Page 50 of A Vine Mess
“Hell no.” She vehemently shook her head. “That’s all Amara’s domain. And Chloe would’ve done what was expected of her, but thankfully for her—for all of us, really—Amara was more than willing and equipped to step up to the plate. And the beautiful thing is, especially for me and Brie, who found our passions outside of the winery, our parents didn’t care what we wanted to do as long as we were happy doing it.”
“That’s a gift, Wildflower. One not all kids are afforded. You and your sisters…you’re really lucky.”
Before she could respond, the waitress returned to clear our plates and drop the check off, telling us we could pay at thecounter on our way out. A quick glance at my watch alerted me to the fact that we’d been sitting there talking for nearly two hours.
It had been so goddamn easy, I hadn’t paid attention to how much time was passing.
“You ready to go?” I asked her.
“Sure am,” she grinned.
And before I could react, the little shit swiped the check from the table and ran toward the counter, cackling maniacally the whole way.
With a muttered curse through my smile, I took off after her.
Our first stop ofthe day was Mount Rushmore, and pictures truly couldn’t have prepared me for the sheer majesty of the monument.
The cliffs were towering, the faces intricately rendered in the rock in a feat of mankind I had difficulty grasping fully. The walkway to enter was lined with flags from each of the states, and I gave a cheesy grin as Liam made me stop in front of the Michigan one for a photo.
When we approached the end of the walkway and leaned against the concrete half wall that prevented us from falling to great bodily harm on the trees and rocks below, I said to Liam, “Why these four?”
His forehead was creased when he turned to me. “What do you mean?”
“I mean, why did they pick these four to memorialize?”
“Well, I think Washington and Lincoln are obvious,” he said, gesturing to the two giant heads of our first and sixteenthpresidents. “First president of our country, and the man who led our country through the Civil War.”
“Okay, fair enough,” I conceded. “But what about the other two?”
Liam held up a finger, said, “Hold that thought,” and darted away. I brought my attention back to the faces of those four long-dead presidents as I waited for him.
“Okay,” he said, awhooshof air stirring my hair with his return. “Thomas Jefferson represents the expansion of our country, both as the signer of theLouisiana Purchaseand author of theDeclaration of Independence. Roosevelt represents conservation and the industrial boom of the country.”
I hummed, greatly appreciating the history lesson. “Do you want to walk down there?” I asked him, pointing at the pathways that cut through the hillside and brought visitors closer to the monument.
“Sure,” he said, gesturing for me to lead the way.
We chatted about nothing important as we moved down the paths, stopping every so often to take photos, both of the monument and each other.
“You know what we should do,” Liam said as we stepped off the path back onto the main walkway that would take us to the parking lot.
“Huh?” I asked, turning toward Mount Rushmore to get one last shot.
His grin was mischievous as he said, “I was thinking…we should go hunting for Cíbola while we’re here.”
The comment was so off handed, I stopped dead in my tracks, tipped my head back, and let loose a full belly laugh that seemedto go on forever.
Damn, it felt good.
“Oh my god,” I said, swiping at my eyes when I calmed down enough to speak. “You’re aNational Treasurefan?”
“Duh,” he replied, like it should’ve been obvious. “Isn’t everyone?”
I chuckled as we continued our trek back to the van.
“No,” I assured him. “My sisters hate when it’s my turn to pick for movie night because we end up watching those a lot. They’re classics, you know. I don’t understand why people don’t like them.”
“I’m not disagreeing with you. But Nick Cage is a divisive man.”
