Page 27 of Meet Me in the Vines
He gestures me into the large, open kitchen and pulls out a barstool from the island. My eyes devour the delicious spread of sandwiches. I pause on the bottle of Violet’s Vintage, taking in every inch of the label.
“So the town gets to try this wine tomorrow at Sip & Savor?” I point at the bottle in front of me.
“Oh! You must’ve stopped by earlier. It’s great, isn’t it?” Pop beams. “A pre-celebration for Gran. This town has been so supportive. I wish she were here to see it,” he whispers, sadness flashes in his eyes.
“I do too,” I reply empathetically. “It’s amazing, Pop. Truly. It’ll be great,” I say softly, my smile reaching my eyes, thinking about everyone coming together for my gran tomorrow.
The smallest of flutters bubble in my stomach at the thought of seeing Donovan again, but I push them back down as fast as they come.
My stomach grumbles, and Pop’s eyes widen at the sound.
“I’ve been talking your ear off, kid. Dig in! So, tell me, how’s New York?” he asks, placing a sandwich on his plate.
I grab a turkey avocado sandwich and grab the open bottle of wine. Knowing Pop, this has been breathing for half an hour. Just perfect. I point it in his direction, and he quickly nods as I pour us a glass.
“New York is fine. Kellan is fine,” I say flatly, because I am an awful liar and he knows it. I don’t want to talk about Kellan while I’m here. My pop can get anything out of me and I know he’ll ask, so this is my attempt to shut it down. I don’t have the mental capacity to have Gran, Kellan,andDonovan on my mind right now.
He cocks up an eyebrow. “Just fine? Do you want to talk about it?” he asks.
“Nope.”
He puts his hands up in surrender and doesn’t probe further.
I swirl the deep red wine in my glass and stick my nose halfway down, taking a generous sniff. There’s a gleam in Pop’s eye, ready for my review of a wine that he and Gran worked so hard on. A wine that represents her life, her legacy, their love. God, was I lucky enough to witness their love.
“On the nose, I’m getting ripe blackberries, dark cherry, and a hint of plum.” I take another sniff. “Mmm, I’m also getting some undertones of tobacco and slate. Like a wet rock?” His laugh is hearty, full of life.
“You’ve got a great nose, kid.” Pop smiles at me.
I give it one more swirl and take a sip. “Okay, wow, this is absolutely perfect, Pop.”
“Isn’t it? Your Gran loved it. She said it was our very best.”
My heart breaks at the thought that Gran isn’t sitting here tasting wine and eating sandwiches with us. She’d give me her notes on the wine, and we’d compare flavor profiles. She’d urge me to keep eating,“Put some meat on your bones!”Her laugh would echo throughout this kitchen, probably at some corny joke from Pop. She loved his corny jokes. She and I have that in common.
“Why 2018? What’s so special about that year?” I say while chewing, not my best manners. I hold the bottle and observe the label. Right above the date is a sketching of Gran’s beloved cottage.
Gran had always wanted a place to escape to, to paint, read books, and journal. So, Pop remodeled the old cottage that had been sitting vacant on the property since the 1950s. It was old then, an original building on our forty-acre plot back when the winery was established in 1910 by my great grandfather. The cottage was a twenty-fifth anniversary gift to Gran. She always said it was the sweetest thing he’d ever done.
“2018 was the year we returned to business with the Kings.”
I stop chewing and swallow the rest of my sandwich, gulping it down. Since when did my family stop working with the Kings? Was I really so out of touch that I didn’t care to know this about my family? I take a sip of wine and keep my eyes steady on the glass.
“I-I didn’t know that, Pop. I’m sorry,” I whisper.
Regret takes over my body. I’m overcome with a sadness that I can’t shake away. I thought I was protecting them by keeping my distance, shielding them from my pain. Now I can see the pain that I’ve caused by being absent. I know nothing about my home, my family.
I should’ve known that my grandfather and Donovan’s family went back into business. It makes sense now why Donovan was carrying Winthrop Wine cases earlier. Why didn’tI know this? Because I didn’t care enough to ask or call enough to care. The shittiest granddaughter award goes to me.
He waves me off and shakes his head. “You’ve been busy with your life in New York,” Pop says with a soft smile, but I don’t miss the veiled worry in his eye. “It’s not your fault.”
“Who were the Kings working with before then?” I query, arching my eyebrow. Pop takes a deep breath before taking another swig of wine.
“The Taylor Family.”
My eyes get wide as I blow out a strained breath. My heart feels like it’s sitting deep within my stomach.
The Taylors? What the fuck?
