If cringing was an Olympic sport, I’d be medaling right now. Silver at least. Probably gold.
That was what happened whenever Mom decided to forget her woes and responsibilities—and the fact that she was nearing sixty—and ‘live every day fully.’ It was also what happened when she’d had too many tiny plastic glasses of wine.“Your mom is killing it,” my friend Chad observed at my side.The DJ was playing “Uptown Funk,” a song I wasn’t sure Mom had ever actually heard before, and she was doing some combination of what looked like the Funky Chicken and a pantomime of being trapped inside a box. My brother Dalton was out in the middle of the grassy lawn with her, encouraging her insanity with his own ridiculous moves.“That’s one way to put it,” I muttered, swallowing down what was left in my own tiny plastic glass. “She really needs to get back to her table,” I said, glancing around at the steadily growing crowd of afternoon food and wine lovers gathering in the grassy park where the annual North Valley Wine Mixer was in full swing.“She’s having fun, man. Let her blow off some steam. She deserves it.” Chad threw back his own wine like a shot and then slipped a flask from his back pocket and refilled with something that clearly wasn’t wine. “Hooch?” He offered, holding the flask out to me.I could feel my brows lower as I glared at him. “Who brings ‘hooch’ to a wine event?”“Who’s got two thumbs and loves a good roll in the hay with a random chick I’ll never see again?” Chad returned.“Right,” I said as Chad slipped his flask back in his pocket and indicated himself with both extended thumbs, managing to keep hold of his cup in the process.For me, this was a work event, and I couldn’t really afford to get hopped up on whatever Chad carried in his flask or lose my mind (and my self- respect) out on the dance floor with my mother. The crowd was full of customers, and as one of the biggest wine distributors in Northern California, I needed to spend the day schmoozing, not partying.“I need to have a couple meetings,” I told Chad, confident my buddy would be fine without me. Chad and I had been best friends since elementary school, which was the only reason I put up with a lot of his more douchey behavior now. In high school, he’d morphed from awkward skinny kid to All-American blond football god and gotten a little big headed with all the sudden attention from the ladies. In the meantime, I’d stayed just about the same, but then I’d never had a tough time with girls. My singlehood was a choice, not a problem.And work didn’t leave time for dating anyway.I wove between the bodies moving around the grassy makeshift dance floor to where my mother and Dalton continued embarrassing the family,now doing some kind of one-on-one limbo competition even though the music playing was a country ballad.“Hey,” I said, taking Mom gently by the arm. “Let’s go grab something to eat, and then we can spend a little time letting some people taste your wine.” As I talked, I steered her off the dance floor and toward a shady table covered with mini-charcuterie trays.“Party pooper!” Dalton called from behind us.“Honey, I was just having fun. I’m working too,” Mom said, shaking her arm free of my grip. She picked up a little tray and a bottle of water and walked at my side back to the Cunning Ham Winery table, which she’d basically deserted to go dance with my little brother.“Mom, you can’t just walk away from the wine,” I pointed out, seeing her back to her spot behind the tasting table we’d set up for her fledgling winery.She looked around as if searching for someone. “Well, I didn’t. I left your brother here.”“You were just dancing with him.”“Not that one. Lincoln. Where’d he go?”Who knew where Lincoln had gone? The guy was so easily distracted— he was not a safe bet if you needed to rely on someone. Perform some complicated math? Sure, Linc was your man. Explain in ridiculous detail how the latest Mars lander worked? You bet. Figure out the exact heritage of some dessicated grapes hanging on the vine? Definitely.I shook my head and helped Mom tidy up the tasting table.“Maybe it’s time to hire some real help here,” she said. “I’ll need someone in the tasting room anyway.”“That’s true,” I agreed, straightening the sign hanging off the edge of the table. Mom was learning to make wine, which was going to take some time. We’d traded capital and space with a guy named Jacques who’d arrived from the Rhône Valley looking for a place to make wine. We were the money, he was the talent. I wondered if he regretted the deal now that he’d figured out Mom had no idea how to act as his assistant. “Maybe we should try to find some candidates next week. I’ll talk to a few people, see if I can find anyone. I think you really need someone who can handle sales too though, not just the tasting room.”“But that’s what I have you for,” Mom smiled broadly at me, and I felt my chest tighten.“You do,” I agreed.Her face fell without me saying a word. “You’ve got way too much on your plate, Boston. I do know that. Hiring someone would be as much a help for you as for me.”She wasn’t wrong. Since Dad had died suddenly last year, I’d been running the family business and helping Mom launch her fledgling winery. And it was a lot.“I’m okay, Mom. And we’ll get you some help. It’ll all be fine.” I’d been telling myself that all year. If we could get a Cracker Jack salesperson in to handle some of Mom’s needs, maybe even help out at West Wine Distributors, then maybe I could take a day off.“Go have some fun, Boston,” Mom said, putting on her I’m-a- professional expression. “I’ve got this covered. I won’t leave the table again.”I turned and looked around the scene.It was a perfect day. The sun shone, the grass glistened at our feet, and a cool breeze was trundling in intermittent wisps over the green hills in the distance, carried off the Pacific by a generous breeze. The event
“I should kill you for making me wear this bra,” I muttered, trying to wiggle and tug just right to get the girls to settle into the strapless bra that was currently trying to stab me in the ribs. Bras without the harness straps were for girls with a C-cup or less. That was, like, a golden rule or something.“You’ve got the goods, you need to show them off. You’ll thank me when Mr. Forever notices you today,” Ashley said as she stood patiently by the back bumper of her car waiting for me to get my outfit to cooperate.The snort I gave her was not feminine. “You mean when he falls eyeballs first into my cleavage and forgets my name? No thanks.”“You’re always saying those guys you date don’t take you as a real prospect. Show them you’re more than just a female friend they can rely on for really tasty chocolate chip cookies.”“Or for doing their tax returns for free every year,” I grumbled, reaching back into the car for my crossbody bag. It cut across my boobs and made them look like w
“You know, if you’re in the market—” Pam began, but Ashley was already tugging me away from the table.I shoved the business card in my tiny purse, trying not to stumble in my wedges as she pulled us into the mass of bodies closer to the dance floor. “That was so rude. She might offer me a job!”“That’s wonderful, but we came here for a man. You don’t have one of those already, so that’s what we need to focus on.” Ashley scanned the crowd.“You don’t have one either, but you don’t see me trying to set you up,” I pouted.“Hey, you’re the one who’s been complaining about being single, not me.” Ashley’s gaze snagged on something behind me. Or should I say someone.“Hey, champ. Come dance with my friend.” Ashley grabbed a tall blond-haired guy by the bicep.He didn’t seem perturbed by a random girl grabbing him. He smiled at me, right before his gaze slid down to my chest. Sigh. Well, he didn’t have boat shoes. And he had actual hair on his legs. Not too much. Not too little. Okay, this c
The rest of the wine festival went well—at least from a sales perspective. I introduced myself and West Wines to a few wineries I hadn’t spoken to before, making connections that would hopefully help us grow. Dad had made us one of the biggest distributors in this part of the state, but there was always competition. And now that West Wines was going to essentially support the launch of Mom’s winery, well, I didn’t want to tell her this, but it was going to be tight for a bit.My mother wasn’t wrong about needing help. Besides not having the first clue how to make wine, she wasn’t much of a salesperson. She was too kind. If I left it to her, she’d be giving the wine away. Jacques already had his hands full in the winery—he’d mentioned that Mom was a lot more prepared to embrace the “art” side of winemaking than she was willing to undertake the more scientific aspects.But making her own wine was Mom’s dream, and it was the only thing that had made her smile since Dad had died. So even
“I’m glad.”“That one was a firecracker,” he said, nodding at El’s distant form, making slow progress through the parking lot. The fading sun was lighting her blond hair, making it gleam with glints of gold.I faced him. “What do you mean?” My stomach turned over itself uncomfortably. “You didn’t, uh . . .”“What? Here? No.” Chad’s eyes went a little misty and I knew he was picturing it. I kicked myself for putting the idea in his head. He shook his head and his gaze cleared. “Nah, she’s not my type. Too . . . I don’t know. Too something. Seemed kinda overeager, if you want the truth.”“What do you mean?” Could a sweet girl like El really be interested in a guy who called himself ‘The Chadder’?“I mean, I like a girl who’s into it, you know?” “But?”“She asked for my digits. Like five minutes after meeting me.” He nodded like this proved some kind of point. “I’m a pretty serious catch, I know, but even a guy like me likes a little more foreplay than that.”“Dancing at a wine festival
The front door slammed behind me and caught part of thecloth shopping bag I had in my hands to take to Mom’s house. I tried to pull it free, but it was lodged pretty good. With a sigh, I grabbed my keys out of my purse to open my place back up, but then I fumbled the keys and almost spilled my travel mug of coffee.“Careful there, El,” came the voice I tried to avoid when I was running low on time or patience.Frank. My duplex neighbor.I gave him a weak smile, which froze in place when I saw him standing in his bathrobe and boxers, scratching his considerable beer belly. He had one of his female mannequins sitting in the single chair he could squeeze in on his tiny front porch. Usually, he kept those ladies inside the house, which was creepy enough. No need to bring them outside and remind us he had a few screws loose.“Off to your mom’s?” he called across our adjoining decks, then took a huge slurp of coffee before offering the cup to his inanimate friend.My routine was highly pre
She swung her arms out to the side, one of her splints catching me on the shoulder and nearly knocking me down. Her voice came out at a decibel equal to a rocket taking off in Florida. “It’s always about the boobs!”Heads swiveled and I was done. I pushed the cart out of the store, studiously ignoring her like I wasn’t with the crazy lady shouting about boobs. She would catch up eventually. Probably.The only mercy was that in all the conversation throughout the store, I hadn’t told Mom about Chad. Or the fact that I’d actually texted him last night in a moment of weakness. Ashley had been hounding me all afternoon to text him just to see what would happen. At twenty-eight, you’d think peer pressure wouldn’t be a thing anymore, but I was alive and well to tell you that it is. And it got me. I texted Chad and he’d texted me back and now the ball was in my court. Me and sports didn’t get along, so I knew nothing about what to do with this flirt ball or where my court even was. And also,
I shouldn’t have texted with her. I should have told her right away that I wasn’t Chad. I almost forgot she thought I was until that last text came in.Beautiful Accountant: Enjoy your work. Goodnight, Chad.I sat back in Dad’s chair, the loud groan of the hinges sending a wave of deep sadness rolling through me. The single lamp was on over the desk, and the room was otherwise dark and quiet. Seeing my phone light up with El’s name had brightened the place—and my evening—but the brutal reminder that she didn’t even know who she was texting dimmed things considerably.That and the news that she was going to quit.It was probably that information that had stopped me from coming clean. She was leaving anyway, and though Solano Creek wasn’t a big place, I spent all my time at West Wines or Cunning Ham Winery. The odds I’d ever see her again felt miniscule. And who knew if she was even staying here? I knew nothing about Isabel Watson.Nothing except that she was beautiful. And smart. And t