“Oh, come on, a talented, gorgeous woman like you in Paris. Don’t tell me you don’t get your fair share of attention.” Cole shot her a skeptical glance.
Georgia pinked. He thought she was talented... and gorgeous! “Mostly old French men offering to make me their mistress,” she conceded. “On a bad day at the restaurant, I have to admit it was sometimes almost tempting.”
Cole chuckled, then changed the subject. “I know this place isn’t French, but the wine here is good, or so I’ve been told. They’ve won a few awards, gained some recognition.”
Georgia set down her glass. There was no point in drinking any more, which was a pity. She loved good wine. It was one of the joys of living in France. Instead she looked around. The spot was beautiful, the day pleasantly warm. She could think of far worse places to be at the moment. Gazing at the orderly rows of twisted grapevines, the picturesque white chapel, the smattering of other patrons, she tried hard to relax. Then she smiled wryly as she realized the effort she was putting intonotmaking an effort. She was terrible at doing nothing. It wasn’t in her nature.She was used to working hard, focusing, and succeeding. She wasn’t quite sure how to succeed by NOT making an effort. Relaxing in order to accomplish her goals felt counterintuitive.
“How’s it been going with Star so far?” Cole interrupted her thoughts.
“It’s been...” Georgia hesitated, her mind immediately going to her conversation with Star about the Stevens women and her gift. “Unexpected.”
Cole raised an eyebrow. “Unexpected how?”
Georgia studied Cole for a moment. How much did he know? Did he know about Star’s gift? He’d lived in close proximity to Star for years. Had he figured out there was something different about her by now? Surely, ripe tomatoes in January must have tipped him off.
“Have you ever noticed anything... unique about Star?” she asked carefully.
Cole stilled, his face a careful blank, eyes hidden by the sunglasses. “Unique how?” he said, his tone a touch wary.
“For starters her lush off-season garden,” Georgia replied. “She has the greenest thumb I’ve ever seen.” She paused, waiting to see if he would pick up on what she was saying. His shoulders relaxed instantly.
“Oh, you mean the fact that she can make anything grow, any time of the year? That green thumb? Yes, I’ve noticed.”
Georgia exhaled in relief. “So you know about her gift?” Briefly she noticed that he’d relaxed when she’d mentioned Star’s gift. Almost as though he’d expected her to ask about something else. She wondered if Star had more than one secret.
Cole nodded. “She told me eventually. It took me a while to figure out that it wasn’t the island that was producing ripe plums for Thanksgiving and making roses bloom for Christmas. I’ve never seen anything like it. Star is... special.”
Georgia nodded. “She is.”
“And you’re okay with that?” Cole asked evenly.
Georgia wrinkled her nose and stared straight ahead, at a group of tourists taking photos by the grapevines. “Well, it turns out I’m... special too.”
Cole tipped his head, surveying her. “Really?” He sounded intrigued. “You have the same ability she does?”
“Not exactly.” Georgia swirled the wine around in her glass. “Apparently, the women in our family each have a gift. Hers is her very green thumb. Mine is cooking food that gives people clarity when they eat it.” Matter-of-factly, she told him the story Star had told her, starting with Star’s grandmother Emma. She wasn’t sure why she was confiding in him. Perhaps because he knew about and embraced Star’s gift. Or perhaps because she just wanted to tell someone who wouldn’t think she was crazy.
Cole gave a low whistle when she was done. He looked impressed. “So that explains why after the dinner you cooked the other night I went home and reconsidered all my life choices.” He smiled wryly, but she wasn’t entirely sure he was kidding.
Georgia laughed, relieved. She’d said the truth out loud, and Cole wasn’t treating her like she was strange or wrong somehow.
“You believe me?” she asked a touch hesitantly. “You don’t think I’m crazy?”
“You forget I’ve eaten Star’s ripe watermelon for Valentine’s Day,” Cole remarked. “So no, I don’t think you’re crazy. I think you have a gift no one understands, and that’s a very different thing.”
Georgia didn’t know what to say. She was touched. Someone saw her, knew the thing that had always made her different, and called it good. He didn’t seem to think it strange or wrong. He was acting as though it were just what Star called it, a gift.
“I’ve known since I was very young that I was different,”Georgia admitted. “But I didn’t understand why. Growing up I was made to feel that there was something wrong with me, and I think I’ve carried that feeling around for a very long time. My dad and aunt always acted like the Stevens side of me was something to be wary of. It’s strange to think that the very thing I was made to believe was a flaw—the Stevens half of me—might truly be a gift after all.”
Cole nodded, listening carefully and watching Georgia through his sunglasses. “You Stevens women are extraordinary,” he said softly. “Don’t let anyone tell you differently.”
Touched, Georgia cleared her throat and glanced down at her wineglass. She felt confused and a little embarrassed to have gone so deep so quickly with a man who half the time seemed like he could barely stand her. But here he was, looking at her with what seemed like respect and admiration. It confused her. She’d always felt she had to work to prove herself valuable. From the time she was small, she’d been striving to prove her worth, to succeed and show the world she had merit, that she mattered. But now when she could not taste or cook with excellence, the very things that had always been her ticket to recognition, Cole was looking at her like she had value just because she existed, as though her very person was a gift to the world. It was unexpected, and she didn’t quite know how to feel about that. It made her a little uncomfortable, to be valued for herself and not what she produced. It felt too good to be true.
Sudddenly the moment was interrupted by a cry of greeting from the parking lot. “Hey man, no way!” Cole glanced up, startled. A young man in a new-looking Patagonia fleece and a very pretty brunette in expensive athleisure wear had just jumped out of a gleaming Mercedes SUV and were making their way toward him from the parking lot.
“Remember me? Tyler Perkins?” The young man exuded acocky confidence as he approached their table, the brunette in tow. “We were on that panel together at that enviro tech expo in San Jose? What happened to you, man? Word is you fell off the face of the earth after you won that big award.” He stuck out his hand. “Sorry, I’m blanking on your name.”
Georgia glanced at Cole, whose face had lost all expression. He didn’t grasp the man’s hand, just left him hanging. “You seem to have me confused with someone else,” Cole said flatly. “I’m an oyster farmer here on the island.”
