Page 2 of Let It Breathe
Eric nodded, looking pained but pleased as he dropped onto the bench beside her. Leon rested his head on Reese’s shoulder as she reached for her cereal spoon.
“I’ve got most of the Viognier in steel like usual,” Eric said, “but I added the Muscat to this one and kept it in oak for a little while just to experiment.”
“Not bad. Maybe another week or so, but I think you’re on to something.”
Eric took the glass back, sipping in thought. “You know what this wine reminds me of?”
“What?” she said around a mouthful of cereal. Leon hummed softly while Reese chewed.
“The Grüner Veltliner we served at the wedding.”
“That wasn’t a Grüner. That was a late-harvest Sauvignon Blanc.”
“No, not our wedding—and that was a late-harvest Gewürztraminer anyway—my wedding to Sheila. The good wedding.”
Reese rolled her eyes, not insulted by the wedding slight or the reminder he’d moved on to a new wife, but damn sure she knew her wines. “That was not a Gewürztraminer at our wedding, it was a Sauv Blanc—a nice one.”
“It was not a Sauv Blanc. Remember? You wanted a late-harvest Gewürz because your parents ordered that pork dish.”
“We were not serving Gewürztraminer—we changed that at the last minute because your mother wanted that crappy chicken.”
“Right, but we kept the Gewürztraminer because it went with the lemon buttercream cake you just had to have.” He frowned. “I never did get a piece of that cake.”
“No one got a piece of that cake. Your best man passed out on it, remember?”
Eric grinned. “Clay didn’t pass out at my wedding to Sheila,” he pointed out.
Reese dug into her Cocoa Puffs. “One of seven hundred and eighty-three signs that your present union is a vast improvement over our ridiculous excuse for a marriage.”
“Are you going to read that magazine? Because there’s an article about winemaking in Rioja and?—”
“Go away, Eric.”
He didn’t budge. Instead, he looked up at Leon.
Leon spit on him.
“Damn animal,” Eric muttered, wiping his arm on his T-shirt. Reese resisted the urge to remark that now it looked like SpongeBob was drooling.
Eric picked up the wineglass and stuck his nose in again, pondering the aromas. Or pondering something. Reese watched him as she took another bite of cereal, wondering what was bothering him.
“You worried about the expansion?” she asked. “It’s a lot of pressure on you as the winemaker, and I know the jerk at Larchwood says it’s too much to take on, but?—”
“Worried? No, it’s great. This place is about to hit it big time.”
“That’s the hope,” Reese agreed as she shoved cereal into her mouth and studied her ex-husband. “You and Sheila doing something fun for your anniversary?”
“We’re having dinner at Gerlake in Portland, and I got her a jacket she’s been wanting.”
“The purple suede? Excellent, she said I could borrow it for the Memorial Day event.”
“And I got her this cool lacy thing at Victoria’s Secret.”
“I won’t be borrowing that.”
He grinned. “You know, you could be happy again, too.”
“I wasn’t happy the first time I was married,” she pointed out. “No offense. But you were there, and you hated it, too. We’re excellent friends but lousy spouses.”
