Page 37 of Merlot Marriage

With a heavy sigh, she wraps her hands around her bright orange Tillamook mug. “Probably not. I actually think we’re going to buy a place.”

“Wow, that’s a big step. I know I was a brat about you taking so damn long to finally get together, but shouldn’t you maybe get married before you buy a house?”

My sister and Kel only started dating last fall, and it took forever for Kel to get his act together and ask Maggie out, but once they did, there was no looking back for either of them. I hate to admit that I’m maybe more than a little bit jealous of how smooth their relationship has been.

Not that I’ve put any effort into being in a relationship myself—I have Philip, after all. What else do I need?

Maggie is the only person who knows the full story behind my vow not to date in grad school. She’d been the one to pick me up from my narcissistic college boyfriend’s house in the middle of the night after I found out he’d given me and half of Gamma Gamma Delta chlamydia. She’d held my hand at the pharmacy while I’d waited for my antibiotics and Plan B prescriptions, and been the one to keep me company as I frantically studied to make up my grades when I’d been too scared to go to class after his threatening texts.

I don’t have the excuse of being in school anymore when my family gets on my case about being single. If only I could find something as easy and straightforward as she has.

She lets me get a couple of bites in while she types on her laptop before she answers. “Eh. I think we might wait until I’m less pregnant and more excited at the prospect.”

Furrowing my brow, I twist my head to stare at my sister. “But you love weddings. How are you not excited to plan your own?”

I’ve watched Maggie plan her own wedding a million times since we were little. “Is it because of Frank?” Her ex-fiancé was a douche, but it wasn’t like he left her at the altar.

“No. But Nate and Sydney still refuse to be in the same room as each other. I’m exhausted. Jackie and Greg are gone for a few more months, and by the time they get back, I’m going to be feeling more bridge troll than bridal.”

She leans back in her chair, circling her wrists and tipping her head from side to side, stretching out her neck. “Honestly? Philip taking over the tasting room will be a huge help. Kel still feels responsible for Sunshine, and having Nate’s grumpy ass chasing away customers while Jackie is gone has him eating antacids like candy.”

“But can I helpyousomehow? I thought pregnancy was supposed to make you all glowy and shit, but your black circles have black circles.”

A dash of hope flickers across her face as she flips her laptop toward me. There’s a spreadsheet open with rows and rows of vendors, addresses, dates, and times. None of it lines up or makes sense. It’s as if she’s scribbled in a notebook in the spreadsheet.

“I don’t suppose you can make heads or tails of this?”

“Gimme, gimme!” I reach my grabby hands out to start cleaning up her spreadsheet. But horror dawns as I scan the page. “Jesus, Maggie, what is this even tracking?”

It’s okay.I can fix this.

We spend the morning walking through her mess and transferring it into a series of organized sheets. I even have the joy of creating a few pivot tables for her.

“You’re a lifesaver, Ophie. I wish I could afford to hire you to keep me organized.” She sighs as she leans back in her chair.

I push back from the table, my stomach growling from three hours of spreadsheet fun. “I’ll keep you organized for free, Mags. But first, lunch.”

Pushing to her feet, she joins me in the kitchen. She shoves me away from the fridge and pulls out a box of leftover Chinese food. “Have you considered seeing if there’s a position at Mailbox? Or if Sutton could put in a good word for you somewhere?”

“Maggie, I am not going to ask Theodore Sutton to ‘put in a good word for me.’ I barely know him. Besides, Mailbox is a strictly digital product. My degree is in global shipping and trade—it’s not the same thing.”

Shaking her ass in a little dance, my sister dumps the contents of the cardboard box onto a plate, a combination of chow mein, fried rice, and cashew chicken, then pops it into the microwave before turning to give me a look. “Yeah, but you told me that your degree is basically a really advanced project management certification? Surely, he knows someone who could use that kind of skill.”

I roll my eyes. I swear, she’s never met a stranger. I don’t know how she can walk up to people and just…yap at them until they give her what she wants.

“I still barely know the man, and he definitely would never remember me. There is no way on earth he’s going to just give me a job.” I pause. “Philip probably has more of the kind of skills Sutton needs. He complained all the time, but I know for a fact he had a 4.0 GPA in all his finance classes.”

The beeping microwave interrupts her before she can argue. I stall further argument by plating my food and taking it out on the patio to eat. I can hear her talking to herself as she does the same, but she falls quiet as she sits down in the chair beside me.

The porch is just big enough for the pair of Adirondack chairs Maggie rescued from a garage sale the summer after we moved in. We had plants out here at one point, but we had a huge ice storm this winter and Maggie had been stuck out at Sunshine with Kel for a week. I’d holed up inside with the heat, taking my classes over Zoom, and by the time I’d thought about the plants, they had been beyond saving.

“I assumed Philip was heading back to South Africa after graduation.” Maggie slides back into her chair with a grunt.

I shove some rice into my mouth before I answer, the hot and salty food exactly what I needed after staring at her laptop screen all morning. “There’s nothing for him to go back to. His brother and parents are in Australia now. And I quote, ‘The only thing left for me in Cape Town is a stage-five clinger of an ex-girlfriend and an economy that will never catch up to the rest of the world.’”

She laughs, a piece of rice shooting across the porch to land in front of the hopeful robin that’d been watching us from a nearby bush. It makes her snort even harder, and soon, we’re both laughing ourselves silly over our lunch. “Oh my god, do youremember that time Daisy shot milk out of her nose? I’ve never seen her turn so red.” Maggie is still giggling.

“I think it’s still the only time I’ve ever seen her be anything but perfect.” My own giggles interrupt my words, but she nods in understanding.

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