“You are looking quite pale,” his mother commented.
Natalie turned and let out a strangled scream over the rows of grapes.
Yes. Things certainly wouldn’t change overnight. With them or the vineyard. But hell if they weren’t at least pointed in the right direction now.
“We should go,” Julian said, heading for the courtyard and driveway of the main house. “Wouldn’t want to be late to Wine Down.”
“You don’t have to say it like that,” his mother complained in a withering tone. “Sarcastically.”
“He’s not,” Natalie interjected. “The name itself is doing all of the sarcasm heavy lifting. Do I have a minute to run inside and pee?”
Julian and Corinne groaned.
“Shut up,” Natalie called over her shoulder, trotting back toward the house. Despite his exasperation, the night didn’t feel like a total chore anymore. If he’d spent tonight working, he would have missed the revelation from his sister. Or these awkward family moments with Corinne that were semi-painful, but also . . . them. For so long, he’d been focused on making every minute productive. But perhaps his definition of “productive” was beginning to shift.
Chapter Twelve
Hallie loved crowds.
Being able to hear everyone speaking at once but not make out a single word. The fact that all these people had dressed up and driven to the same location, all at once, for a special purpose. Crowds were a celebration of movement and color and trying new things.
For the second year in a row, she’d agreed to help Lavinia and Jerome behind the counter at Wine Down Napa. Convincing the festival committee to agree to allow a donut shop to display at the event had taken some fancy footwork, but the gooey baked goods were a huge hit the year prior, leading to a lot of stuffy connoisseurs walking around the massive tent with chocolate wings extending out from the corners of their mouths. Looking around the buzzing aisles of vendors, Hallie was pleased to see an even more eclectic mix this year.
Most of the displays were for local vineyards, and they were elaborate. Tasteful. Wine Down Napa didn’t have the feeling of a typical indoor market. In true Napa style, the booths were constructed of polished wood. There was a step and repeat behind each one splashed with the vineyard’s logo. Romantic lighting had been angled throughout the tent to create a dreamlike atmosphere, fairy lights twinkling on the ceiling, turning wineglasses into enchanted goblets. But in addition to Fudge Judy breaching the boundaries of wine world, there was an exhibit for gourmet dog treats and another for CBD gummies. They’d cast a wide net.
Ticket holders were beginning to arrive, journalists in press badges snapping pictures of people enjoying their first glasses of wine, angling the shots to capture the sprawling courtyard of the Meadowood hotel in the background. The air was sultry; orchestra music drifted down the mountain and through the tent on a light June breeze. And she couldn’t help but remember her grandmother roaming the aisles slowly last year, saying hello to old friends and new, accepting pamphlets for vineyard tours to be polite.
Lavinia came up beside Hallie and gave her a gentle hip bump. “After weeks of designing the new, ultrarefined Merlot cruller, the Lucky Charms donut holes will probably be our biggest seller. Not even wine snobs can resist an artificially flavored marshmallow.”
Hallie dropped her head to Lavinia’s shoulder. “Especially when the CBD kicks in and they relax. Hopefully not enough to mistake the dog biscuits for donuts.”
“Oh, I don’t know. Could be entertaining.”
They laughed, watching more and more people arrive in the tent, various levels of VIP access displayed around their necks. “So,” Lavinia prompted. “We were in such a mad rush to get set up, I haven’t had a chance to ask. What is the latest with our illustrious professor?”
Hallie blew out a breath, her gaze drifting over to the Vos Vineyard booth. No one had arrived yet, though they’d most likely tapped their in-house sommelier to represent them tonight. And even if Corinne Vos made an appearance, Julian definitely wouldn’t be there. She’d assured herself of that for the last two days and still couldn’t prevent the low sink of disappointment in her belly. “Oh, um . . .” She adjusted her Fudge Judy apron, heat creeping up the sides of her face. “The latest isn’t really up for discussion. Not in polite company.”
Lavinia reared back with raised eyebrows. “Good thing I’m not polite.”
Hallie threw a pointed look at Jerome. “Later.”
“Oh, come on, we both know I’m going to tell him, anyway.”
“Good to know.” They stopped to smile at two guests who wandered past looking down their noses at the donuts. They would definitely come crawling back after a few glasses of wine, though. “There might have been some . . . further intimacy. Not the whole enchilada. More like, I don’t know, jalapeño poppers.”