“Not like it did any good. He never called me back. But he did have dinner with my dad Sunday night.”
“And?”
“And he had no interest in dropping the brewery idea or selling his half of the business.”
That was about to change. A discussion for later.
“What matters is that you forgive me for acting like an asshole. I’d love to say it’ll never happen again, but...I’m a work in progress, Rae. For you, I swear I’ll try to do better.”
“We all are,” she said. “I’m sorry I jumped to conclusions. You aren’t my dad,” she said. “And I’m the one who said your past was in the past. I was just feeling vulnerable.”
We ate, drank wine, and continued to apologize to each other. Talking to Rae, even after the week we’d had, was so easy. It always had been.
“This is amazing,” she said as I cleaned up the plates. Rae tried to stand, but I told her to meet me on the deck instead. That I would clean up. A few minutes later, I joined her. But first, I kissed her. Leaned down to give her a quick one that ended up not being so quick.
As much as I’d have loved to pull her back out of that chair immediately, there were things I hadn’t told her yet and didn’t want to wait any longer now that we’d cleared the air.
“I love the sound of crickets,” she said. With the lake in front of us and enough woods between cottages to not see our neighbors—aka my siblings—it was as calm a night as any in Grado Valley.
“Did you know only males make that sound? They do it by rubbing their wings together.”
“Get out? No, I didn’t know that.”
“They’re calling out to potential mates.”
Rae laughed. “Of course they are.”
We sipped wine and listened for a minute or two. “So,” I put my wine in the groove that had been made specifically for it. My mother had these Adirondack chairs commissioned, same ones as up on the tasting room deck, a few years ago. Cost a pretty penny, but they were beautiful. “We haven’t talked much about Jerry.”
“With good reason. Aside from my father’s abysmal dinner, there’s not much to say. I’m just gonna have to deal with him.”
“Maybe not,” I hedged.
Rae’s brews drew together. “What do you mean?”
“I was talking to Cos and my father Sunday night about him. And about Sunset and the building permit.”
“Ugh, Marco. I am so sorry about that. Honestly I have no idea what he’s thinking. He told my dad that the empty land couldn’t be planted. And that he had no desire to get into hospitality, like you guys did with these cottages. He said your brewery was proof that having an option for beer drinkers could work. That it could attract more couples with men who aren’t wine drinkers.”
“I get it, but it might not matter.”
“What do you mean?”
I cleared my throat. “I don’t want you to think poorly of my parents, or me or my brother, but just remember, we’re Sicilian.”
“What the heck does that have to do with anything?”
“Well...a few years ago, when it became apparent Sunset wasn’t going to play nice with the rest of the vineyard owners, my dad talked to a few people about it. Pretty much told them that if the owners became a problem, they’d have no choice but to freeze them out.”
“Freeze them out? How?”
“You have to remember, I’m third generation Grado Valley.”
“Meaning?”
“Meaning my parents know pretty much everyone on the lake. From contractors, to suppliers, you name it. They’re either friends, golf buddies, or fellow poker players. My mother is sweet, but she’s also like a lioness protecting her cubs when it comes to Grado. To us.”
“So you’re saying—”