Page 55 of Clued in to Love
Samesh shook his head and bent down to begin picking up chunks of frosted snowmen and angels. “It’s not your fault. It’s entirely mine.”
Hilary wasn’t sure she agreed. It felt like everything she touched turned into shattered pieces of cookies at the moment. She was like a magnet for Christmas chaos and didn’t know how to fix it.
THIRTY-TWO
MARISSA
Marissa followed William to the winery.
Of course he drives a Range Rover.
She couldn’t get a read on William Graff.
He might claim not to embrace a life of privilege, but from his car, expensive clothes, and friend group, there was no escaping his financial status. He had impressed her with how he treated everyone they’d interacted with. And Olivia liked him, which meant he couldn’t be all bad, but every time she changed her mind about William, she realized they were worlds apart.
Smith Rock Winery was located about twenty minutes from downtown Bend, named after the famous rocky prominence visible from the winery’s expansive outdoor deck.
Marissa navigated the two-lane highway. Granite clouds hovered on the skyline, threatening more snow, shrouding the view of Smith Rock and the seven peaks of the Cascades in the distance. The flat plains of the high desert were buried in two feet of fluffy white tufts. She had to pay careful attention to keep her car in the two icy ruts carved through the packed snow.
The irony that William’s friend—or was Parker something more?—owned Smith Rock Wines wasn’t lost on her. The vineyard’s wines were out of Marissa’s price range. She’d visitedonce for a bridal shower and experienced sticker shock over the tasting fee, which cost more than she’d ever spent on a bottle. Needless to say, she hadn’t frequented Smith Rock Wines. A Charles Shaw red from Trader Joe’s was more her speed.
When she pulled into the parking area in front of the red barn that housed the tasting room, William was waiting for her with one arm propped up against his Range Rover. He looked ridiculously handsome with his gray-and-maroon-striped scarf, down jacket, and black leather gloves. He could have been posing for a holiday ad for the vineyard. The grounds were absolutely stunning, especially in the snow. The restored barn had a sloped roof adorned with a giant wreath. Vintage golden yellow bulbs were strung across the entrance, creating a patchwork of twinkling lights that reflected off the barn and onto the snow.
But it was William who took her breath away.
She let out a small breath and willed her heart to stop flopping in a fluttery rhythm as she stepped out of the car. “Are they open yet?” Marissa asked, scrunching her face to try to see the signage on the door as she caught up with William. A vintage wagon with Christmas trees, wine barrels, and sprigs of holly was parked next to the barn. “Are you sure this is a good idea? We won’t get in trouble for asking for help, will we?”
“I texted Parker. She’s here.” William waited for her to go first and then rapped on the barn door. “And no. Why would we get in trouble? Plus, who would ever know?”
Marissa didn’t like involving Parker, but they were here now, so she had no choice.
Parker answered right away. “Wills, kiss, kiss.” She leaned in and planted a kiss on each of his cheeks. Then she caught Marissa’s eye. “Oh, hello, nice to see you again. Mary? Marcy? Do come in. It’s freezing out there.”
“It’s Marissa,” William said with a touch of irritation.
“Yes, such a darling name.” Parker flashed a toothy smile at Marissa, her eyes quickly assessing Marissa’s outfit without attempting to disguise her disdain.
Marissa hoped this wasn’t going to take too long. Come to think of it, if William had texted Parker, why couldn’t he have just asked her about the clue instead of making them drive all the way out here?
Probably it’s an excuse to get to see her.
Parker shut the door behind them and showed them into the tasting room. An entire wall of rustic wine barrels was draped with tiny golden lights. The open-concept space was cold and not because of the temperature. There was a sleek aesthetic from the smooth cement floors to the intentionally weathered bar that almost gave off a vibe like Smith Rock Wines was trying to match its rugged ancient volcanic environment, but it lacked a soul. Not even the red paper star lights hanging above the bar or the miniature potted evergreen trees in the tasting room did anything to warm up the space.
Parker moved behind the bar. “What can I pour for you?”
William declined. “Nothing for me.”
“How about you?” Parker scanned rows of wine racks. “Have you ever tasted our reserve pinot? It’s an old-world wine made with estate grapes. We are the only vineyard in the region with clones ofVitis vinifera.” She slipped into a heavy French accent. “Oh, sorry. I spend so much time in Paris going to the wine shows, and then, of course, we must stay in Bordeaux and the Loire Valley, that it’s such a struggle to be back in America when you’ve been speaking French and drinking French wine for weeks. Wills, you understand.”
Could she be more awful?
“When were you in France?” William asked.
Parker poured three glasses of their reserve. Marissa didn’t even want to think about how much a glass of the premier wine must cost.
“September.” She handed Marissa a glass. “Have you spent much time in France?”
“I’ve never left the country,” Marissa replied truthfully. She wasn’t going to let Parker intimidate her.
