Happy Hour

by Michele Scott

“Cheers.” She touched her cup to his, and they each took a sip.

  “Nice,” he said. “Mhhm, do I taste pineapple? Maybe a little toffee or hazelnut.”

  “Ah, what do we have here, a connoisseur? Very good, Dr. Murphy.”

  “I’ll admit I do have a passion for wine, so when you told me you were a winemaker, I was thrilled, but I was also secretly worried.”

  “Worried?”

  He nodded. “I couldn’t help wondering what I would do if your wine wasn’t something I liked.”

  “So you’re not a connoisseur, but a wine snob.” She punched him lightly on the shoulder.

  “Maybe a bit, but this,” he held up the cup, “this gets huge points. I’m thinking a ninety-seven.”

  “I don’t even think Parker gives a ninety-seven on anything.”

  “He hasn’t tasted your wine yet, now has he?”

  “True.” She opened up the basket. “What do you have in here?”

  “Let’s see.” He took out two sandwiches on foccacia bread. “My specialty. Grilled veggies, spicy sausage, and feta cheese.”

  “You can cook too?”

  “Yes. This. This is what I know how to cook.” He handed her a sandwich. “And I can scramble eggs too.”

  She laughed.

  “And, I sliced us some strawberries, a little honeydew melon, and I couldn’t resist so I stopped by Bouchon and bought some lemon bars for desert.”

  “You are after my heart, aren’t you?”

  “I am,” he replied, a serious note in his voice.

  She hadn’t expected that. Not really. It was good. Heart-racing-and-beating-out-of-her-chest good, but still, kind of overwhelming. “This is so nice, Mark. Thank you.”

  They sat in silence for a minute, eating. The sandwiches were delicious. Danielle set hers down, and took a sip of wine. “We got sidetracked, back to the artist and the view and the painting. I had a feeling we were going down a Socrates route.”

  “I don’t know about that.” Mark laughed. “I was talking about God.”

  “God?”

  “Yes. I have a lot of faith. After losing my son, I couldn’t find solace anywhere except for when I prayed. I can’t explain it because I was never a religious man before that. I’m still not. Not really. I’m a spiritual man, I guess you could say.” He held out his cup and she poured him so more wine. “I’m a doctor, I’m supposed to be all about science, but I’m not that guy. You don’t deliver babies for twenty-some odd years and not come to believe in God. You just don’t. Maybe it sounds corny, but I see God everywhere I look, in everything I see. And this landscape here in front of us is His artwork.”

  Danielle sat up and took his hand. “That’s beautiful. I, I don’t know what to say. It’s lovely.”

  “What about you?” he asked.

  “Me? On God?” He nodded and she sighed. “I still have my faith and I believe, but I have to admit I struggle sometimes.”

  “We all do.”

  She shrugged. “I grew up Catholic and now I guess I’m what they call a cafeteria Catholic, stopping in on holidays, going to confession when I’m at my rope’s end and know I’ve done something horrible, like kicking Cassie out for being surly and disobedient. And I’ve alienated my oldest daughter for hiding the truth from me for so long.”

  “Oh yeah, the sin of parenting. That one will get you in a lot of trouble with the man upstairs.”

  She laid back on the blanket and relayed the story to Mark. “I feel so rotten. Like I’m not being a mother at all to either of my girls.”

  He lay down next to her, the two of them looking up under the tree. “I think you did the right thing with Cassie. That may sound strange coming from me because I’ve lost a child and I would do anything, tolerate anything, to have him back with me. But Cassie is a teenager and you’re her mother. If you allow her to talk to you like that and run all over you, she’s going to think she can do it to other people who might not be so forgiving. You never know when her words and actions could get her into trouble. Besides, you’ve dealt with a hard blow recently and, if you ask me, Cassie is looking for attention and her timing sucks.”

  “You can say that.”

  “Not to mention, she does have a father and from what you’ve told me he’s been less of a father and more of crux—someone she can get whatever she wants from, whenever she wants. Maybe this time spent with her father will teach him what it is to be a dad. Or maybe she’ll learn how to appreciate you more. Of course, I’m a gynecologist, not a psychiatrist, so I don’t know if you should take my advice on this.”

  “Of course I want your advice. Go ahead.”

  “Your gamble is a good one and I think it will pay you in dividends.”

  “God, I hope so. But what about Shannon?”

  He sat up and faced her. “This you may not like as much.”

  “I want to hear it anyway.” She’d almost forgotten how good it was to have someone—a male someone—to bounce things off of.

  “Give her time. The young woman I met seemed mature, responsible, and intelligent. I think you have to come to terms with the idea that your daughter is an adult and this is her choice. You may not agree and you may not like it, but, if you want to rebuild your relationship you have to love her and her baby through this. Support and love. That is what it’s all about.”

  “How did you learn all of this?”

  He took her hand. “When you lose someone you love, particularly a child, you rethink, reevaluate everything in your life and you do realize that it all comes down to love.”

  Danielle couldn’t speak. Mark brought his hand to her face. Looking into her eyes, he kissed her softly on her lips. It was sweet, slow, and understanding, almost as if they had been lovers for decades. She sat up and leaned her head on his shoulder. “Thank you,” she whispered.

  They finished off the wine and food, and lay back down under the tree, holding hands and talking late into the afternoon.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  Jamie

  Tuesday morning felt like a splash of cold water had been thrown in Jamie’s face. She’d woken up late and had to scramble to get out the door to work, but just as she was about to leave, Nora stopped her. “Me no mas. No mas working for you.”

  “What?” Jamie shook her head. “Oh, no, you’re not doing this to me today. I understand and I’m trying to find some more help for Dorothy. This is about Dorothy?”

  “Sí. Dorothy. Mi no quiero cuidado no more.”

  “I know it’s hard to care for her, but please! And Maddie will be going to her friend’s house in an hour so she won’t be here much longer. Skylar’s mom is picking her up.”

  Nora looked at her sympathetically and then spoke in English. “I’m sorry Señora Jamie. I no more take care of. I afraid. I love her and you and Maddie but no more. My daughter es have baby and I take care of her now. I go now. You no needed pay me for last week. I see it not much money for you now.”

  “No, no, no. I pay you. I pay you more. Lots more. I’m working on it. I’ll take care of it.” She grabbed Nora by the shoulders. “Please stay. Don’t go. Please. I need you today.”

  “I sorry. My daughter needed me for the doctor.” She hugged Jamie hard. “Bye, bye, Señora Jamie.”

  Jamie stood frozen as she watched her housekeeper and her mother-in-law’s caretaker walk out the door. She wanted to cry, scream, and throw something, but already late for work, she didn’t have time for a temper tantrum. No. She had to get Dorothy dressed and take her to work with her. First she had to get Maddie taken care of. She called Skylar’s mother and explained that she was in a bind. She agreed to let Jamie drop Maddie off as soon as she could.

  Jamie got her up, poured Maddie a bowl of cereal, and said, “Hurry, babe. I’m really late. I’m taking you to Skylar’s.”

  “Okay, Mommy. But can I watch The Saddle Club while I eat?”

  “No time. Eat, dress. We have to go. Chop chop.”

  Maddie frowned but did what she wa
s told as Jamie hurried to Dorothy’s room. “Mom.” Jamie shook the sleeping woman lightly. “Mom?”

  Dorothy stirred. “Good morning. How lovely. You are such a pretty girl. Who are you again? I mix you up with Doris Day and Sandra Dee all the time.”

  “Mom. It’s me, Jamie, and we have to get up and get going.”

  “Where are we going?”

  Jamie thought about this for a minute. What would motivate Dorothy to get a move on?

  “We are going to see a lot of your old friends today. We can have lunch together and maybe Dean will be there, or Sammy Davis, or who knows? Who does really know? We might spot Frank Sinatra out and about. Let’s just make it an adventure.”

  “How fun! But what will I wear?”

  Jamie wasn’t about to let her get into the closet and use up the precious minutes they had over the day’s attire. She quickly rummaged through the closet and pulled out a pretty, floral sundress for her. Dorothy was thin and the dress looked nice on her. Jamie pulled her hair back into a bun, dabbed some blush on her cheeks, and put lipstick on her. She poured her a cup of coffee in a to-go cup and handed her a banana and a piece of toast. Jamie checked her watch and swore under her breath. It was a short week because the Fourth of July was on Thursday and she had a lot to take care of.

  She got Maddie to Skylar’s house and pulled into her parking space in front of Wine Country Corp., the parent company of her magazine. She spotted the big boss’ car, and her first thought was that this couldn’t possibly be good. It wasn’t their quarterly meeting and Evan Michelson was not the type of man or boss to drive in from the city just to check in. Had she missed something? Forgotten something? She glanced at Dorothy. Damn. Time to take a deep breath and get her head on straight.

  “Mom, this is where I work. There are some important things for me to handle and I’m going to need you to be patient. I’ll set you up with some magazines in our conference room.”

  “Will anyone I know be in this conference room? I hope Rock is here today. Are we at NBC or Paramount? It looks so different. What have they done to the place? It’s smaller. I know Rock is homosexual and all. Everyone knows it but we don’t talk about it though. He is such a dear. Maybe he could join us?”

  Jamie was in trouble. “Okay, Mom. Let’s go.”

  As she entered the offices, Jamie’s assistant Adrienne came around the corner and grabbed her by the shoulder. “Evan is here and it’s not good.” Then she looked Dorothy up and down. “What is she doing here?”

  Jamie glared at her. “Where is he?”

  “In the conference room and they’re all waiting for you.”

  “They?”

  Adrienne nodded. “He has all the staff writers and the department editors. You’re late.”

  “Take her into my office. Give her some magazines and a juice or something and keep an eye on her. Please.”

  Adrienne mustered a smile. “Sure,” she said with a tinge of sarcasm.

  “Mom, this is my assistant and she is going to take you to my office. I’ll be there soon.”

  “Hello, Jayne, it’s lovely to see you again.”

  “Jayne?” Adrienne mouthed, aware of Dorothy’s mental issues.

  “If I had to guess, Mansfield.”

  “Who?”

  “Google her.” Adrienne was not quite thirty, big busted, had long poofy blonde hair and a thing for tight blouses and pencil skirts. No wonder, Dorothy decided she was Jane. But for all her outlandish outfits and wild makeup, Adrienne was good at her job.

  Adrienne was right. Seated at the long glass-topped conference table were her editors and staff writers. Evan sat in her seat at the helm. He looked up as she hurriedly walked in, and found a seat. “Good morning, Jamie. Nice you could make it.”

  “I’m terribly sorry. I was unaware that we were having a meeting.”

  No one looked at Jamie. They were all reading the papers in front of them.

  “You do know that your work day typically begins at eight in the morning?”

  “I had a family emergency.”

  “Oh?”

  “I did. What is this all about, Evan?”

  He straightened his expensive silk tie, and his dark eyes lit up. “We at Wine Country Corporation have decided to do some restructuring. Obviously in light of difficult economic times, we’ve had to take a careful look at the bottom line. Wine Country’s in-home tasting and purchases are growing at a steady pace still, but sales are down with the magazine here.”

  Jamie clenched her fists under the table. Technically sales were only down by a small percentage, and she knew what this was all about. She’d called Evan last month about revamping the magazine and targeting it more towards women. Her idea was to add columns on beauty and health, include more recipes, a book club section, and base all of it on wine-related products. Evan told her that men were still the ones who spent more money on the types of wines the magazine usually covered—collector’s wines, the more expensive wines. The irony there (and she did know where he was headed) was that the in-home wine sales his company made via a multi-level marketing program sold mediocre wines for high prices to the average Joe who didn’t know enough about the wines to know any better. Evan purchased the wines from sell-off lots and had them bottled by his own label, Wine Country Gold. Even the name was cheesy. Jamie watched the numbers and Evan had been putting more money into that business and letting her and the magazine run itself. She could see the writing on the wall.

  “My partners and I have decided that we are going to transition the magazine into what will now be called Wine Country Gold. I hate to be blunt, but there is no other way around it. Some of you will be losing your jobs.” He glanced up and something caught his eye out of the conference room. The group opposite Jamie also looked up. “Excuse me, but does anyone know who that old woman is?” Evan asked.

  Jamie spun around. She jumped up. Dorothy was outside the glass walls of the room, peering in. Jamie got up and opened the door for her. “Mom? Mom? What are you doing?”

  “I’m looking for Jayne.”

  She took Dorothy’s hand, and brought her into the conference room, pulled up a chair next to her and sat her down. Everyone was silent and watchful. She cleared her throat. “Um, this is my mother-in-law Dorothy and uh, part of the family emergency I mentioned. Okay.” She turned back to Evan, mustering a smile. She didn’t want to say more about Dorothy if she didn’t have to since Evan’s mouth was already slightly open. “You were saying, Evan?”

  He shook his head. “Yes. I was saying that some of you will lose your jobs here, but I want to stress the opportunity you could have by becoming one of Wine Country Gold’s consultants. You could earn more than you have been earning at your writer jobs and would have the possibility of receiving new cars, trips, all sorts of wonderful incentives. It’s only a hundred and fifty dollars to join. That is the deal I’m giving you all. This is a one-time opportunity, though. We typically bring in our first level consultants at two hundred and twenty-five dollars. Do the math, friends. That is a seventy-five-dollar savings.” He smiled as if he was delivering the best news possible.

  Jamie thought she might be sick.

  Dorothy raised her hand and Jamie shoved it down. “I was wondering if anyone has seen my friend Jayne around? And, you are looking a bit pale today, Yul,” she said to Evan.

  “Yul?”

  “She’s confused,” Jamie said but as difficult of a situation that she was in, she almost couldn’t help laugh. The bald Evan could possibly pass for Yul Brenner.

  “I have a question.” Jamie asked while everyone around her squirmed in their seats.

  “Shoot.” Evan pointed at her.

  “You’re saying that some of us are losing our jobs…”

  “Not you, Jamie. Wine Country Gold has other plans for you. You will have a list on your desk by tomorrow and you can handle the terminations and present the severance packages.”

  “That wasn’t what I wanted to ask you. What are your
plans for the people who keep their jobs? If I’m hearing you correctly, you’re closing the magazine.”

  “Jamie, you are not hearing me. That is not what I said. We will be restructuring and those writers we keep on will be writing articles strictly about Wine Country Gold wines, where they come from, how the company was founded. Things like that.”

  “Basically you’re turning us into a marketing department for the wine tasting business.”

  “If that’s the way you want to put it. Before I made this decision we were outsourcing the marketing, but I feel this is a perfect fit for such a transition.”

  There were grumbles from the group. These people were writers, not marketing gurus. They researched, loved the stories they wrote, cared about the information they revealed to others. What Evan was suggesting would never work because this wasn’t how writers thought. What a condescending jerkoff.

  “There’s Jayne now. Bye-bye.” Dorothy stood and headed to the door.

  Jamie spotted Adrienne rushing down the hall.

  “I couldn’t have said it better myself,” Evan said. “Goodbye, everyone. Jamie will be going over the details with everyone here tomorrow morning.”

  Her employees, many of them friends, stayed frozen in their seats. Jamie tried to go after Dorothy, but Evan stopped her as they reached the door simultaneously. Adrienne approached Dorothy and began talking to her. Thank God.

  “You need to do something about your family emergency, Jamie,” Evan snarled.

  “I’m sorry.” Flustered and angry, she tried to keep her cool.

  He handed her a large packet. “I’ll expect everything to be carried out by tomorrow afternoon before the holiday weekend. All the information you need is here, and you’re lucky I don’t fire you for this mishap.” He waved his hands in the air. “I’ve already had my secretary schedule a meeting with you for next week so you can apprise me of the decisions made. I would suggest that everyone, even you, look into becoming consultants for Wine Country Gold. It’s a great way to earn extra income and, regretfully, I’ve had to make pay cuts across the board. Including you.”

  Jamie stood speechless as Evan Dickhead walked out of the offices.