“You know I love you with your glasses. But you could have smiled even a little. You look serious.”
“Really, Mom?” Me not smiling or being the life of the party like my father was only one of many differences between us. One my mother was acutely aware of.
“Okay, okay. But it’s not like you don’t know how to smile.”
“Just that I don’t do it as often as everyone would like,” I muttered.
“If by ‘everyone,’ you mean your dad, that’s just not true. He loves you exactly as you are.” Unlike the face that stared back at me from the cover of the magazine, my mother’s grin reached her eyes, crinkled them at the corners. She was sunshine to my clouds. Always had been.
Reaching out, she grabbed my hand, which was still gripping the corner of the magazine. “You will be fine, Cos. Better than fine. You’ve done more for Grado Valley in the last five years than either of us have done in ten. You know all of it like the back of your hand. And you have your brothers. You’ll be more than fine.” She squeezed my hand. I held on tight, as if I was a boy of five and not a man of thirty-two.
Sixty-five acres. Two wineries. A cafe. Cottages. A budding brewery. My siblings’ livelihoods, never mind my own.
“I know,” I told her. The half-truth tasted sour in my mouth. “You guys don’t worry about a thing. Enjoy Italy,” I said. “You deserve it.”
That much, at least, was true. If anyone deserved this retirement trip, my parents did. They’d built Grado Valley Vineyards from a card table in the barn to an estate that employed dozens of people on top of my own family. It was incredible, really.
With a final squeeze, she let go of my hand and waved toward the magazine. “Read it,” she said. “Never mind you look like a model on the cover.”
I rolled my eyes.
“It’s a great article. No hint of a cocky son of a bitch at all.”
“Mom!”
“What? I can curse if I want.”
And she probably did in private, but not around us. Didn’t want to condone bad behavior. Never mind that the youngest of the four of us was no longer a child at twenty-five. Old habits died hard, I guessed.
“You better get going before Dad sends a search party.” I stood and made my way around the desk. Putting my arms around her, I pulled my mother close. Closing my eyes at her familiar scent, I said a silent prayer to Saint Christopher to keep her and my dad safe. I might not have gone to church, much to my mother’s horror. Plus, it couldn’t hurt.
“Love you, Cos-i-mooh,” she said, pulling away.
“Love you, Mom. Tell Dad not to drive like a maniac to the airport. You have more than enough time,” I said with emphasis onmore.
“I will, sweetie. We’re just a phone call away. But I’m not worried at all. You got this.”
She fully believed that. Believed in me.
I just couldn’t fuck this up.
CHAPTERTWO
brooke
“What in thehell are you two doing back there?” The question came from all the way in the front seat. My poor friend Amy, along with every other girl in this seven-seater except Marian and I, were all prone to car sickness. Lucky for the two of us, we had the distinct pleasure of the third row for the entire trip. Which honestly wasn’t so bad. It was closer to the snacks in the very back.
“Nothing,” Marian and I said at the same time, giggling.
“Ooooh, how pretty,” Tina said in front of me. My friend since Freshman year of high school was looking out the window as Seneca Lake zipped past us. It was really pretty. I didn’t need to be completely sober to appreciate the beauty of this place. We’d only been here for two days and already I felt my troubles beginning to ebb.
Girls’ trips will do that to you.
“Did you open the Combos?”
I nodded and handed over the cheddar cheese goodness to Marian.
“Do I smell Combos?” Jen asked. She was in the second row, along with Tina, Debby and Leeta. Six of us for five days of wine drinking and eating our faces off. A perfect way to forget about the dickhead I left behind in the city.