Dying to Celebrate. Lynn Cahoon
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curly hair out of her face. “Anyway, I had a dream about you last night and I wanted to let you know.”
“You’re dreaming of me?” I wasn’t sure what to say. “That’s nice?”
“Not that way. My dreams are more prophetic than emotional. Although you are very lovely, I play for the other team.” Esmeralda laughed at her joke. “Anyway, the dream was a bit fuzzy, but I did get one clear message out of the spirits. You’ll never find what you’re looking for until you look for something else.”
My aunt had used that technique for years to find her keys. It was good advice, even if it came from the other side. “So I should stop looking for something?”
“Exactly.” Esmeralda grinned and nodded to her house. “Sorry, I need to get inside before they arrive. It’s kind of a staging thing for the whole experience.”
“I don’t see anyone coming.” I glanced back down the street. Empty. Which is another reason I loved living in South Cove. On nonweekend days, our traffic was slim to none.
Esmeralda was already halfway across the street when she said to me, “I do.”
I watched her disappear into her house. The woman was unusual. That was certain. Okay, so I could go with weird and still be on point. But she was a good neighbor and she’d watched Emma one weekend when Greg and I went out of town. So she had a few little oddities that you had to accept. I started up the hill toward town and that’s when I heard the car engine.
Turning back, I saw a Land Rover turn off the highway and up Main Street. It pulled into Esmeralda’s driveway, and as I watched, an older woman climbed out of the driver’s side. Her gray hair was cut short and her casual linen pantsuit flowed in the breeze. Esmeralda had to have known what time the woman would arrive. There was no way she could have either seen or heard the car when she cut short our talk and returned to her house.
I headed back to town, thinking of Esmeralda and her gift and the idea of not looking for what I was trying to find.
By the time I got to the winery, I was hot and annoyed. Esmeralda’s dream had made me grumpy. I decided I didn’t want the spirits, or anyone, telling me what to do. I walked into the large barn that held the tasting room and the winery. Darla had the space to add on a dining area, but besides the small snacks she kept behind the bar, she claimed she had no desire to change South Cove Winery into a drinking and eating establishment.
The light inside the bar was dim, but I could see Matt working at the stage at the end of the room, setting up equipment for this weekend’s musical guest. He’d brought in several bands the last six months that had increased the winery’s draw of customers. Darla had put him in charge of the festival’s entertainment too. Matt knew his music. I ordered a beer off their grocery store bottle list from the woman setting up the bar for the evening, and once I’d paid her, I took my bottle over to the stage.
“Hey, Jill, what are you doing out this early?” Matt grinned at me. “I figured you’d be working still.”
“I’m the morning slave. After noon, I’m free to do anything.” I glanced around the room. “I guess you and Darla are night owls around here.”
“Yeah, we don’t get a lot of day customers. But sometimes we get a bus full of tourists who want the winery experience.” He flipped out a cord and started winding it up. “I’m trying to get this mess cleaned up. Barry gave Darla a hassle about how much equipment we have plugged in over in this corner. I think I can get a few things moved, but realistically, you need a lot of power for the bands’ equipment.”
“Of course, Barry’s not around anymore.” I watched his reaction to see what kind of emotion I’d get.
He sank down on the edge of the stage. “Yeah, I know. But he was right about the wiring. I guess I’d like to honor him by at least getting this corrected.”
I saw sadness cross his face. I tried to keep the surprise out of my response. “You liked Barry?”
Matt nodded, looking down at the wires in his hands. “Barry was a tough nut to crack, but he took a chance on me and let me into the fire fighter group. He didn’t have to, not with my past.”
I didn’t know much about Matt’s past, except for the fact he’d been assigned to the work program last winter. I sat next to him on the edge of the stage and took a sip of my beer before I asked, “What do you mean?”
He glanced around the now-empty room. Even the bartender who had helped me was in the back, probably getting more product to stock for the evening customers. “Hell, I guess it doesn’t matter now. I’m sure the new chief won’t be as forgiving as Barry was, at least with me.” He turned toward me. “But I’d appreciate it if you kept it between us.”
“Darla is my . . .”
He cut me off before I could finish my sentence. “Darla knows everything. Do you think I’d even start a relationship with her if I wasn’t going to be completely honest?”
“No, I guess not.” The fact was, I didn’t know Matt very well, and I had worried about what his intentions were with my friend. Darla had a big heart and a quick wit that kept everyone around her happy. She deserved a great guy. But I was willing to withhold judgment until I heard Matt’s story.
“I got out of prison last year.”
My eyes must have shown my shock because he laughed.
“Before you run away screaming, let me tell you the situation. I was a troubled kid. Never wanted to be in school, always wanted the fast money, cars, and girls.” He smiled at the memory. “When I dropped out, I started hanging with some friends. Well, actually, they were a gang and had a nice business in stealing cars and selling them to a chop shop. I didn’t even complete my first assignment before I was arrested. I guess I’m a horrible thief.”
“You were in a gang, stole a car, and went to prison?” Matt didn’t look that old. “What were you, sixteen?”
“Nope, just two days after my eighteenth birthday. I was tried as an adult. My folks had washed their hands of me years before so I didn’t even try to ask for help.” He shrugged. “I did my time and realized when I was in there that my so-called friends never visited or helped me out while I was inside.”
“You find out who are your real friends when you really need them.” I guessed that was a truism no matter what type of trials you were going through.
“For sure. So when I got out, my probation officer approved a move to Bakerstown and got me into the work program. And you know the rest.” He snuck a glance at me. “So what’s your reaction now that you know? Am I off your Christmas card list?”
I laughed, wondering how a man could go through all that and not have residual scarring. “I don’t send Christmas cards. The store does though, and if you want, I’ll get you on that list. You just have to buy a book from us.”
“I appreciate that.” He rubbed his face. “You’re the third person here I’ve told about my past. Darla, Barry, and now you. It gets easier with each telling.”
I saw Greg walk into the darkened room and figured he’d found out through official channels what Matt had just told me. I patted his arm. “Your past doesn’t change who you are now. Don’t forget that.”
Something in my tone made him look up at me, then at the door. He put the cords down and stood. “I don’t think your boyfriend is here on a social call. It sucks to be the easy answer to all the problems in the world just because you’re on probation for one stupid action.”
“He’ll be fair. You know him.” I just hoped my words were accurate. Sometimes Greg had too much evidence to look at the emotion of the situation. Which usually worked in his favor, but today, it might work against him.
We watched Greg approach and he caught my eye. “Jill, will you excuse us? I have official business with Matt.”
“You