to be passively pulled along by chance while I stayed stuck in inaction and self-pity, feeling powerless against the world and, frankly, myself. And it was so tiring, fighting with myself over and over until both sides of me lost. I'd spent a long time waiting and hoping for things to turn around, but it was like Trent said—hope isn't a plan.

Maybe I don't have it all figured out yet, but maybe working here is a good start.

"Thanks for the food," Duke moaned once he'd scarfed the rest down. He stood and put out the tiny stub that was left of his cigarette. "Alright, off your ass and on your feet—we're going to the cellar."

I looked up from the empty dishes I packed, a jittery feeling in my chest.

"Get that twinkle out of your eye. I've got some tanks that need a good scrub-down; it's nothing fun."

"Grunt work."

"Precisely."

I stood, drained the rest of my wine, and smiled.

"Lead the way."

He sauntered to the cellar as he described the field blend we had just shared, but the ring of the shop bell stole my attention. I paused as Manna crossed the yard onto the streets.

Duke let out a roar of laughter at his own joke, and Manna turned her head toward us. Naturally, her eyes immediately caught mine. She waved a silent, smiling goodbye before tightening her shawl and ambling towards the town square, uncharacteristically listless.

Why doesn't she join us if it's so urgent that the grapes—?

"Are you coming or not?"

I refocused on Duke. He held the cellar door open for me as if inviting me to hear a secret.

My head turned in every direction as I walked inside the chilled dark cellar. Its lofty stone walls were lined with well-stocked wine crates bearing Aja's name and racked beds of dust-coated bottles. Scuffed oak absorbed every sound except a steady resounding thrum from below the floorboards. It could have been the age imbued in every stone or the cool quiet of the air, but I immediately thought of the church and relaxed.

"Down the steps," Duke said as he tucked his sunglasses into his shirt and rounded the handrail. "That's where all the fun is."

The old stairs groaned and shifted with each of our steps. As we descended, the aroma of fruit, yeast, and alcohol grew stronger, and the steady buzz grew louder. Duke jumped from the last step and strode into the processing room as if he built it.

"What do you think?" He gestured grandly around the room.

I walked in a slow circle, my eyes drinking in the sights of towering oak tanks, stainless steel vats, and barrels of aging wine stacked high against the stones. Ladders were built against them, daring to be climbed. Pumps hummed all around the room, pushing coolant and who knows what else all around the various machines that shined in every corner. My blood raced through me as I realized how much in the room was changing—the grapes, the wine, maybe even me. But my favorite thing of all was that it was untouched by a single unpleasant memory.

A fresh start, I decided.

I nearly stumbled into Duke, who watched my reaction, his unhidden eyes gleaming.

"It's impressive," I grinned back.

"Damn right it is!" Duke laughed and slapped a tank. "Get into it, kid."

I fixed my gaze on the tank as I peeled off the jacket.

I have a lot to learn, not a lot to go on, and not a lot I can do yet, but it's alright. I can do this.

A rush of energy coursed through me as I gripped the ladder along the side of the tank and began to climb.

"Where are you going?" Duke snickered.

I froze.

"The tank? You just—To clean the tank?"

"What, you're going to jump in from above? This is the way in."

He opened a small hatch at the base of the tank, just barely wide enough for a person to crawl through.

A lot to learn.

I smiled to myself as I jumped off the ladder and gladly crawled inside from the bottom.

---

The rest of the day passed in a blur of sounds I heard from inside dark and humid wine tanks. Duke and I couldn't talk over the constant whirr of the grape destemmer he ran or the water beating against the insides of the tanks I cleaned. But I heard the most satisfying sound of the winery once I finished a tank and wriggled out. Freshly crushed grapes would rain down and hit the floor of a newly cleaned tank with a resounding, spattering thump. Then I'd crawl into the next tank, casting curious glances as Duke began to test the grape must and add mysterious ingredients to it I wanted to know more about.

Hours flew by as I got lost in work that left my arms burning and knees aching, but the soreness felt right. It was a fulfilling tiredness rather than the draining tiredness that had defined my morning.

"That's it for you today. You're free to go," Duke announced after he filled the last tank, and he began to examine the grape must for fermentation. I stretched my neck to watch him collect samples, wondering what it was he was testing for.

What did Manna say again? Nutrients, temp—?

"What do you want?" Duke demanded when he caught me staring. "You get your money from Manna, not me."

"R-right," I turned to grab the jacket but hesitated.

Might as well try.

I squarely faced Duke. "Actually, I want to know what you're doing."

He raised his eyebrows and smirked.

"Making wine," he said simply. "And you're going to have to pay your dues as a cellar rat before I tell you any more than that."

"…but you will tell me eventually?"

"Goddess, it's only your first day. Get outta here," he ordered, but his dark eyes flickered with amusement.

"Alright, alright, I'm gone."

There's somewhere else I can go to prepare, I realized, and I hurried up the staircase two steps at a time, determined to make it before close.

I was halfway up the steps when Duke called after me.

"Hey, wait." He leaned on the handrail, attempting to look casual and failing. "You, uh, you did good today."

I fidgeted. "I just did what you told me to, minus the burning."

"Don't be so self-effacing, kid. Try again—you did good."

"Thanks for the compliment," I awkwardly smiled and felt a flush return to my face.

"Yeah, don't get used to it," he warned as he headed back to work. "Ten o'clock tomorrow!"

White light narrowed my eyes when I left the cellar, and soft droplets pattered into the dirt below. The clouds had finally given way to their weight and granted a sprinkling of rain, but it didn't bother me—it felt good. I filled my lungs with fresh wet air as I ran to the shop, shielding the jacket in my arms from the rain.

Manna's head perked as the bell announced me, and I noticed her hair was slightly damp. She must have gotten back only moments before.

"I was wondering when you were going to finish up! How was your first day? You and Duke looked like you were getting along earlier. What a relief! I was worried he was going to be stubborn all day! Oh, you probably want your pay! And this!" she cheered as she set the bag of the morning's gifts I had hoped she would forget about on the counter.

"Thanks, today was good," I quickly shared, and Manna seemed to be waiting for me to elaborate. I tried to return the jacket instead.

"No, keep it!"

"I can't. It's too nice for me, and you already gave me all of this."

"That's all part of your work, and I insist on the jacket! It's raining outside—you're going to need it. And you'll be doing me a favor!" she added, likely sensing I was unconvinced. "I've needed to clear some things out of this house for so long, but it's hard to let go. Seeing someone else make use of these old things and enjoy it makes it easier!"

I rubbed at my neck awkwardly but nodded. I put the jacket on myself before she could try to help and grabbed my bag, ready to run out into the rain again.

"Perfect! Now that's settled, would you like to stay and chat awhile?"

"Sorr—"

"Sounds like you all had a wild time of it at the inn last night! Sasha told me she thought Karen was still drunk this morning! Hey, why don't you stay for dinner and tell me all about it?"

Manna was still talking, but my internal groan drowned her out.

Just how starved do I look that everyone wants to feed me today? Is my name synonymous with being broke and hungry? I need to stop taking so much.

"…but Duke is going to eat at the inn tonight," Manna continued as I retreated to the door, "and I thoroughly enjoyed our lunch together yesterday. Oh, and you could even invite a friend or two! I always make too much food nowadays!"

"Thanks for thinking of me, but I'm in a hurry to get somewhere before it closes."

"You could always come back afterward! I haven't even started cooking yet!"

I shook my head apologetically as I reached for the door handle behind me.

"Or another time then! This time tomorrow? I could make—"

"Sorry, Manna, but I really need to go. Thank you for everything, and I'll see you in the morning." I retreated outside.

"'Til then! Good—!"

But her goodbye was cut short by the closing door.

I raced through the rain outside, careful not to slip on the newly wet cobblestones. I crashed through the library door and was welcomed by the dry scent of paper and warm air.

Gray slapped his book against the table the second he saw me dripping in the doorway.

"What's wrong?"

"What?" I huffed. "Nothing."

He nodded but held his face tight with doubt.

"Is there something I can help you with?" Mary asked from behind her desk. Her voice was professional and welcoming, but a hint of pink already tinted her cheeks at the sight of me. My own face warmed in response.

"Yeah, actually," I began, and my wet boots squeaked clumsily as I approached her desk. She hid the papers she was working on, and I lowered my speech with similar embarrassment. "I want to apologize for what I said last night. I—"

"No, I'm the one who needs to apologize!" she erupted as she hung her head in contrition. I could see her ears blazing red through her dark hair.

"Mary, don't," Gray groaned from the table.

I combed my memory, trying to find what Mary could possibly apologize to me for and coming up empty-handed. "What? No, I—"

"I'm terribly sorry for keeping you from your room last night!" she pressed on, undeterred.

"Th-that was nothing, honestly."

"I know I was intruding—"

"You weren't—!"

"—and I should have asked for your permission—"

Gray let out a noisy stream of air. "Mary!"

"No, you really shouldn't have," I insisted, biting back a concerned laugh, but Mary couldn't stop sincerely apologizing for doing nothing wrong.

"—so please accept my—"

"Hold on, hold on," I interrupted, my hands hovering at her shoulders as if I could shake her out of her completely unnecessary remorse. "Just…wait a second."

She still didn't face me but obediently waited.

"I wasn't actually upset about that. I was just…" I sighed, trying to find the right words and strength to voice them. "I was just upset."

Mary finally peeked up at me over her glasses. Her eyes looked at me with the same grey pity that had filled them before I made an ass out of myself yesterday, and I looked away.

"…I understand," she said, her tone far gentler than I deserved. Her hand moved near mine, and I quickly withdrew it from her desk.

"I'm sorry. It wasn't right for me to take it out on you and Gray. And…I don't intend to do it again."

"It's alright."

I turned to address Gray too.

"And I really don't mind about the room; you guys use it whenever. We could all even come up with a system or schedule or something—?"

"Schedule?" Gray sniggered.

"I don't know! I'm just throwing out ideas!"

"No, that's not necessary," Mary cut in, composure returning, though her blush deepened. "My mother would never allow me to visit the inn alone regularly."

"Oh, right," I recalled Doug's earlier comment about Anna. "That makes how I acted last night even worse."

"It's fine. We manage," she assured me, then appeared to realize what she said.

"Oh."

I was kind of curious, but it's not like I was going to ask. At least, not her.

She adjusted her glasses. "Can we change the subject now?"

"Sure, ah, there was something else I wanted," I said, remembering why I ran here in the first place. "Do you have any books on winemaking?"

"I'd be glad to fetch them for you," she said, and she darted upstairs before I could reject her offer, seemingly eager to get away.

Gray kicked out the chair beside him as a noisy invitation. I sheepishly set my things on the table and sat beside him.

"You look like you looted the winery," Gray remarked as he peeked into the bag. "Get anything good?"

"We have matching wine glasses now," I said, lifting them out from the very top.

Gray let out a short laugh. "Okay, cool."

I read Aja's elegant name engraved on the glasses again as Gray explored the rest of the bag. The unease her name continued to inspire in me made me realize I still had another apology to make.

"Look, I'm sorry. Last night and this morning, you were trying to help, and I—"

"We're good."

"No, it wasn't okay. I—"

"Cliff, we're good. Mary's not holding anything against you, so why would I? I helped you because I wanted to help you anyway."

A slight smile rose on my face, but I still didn't want to be a burden.

"Well, I hope your grandpa didn't give you too much trouble."

"Nothing more than I can handle. And it was worth it, see?" he said, biting into a chocolate bar he fished out.

Mary's shoes tapped against the stairs as she returned, a short stack of books in her arms.

"Gray, are you eating in my library?"

"Yes."

"Out."

"C'mon, it's just chocolate!"

"Chocolate that's going to end up all over my pages," she insisted as she dropped the thick hardcovered books against her desk with a heavy thud.

"Sorry, it's my fault," I intervened. "I gave it to him."

Gray groaned the same way he did when Mary had begun to apologize to me.

"Oh, well, in that case, I guess it's fine," Mary conceded.

"He's my free pass?" Gray asked and pointed at me.

"Just this once."

"Then hand me that bottle, Cliff. Been a while since I snuck one in for us, Mary."

"Ignore him, please," she politely asked before drawing my attention to the books. "This pile is everything we have on vinifera, viticulture, and vinification."

"Wine," Gray teased.

"Yes, wine." She playfully rolled her eyes. "I'm sorry it's not much."

"But it's a start," I smiled.

"Correct," she smiled back. "But take everything you read with a grain of salt—Duke and Papa love to debate over the contents of these books. And if you don't mind filling out these checkout cards…" she said, pulling them from the lending pocket. "…they're all yours for the next two weeks."

"Mary, look. Vitis vinifera," Gray joked, holding up the pair of earrings.

"Grapes!" Mary's eyes sparkled as she left the desk to examine them up close. "Aw, those are so cute!"

"You can have them if you want," I offered.

"Are you certain?"

"He says take 'em, so take 'em," Gray shrugged.

"Thank you so much!"

I watched Gray uncork the bottle, and Mary put her new earrings on with a smile. I'd have given them the whole bag if they wanted it.

The gurgle of pouring wine filled the quiet library.

"You two should use the glasses," Mary shyly suggested. "I've always wanted to drink straight from the bottle."

"Come over here and join us, Cliff."

"Give me a second," I called back, a little too embarrassed to admit I had already drunk a decent amount of wine.

I grabbed the first checkout card to sign my name but went rigid when I read the most recent name written on it.

Claire was signed in tiny looping letters. According to the card, she had checked the book out two days ago and returned it yesterday morning—before the harvest, I realized. The book was all about cultivating grapes and boasted a lengthy section regarding harvesting techniques.

A smile touched my face as I pictured it. Claire rushing to the library sometime after Duke had recruited her help, checking the book out, skipping directly to the harvesting chapters, and staying up late reading all about it the night before the harvest, yet not reading enough of the basics to know wine grapes weren't seedless.

A soft laugh escaped my lips as I ran my hand along the inner cover.

Why'd she bother? Still, she prepared more than I did…well, not anymore.

I scribbled my name below hers and pushed the card to the side.

Each time I signed another checkout card, I searched for those looping letters. I didn't find them. It wasn't until I reached the last card that I realized I had read a familiar name time and time again without recognizing it. It crowned the list of names and was written in cramped and pointed handwriting—the complete opposite of the graceful letters engraved on my new wine glasses.

AJA

---

Cue Joanie Sommers' "Little Girl Bad" as the ending credits for this chapter! Duke and Cliff are both really hung up over losing a girl, so I can't resist Aja and Claire sharing that song (1st verse Aja, 2nd Claire—I know, I'm shameless.) Anyways, prepare for Aja to become Cliff's Half-Blood Prince.

For all you worried about Cliff showing up to work with a hangover…you do realize his boss is Duke, right? Duke will never be out-hangovered by some kid who doesn't know nearly as much about drinking wine as he thinks he does. I've always headcanoned that Duke's hangovers are the reason the winery opens late.

Manna's list of Cliff's vineyard duties came from a job application I read. I loved that it was in alphabetical order, which seems very Manna to me (you gotta be quick to do that off the top of your head!), so I left it that way with some embellishments and maintained that for every other list she rattled off. And yay, Cliff has his Sunshine Islands jacket! In my head, Cliff's work outfit is his SI outfit. I wanted the jacket to have a little hint of his home (wool and sheepskin) and to represent some warmth/closeness with others that Cliff's wanting but currently uncomfortable with. So, the jacket is too nice for him, he's worried about messing it up, and having someone help him put it on is awkwardly intimate (but let's be honest, isn't that always awkward?) I also wanted Manna giving him a jacket and his mom giving him his SoSFoMT outfit to have some parallels. 😊 But lol, for a guy who wants to stop taking so much from people, Cliff really did make out like a bandit in this chapter.

I love writing Duke so much I can hardly control myself. He and Cliff had two more extended scenes in this chapter because I couldn't rein myself in at first. I cut them out—gotta let this relationship develop— but they are safely stowed away in future chapters. Neither Duke nor Manna is a particularly skilled listener, in case you didn't notice, ha. But if they try, they have their moments.

Hopefully, Cliff's worries didn't run too long, but he lost control and let them run haywire for a bit there. All that thinking… 😉 If any part of the chapter felt like a slog/dragged, please let me know! I'm trying to improve how I pace things. You won't hurt my feelings. 😊 That goes for any suggestions.

Harris serves as Mineral Town's part-cop-part-mailman thanks to his old Harvest Moon 64 occupation and for the drama~! If it wasn't clear, I'm basing Harris off his FoMT design rather than his SoSFoMT one.

As for songs, I love "Harry Rag" by the Kinks for Duke, as well as a dozen other Kinks songs, haha, including "Powerman" and "Sunny Afternoon." Duke is pretty much a walking Kinks album. Also, I quoted Viva Voce's song, "Drown Them Out" in this chapter: "I had a lot to learn/ But not a lot to go on and it's all/ This is all I can do, this is all I can do/ It's alright." The lyrics spoke to me, and I needed to further indulge myself by including them in an already incredibly indulgent fanfic. And finally, if you caught my reference to a classic Platters song, kudos to you. 😉

Y'all, this playlist is about to get a lot more positive. 😊 Disney even makes a few appearances. "Friend Like Me" really embodies Duke and Cliff's future relationship, haha.

Ah, but before then, Cliff's gotta settle in for a chat with Ann. Thanks to all you guys who've stuck around! It means a lot to me!