“My goodness!” Gram exclaimed. “Is your father here today, Jake? It would be so nice to meet him and tell him how much we admire this vineyard.”
“Oh no,” Jake shook his head. “Why would he waste time here when he could be out promoting it instead?”
“Well, I would imagine there’d be a lot of reasons to spend time at the vineyard,” Gram began.
“I think Jake means that his father isn’t here that often,” Lila translated gently, well accustomed to her Gram’s imperviousness to irony.
“Yup, sorry, that’s what I meant,” Jake continued. “There’s a lot of business in the wine business—conventions, investor’s meetings, investigating new growth opportunities. I’m on the road most of the time, too.” Jake explained that the Endicott family farmlands covered nearly 200 acres. His father was in the process of purchasing and planting another 25 making it the largest winery in the area, though still much smaller than the big ones in Napa. “Tomorrow,” he continued as if unable to believe what he was saying, “I’m down in LA meeting with some people about product placement in a new Jerry Bruckheimer movie.”
“Didn’t he do Pirates of the Caribbean?” Lila asked.
“Yeah.”
“I’m trying to picture Captain Jack Sparrow sipping chardonnay.”
“I do love a nice, cold glass of chardonnay,” Gram agreed. “Along with some cheddar cheese and Wheat Thins.”
“And don’t forget grapes,” Lila added, picturing the oval tray Gram used to serve her fancy spread of wine, cheese, crackers and grapes. She usually brought it out for book club, whereas the ladies from the Rotary Club typically got homemade muffins and tea.
“Then let’s head to the tasting room,” Jake declared. “And I’ll see if I can scare up some Wheat Thins.”
Lila followed, glad he wasn’t scoffing with disdain at Gram’s pedestrian tastes. Though years of living in the gourmet Bay Area had turned Lila into one of those people who preferred stone-ground, hand-made crisps with cold-pressed olive oil and a hint of rosemary, she’d stick a fork in anyone who made her Gram feel less than.
Stopping to point out low-lying black plastic tubing at the base of a row of grape vines, Jake explained how they were in the process of switching over the vineyard to drip irrigation. Lila wasn’t sure she’d ever seen anyone’s eyes light up so much while discussing the fight against topsoil depletion and groundwater contamination. But these topics undeniably transformed Jake Endicott who, truth be told, could at times come off rather stiff and reserved.
She felt it, too, the effect of the place. It reminded her of an English class she’d taken in college: The Pastoral Idyll. They’d read Virgil’s Eclogues about shepherdesses and D.H. Lawrence with his fecund farm scenes and, her personal favorite, The Wind in the Willows with Frog causing all sorts of trouble along the bucolic riverbank. As butterflies flitted in the warmth of the midday sun, Lila could feel herself unwinding into it all.
Standing and dusting off his pants, Jake seemed to put the breaks on his own enthusiasm. “But I know it takes a lot of up-front investment to go green. And there’s some risk involved. You can’t grow as fast, produce as much, as reliably. In the short term, at least.” Lila remembered Big Bob’s disdain for what he called Jake’s arts and crafts project with the bluebirds. “So, I’m just trying to look for the changes, or the investments that can give us some quick returns. Like we’re now getting 30% of our energy from solar power.”
“I’ve heard that’s a good way to save on heating bills,” Gram said.
“Exactly.”
Arriving at the front courtyard, Jake led them underneath a vine-covered trellis and in a side door to the tasting room. Though sunlight flooded through a row of windows, the temperature remained cool from the stone walls. A few people sat on stools at the long, wooden bar. Up on the wall hung a large, framed painting of a figure relaxing indolently along a chaise lounge. Draped in nothing but a sheet, leaves in his hair, basket of fruit by his lap, the renaissance-era figure looked Lila right in the eye. Eyebrow lifted, left arm extended, he offered her a large glass of red wine.
“That’s Bacchus,” Jake explained, resting his hand on the small of Lila’s back for a moment. “He’d like you to have a drink with him.”
Lila tilted her head, meeting Bacchus’ gaze. There was something irresistible in his eyes.
“It’s a Caravaggio print. He painted it in 1597.”
“I think Bacchus is my new mascot,” Lila declared.
“Then you’re in the right place.” Jake guided her to the table where a staff member had set up three glasses of white wine.
After Jake explained it was a flight—my second this week, Gram laughed—they began tasting. In a word: yum. Lila had neither the vocabulary of a connoisseur nor the palate of a critic, but she knew yum when she tasted it. Snacking on crackers and cheese, as per Gram’s request, Jake talked them through what they were enjoying.
“You’ve ruined me!” Lila declared, finishing the third glass of white.
“Really?” Jake asked.
“How am I going to go back to the cheap stuff now that I know how good this tastes?”
“Jake.” A twentysomething guy in a button-down shirt entered the tasting room at a brisk pace. “There you are. You have a call.”
Rising, Jake nodded in assent. A waiter removed their empty glasses, replacing them with three more. “You enjoy these reds. I’ll be back when I can.”
Lila and Gram passed another half an hour sipping and relaxing under Bacchus’ amused and seductive watch. Lila’s attempt to pay was first thwarted by Gram adamantly insisting that she was taking care of it, only to then have a staff member inform them that it was on the house.
Back in the restroom, Lila and Gram stood next to each other washing their hands. Surrounded by white marble and fresh lilac bouquets, Gram caught Lila’s eye in the mirror and gave her a look. When a talkative 74-year-old summed everything up in just one glance, Lila knew exactly what it meant: That. Is. Some. Guy. What Lila didn’t know was how she felt. Confused would have to be the most accurate though inexact assessment. She couldn’t begin to imagine how to take all of the pieces she’d seen of Jake—disapproving in a dinner jacket or smiling with Vanessa in a publicity shot, kneeling enthusiastically in the dirt or gallantly taking her Gram’s arm—and fit them into a complete picture.
Making their way out toward the courtyard, they stood by the fountain and wondered where they could find Jake to say goodbye. With the wine and the sun warming her inside and out, Lila didn’t mind if it took a while. The water burbled. Birds chirped. In her light pink sundress, Lila arched her back, closed her eyes, and sighed with pleasure.
Opening her eyes, Lila saw Jake walking toward them, his intense gaze fixed on her. Suddenly, Gram announced that she needed to duck back in for a minute to talk to that lovely woman in the tasting room.
Alone and growing self-conscious under Jake’s scrutiny, Lila fidgeted with the strap of her sundress and looked down at her sneakers. Who wore sneakers with a dress? “I must look stupid, wearing these,” she observed.
Jake arrived at her side. “I wasn’t thinking you look stupid.”
They stood together, looking at the fountain. Jake’s elbow brushed hers, her stomach flipped and she swore she was back in 7 grade.
“It was fun to show you around.” Hand up, Jake messed with the back of his hair as he looked into the water.
“You didn’t have to do all this,” Lila insisted.
“I had a good time.”
“Still…” Lila traced her sneaker along the edge of a particularly large cobblestone in the courtyard. Looking up, she blurted out, “Why were you so nice?”
“What?” Jake looked down, startled.
“That came out wrong,” she apologized and rushed on with, “It’s just that you were so nice to Gram. So sweet with all of her suggestions.”
“She had some good ideas.”
“Yeah, and she also suggested that you do a boxed wi
ne because it’s so convenient for having a lot of company.”
Jake chuckled, looking down at the cobblestone. “That might be a hard sell.”
“You said you’d take it under consideration.”
“She reminds me of my Grandma, my mom’s mom.” Jake looked at Lila. In the mid-day sunshine his eyes had flecks of gold. “She was nice to everyone.”
“Does she live in Redwood Cove?”
“One town over. But she passed away about a year and a half ago. That was why I came back.”
“And you’re still here.”
“It appears so.” He gave a crooked smile and she wanted to ask more but suddenly felt shy. The romance of the setting, tall pines rustling in the light, warm breeze, almost started to seem too much. She half expected a pair of humming birds to fly over with a spring of mistletoe. “So you’re shocked that I was nice to your Gram?” Jake asked, rubbing his forehead.
“Not shocked,” Lila demurred. “Confused, maybe.”
“Oh, that’s much better,” Jake observed, reaching down to grab a pebble and toss it into the fountain.
“Careful,” Lila warned, “I happen to know that this is the replica of a seventeenth century courtyard in Italy.”
“Ah,” he nodded, recalling their first exchange in almost that exact same spot. Looking down at her he said, “You know you were acting like a lunatic at that party.”
“I was in crisis!”
“And insane.”
“And surrounded by inflatable cacti. Plus the Mexican flag and a plastic donkey pulling a Margarita cart.”
Listening as Lila vented about the Cinco de Mayo maternity leave fiasco, Jake agreed, “That’s not good.”
“And I was acting like a lunatic,” Lila acknowledged.
Following a pause during which Lila tried not to think about the softness of his blue chambray shirt and what it would feel like if she slipped her hand up along one of his big, broad shoulders, Jake cleared his throat and asked, “So, do you and your boyfriend do a lot of trail running?”
“My boyfriend?”
“The guy at Ted’s the other night?”
“Right! No! No, that’s not… he’s not…”
“Oh, I didn’t mean to—”
“No, it’s fine, it’s not—” From talking over each other, they both descended again into silence. “So…” Lila nodded, focusing on the water in the fountain which had nothing to do with his long, dark eyelashes. Why did guys always get the great eyelashes, anyway?
“Do you like that trail up along the north coast of town? I’ve seen you on it a couple times.”
“I love it,” Lila brightened at the thought. “The sea lions, the redwood grove. Whenever I’m out on it I seriously can’t believe I get to live here. And can’t believe I spent the last five years running on a treadmill in a gym.”
“I live up near there.”
“Oh, cool,” Lila said. “Maybe I’ll run into you again sometime.”
“Well, I’m about to head out of town again on business —”
“Or not,” Lila quickly interjected. “It’s no big deal.”
“Right.” He paused. They both studied one another’s sneakers.
Realizing she’d possibly blurted out something rude once again, Lila began with, “But—” only to have Jake begin speak at the same time with, “Or—”
Both insisting that the other go first, Lila proved more insistent. Jake continued, “Or we could even make a plan. Maybe meet up some morning—”
“Jake!” A woman’s shriek drew both of their attention toward the grand entrance of the house and the bustle of energy now making its way down the stairs. “There you are! I’ve been looking all over for you!” Vanessa swept toward them at the speed of a gale-force wind, cooling things off considerably.
“Vanessa,” Jake said, with neither the enthusiasm nor the volume of a greeting.
“They said you were giving a tour but I knew you couldn’t be since we’re leaving for the show tonight.” Standing by his side, her Gucci boot-clad feet striding the earth like a Colossus, Vanessa perched her Dior shades up on her perfect blond highlights. She pierced through Lila with her laser eyes. “You’re Lila,” she announced accusatorily.
“Hello,” Lila offered softly, suddenly wanting to go join Gram in talking to that nice woman in the tasting room.
“The flight isn’t until 6pm,” Jake said in a low voice, familiar scowl firmly back in place. “And I’m all packed.”
“Well your father needs to talk to you,” Vanessa scolded. “I think you know what about.”
Awash in embarrassment over clearly being in the midst of a lovers’ quarrel, Lila clutched her straw bag to her side and declared, “OK, then. I’d better go see what’s keeping Gram.” With the briefest of glances toward Jake she added, “Thanks for a lovely day.” She was already marching at a brisk pace toward the tasting room when he called out to her to wait.
“Your dad’s in his study,” Vanessa continued. Lila could almost hear her toe tapping with impatience.
“Thanks for coming.” He called after Lila. “I have to go, but thank your Gram for me.”
Lila waved and kept walking. Jake’s next comments were addressed to Vanessa in a hushed and what sounded like an angry tone. Lila propelled herself forward, wishing the scene had even more distance behind her. Could they seem more like a bickering married couple? Squabbling about the time their flight left for the airport and going off to talk to Daddy together?
Ashamed at the ease with which she fell for a pair of gold-flecked eyes and some chivalry toward her Gram, Lila told herself to shake it off and feel grateful for what the day had been: a sunny private tour of a gorgeous winery. Nothing to complain about there. So it hadn’t ended in a sunset kiss with a bluebird delivering a wedding ring; nothing to cry about. Ignoring her stomach in a sudden knot and the embarrassed flush on her cheeks, Lila decided to duck into the restroom first and then find Gram; that way the happy couple would be sure to have enough time to head inside before she and Gram made their way to the car.
CHAPTER 9: You Spin Me Right Round, Baby
It was 7:30 at night and Lila was just getting out of yoga class. Fuzzy boots pulled on and a faded rose hoodie sweatshirt zipped up, she slung her yoga mat, nicely rolled up into a black canvas bag, over her shoulder and headed out of the studio. The fog had rolled in during class and the windows in their room afforded a front-view seat. Standing in tree pose or Warrior two and watching the fog stretch its fingers across the rocky shore, Lila almost couldn’t believe it was real. The sun had set during their class in deep shades one couldn’t call just red or pink. They required more romantic terms like burnt sienna or crimson. She now caught the last drops of twilight as she began her three-block walk back to her apartment.
Make that four blocks, she decided, heading toward Main street. She wanted to pass by the storefront next to the bookstore—still vacant but not for too much longer. After what had struck Lila as about three years of deliberation, Marion had finally announced that she was ready to take the plunge. Once she’d made up her mind, everything marched along accordingly and they’d made an offer within the week. The owner had countered but they’d held firm and, happily, prevailed. They were now well into the contingency phase with only about 9 days to go and Lila and Annie were hopping with excitement.
Shamelessly wrapping her cashmere scarf around her neck, Lila warded off the chill like a true California girl, bundled up the moment the temperature dropped even a fraction below 60 degrees. Plus, once it hit September her internal East Coast seasonal clock made her want to reach for the corduroys, flannel and wool. Previous years of experience had rationally taught her otherwise—September in the Bay Area brought some of the warmest, sunniest days of the year. Godfrey had even tried to explain it to her, saying something about a long warming process reaching its zenith. She’d come away from the conversation not with newfound understanding of weather patterns but with a renewed appreciation for Godfrey�
��s ability to work words like zenith into regular use.
Looking in at the vacant store, Lila saw her reflection in the glass, two bumps from where she’d tied up her hair for yoga pushed up under her hood. Laughing as she realized she looked like a Martian, she drew closer to the glass, cupping her hands around her eyes to peer inside. Everything was as it always had been. Dusty tile floor, abandoned countertop from the defunct deli. They were lucky that the store was already set up for food retail, with a kitchen and freezer storage in back and a seating area out front. Lila could already picture the arm chairs along the wall, the shelves with used books for sale and browsing, the handmade mugs steaming with coffee.
Bidding her soon-to-be café good-bye but not farewell, Lila picked up her walking pace once again and, on impulse, decided to head down to the end of town to the picnic bench she’d shared with her Gram. It was too beautiful a night to head straight home. Passing only one other person along her path, Lila could hear the clanging of buoys and felt the sea air misting her cheeks. In the darkness, it was so much like the Cape Cod of her childhood she almost swore she was home. Now if she could only master that whole time/space continuum thing, Gram could suddenly be seated right by her side.
That Sunday during their weekly call, after an appropriately long spate of conversation so as not to seem pushy, Gram had asked, “And what’s new with our friend, Jake?” She’d sounded so sure that they’d been in touch, as if Jake had advanced directly to go, collected his $200 and instantaneously become an old family friend. Lila had almost hated to tell her that she had no idea. She hadn’t heard a word from him in what was rapidly approaching a month since the vineyard tour.
She couldn’t deny that she’d been thinking about him, wondering what he was up to, remembering things he’d said about which she wanted to know more. But what made her thrilled—and honestly a bit shocked—was how calm she felt about it all. Sanguine. In the past, a day like that vineyard visit would have sent her off and spinning like a top. No matter what mixed signals, what girlfriends stood in the way, that guy would have become the front-and-center fixture of her consciousness. She would have devoted hours to analyzing every last snippet of conversation. Devised schemes to engineer casual encounters. Plunged into a Draconian salad-only diet and spent hours online mining websites for that perfect outfit, the one that would cue the romantic movie post-makeover montage in his heart.
Christmas in Wine Country Page 18
