Page 93 of Corkscrew You
I don’t realize I’m holding my breath until Nate appears. He looks alarmingly pale and pinched. I hope he hasn’t had to deal with a bunch of problems at work, while I swanned off to drink matcha tea by the coast.
“Hands?” says Max, in that tone everyone with a little brother will recognize.
“Still got two,” says Nate, with a back-off edge to his own voice.
He takes his seat, nods around the table, but doesn’tquitelook at me. “Sorry I’m late.”
And then dinner is served, and we begin to eat. Danny is the one who keeps the conversation going. He tells funny stories about rich people in LA, and prompts Max and Izzy to fill me in on what they’re studying. I am equal parts impressed and intimidated. This is ahigh-performance family.
Mr Durant speaks very little, other than to ask his wife to pass him things. Nate, too, is pretty much silent, giving only terse answers to a couple of questions from his mother. He doesn’t look at me at all. Ava, I think, at one point, kicks him under the table, because they have a short glaring match, until Ava gives a quick, impatient shake of her head, and chips into Danny’s story about a guy who spray-painted his car to colour coordinate with his dog.
I’m holding my end up in the conversation perfectly fine. They’re easy to talk to, funny, and nice. Like Nate on a good day.
But then, I hear Mr Durant say my name. And, suddenly, I get the cold sweats.
“Shelby, how long has your winery been operating?”
“Um, just over twenty-six years,” I reply.
“And yet it’s stayed small,” he says. “Was that a deliberate decision?”
Icouldtake offence at that – his implication that we were never good enough to get big.
“My father wanted us to remain exclusive,” I say. “He didn’t want justanybodyto be his customers.”
Takethat, rude man.
“And your father has retired now, I assume?”
Oh,fig. Hasnoone told him?
I’m frozen to the chair, can’t even look at Ava for help. Ihaveto answer.
“I’m sorry,” I stammer. “My father died.”
He goes completely still. There’s no air in the room, as if all of us have sucked it into our lungs. The silence is horrendous, like waiting for a jury verdict in a murder trial.
Then he says, withicyfury, “Get out.”
“Dad—” begins Danny.
Mitchell Durant rises slowly to his feet, and says “Out.Allof you. I don’t want to see your faces for anothersecond.”
“Mitchell, please.” Nate’s mom gives it a go.
But her husband is aglow with anger.
“Howdareyou.” His voice rises. “Do you think I am animbecile?”
“OK, that’s it.” Ava pushes back her chair. She beckons to me, and her siblings. “Come on, let’s go. Let’s leave this asshole alone.”
As we hesitate, she grabs her closest siblings, Izzy and Max, by the shoulders.
“Comeon.”
Danny takes my arm way more gently, and leads me out, with Izzy, Max and Ava close behind.
“What about Mom?” I hear Izzy say.
