At the Corner of King Street by Mary Ellen Taylor

“Don’t do this to yourself,” I whispered. “If I handle this right, maybe I won’t have to tell him.”
    I took another deep breath. Scott always admired my crisis management skills, but this would put it all to the test.
    â€œBreathe, Addie. Breathe. Think.”
    It was Monday. The wine reception wasn’t until Friday evening, so there was a day or two that I could spare. I worked ahead and planned to spend the week tweaking final details in my OCD way, but if push came to shove, I could handle it all in one very hectic day.
    I dialed Scott’s number, half hoping he shut it off or was in the fields where reception was spotty. He picked up on the second ring. “Addie. Thank God. Tell me you’re on your way home. I got a call from the caterer, and she has questions I couldn’t answer.”
    Pressing fingertips to my temple, I rose. “What was the question?”
    â€œAvailability of shrimp I think.”
    A normal, everyday kind of crisis. I liked those. “I’ll call her in the morning and sort it out.”
    â€œI knew you would.” He yawned. “Are you coming back tonight?”
    â€œIt’s getting late. Better to drive when I’m fresh. Plus I have more loose ends to clear up here.” The next words rushed, carrying anapology woven in the tone. “I’ll be back tomorrow, and I’ll get it all on track. Don’t worry.”
    After a long silence, he sighed into the phone. “Baby, what’s going on there? Is everything all right?”
    â€œNothing I can’t fix.” I’m Addie the Glue. I hold it all together.
    â€œWhere’re you staying?”
    I moved to the window that overlooked the alley.
    â€œI’m staying at my Aunt Grace’s house on King Street in Old Town Alexandria.”
    â€œYou’ve never mentioned her.”
    â€œI used to work for her in her architectural salvage business.”
    â€œShe has property in Old Town Alexandria? That’s got to be worth some money.”
    â€œI suppose it is. My grandfather bought the land when it was cheap.”
    â€œWhat kind of property is it?”
    â€œIt’s a warehouse.”
    â€œCould it be a wine warehouse?”
    â€œWhat?”
    He chuckled. “Just thinking, baby. We expand our wine empire, we might need a city location.”
    â€œOur wine empire.” The words tripped off his tongue without effort, and it warmed me more than a thousand
I love you
s.
    â€œOf course, our wine empire,” he said softly. “I wouldn’t be where I am without you, Addie. You’re the center of my life.”
    Wine or empire didn’t matter.
Our
did
.
“Really?” I nestled closer to the phone, trying to imagine the clean scent of his skin, which smelled like wine and sunshine.
    â€œBaby, you know that.”
    More anxious than ever to return to the vineyard, I sat up straighter,determined to fix this issue and return to my real home. “We don’t talk about us all that often. We’re so busy.”
    â€œAfter this Friday, we’re going to talk more about us. I’ve been putting it off and that’s bad. Too much work filling my head. But we’ll talk long and hard this weekend.”
    He ended the sentence with a sensuous chuckle, which coaxed a smile. We’d not made love for a few weeks. He chocked it up to work and stress and, though I missed the reassurance of his touch, I understood.
    â€œI love you,” I said.
    â€œMe, too. Me, too. Hurry home. We all miss you. I miss you.”
    When I hung up, the worries melted and, for a moment, I didn’t think about Janet, the baby, social workers, or Zeb’s annoyed expression. I imagined my life with Scott. Sitting on the back porch, sipping a glass of wine, and watching the sunset. In my daydreams it was always just the two of us. Enjoying each other.
    I tucked the phone back in my pocket and found Grace standing over