Page 35 of The Fine Art of Faking It
“Great-Aunt Uversal wasn’t much better,” Eden admitted. “She chased me once with a riding lawn mower. She was 97 at the time. Got kicked out of two nursing homes for biting.”
Davis’s lips quirked at the corner.
“Look! They’re bonding,” Marty whispered as if Eden and Davis couldn’t hear him.
“Wait, if your families were already feuding, what happened after you stood her up at the dance?” Nia asked Davis.
Davis held Eden’s gaze.
“I accidentally set his lawn on fire and almost burned down his house.”
* * *
BEAUTIFICATION COMMITTEE GUIDELINES
SECTION C: IDENTIFYING POTENTIAL MATCHES
Potential matchees are identified at committee discretion. Qualifications can include, but are not limited to: general physical attraction, compatible emotional neediness, and/or a satisfactory score in the proprietary Blue Moon Mate Compatibility ProfileTM.
15
After sharing the gist of The Incident with Eden’s guests yesterday, Davis got the feeling he was persona definitely non-grata around the inn. Apparently, Eden was still sensitive about the whole fire thing. At breakfast this morning, she’d actually thrown a fresh blueberry muffin at his head when none of the other guests were looking. Vader helpfully caught the shrapnel of it in her mouth and trotted off under the dining room table to enjoy the spoils of war. He’d gone back to his room to change out of the black sweater vest with brass buttons into a more subdued checkered shirt with bull horns embroidered on the back.
“You busy?” Anastasia poked her head into Davis’s office.
He’d been staring blankly at the newsletter template for the past half an hour and thinking about Eden.
“I’ve got a minute.”
“Then I’ve got something for you to taste.” She plopped down across from him and handed over a small glass beaker.
Davis picked it up and held it to the light. “Is this the blend?” he asked. Before the fire, he and Anastasia had spent a good week tasting and testing a new blend. Last year’s Cayuga and Chardonnay grapes were getting a new life. It was a secret experiment he and Anastasia were working on behind closed doors. They wanted to nail down exactly the right mix before introducing the vintage to his father.
“Have a sip and you tell me.” He and Anastasia had worked at rival wineries in California and had spent their first year at Blue Moon Winery going head-to-head over every decision. They’d finally settled into a groove once they both realized that the other wasn’t out to ruin everything.
Davis wished he could come to a similar agreement with Eden.
He swirled the wine inside the beaker and watched the legs work their way down the glass. He sniffed deeply, catching notes of fruit and oak.
Anastasia sat patiently through the ritual. Wine was a multi-sensory experience. One had to be detail-oriented enough to hit all the right notes for each sense. Their batches were small compared to some other upstate wineries, but there wasn’t a single vintage that Davis wasn’t inordinately proud of.
He brought the beaker to his mouth and sipped lightly, letting the wine hit his tongue. It was crisp and dry, clean on his palate.
Anastasia smiled smugly and crossed her arms. “Winner?”
He swallowed, breathing out the aromatics. “Wow.”
“Rack it?” she asked. Racking was the next part of the process once the proper blend was established. It was one of Davis’s favorite parts of winemaking. Finalizing the flavor that would end up in glasses on dinner tables around the country.
“Rack it,” he nodded.
Anastasia kicked her legs out and stretched. “How’s the head?”
“For all intents and purposes, good as new,” Davis said. “I got the okay to drive this morning.”
“Good. That means you can stop dressing like a seventies porn star,” she said eyeing his shirt.
“Not a fan of western flair?” he asked.
