Brooke headed upstairs to the ladies’ room, and I let myself into the back barrel room, where I grabbed a wine that I’d never expected to open so soon. Pouring two glasses, I brought the bottle with me. Brooke was already waiting.
“It’s so strange to be here without any people at dusk.”
I handed Brooke a glass of wine as we made our way toward the vineyards. I smiled as she held up the glass to look at the color and then swirled it, smelled it, and took a sip.
“I love the estate when it’s empty,” I admitted. “Don’t get me wrong, I love all the people too. Without them, there would be no Grado Valley Vineyards. But there’s something special about this too.”
I’d meant the calmness of the estate, but the words held a double meaning I was finding increasingly difficult to ignore.
“I get it,” she said. “What is this? It’s delicious.”
“You tell me,” I said as we walked side by side.
“Well, obviously a cab. Savory, with an herbal touch. I’m tasting more tannin or acidity.”
“By design. It sits on a razor’s edge between both.” I showed her the bottle.
“I heard about this cab reserve. Perry calls it four point o.There are only a handful of bottles of it.”
“Not anymore,” I said. “This is my last one.”
She stopped walking. “Excuse me?”
“My dad gave it to me the day he officially retired. He gave each of us one.”
“And we’re drinking this now because...?” We began to walk again.
“Because I know it’s a good wine. For a special occasion.”
“Yeah, like your wedding. Or birth of a child. Not”—she waved her free arm toward the vineyards in front of us—“this. A random Tuesday with a woman you hardly know and couldn’t even stand a few weeks ago.”
“I’m not one for pinning happiness on future events or desired outcomes. Peace and joy are here. In the present moment.”
“Tomorrow might not come.”
“Precisely.”
“Kind of morbid, isn’t it?”
I took another sip. It was a damn good wine. “Just the opposite. It reminds us to live. Besides, you aren’t a woman I hardly know.”
“You know I’m from PA. And live in the city. That I lost my job, have a shitty ex, and love wine tasting with my friends. What else?”
“Well, I know you are incredibly smart and are probably thinking of a way to capitalize on this conversation in your marketing efforts as we speak.” I’d caught her red-handed. “Spill it.”
Sheepishly, Brooke said, “I was thinking of an ‘Open that Bottle’ night, where people bring the bottle of wine they’ve been saving and just open it. Or something. I don’t know. I have to think it through.”
“See? I knew it.” I took another sip of wine. “Okay, what else? I also know you are born to be on the water and the city does nothing for you. I know you are the life of the party and everyone loves you, with good reason.” We walked into the first section of vines. “I know you hated moving around so much even though it probably helped you develop skills, like meeting new people and making friends. I know you adore your mother, and your girlfriends. And are a better wine drinker than the day we met. Although,” I relented, “that may have something to do with not drinking vodka roadies first.”
We slowed to a stop.
“I could keep going,” I said, putting down the bottle. “But we’re here for a reason.”
I watched as Brooke’s chest rose and fell, as her eyes narrowed.
Surprising her, I reached for a vine. “To look at the grape berries.”
“Ugh, you are maddening. I thought that was an excuse.”