The Vintner's Muse

By Jennifer Westgarth

Shannon Waterford thought she had it all. But being dumped by her boyfriend and made redundant in the same month has left her wondering where it all went wrong.

Seeking some overdue R & R with her tell-it-like-it-is best friend on a quiet, small-town vineyard in South Australia's stunning Clare Valley, Shannon's plans of reassessing h

• Language: English
• Publisher: Jennifer Westgarth
• Release date: Oct 25, 2022
• ISBN: 9780645277913

Book preview

Chapter One

Shannon

‘J esus Christ, Shannon!’

My coffee cup misses Carter’s head by an inch, smashing against the wall.

Mouth agape, he whips his head around to see the brown dregs slide down the god-awful monochromatic painting behind his desk.

If there was even the slightest chance I could somehow win my job back with a first-class argument about how indispensable I am, it’s now shattered into a dozen pieces of useless ceramic laying on my ex-boyfriend’s polished office floorboards.

‘Don’t make me call security.’ His words come through gritted teeth as he turns back to meet my eyes. His full of anger and a touch of remorse.

‘How could you do this? After all the work I’ve done! Seven years I’ve given this company.’

‘It’s not personal, Shannon. I don’t make these decisions alone. If I could’ve, I’d have kept your position. The company had to restructure, and that’s just how they did it.’

‘Don’t hide behind those morons.’ I take a deep breath and lower my voice. ‘You broke up with me a week ago, for Christ’s sake. You can’t tell me that’s got nothing to do with me now being fired—’

‘Made redundant. There’s a difference.’

‘I don’t have a job, Carter! There’s no difference to that.’

I shouldn’t have trusted him. We broke up last year because he was turning into a self-obsessed arsehole. Why we got back together is beyond me.

Ten years his junior, when I started at the company, I admired his determination, his mind, and his vast list of connections. What he lacks in personality, he makes up for in results. As in, he gets them. And he taught me how to do the same. Then four years in, I fell in love. Completely and utterly and with all my heart. We became the A-team of the company. Bring in the clients, make the deals, secure the contracts and line the pockets of senior management. Now he’s become senior management on the back of my hard work and commitment.

‘Why me, Carter? I’m bloody good at my job, and you know it. Is there no one else you could’ve chosen to make redundant? Or am I just of no use to you anymore?’

‘Apart from the fact it wasn’t me, it was the board; who would you rather they chose? Everyone else has kids, a family, a mortgage.’ The bastard waves me off like he would an annoying fly. ‘You’ll land on your feet in no time. The world’s your oyster.’

I slam my hands on his desk, making my palms sting. He doesn’t flinch, and I stare at his set features, trying to burn holes through his head. ‘I have a mortgage.’

‘Yeah, and a lot of savings.’

‘How would you know how much I have? You haven’t taken notice of a thing I’ve been doing for months.’

He plonks down in his plush executive chair, turns his attention to his laptop and starts tapping away on the keyboard. ‘We were together three years, babe. I know everything about you, what you are capable of and what you’re not.’

Arrogant son of a …

‘Two years, then a colossal mistake of a third. And you don’t know everything about me, Carter.’ I straighten, square my shoulders and turn my back on him. Standing in the doorway, over my shoulder, I say, ‘You only know what you’ve wanted to see.’

‘What the hell does that mean?’

He’s so blind.

‘Shannon?’

I’d say screw him, but I wouldn’t put myself through that disappointment again.

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Ally nods to the white wicker armchair on the veranda while she opens a bottle of wine. My bags haven’t even made it through the front door. I love that she doesn’t bother waiting until I’ve unpacked to get my holiday started.

‘I don’t know, Ally. How do you save a man from drowning?’ I ask, getting comfy amongst the multicoloured cushions and checking the latest email that pinged on my phone.

Whether I’m in the mood for Ally’s bad jokes or not, she’s insistent on making me laugh. As my best friend, it’s her job to make me feel better. And she takes her job very seriously.

‘Take your foot off his head,’ she says with a straight face and shoulder shrug.

A smile graces my lips for the first time since my retrenchment yesterday, and something resembling a chuckle escapes. Visiting Ally was the smartest thing I could’ve done.

‘Yeah, well, there’s at least one man I wouldn’t move my foot for right now.’ Yep, the email is from work. Or rather, the company I used to work for but can’t seem to leave me alone because no one else knows the clients like I do.

‘Good,’ she adds. ‘There’s a special place in hell for arseholes like Carter. And would you put your damn phone down?’

I laugh a little louder. Rolling my head in a circle, I rub the back of my neck, then gaze out at the rows of vines with their lush spring foliage and rolling hills of South Australia’s Clare Valley and beyond.

This is definitely what I need.

A week ago, Carter told me he was bored and that I deserved better—the biggest cop-out ever—then packed most of his things and moved out. Yesterday he said the company is restructuring and three others have absorbed my position. It’s so clear now. I must be an idiot for not seeing it sooner.

He used me. Big time.

I always worked harder, and smarter, than Carter, making him look good, and he took the credit for what we achieved. The company promoted him a couple of months ago, meaning his position was up for grabs. At our last team meeting, it was unanimous that I was the obvious choice.

‘Are you sure it’s no trouble to stay here?’ I ask Mark—Ally’s boyfriend—as he joins us on the veranda. It was a huge step in their relationship when Ally had moved in with him a few months ago, here on his family’s sprawling vineyard, and today is the first time I’ve seen Mark since we met last year at a mutual friend’s wedding in Perth.

At the wedding, I also met his brother, Ethan. But I don’t want to think about Ethan at the moment. One problem at a time.

‘Absolutely,’ Mark says. ‘You’re welcome for as long as you like.’

‘Thank you so much. I appreciate it.’ I take a mouthful of wine to dislodge the wedge of gratitude stuck in my throat, then unlock my phone and delve into my emails again, if only as a distraction from my emotions.

Stevie, Mark’s German shepherd-cross, plants herself on my feet and nuzzles my hand as though we’re old friends. I ruffle the fur behind her ears. The simpleness of it makes me smile again.

‘Well, you’re super friendly, aren’t you, girl? I need someone like you in my life.’

‘Hey!’ Ally feigns offence and throws a bread stick at me from the charcuterie board in the middle of the table.

Within five minutes of calling Ally after my retrenchment, we agreed I’d come and stay with her for a while. Initially, I was reluctant to intrude on her and Mark, but, in typical Ally fashion, she saw right through that and knew my hesitancy had more to do with seeing Ethan than her and Mark’s privacy. Once she told me Ethan was away on business, I’d booked my flight, redirected my mail and packed my bags.

As Mark lifts the lid on the barbeque and wipes down the hotplate, he flashes me a warm smile that matches the hug he gave me earlier. ‘I’m honestly sorry to hear about your job, Shannon, but Ally’s been busting to have you here ever since she moved in.’ The smile he gives Ally is one I’ve never seen looking back at me from any man. I check my watch unnecessarily, not wanting to encroach on their moment.

‘She has something to say about you, no matter what’s happening.’

I lean down and pet Stevie again, earning a tail wag that could power a small town. ‘Well, as my dad always says, if you got no photos, you got no proof.’

He shakes his head, his smile widening. ‘Fair enough.’

Picking up the wine bottle, I inspect the label, comparing it to those I’ve worked on in the past. Written in elegant script font are the letters OM, their colours grading from deep, regal purple to silver grey. Whoever designed it has a good eye.

I nestle the bottle back into the ice bucket, narrow my eyes at Ally and accuse her playfully. ‘You’ve been telling stories about me?’

‘We’ve done a lot in fifteen years. There’s always a story to tell.’

We raise our glasses and toast to friendship—the only thing stopping me right now from camping out in my lounge room with a never-ending supply of Arnott’s Choc Ripple biscuits and bingeing on Netflix Originals.

‘So, do you want to talk about it?’ Ally asks after a comfortable silence.

I shrug and take a settling breath as the sun dips behind hills, causing the pastel colours in the sky to swirl and deepen. ‘Like I said on the phone, Carter reckons the company’s restructuring and my position isn’t needed anymore.’

‘Which is such bullshit. You threaten him. You’re so hot on his heels he’s shitting himself. The head honchos were bound to find out who’s been driving the Sharter train all this time.’

Mark and I almost choke on our wine at the same time.

‘Sharter?’ Mark says, wiping a dribble from his chin.

‘What the hell is that?’ I add.

‘Shannon and Carter,’ she says. ‘Like Brad and Angelina.’ As if we should’ve known.

Mark laughs, shaking his head at Ally’s reliably questionable humour. ‘You couldn’t have gone with Cannon?’

‘No. That puts Carter’s name first, and he put himself first enough in their relationship.’

‘Actually …’ I raise my hands to put an end to the subject. ‘I don’t want to be associated with Carter at all anymore, so I’d rather our names not be joined, period.’

‘Fine,’ says Ally. ‘So what did he say when he ousted you?’

‘Ally!’ Mark says, obviously still not used to how blunt we are with each other.

Shoving my hands on my hips, I deepen my voice, giving my best Kiss-arse Corporate Carter impression. ‘"I don’t make these decisions, Shan. It’s not personal. If it were my choice, I’d have kept your position, but this is how the company was restructured. I’m so sorry."’

Ally sticks a finger in her mouth and makes a god-awful gagging sound and I lift my glass in cheers.

‘I mean, I’m not stupid. It boils down to the dollars, and Carter can’t tell me that outright. But I just feel so damn lost now. I thought everything was fine, that my life was set.’

‘But,’ Ally reminds me, ‘You did tell me a few months ago that you felt as though something was missing at work.’

I shrug. ‘I figured whatever it is, it’d work itself out as I moved up in the ranks. When I got the recognition I deserve. The title. And then, poof, a secure relationship and a seven-year career gone, within weeks of each other. I mean, how does someone not see the writing on the wall? God, maybe I am stupid.’

Mark stares at me with an expression I interpret as pity. Oh, hell, I must sound so pathetic. Even I want to slap myself and tell me to grow up. But he quickly cuts through the web of self-pity I’ve started to weave.

‘Shannon, I realise we don’t know each other very well. But from what Ally’s told me, you’re a strong person. And even if Carter and the company come to their senses and want you back, I reckon you’re going to have outgrown them.’

Outgrow them? That means I’d be moving on. Leaving behind an important chunk of my life and beginning new things. Things I hadn’t planned. And I’m not ready for that.

Suddenly afraid I might burst into tears, an overwhelming need to be alone hits me. Not that I’m afraid to cry in front of Ally; you could fill a swimming pool with the number of tears we’ve shed together. But I’m desperate to retain the little control I have, and I’m not ready for Mark to see my ugly cry.

I take a deep breath to stave off the imminent waterworks, push to my feet and begin collecting my luggage.

‘Well, how about I get my bags out of the way while you’re starting the BBQ? I’ll come and help you make a salad in a few minutes. Have you got potatoes? You love my potato salad, Ally.’ I sling my laptop bag over my shoulder. ‘Where do you want me to put my stuff? You can just let me tell me where the—’

Suddenly Ally is standing in front of me, her arms wrapping around my shoulders. She knows I ramble when I’m upset, and she doesn’t have to speak to tell me to take a breath. I drop my carry-on and hug her back, willing the tears to wait a little longer. After a minute, we break our hug, and Ally turns to Mark.

‘How did you go sorting the spare room, babe?’ she asks him, splitting the last of the wine from the bottle between our glasses.

‘Spare room’s a write-off,’ he says, picking up my suitcase. ‘Tried to get in touch with Ethan, but he didn’t answer. I’m sure he won’t mind if you stay in his place. It’s at the other end of the house, so you’ll have total privacy.’

‘Ah, I don’t want to seem ungrateful, but I’d rather sleep with the grapes.’

Mark lets out a knowing chuckle and moves to help me with my luggage. ‘Don’t worry, he’s away on a business trip. Won’t be back for a few weeks. He often lets friends stay there while he’s gone.’

‘Ethan and I are far from friends, Mark,’ I mutter under my breath.

I know very little about him other than he’s a player, stupid firsthand experience taught me that, but according to Ally, he works from dawn till dusk and doesn’t get out much unless it’s for business.

‘Honestly, I don’t care if the spare room is messy; I’ll sleep on the floor.’

‘No can do,’ Mark says. ‘There’s a shitload of stuff in there, on the bed, on the floor, on the cupboards …’

Resigned, I follow Mark through their spacious living area, admiring the wooden structures of the converted barn. It’s a stunning mix of polished timber flooring and chunky pillars, accentuated with bright splashes of art on the walls. One painting in particular catches my eye and I make a mental note to have a closer look later.

Opening a door I thought would lead outside, Mark ushers me through, and for a split second, I’ve stepped into a rainforest. An atrium the size of my city apartment lounge room appears to join the two halves of the house. It’s full of ferns and other greenery, some trailing up the glass wall and across the pitched ceiling.

‘It’s here or a hotel,’ Mark says, opening the door at the end and flicking the lights on.

I peer past Mark, scanning the interior. Here is beautiful.

‘How far away is the hotel?’ I ask, more out of courtesy than genuine interest.

‘Too far away for Ally’s liking.’

That sounds like her. And this place is seriously gorgeous. I can’t wait to curl up on the soft modular couch in front of the fireplace. I just need to forget that everything here belongs to Ethan. Maybe I should cling wrap his toilet seat or put coloured dye in his shower head before I leave. The idea makes me laugh under my breath, but I won’t do it. My parents brought me up to respect others. Shame the same can’t be said for Mark’s brother. Come to think of it, I can’t understand how the two men share the same DNA.

Mark’s laugh puts me at ease. ‘I’ll admit, Ethan and I are very different in some ways, but when it comes to helping someone out, we’re on the same page. And you’re not a stranger, Shannon.’

I roll my eyes and remember why we’re not. If only I could turn back the clock.

Mark wheels my suitcase through the living room, past a stunning timber, meticulously tidy kitchen and into Ethan’s bedroom, lifting it onto the king-size bed. Holding his hands out as if to say ‘ta-da’, he smiles with mischief. ‘And if you’re still here when he gets back, we’ll sort something out. Now, please, make yourself at home.’

And that’s it. I finally dismiss my reservations and take Mark at his word, the simple decision leaving me feeling lighter than I have all day.

Accommodation now sorted, we make our way back out through the house, Mark pointing out necessities like the main bathroom, laundry and wine rack. As we rejoin Ally on the front veranda, she immediately holds her glass up and smiles.

‘To my best friend,’ she says, giving us a chance to pick up our fresh drinks and join the toast. ‘For being the best marketing assistant her bosses are going to regret giving the boot!’

For the next couple of hours, Mark listens to stories of our university days and backpacking adventures as Ally and I blame one another for whatever trouble we found ourselves in. Stevie lays under the table, curled up at my feet, whacking her tail on the decking as I rub her tummy with my foot.

The tension I’d been holding all but disappears and my internal energy recharges, as a steady flow of laughter and easy conversation fills the otherwise silent country air. Mark already feels like an old friend. Even serving up dinner, pouring wine and cleaning up was effortless. Like an old-fashioned dance, the steps to which came naturally to all of us.

After saying goodnight, I pause in the atrium to look out the enormous bay window. Moonlight spreads across the vineyard like a soft lamp over carpet, and the sky holds so many more stars than I’ve ever seen in the city. I don’t remember the last time I saw, let alone appreciated, a sight like this. Usually, if I’m not at an event somewhere in the evening, I’m back at my computer.

Venturing to Ethan’s bedroom, I unpack my suitcase and carry-on bag, making room in his spacious walk-in closet to hang the few garments I don’t want to leave folded, and put my shoes on the floor below them. My fingers brush against the fabric of a business shirt—crisp pale blue with a white vertical pinstripe. Its softness surprises me; so different from the cheap, scratchy materials in Carter’s wardrobe. I reach further up the sleeve and run my fingers slowly down the long, tailored arm to the cuff, and a vision of my fingertips popping Ethan’s buttons undone clouds my mind. I swat it away like a fly and scold myself. It’s a memory that’s supposed to stay locked in the colossal mistake box in the back of my mind.

After laying my sleep shorts and tank top on the bed, I head for the bathroom and neatly arrange my toiletries on the vanity, next to the towels I assume Mark put out for me. Eager for a steaming shower followed by a soft bed, I strip off my clothes and check the room properly for the first time.

Bloody hell.

Running from wall to wall, the shower is more than twice the size of the one in my apartment. And who needs three shower heads, by the way?

I set the temperature to forty-two degrees and step in, choosing the standard wall outlet over the handheld and overhead rain options. Steam fills the room, and my eyes close, relishing the heat against my tired skin.

Damn, that’s good.

I reach for my shower gel but glimpse a bottle in Ethan’s caddy. I don’t recognise the brand and can’t resist pumping a small amount into my hand and lathering up. Cedarwood and lemon myrtle fill the air. Oh, that is divine. Too bad he won’t have any left by the time he gets home from his trip.

I massage some equally aromatic shampoo through my hair, and the mint in it sends a delicious tingle over my scalp. What kind of guy buys bathroom products of this quality?

One who thinks he’s God’s gift to women, Shannon.

Suddenly, in the middle of one of the best head massages I’ve ever given myself, something short and furry bursts into the room, wagging its tail.

‘Stevie! You scared the hell out of me.’ I wipe water from my eyes to see the dog clearly. ‘What are you doing in here?’

Stevie’s tail picks up speed, clearly pleased with the situation. She steps forward and licks water from the floor as it flows towards the drain, her coat dampening from overspray.

‘Stevie, get out, girl. I don’t know how you got in here, but I’m sure you’re not supposed to be in the shower.’

She doesn’t budge.

‘Oh, come on, Stevie, this isn’t funny. Who let you in here, anyway?’

Suddenly, a deep voice sounds from the doorway.

‘The bigger question is, who let you in here?’

Chapter Two

Ethan

Letting out a shriek, the woman in my shower flings herself against the tiles behind the running water.

Stevie bounces off her front paws and barks, looking frantically between me and the shower, then advancing towards the stranger, barking again and snapping at the water falling from above.

‘Stevie!’ the woman screeches, trying in vain once more to command the dog. ‘Oh my God! Get out!’

But Stevie’s answer is another bark, another bounce, another vigorous tail wag.

While this is extremely entertaining, I’m more interested in who the hell is in my house and how they got in. But surely I can have a little fun while I find out.

I lean on the door frame and cross my arms. ‘She just wants to know who’s in my shower,’ I say. ‘She’s trying to introduce herself.’

‘Ethan?’

‘Who else would it be?’

‘You’re not supposed to be here.’

‘Well, I am. And you’ve got five seconds to tell me who you are before I come in and find out for myself. Five.’

‘Can you please just call Stevie—’

‘Four.’ I unbutton my shirt and toss it to the floor.

‘Ethan!’

‘Three.’ Shoes and socks go next, while Stevie continues snapping at the water with not a care in the world.

‘Oh my God, this isn’t funny!’

‘Two.’ I unbuckle my belt.

‘You haven’t changed a bit. You’re still an arsehole.’

‘One.’ Standing in nothing but my black Calvin Klein’s, I step towards the shower.

‘It’s Shannon! From Jed and Trina’s wedding. Don’t you dare step foot in here, or I’ll shave your head while you’re sleeping.’

My feet stop moving. Shannon Waterford?

Too many thoughts run through my head, not at all in an orderly fashion. More like a bunch of kids on a sugar high, smacking into each other until there’s only one left standing:

What the fuck is she doing here?

She’s Ally’s best friend, so I figured there’d come a time when she might visit, but why is she here, in my place?

Taking a few steps to stand just inches away from the shower opening, I’m conflicted between getting Stevie out of here and glimpsing the woman who almost had me rethinking my life. Almost.

‘Ethan, I swear to God—’

There’s that sass I remember. ‘Oh, relax.’

Channelling every ounce of composure I can muster, I keep my back to her, stick my arm into the alcove and click my fingers at Stevie.

‘You. Out. Now!’

At last, she obeys, but stops in the middle of the room to shake the