“Wow.” I adjusted my hat. “Where is it?”

“Not far from here. Outside of town on about two and a half acres. So not a ton of land to manage, but enough for a couple horses and some animals. And it already has a barn.”

“The kids must be happy.”

“They are. They are.” She looked down at her boots. The snow fell slowly and softly around us.

“What about you?” I asked. “Are you happy?”

She smiled at me, but her eyes were glossy with tears. “I’m . . . I’m hopeful about the house. I’m glad my kids are excited. And I’m looking forward to moving out of my parents’ house, as much as I love them. But no, Henry. I’m not happy. I miss you.”

“I miss you too.”

She closed her eyes a second, took a breath. “But I have to put the kids first. And right now, they’re not ready for me to be in a relationship.”

“I understand.” I stared at the ground for a moment, letting the disappointment sink in. “So Whitney was that upset, huh?”

“Yes. A lot of it is my fault. The night she asked if we were dating, I could tell she was troubled by the idea of it. I could have spoken to her about it right then, been more open with her, but instead I lied to her to avoid a difficult conversation.” She shrugged and smiled sadly, a tear slipping down one cheek. “I didn’t want to face that what I was doing was wrong, because it felt too good. I was selfish.”

“That’s not being selfish, Sylvia. And you weren’t doing anything wrong.”

It was obvious she didn’t believe me. “Anyway, seeing us dancing and kissing made all her fears real, and she was very angry with me. She told me I was just like Brett.”

“You’re not,” I said firmly. “You know you’re not.”

She shook her head, fresh tears forming. “It doesn’t matter what the truth is, Henry. Her feelings are real. And scary. And she’s . . . she’s struggling to trust people right now.”

How could it not matter what the truth was? I didn’t fully understand what she meant by that. And there was something else . . . I wasn’t convinced Sylvia was talking only about Whitney here. She was scared too. Maybe hearing all of her daughter’s fears out loud had opened up the wound on her heart.

But I couldn’t help her heal if she wouldn’t let me.

“Tell me what to do, Sylvia. I feel terrible.”

She shook her head. “You shouldn’t. None of this was your fault. I should apologize to you—I led you to believe something more between us was possible, but . . . it isn’t, Henry. And I’m sorry.” A sob escaped her. Then another, and another. “I’m so sorry.”

I couldn’t stand it. Dropping the shears at my feet, I gathered her in my arms and held her, letting her cry on my shoulder. Feeling her body shudder with sadness was agony, but at least I didn’t feel so helpless. Comforting her gave me a purpose. “It’s okay. Shhh, it’s okay.”

“It’s not,” she wept. “I behaved terribly, coming after you like that. And I promised myself I wouldn’t embarrass myself by breaking down this way, yet here I am.”

“You didn’t behave terribly—I was a very willing participant. I won’t lie and say I’m not upset, but your kids are more important, Sylvia. If I had children, you bet your ass in a sequined skirt I’d put them first too.” I forced myself to make a joke, hoping it might make her smile.

She laughed a little, pulling back from me and wiping her eyes with her sleeve. “Thanks.”

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah. God, I’m so sick of crying. It feels like that’s all I’ve done for a year.”

“So let’s do something else,” I blurted, thinking fast. “Want me to put you to work?”

She gave me a shaky smile and sniffed. “Here? In the vineyard?”

“Sure. Or in the tasting room. Whatever you want.”

“I didn’t think you’d want me around anymore.”

“Well, you were wrong. I offered to teach you about the way we make wine, and the offer stands.” I knew it would only make it harder to shut down my feelings for her if she was around all the time, but if it cheered her up, it was worth it.

“It does? Even though we can’t—” She stopped talking and pounded one mitten into the other.

I had to laugh. “Well, I’m not going to argue with you if you ever want to take your clothes off, but yes. Even though we’re only going to be friends, I’ll still teach you what you want to know. I’m not a total asshole.”

She stood taller, her eyes and nose still red, but her grin genuine. “I’d love that, Henry. When can I start?”

“How about right now? Want to learn how to prune these vines?”

“Yes! Show me!”

“Okay, so watch and listen carefully.” Turning toward the plants, I gave her a look over my shoulder. “This is an art form, you know.”

She actually laughed. “Go on.”

“So the vines are dormant right now. The buds are alive, but they’re basically sleeping, so now is when we want to go through and choose the ones we think have the best shot.”

“Why not leave them all?” she wondered. “Wouldn’t that give you the most fruit?”

I shook my head. “The vine will be more productive if you prune it the right way than if you just leave everything. We want to concentrate the energy of the vines into the buds we select.”

“Got it.”

I forced myself to focus on teaching her the task at hand, rather than on her nearness, the scent of her hair, the adorable way she held the tip of her tongue between her teeth in concentration when she was clipping a shoot.

“Like that?” she’d ask, her brow furrowed with concern.

“Perfect. Try this one now.”

We spent almost two perfect hours working side by side that afternoon. She listened attentively, asked smart questions, and learned fast. I was in heaven—no one had ever been so interested in what I did out here. And each time she smiled or laughed, my heart would quicken in my chest.

But eventually, she said she should probably head back home to start Sunday dinner. “The kids start school tomorrow,” she told me, handing the shears back. “I want to make sure they get a good meal and a good night’s rest.”

“Of course. That’s a big day for them.” I hesitated. “I’m not sure I want to know the answer to this, but do they hate me?”

“Of course not.” She put a hand on my arm. “They both like you, Henry—that’s not the problem.”

I nodded. “Tell them I said to have a great first day.”

“I will, thanks.” She glanced around. “It’s starting to get dark. How much longer will you work?”

“I’m about done. I’ll walk back with you.”

We headed down the row in the direction of the winery. “Keaton is still really interested in that boxing gym,” she said as she walked close beside me. “Do you think you could text me the name and location?”

“Of course.”

“Thanks. I want to get him involved in something physical right away. Did I tell you the therapist Frannie recommended called back? I was able to get appointments for the kids in two weeks, right before our ski trip. Then right after that I leave for California to pack up the house.”