Once Upon a Wine

by Beth Kendrick

  “Hmm.” Cammie maintained eye contact with Bronwyn. “And when is this slated to take place?”

  “The Saturday before Labor Day,” Vanessa declared. “We know it’s short notice, but our other venue fell through.”

  “Which I can’t understand.” Jeanie tapped her lip with her index finger. “I e-mailed them every day with updates, and they knew our schedule in detail. I called them twice a week for follow-up, too. It’s so frustrating. I can’t understand why they returned our deposit money.”

  “And we really need something definite so we can send out corrected invitations,” Vanessa finished.

  Cammie lowered her voice so only the bride could hear. “You’re okay with this?”

  Bronwyn shrugged. “Wedding planning isn’t really my thing. I never had the whole pretty-princess fantasy.”

  Cammie nodded. “Then let’s get the groom over here and figure this out.”

  Vanessa and Jeanie laughed uproariously. Even Bronwyn cracked a smile.

  “What?” Cammie asked.

  “The only person less interested than Bronwyn in wedding details is James,” Jeanie said.

  “It’s true,” Bronwyn confirmed. “He says to buy him a suit and tell him what day and time and he’ll be there.”

  As the mothers debated the merits of a buffet versus a plated dinner, Cammie tried to figure out the dynamics at play. Everyone seemed to get along. Everyone seemed content with the way things were going, including the bride.

  And yet . . .

  She watched Bronwyn’s expression closely as they continued the conversation. “There’s no way we can accommodate two hundred people in the house,” Cammie said. “Even the barn is going to be too small.”

  Vanessa waved this away. “As if I’d hold my only daughter’s wedding in a barn.”

  Jeanie giggled at the very idea. “We’re going to put up tents on the lawn. Over there, by the field.”

  Cammie studied the space, considering. “That could work. Unless it rains.”

  “It won’t rain,” Vanessa and Jeanie said in unison.

  “Yes, hopefully it won’t rain,” Cammie said. “But we need a contingency plan, just in case.”

  Vanessa seemed to be taking this personally. Her eyes narrowed and her lips thinned.

  Cammie pressed on. “Thunderstorms aren’t uncommon in the summer here. Just yesterday—”

  “I live here,” Vanessa said tightly. “I’m aware of the weather.”

  “Then you understand why we need—”

  Vanessa sighed, as if trying to explain a simple concept to a child. “It won’t rain.”

  Cammie remained upbeat. “But what if it does?”

  “It won’t.”

  “But—”

  “It. Won’t.”

  Cammie turned to Bronwyn. “May I have a word, please?”

  Bronwyn followed Cammie across the lawn until they were out of earshot of the bridal party.

  “How old are you, if you don’t mind my asking?”

  “Twenty-two.” Bronwyn grinned. “I only look sixteen.”

  “Ah.”

  The bride’s smile faltered. “I know you think I’m too young to get married—”

  “I don’t think that at all,” Cammie assured her.

  “Twenty-two is pretty young by most people’s standards. I mean, it’s young by my standards. None of my friends are ready to get married. But James and I have been together forever. We met before preschool. Our moms made friends when they were in labor and delivery together.”

  “When you were born?”

  “Yep. They both showed up fully dilated, there was only one room left, and they had to fight it out.”

  Cammie’s amazement must have shown on her face, because Bronwyn added, “It was a full moon. I guess hospitals get really busy during full moons.”

  “So who got the room?”

  “My mom, of course.” Bronwyn looked ruefully at Vanessa. “There’s no point fighting with her; she always gets her way. Jeanie had to deliver James on a gurney in the hallway. But they bonded during recovery and now they’re BFFs.” Bronwyn laughed. “My mom is impossible to fight with, but she’s also impossible to stay mad at.”

  “So, you and your husband have the same birthday? That’s quite a story.”

  “Oh, it gets better. Our moms talked about this wedding before they even took me and James home from the hospital. They thought it would be so cute if the two of us grew up and fell in love. And now here we are.”

  “Here you are,” Cammie echoed.

  “Of course, we wouldn’t be getting married if we didn’t really love each other. Our mothers just lucked out. We always got along—we even shared well as toddlers—and we started dating, if you can call it that, in seventh grade. Our wedding day will be the tenth anniversary of our first official date.”

  “That explains why you’d rather change reception venues than the ceremony date.”

  Bronwyn glanced down, interlacing her fingers. “It’s sentimental and kind of cheesy, but that’s who we are.”

  “It’s not cheesy at all,” Cammie assured her. “I think it’s beautiful, and I’ll do everything I can to make it happen.” She took a breath. “But. Here’s the thing.”

  Bronwyn laughed. “I know. Don’t worry, we’ll try to rein my mom in.”

  “It’s not that I don’t respect the mother of the bride, it’s just that you’re the actual bride. It’s really your day.”

  Bronwyn swept her long, light hair back. “I don’t mind if she takes over. The menu and flowers don’t really matter to me.”

  “Did you get to pick out your own wedding gown, at least?”

  “Yes. It’s kind of simple for her taste, but she’ll live. She picked an extrafancy mother-of-the-bride dress to make up for it. Sequins for days.” Bronwyn glanced back at her mother, smiling fondly.

  “You’re very mature for twenty-two.”

  “That’s what they tell me.” Bronwyn nibbled her lower lip. “Sometimes I think . . .”

  Cammie waited.

  “I wonder if I should have taken a few risks before settling down.”

  “What kinds of risks?” Cammie expected the bride to talk about dating other people, but Bronwyn surprised her.

  “Well, I love James—I know he’s the right one for me—but he’s starting a job in September and so am I, and I know our mothers are both dying for us to give them grandchildren, and it’s all happening so fast.”

  Cammie thought about Kat and how trapped she felt in the suburbs. “It’s a bit overwhelming?”

  “I never told my mom this—I didn’t even tell James—but right after we got engaged, I applied for a research assistantship in the Galápagos. I majored in biology, and I always wanted to go.” She lowered her voice as this little tidbit slipped out. “Don’t tell anyone.”

  “I won’t,” Cammie promised.

  “It didn’t work out, anyway. I knew it was a pipe dream when I applied—it’s really competitive.” Bronwyn now looked determined to accept her fate. “When I got the rejection letter, I figured it just wasn’t meant to be.”

  “It was only one rejection letter,” Cammie said. “Most people who achieve their pipe dream deal with way more rejection than that.”

  “Yeah?” Bronwyn looked intrigued. “Like who?”

  • • •

  “Bronwyn, meet my cousin Kat. Kat, this is the bride who’s planning the reception here.”

  “Great to meet you.” Kat offered a handshake, and Bronwyn stared at the scars and tattoos. While the rest of the wedding party strolled inside to enjoy a wine tasting with Ginger, Cammie arranged a tête-à-tête in the slice of shade afforded by the red barn.

  “You’re a professional skateboarder?” Bronwyn asked.

  “I was.” Kat’s cheer
ful facade never wavered. “I broke too many bones too many times, so now I’m a retired skateboarder.”

  “And you run a vineyard? That sounds so cool.”

  “Yes,” Kat said with an almost undetectable trace of irony. “Doesn’t it?”

  Before Kat could delve into the sordid truth about running a vineyard, Cammie jumped in. “I was telling Bronwyn here that rejection is part of success.”

  Kat rubbed her lower back. “Well, you know, it wasn’t my favorite part of my job, but I got over it. Like, a million times.”

  Bronwyn was still eying the scars. “I’ve never set foot on a skateboard.”

  “Most women haven’t. Which is too bad, because it’s such an incredible experience. It’s spiritual, in a way—mind and body and soul all working together.”

  “Can we go sometime?” Bronwyn asked. “I could really use a spiritual experience right now.”

  Kat’s blue eyes brightened at the prospect. “Tell you what—if you want to try skateboarding, I’ll take you out for a lesson. But you’re going to have to split my time and attention with another student.”

  “Okay.”

  “A male stripper,” Kat added.

  Bronwyn shrugged. “Okay.”

  “And your fiancé’s going to be fine with that?”

  Bronwyn rolled her eyes. “He’s my fiancé, not my father.”

  “See?” Kat looked pointedly at Cammie. “Some men aren’t threatened by skateboarding with a stripper.”

  “They’ve known each other since birth,” Cammie said, and Bronwyn told the story of their courtship to Kat.

  Kat’s expression vacillated between awed and appalled. “You’ve been together since seventh grade?”

  Bronwyn nodded. “I can’t imagine being with anyone else.”

  “And you’re sure you’re ready for this kind of commitment?”

  Cammie snapped her brows together. “Kat.”

  “What? I’m just asking a question. Marriage is a big deal.”

  Bronwyn’s eyes were wide and solemn. “I know.”

  “A big deal,” Kat emphasized. “You think you know what it’ll be like, but you don’t. No matter how well you know your partner, how long you’ve been together, how much you love each other, you just. Don’t. Know.”

  “What is it like?” the young woman asked.

  “It’s great,” Cammie said quickly.

  Bronwyn turned to her. “You’re married?”

  “Well, no.”

  Bronwyn turned back to Kat, noticed the simple platinum band on her ring finger. “You’re married?”

  “For now,” Kat muttered.

  “What does that mean?” Bronwyn asked.

  “I have no idea.” Kat ran one of her fingers along the thin white scar on her forearm. “When we got married, I was sure. This was it, this was the one. And now we’re living in different states. Full disclosure: It’s all my fault.”

  “Do you love him?” Bronwyn pressed.

  “I think so.”

  “You think so?” Now it was Bronwyn’s turn to look appalled. “What kind of answer is that? You make the decision to love someone every day.”

  Kat stared down at her sneakers, ashamed.

  Bronwyn regarded both of them with indulgent amusement. “You guys. I’ve known my fiancé since before we could talk. We’ve been dating for ten years. Don’t you think the butterflies have worn off by now? James is my best friend, but he’s also my soul mate.”

  “That’s what we all say in the beginning,” Kat intoned.

  “He cleans the bathroom every Saturday morning,” Bronwyn added.

  “For real?” Kat conceded defeat. “I give you my blessing. Marry him and never look back.”

  “What happened?” Bronwyn asked her. “To make you stop loving him?”

  Kat thought for a bit before answering. “Nothing. He’s the exactly the same as he’s always been. I’m the one who changed. I keep telling him it’s not about him—it’s all about me.”

  “It’s all about you,” Bronwyn repeated back to Kat. “Hear how that sounds?”

  Kat looked chagrined. “I do now.”

  “When does he get a turn to have it be all about him?”

  Kat started to reply, stopped, then finally said, “How old are you again?”

  “Twenty-two. I’m an old soul, or so people tell me.”

  “No kidding.”

  “Tell her about the Galápagos,” Cammie urged.

  Bronwyn hemmed and hawed for a few minutes, but ended up confessing the details about her failed attempt to research marine ecosystems in South America.

  “How long have you wanted to do that?” Kat asked.

  “Since high school.” Bronwyn nibbled her lower lip. “But I always knew it wasn’t realistic.” She sounded apologetic. “Grant money is really hard to get these days, and I didn’t have a lot of research experience.”

  “Twenty-two is too young to give up on your dreams,” Kat said.

  “Yeah? How old are you?”

  “Thirty-two.”

  “Thirty-two is too young to give up on your dreams,” Bronwyn said.

  “Great.” Cammie clapped her hands to signal an end to this increasingly existential conversation. “We all agree we should chase our dreams. In the meantime, let’s talk about reception sites and weather contingencies, shall we?”

  “It’s not going to rain.” Bronwyn shot her a pointed look. “You heard my mother.”

  Cammie studied the clouds on the horizon, fighting the urge to check the weather website Ian had recommended. She hoped it wouldn’t rain again tonight—too much rain could cause rot in the rosebushes and bloat in the grapes. “I’m aware that your mother is very strong willed, but even she can’t control the weather.”

  “Ha. That’s what you think.”

  Kat looked intrigued. “She can ward off thunderstorms with her mind? Is she part of the X-Men?”

  “She’s a different kind of superhero: the Indomitable MOB.”

  • • •

  “Listen.” Cammie sat down next to Kat on the green velvet sofa in the parlor after the bridal party departed. “I don’t want to tell you how to run our little family business here—”

  “But you’re going to, anyway?”

  “In the future, maybe don’t discuss all your marriage problems with the bride. She wants the happily ever after. The fairy tale. Let the girl enjoy her engagement.”

  “But she should know—”

  “Maybe she should,” Cammie conceded. “But we’re not the ones who should tell her. That’s what therapists and passive-aggressive relatives are for. We’re just here to make sure the reception goes well.”

  “You’re right. It won’t happen again.” Kat tipped her head back and stared up at the wooden ceiling beams.

  Cammie helped herself to one of the orange slices on the plate next to Kat. “You seem a little distracted.”

  Kat let out her breath in a rush of air. Cammie expected another conversation about Josh, but Kat surprised her. “My old sponsor is hosting a major competition in California in three weeks. Since I can’t compete, they’ve asked me to come judge.”

  “Oh, good for you!” Cammie stopped enthusing when she noticed Kat’s dour expression. “Not good for you?”

  “I can’t decide if I should say yes. It’d be great to get back into the boarding world, but it’ll be a bitch to just sit on the sidelines.” Kat paused. “And flying off to California’s not going to help things with me and Josh.”

  Cammie inclined her head in agreement.

  “But, honestly, I’m not sure what would help me and Josh, so I might as well go. A check is a check, right?”

  “That’s pretty much my motto.” Cammie grinned. “And look how great my life is turning out. Planning wedding
s for child brides, and making out with farmers in ditches.”

  Kat offered a high five. “Living the dream.”

  “Every day.”

  chapter 18

  Ginger, Kat, and Cammie entered the wine festival linked arm in arm in arm. After much controversy over what to wear, they’d decided to stick to basic black, in an effort to look like serious wine growers while simultaneously blending into the background.

  Ginger had opted for a demure black wrap, a huge gold bag, and flashy gold earrings, while Kat had gone with a no-fuss black wool crepe dress with a cowl neckline and minimal jewelry. Cammie had landed somewhere in the middle, in a V-neck cocktail dress with vampy pink stilettos and a pink garnet pendant she’d borrowed from her aunt.

  The trio paused at the entryway for a moment, taking in the twinkle lights overhead, the throngs of well-heeled wine enthusiasts, and the bow-tie-bedecked waiters carrying trays of wine and champagne.

  “Oooh,” Ginger breathed.

  “Wow,” Kat said.

  “I left something in the car,” Cammie mumbled. “Go in without me. I’ll be back in a minute.” She retreated to the parking lot, sternly admonishing herself. Pull it together.

  This was a family outing. Also a business trip. With wine and schmoozing and twinkle lights. So why did she feel as though she were on the verge of a panic attack?

  She leaned against a concrete slab for a moment, forcing herself to breathe deeply in an effort to steady her shaking hands and feet. Her shoe heels were high and spindly; her trembling would result in a snapped ankle if she didn’t calm down.

  After a few minutes, she calmed down.

  And then, the moment she stepped back into the swanky soiree, she started trembling again.

  Everywhere she looked, there were people who had succeeded in life: winemakers, sommeliers, judges, and journalists. All of these people had somehow managed to thrive in an industry littered with bankrupted businesses and misguided marketing campaigns.

  And Cammie had lost everything, including her mother’s legacy. She bowed her head, suffused with shame.

  “Cammie!” Ginger glided up beside her. “There you are! I’ve found some people you simply must meet.” Her aunt dragged her toward a cluster of merrymakers who were passing around a goblet of dark red wine.