Sweet, Sweet Wine

by Jaime Clevenger

  Bea studied Riley for a long moment before saying, “I hear you are a physical therapist in Denver.”

  Riley nodded and glanced at Ana. She hadn’t guessed that this woman was someone Ana knew well and wondered what else Madam Bea knew about her.

  Bea seemed to notice Riley had been thrown off balance by her comment. She smiled and continued, “Ana is quite smitten and now I can see why. I’ll leave you two to get your drinks and expect to find you on the dance floor soon.”

  They reached the bar and ordered their drinks. After the bartender turned away, Riley asked, “So how exactly do you know so many of the women here? And Bea? She’s a close friend?”

  “I don’t know if I’d call her a close friend or not. But she is someone I like to keep close. You know the saying about enemies and friends? Well, I’m not sure which side of the fence I’d put Bea on. She’s Tom’s aunt and part owner in the family winery. She’s the financial brains of the family and runs the ship, even if Tom’s dad thinks he does. She also has invested in practically every tech company that has made it big in the past twenty years. And if you screw up on something she’s asked you to do, you are out of the company by the next morning.”

  Riley watched Bea converse with another couple, then make her way through the crowd until she reached a woman sitting alone at a table across the way. “And is she out? Or is it a family secret?”

  “From what I gather, she’s one of the founding members of this club and they’ve been doing this for nearly thirty years. Aside from New Year’s, they have an annual spring ball as well. But she’s not out. Tom thought I was crazy when I asked him if she was a lesbian after the first time I met her.”

  “This is a little weird. I feel like I’ve been thrown back into a different era,” Riley said as the music changed to a waltz. “And, for the first time in my life, I’m actually glad my mom made me take ballroom dance lessons.”

  Ana’s face lit up at this. She set down her drink and grabbed Riley’s hand. They were on the dance floor before Riley had time to argue. She hadn’t learned the footwork for lead, but Ana smoothed over her mistakes without a misstep and by the third song, Riley had a better handle on it. The band changed from playing classical to a swing piece, and Ana quickly outdanced Riley. Riley felt a tap on her shoulder and stepped aside as another woman, in a suit that was clearly not a rental, took over.

  Ana spun about the room with her new lead. Riley leaned against one of the tables near the dance floor, watching them. A woman in dark green gown approached her table. She motioned to the dance floor, pointing out Ana and the lead who was guiding her around the room. “They dance well together, don’t they?” Her accent was French. “I don’t know Ana personally, although we share the same circle of friends. I never once suspected I’d run into her here. I’m Patrice.” She extended her hand.

  “I’m Riley.” She shook Patrice’s hand. Patrice let her hand linger on Riley’s for a moment. “Nice to meet you,” Riley added.

  The woman nodded. “You’re from Denver?”

  Riley felt unsettled once more. “Word on the street.”

  Patrice laughed. “There’s two hundred guests tonight. Each one of them has been first vouched for by one of the members, then vetted, aliases checked, et cetera.”

  “And then they publish the list?”

  Patrice laughed again. “Absolutely not. They are going to play another swing song. You’ve lost your dance partner.”

  “I don’t mind,” Riley said. “It’s nice to have a break.”

  “So I shouldn’t ask you to dance then?”

  Riley smiled, trying to hide her surprise. Patrice had steel blue eyes and sharply beautiful features. Riley stood and took her hand, letting Patrice lead them onto the dance floor. She was as tall as Riley but lithe against her arm. They danced the swing, with Patrice leading, and then Riley took over when a waltz followed. Riley had tried to keep track of Ana’s place on the dance floor but soon lost track of her. She felt Patrice hesitate when the music changed to a samba.

  “I don’t want to be the cause of any drama tonight. Your date is alone at the bar. At the moment, she’s waiting for you. But I wouldn’t trust that to last too long.”

  “I enjoyed dancing with you,” Riley said.

  Patrice smiled. “Likewise.”

  Riley let Patrice go, enjoying another look at Patrice when she turned to leave. Riley wouldn’t have minded another dance with her, but when she looked again at the bar and spotted Ana, she felt her breath catch. She made her way over to her, finding Ana chatting with the bartender between his drink orders.

  Ana seemed distracted when Riley approached. She handed Riley a wineglass. Riley sipped it and smiled. “I remember this.”

  “Peach sauvignon. Jonathan makes his own version, but it is essentially the same as what you tasted before.”

  “Jonathan?”

  Ana motioned to the bartender. He looked over at Ana and smiled. “We dated once. For about five minutes. He’s the reason I met Ernesto, the chef.”

  “He wasn’t part of the original story. I remember the numbers. Before Ernesto was Terrell. The guy who played basketball and the stock market.”

  “Not bad. You were paying attention.” Ana motioned toward Jonathan’s back. “Well, there were others between the numbered ones. Some of my lovers didn’t quite earn a number. Jonathan and I, we never made it to a third date.”

  Riley set the glass down. It was a half hour until midnight and the band had gone on a short break. Jazz music played in the intermission. She saw Patrice at the other end of the bar, ordering a drink from Jonathan. Riley reached toward Ana, her hand brushing along Ana’s jawline. She turned Ana’s face toward hers and kissed her lips.

  “You’re feeling jealous, aren’t you?”

  “No,” Riley lied.

  “I know a jealous kiss when I feel it.” Ana caught Riley’s necktie. She pulled Riley’s face close to hers. “And I like it. Give me another.”

  Riley guided Ana into another kiss, this time pressing harder against her lips. She was jealous of the look Ana had given the bartender and uneasy about the sea of eyes that seemed to all be watching Ana and silently judging her escort.

  “We’re not leaving before midnight so don’t get any ideas,” Ana said when they’d parted. “Who were you dancing with? She looks familiar.”

  “Patrice. She’s French.”

  “And exquisite in that French way, isn’t she?” Ana watched Jonathan hand Patrice her drink. The other bartender, a woman in her mid-twenties, squeezed behind Jonathan and slapped his butt as she did. Jonathan winked at her. “You liked dancing with Patrice, didn’t you?”

  “Who’s jealous now?” Riley took the wineglass back and took a long sip. “She asked me to dance. I wasn’t going to say no while you were otherwise engaged.”

  “Maybe. But you were talking with her for a while.”

  “’Cause you were off dancing with twinkletoes.”

  Ana took the wineglass out of Riley’s hand. “That was Cris. She’s a fabulous dancer, isn’t she?”

  “Oh, I don’t know about that. I’ve seen better,” Riley replied with a sniff.

  Ana playfully slapped Riley’s shoulder. “You’re the one who called her twinkletoes.”

  Riley kissed Ana again. The alcohol was going to her head and she liked the buzz. “Maybe I was jealous. A little.” She traced the line of Ana’s dress as it draped over her shoulder and dropped down her back. “It’s just this dress.”

  “Just the dress…?”

  “I keep thinking how easy it would be to slip it off your shoulders.” Riley paused. She spotted twinkletoes coming up to the bar. The woman eyed Riley and Ana. She waited for a bartender, now pointedly looking the other direction. “Somehow, I know I’m not the only one who was thinking about your dress as you spun around the dance floor.”

  “While you were dancing with Patrice, you kept stealing glances over at me. I caught you several times.”

&nbs
p; “Maybe.”

  Ana finished her drink as the band reappeared. “I don’t want to dance with anyone else for the rest of the night. Only you.”

  Riley drove Ana’s car back to her condo. She’d stopped drinking several hours earlier, at midnight, but Ana hadn’t and was still tipsy. She fell asleep, still in her dress, while Riley was changing out of her suit. She’d kicked off her high heels and collapsed across the middle of the bed. Riley helped her out of the dress, barely stirring her from sleep and covered her with the blankets. Riley was still too keyed up from their evening to drift right to sleep. They had danced until her feet hurt, and Ana had loved every minute of it, shaking her head when Riley asked if they could sit the next song out and dragging her back on the dance floor after each short break.

  Ana rolled over and the comforter shifted off her back. Riley sat down carefully on the bed, pulled the comforter up and stared at her. Her profile was becoming familiar, and yet Riley still couldn’t believe that the face on the pillows didn’t belong to some beautiful stranger. She wanted to wake her, to watch her eyes open and to tell her how lovely she had looked as she slept. But more than this, she wanted to memorize the image of her sleeping, slackened muscles erasing any lines on her forehead or around her eyes and a half smile playing at the edges of her lips.

  Ana’s chest rose and fell with each even breath, but Riley knew she might wake at any moment, catch her staring and reach for her. She suddenly realized that the privilege of sitting beside her, watching her as she slept and waiting for her to wake was more than she was entitled to if this was still just a fling. She couldn’t go back to Denver under that pretext now. Her heart was in too deep.

  She went downstairs and got a glass of water. She found her cell phone and checked her messages. Lisa had called and left a voice mail. Riley didn’t bother to listen to it. Blair had left a one-line text wishing her a Happy New Year. Riley turned off her phone and went back to Ana’s bed. She spooned against her, enjoying her warmth, and fell asleep with her hand on Ana’s belly.

  * * *

  The sun streamed in through Ana’s bedroom window. Riley woke first and went downstairs to find something to eat. She scouted the pantry, which had little more than two twelve-packs of Coca-Cola, chips and enough cans of soup to enable someone to survive a month housebound. Ana apparently wasn’t attached to any particular brand. She had at least ten different varieties of soups, all vegetarian, and all stacked in even rows with the labels clearly visible. There was an open box of Life, but the cereal in it was stale. The contents of the refrigerator were sparse as well. Riley finally opted for the stale cereal, which was marginally more tolerable once soaked in milk.

  “Sunny and in the sixties today,” Ana said, coming in to the kitchen. She was in a pair of cargo pants and a long sleeve T-shirt. “Want to go for a hike?”

  Riley nodded. “You look different. I like your hair like that.”

  “Ponytail and no makeup. I’m on vacation.” She rested her hands on Riley’s shoulders and leaned down to kiss her cheek. She kept her hands in place and massaged lightly. “I have no idea how old that cereal is. I don’t even remember buying it.”

  “I was hungry enough not to care.”

  Riley finished the last bite, and looked over her shoulder at Ana, who had stopped the massage and was now staring out the window. The question that had been nagging her all morning resurfaced.

  How likely was this to work out?

  The hike that Ana had picked was one she’d been on before and she’d promised a nice spot for a picnic by a little lake halfway up the trail. The trailhead was just outside of town. A wide gravel road trimmed on either side with grass led them upward, narrowed to pass through a dense forest of oak and then narrowed further to a rocky deer path that wound up to a ridge. Once they were on the wider ridge trail, Ana slowed her pace. She reached for Riley’s hand and gave it a squeeze, then let go. The view of Napa Valley opened up below, with rolling hills unfolding in layers that stretched as far as the horizon, all dressed in varying shades of green. The sky was a cloudless soft blue.

  “In Denver, you get used to brown winters. The snow rarely sticks for longer than a day or two. But there are months and months of bare branches and dead grass. When I go home to Seattle, my eyes feel like they are on vacation. It’s like there’s no end to the green. But the sky is gray, and it rains, of course. It never looks quite like this. I could get used to this.”

  “We’re almost to the lake,” Ana said. “Depending on the season and the rains, sometimes it looks more like a frog pond. But I like it even then.”

  The lake was little more than a large pond, in fact, but it was framed with oaks and set in a box canyon. A picnic bench whittled with initials and hearts had been placed at one end of the lake. Ana sat down atop the table, propping her feet, clad in expensive-looking, shiny leather hiking boots, on the bench. Riley took out her phone and snapped a picture. She shook her head when she saw the image frozen on the screen.

  “What is it?”

  “You look like a model posing for some trendy boot company.”

  “A model?” Ana laughed. Her tone turned serious when she added, “It bothers you, a little, doesn’t it? I’m not trying, you know. Not today.”

  “Does what bother me?” Riley stalled. She didn’t want to articulate what she felt. Ana wasn’t simply good-looking. She was stunning. Riley hadn’t worried that Ana was too attractive to be with her when it had seemed like only a fling. Now, however, she felt her insecurities about her appearance mounting. It wasn’t a matter of comparing her body to Ana’s. They were too different. Riley’s lanky build gave her a boyish look, she knew, but she’d never particularly wanted to look more feminine. She doubted, on the other hand, that Ana could make herself look unfeminine if she tried. Ana didn’t need to hide behind makeup or fancy clothes. In some ways, in fact, they took away from her beauty. Her graceful curves and delicate lines, at once appealing and mystifying in their perfection, were all Riley wanted to see.

  Riley had dated pretty women, but she had to admit she had always felt more comfortable dating ones who were just average good-looking women, not model-pretty ones. Blair and Lisa were both beautiful, but in different ways.

  It really wasn’t about the women she’d dated before, anyway. As handsome as she felt when she was wearing jeans and a collared men’s dress shirt, she knew she wasn’t in the same ballpark as Ana. No doubt someone could find lots to psychoanalyze about this—but she didn’t want to hear what they might have to say. And she certainly wasn’t comfortable enough with Ana to admit her feelings.

  “When I’m working, I have to dress the part, Riley. And maybe I like dressing up. But you know, it doesn’t matter how I dress. Or if I’m wearing makeup. I still like women.”

  “I’m not suggesting you don’t.”

  “Then what are you suggesting? I think you have some image in your mind about what a woman who likes women is supposed to look like, and I’m guessing you don’t think I look the part. So, because I look like I should be modeling boots, I’m probably only playing a game with you, right?”

  Riley shrugged. Ana was partly right. “Maybe.”

  “Damn. I basically had this same conversation with Tom. He told me I was making a mistake. That I was ‘too attractive to be with a woman.’”

  Riley slipped her phone in her pocket and sat down on the table too. The wood was damp from the moist air. She traced the lines of a heart that someone had etched into the plank closest to Ana. “It’s possible that it is going to take me a while to get used to being with someone who looks like you do.”

  “Who looks like they are modeling boots?” Ana shook her head. “I like you, Riley. Get over it.” She touched the same heart that Riley had traced. “Have you always had trust issues, or is it something about me?”

  “Why do you think I don’t trust you?”

  “I don’t think you believe that I really like you. I don’t think you’ll believe me when I adm
it exactly how much I like you.” Ana brushed her hand against Riley’s cheek. She pulled her hand back. “I’m not playing around.”

  “Not this time?”

  Ana turned her gaze toward the lake. Her voice sounded distant when she finally answered. “I wasn’t playing last time either. Is that why you don’t trust me?”

  Riley didn’t answer. Was her experience with Lisa adding to her own doubts about a relationship with Ana? Or was she still waiting for something to resurface with Tom?

  “I’ve always been wary of people saying they like me, I think. How do you really know? Do you like me only until someone better comes along? Yeah, what happened has played into some of my fears, maybe, but I think I was probably insecure before all of that. I’d blame my ex, but she isn’t here to defend herself.”

  “I have this crazy idea that by the end of this weekend you will accept that I like you. A lot.”

  “And what if I feel the same? Then we come back around to wondering how we are supposed to make this work…There are so many other issues beyond the fact that I think you might be out of my league.”

  Ana sighed. “Long distance, for a while. I have a layover in Denver sometime in the last week of January. And I’m not too attractive for you, Riley. You’re beautiful. I told you that last September and I meant it.”

  Riley leaned over and kissed Ana. “At the moment, I’m not going to argue.”

  * * *

  The following day, Ana had planned a drive to the coast. They woke up early but didn’t get out of bed until noon and only then because of Ana’s growling stomach. They took a long drive but didn’t end up at the coast. Instead they drove inland, then circled back, and soon Ana was pointing out the winery that Tom’s family owned. “It’s one of the smallest wineries in Napa. In fact, most of their grapes are grown in the central valley. But they have a nice tasting room in a redwood cellar, and of course, the restaurant brings in a choice crowd.”