Uncorking a Lie

by Nadine Nettmann

  Henry shifted in his chair and took a drink from his highball glass while Leanor turned to Simon and started talking. Nice.

  “I see we’re having cocktails,” I said to Cooper, ignoring the silent treatment the guests were handing me.

  “Yes, two Manhattans and one glass of Champagne. I’m sure Paul will also have a glass when he joins us in a minute.”

  “I’d love Champagne,” I replied for two reasons. The bottle would already be open as one guest, Leanor, was drinking it and Paul had mentioned a few times that he brought in bottles from lesser-known houses in the Champagne area of France. Drinking a glass at Paul’s would be a treat for the senses.

  “Champagne it is. Take a seat.” He motioned to the chairs. “I’ll be right back with your drink as long as you don’t critique my serving methods.” He winked.

  “Cooper, I’m sure your methods are second to none.”

  “Second to one.” He pointed to me.

  I glanced at the three other members of the room. There was a dark contrast from the warmth that Cooper exuded. “Actually, Cooper, I’ll come with you.”

  “No, don’t worry. Make yourself comfortable and I’ll be right back.” He smiled and walked out of the room.

  I was left to interact with guests who quite possibly didn’t want to interact with me, but perhaps wine could change that. I’d found that talking about wine was a great icebreaker in nearly every situation.

  Because Simon and Leanor were still entrenched in their conversation about a friend who had just launched a new business, I chose the chair near Henry, a thin gentleman in his early fifties with salt-and-pepper hair.

  He watched as I sat down and then extended his hand. “I’m Henry.”

  “Katie Stillwell,” I replied. My mother had always told me it was polite to say my full name during an introduction, though I still forgot now and then. I glanced at his glass. “I love Manhattans,” I said in an effort to jump start a conversation. When wine wasn’t an option as a topic, cocktails could be a close second. I knew the ingredients of all classic cocktails for my exams, so I was well versed on the subject.

  Henry smiled as he swirled his Manhattan, the large piece of ice clinking against the glass in a mixture of whiskey, sweet vermouth, and Angostura bitters. “They’re great, aren’t they?”

  “Do you prefer them made with rye whiskey or bourbon?” You could tell a lot about a person the way they ordered their drinks.

  Henry stopped swirling as he thought about the question. I could tell from his expression that he wasn’t used to this type of small talk. “I guess I prefer a classic Manhattan,” he replied. “How do you know Paul?” Either he didn’t want to talk about whiskey or he was unsure of me. I had a feeling it was the latter. “I haven’t seen you at one of his dinners before,” he continued. “It’s rare for Paul to bring someone new into the fold.”

  I opened my mouth to reply, but Cooper stepped forward with the Champagne. “She’s a friend of ours,” he interrupted as he handed me the glass. “She enjoys wine, like everyone here, so Paul and I invited her to join us tonight.”

  The comment made me smile. I really was just a guest. Not an employee of a restaurant they frequented, instead I was introduced as a friend. The answer seemed to appease Henry and he continued to nurse his cocktail.

  “Are you Cooper’s new fling?” asked Leanor, who was ready to finally acknowledge my presence or at least find out more about me. She was in her early sixties, though her face had been doctored in an effort to retain her fading beauty, and her jet-black hair fell in a perfect horizontal line along her jaw.

  “Only in my dreams,” replied Cooper. “Now if you’ll excuse me for a moment, I’ll go wait at the front door for the remaining guests.”

  Leanor extended her hand, four large rings adorning her fingers, each with a different-colored jewel stone. “Leanor Langley,” she stated and placed her hand in mine in a way that showed she was used to having it kissed. I shook her limp grasp. I didn’t like super strong handshakes that hurt but I also wasn’t a fan of weak ones.

  She pointed to the bald man sitting next to her. “This is Simon.” His absence of hair combined with his sharp features made it difficult to place his age, but I assumed he was in his fifties or sixties.

  “Nice to meet you, Leanor and Simon.” A trick my mom had taught me to remember names was to repeat them right after hearing them. She was a social butterfly compared to me and her hints came in handy. I used this one nightly at Trentino and it was helpful in making guests feel appreciated and welcome. “Leanor, that’s a unique name. I don’t think I’ve heard it before.”

  She waved her hand, her rigid posture not changing as she moved, and took a sip of her Champagne before answering. “My mother named me Eleanor. I hated it so I changed it.”

  “She does what she wants,” added Simon, but he didn’t smile when he said it. Lovely, a dinner with tension. This would be an interesting night.

  “Paul hasn’t mentioned you before. Do you live here in Sonoma?” asked Leanor.

  “No, I’m in the city.”

  Leanor gave an almost imperceptible nod and if her eyebrows were capable of rising, they would have. “Is that how you know Paul?”

  “Ah, yes,” I replied. I wasn’t sure how much information I should give. Cooper, and Paul, wanted me to be a guest.

  “Simon,” said Leanor in a bored tone, “you’re going into the city soon, aren’t you?”

  Simon nodded as he raised his eyebrows. “Tomorrow.”

  “Bring me back more of those fudge truffles. Same ones as last time.”

  “As you wish,” he replied.

  Now that the focus was off of me, my shoulders relaxed and I settled into the chair. I looked at the golden liquid in my glass, the streams of minute bubbles ascending to the top. The Champagne was high quality, as I would have expected from Paul, and I reveled in the delicate taste as I sipped.

  “I live in the city, too,” said Henry. “Whereabouts are you?”

  I lowered my glass. “I’m over near Golden Gate Park. You?”

  “Marina District.” Henry smiled but he seemed to study me as he did it. “Single?”

  My stomach dropped. “Excuse me?”

  “Just a question. I’m single. Not that I’m looking, but it’s nice to meet someone whose relationship is not complicated like these two.” He motioned to Leanor and Simon.

  “Shut it, Henry,” said Leanor.

  Henry laughed while Simon remained unwavering in his expression.

  I looked around for Cooper or Paul as I took another sip of my Champagne. Either of them would be a welcome change.

  “So, Katie Stillwell,” remarked Simon in a tone that emphasized both my first and last name. “What do you do? For work, I mean. You do work, correct? Or are you a lady of leisure like Leanor here?”

  “What leisure?” replied Leanor. “My days are saturated.”

  “Saturated with what?” asked Simon. “Liquor?”

  “You know as well as I do that I don’t drink before noon.” She turned to me. “Yes, what do you do?”

  Game face on, I nodded. “I work as a—”

  Paul Rafferty’s entrance stopped me mid-sentence. He was the type of man who changed the atmosphere of a room the minute he entered. He exuded power but also generosity and he carried an air of energy with him wherever he went. A ruddy gentleman in his sixties, he loved telling jokes, always throwing his head back as his belly jumped with every roar of laughter. If I thought of him like a wine, I would say that Paul was a Tawny Port—aged and sweet and not appreciated by everyone. But he always took time for me. Needless to say, he was my favorite customer at Trentino and it didn’t hurt that he also tipped very well.

  “Now, now,” said Paul. “Did Cooper not tell you the rules for tonight? We’re not talking about work or jobs. You asked what K
atie does? She’s a guest. As are all of you. I want this to be a pleasant evening, away from work. No business talk.” He glanced around, his pale blue eyes surveying the room. “Speaking of guests, we’re still missing three. Let’s hope they arrive soon. There’s a bottle of wine that’s been waiting decades to be opened.”

  “Is that why we’re here?” asked Leanor.

  “You didn’t know?” responded Simon.

  She shrugged and downed the rest of her Champagne, placing the empty glass on the coffee table in front of her. “When Paul extends an invitation, I come. I didn’t think there had to be a reason.”

  “Like Pavlov with a bell,” added Simon.

  “Shut it, Watkins. Or I won’t take you to Paris with me.”

  A smirk formed on Simon’s face but he tried to hide it by drinking more of his Manhattan.

  Leanor turned to Paul. “Tell us about this bottle.”

  “We’ll get there,” replied Paul. “I want to wait until we’re all here.”

  “Can’t I know anything?”

  Henry leaned forward in his chair. “Leanor, he won it at the auction last week.”

  “Do you win at an auction or do you buy? I’ve often thought win was a strange word,” said Leanor.

  Simon rolled his eyes, Henry swirled his glass, Paul smiled, and I remained silent.

  “No takers? Fine. Which auction?” she asked.

  “Do you not read the papers or does news only interest you if it’s about who wore the latest fashion trend to the gala?” Simon said.

  Leanor gave a sideways glance to Simon and then straight ahead at the wall, her lips rubbing together as if she was biting her words or perhaps using the remnants of Champagne as a lip gloss. I liked to think it was the latter but I knew her type well enough to know it was the former.

  Cooper entered the room, bringing a sudden flow of warmth and energy. Three people, two men and one woman, were with him.

  “The last of our guests,” said Paul. “Welcome. Glad you could make it. The tortoise did beat the hare, so I guess it’s not all bad being slow,” he said, followed by a bout of laughter and then a wicked cough.

  “You okay, Paul?” asked Henry.

  “I’m fine. The only thing I’m struggling with is old age.” He looked at me as he said it, most likely because I was the youngest one in the room. “Okay, since Katie is the only one who doesn’t know everyone, let me do some introductions. First, this is Katie Stillwell. She’s our special guest tonight.”

  I nodded at the three new people, all close to the same age as Paul.

  “Katie, this is Roberto Morini.” Paul motioned to the well-dressed man standing next to him, who stood about a foot shorter than Paul but with a grin twice as big.

  “Alicia Trager.”

  Alicia smiled at me at the sound of her name. Her blond hair, which curled at her shoulders, reminded me of Mrs. Cleaver from Leave It to Beaver.

  “And her husband, Martin.”

  Martin flashed a quick smile but he looked either unimpressed or bored to be there. Or perhaps it was his game face. The service industry wasn’t the only one to have them. I wondered if he would drop it as the dinner progressed, but that made me wonder—would I drop mine?

  “Everyone, take a seat and Cooper will get you drinks. I would recommend Champagne but I see a couple of our guests have chosen cocktails.”

  “Don’t act like you don’t love a good Manhattan as much as the rest of us,” said Henry.

  Paul grinned. “Guilty. After we’ve enjoyed our drinks, we’ll move to the dining room for the real reason I brought you here tonight.”

  “The real reason?” asked Alicia. “You’re not dying, are you Paul?”

  “Not today, Alicia.”

  But as we sat in the lounge, those words resounded in my ear. As a sommelier, you know as soon as you approach a table what they’re going to be like. From the way people look at you to how they are sitting to the questions they ask. As I looked around the room, something about this table felt very, very wrong.

  two

  pairing suggestion: brachetto d’acqui—piedmont, italy

  A sparkling red wine made from the Brachetto grape

  with hints of strawberries as things start to get darker.

  -

  The next round of drinks was interrupted by the announcement that dinner was ready. We filtered into the dining room, where a sizeable glass chandelier hung over the center of the table.

  “I thought you were going to get rid of that,” said Alicia as she pointed to the chandelier.

  “What can I say, the ex-wife’s tastes are still around.” Paul glanced up at the thousands of glittering crystals. “One day I’ll remove it, but for now I’ll keep it hanging over my head.” He laughed at his statement.

  I walked around the nine settings at the oblong table, one at the head for Paul and four on each side, checking the nametags written in calligraphy until I found my place, the last chair on the left side with Cooper next to me.

  “Anna will bring out the food, so make yourself comfortable.” Paul sat down and folded his hands together, looking quite pleased with himself. Simon was to his left, followed by Leanor, Cooper, and then me.

  Alicia sat across from me, with Martin to her left, then Roberto, and Henry next to Paul.

  “Here.” Cooper handed me a large envelope as he sat down. “My gift.”

  “What is it?”

  “If I told you, it wouldn’t be a surprise, would it?”

  I opened the envelope and took out a packet of different-colored index cards.

  “You’ve mentioned at the restaurant that you’re always studying flash cards at home. I know they’re important to you and I saw these and thought of you.”

  I couldn’t remember the last time I had been given a gift. I was definitely touched, but it also made me rethink Cooper’s statement at the front door of just being friends. “That’s very sweet.” I put the cards into my purse. “Thank you.”

  “What are you studying for?” asked Henry.

  “I think I’ve seen you somewhere before,” interrupted Alicia as she cut off Henry’s question.

  “Oh?” I tried to remember if I had seen her at Trentino, but she didn’t strike a chord of familiarity. “I have one of those faces. People always think they know me.”

  Alicia slowly nodded but continued to study me. “Do you live in Sonoma?”

  “In the city,” said Leanor with a hint of disapproval.

  “Well, I love San Francisco,” said Martin with the first indication of his fading game face. He looked genuinely happy to talk about the subject. “Are you from there?”

  “No, but I’ve lived there for about four years now.”

  Alicia smiled. “What brings you out to Sonoma?” Her question puzzled me and I wasn’t sure how to answer. Did she mean Sonoma in general or tonight for the dinner?

  “Clearly,” said Roberto, speaking for the first time, a thick Italian accent marking each of his words, “it’s for the magnificent wine in this region. Correct, Katherine?”

  I nodded. I wasn’t used to being called by my full first name, but the way he said it made me smile. “Wine is the key to everything.”

  “I absolutely agree,” said Martin.

  Leanor shifted in her chair. “Considering your store is in Napa, Roberto, I’m surprised you wax so poetic about Sonoma.”

  He chuckled. “My heart is with both, Leanor.”

  A door from the side, which I assumed to be the kitchen, opened and Anna appeared holding two plates. She was close to college age and wore a white chef’s coat and a chef’s hat. She placed one plate in front of Leanor as the scent of beef wafted toward me. It wasn’t long before I could see the expertly prepared meal as Anna put the second plate in front of me, heat emanating from the sides. Filet mignon, mashed pota
toes, and a pile of sautéed green beans.

  I heard Alicia scoff and I looked up.

  “I don’t eat meat,” she said with her eyes still focused on my plate.

  Paul laughed. “You think I don’t remember?” He grinned as he leaned back in his chair.

  Alicia smiled but it wasn’t until Anna placed a bowl of penne pasta in front of her that her expression looked genuine.

  I looked at the filet mignon in front of me and although I was certain it would be the highest-quality meat, I was secretly jealous of Alicia’s penne covered with marinara sauce. I loved pasta. I was a self-described carboholic.

  When every guest had a plate of food, Paul stood up. “Now, the pièce de résistance.” He stepped to the side and gestured to the bottle of 1975 Chateau Clair Bleu on the sideboard behind him. “The moment you’ve all been waiting for. Or maybe you haven’t, but I certainly have.” He motioned to Cooper. “Will you do the honors?”

  Cooper stood up as I tried to hide my disappointment. I would have loved to open the Chateau Clair Bleu. It thrilled me to open old wines and reveal a moment of history.

  I leaned forward to suggest it to Paul but stopped myself. I was a guest tonight and I should get used to it.

  Paul continued speaking as Cooper cut the foil off the top of the bottle. “When I first heard about Chateau Clair Bleu, there was no way I could afford it. I was barely scraping by.” He glanced at each of us around the table. “Being able to purchase this wine, this particular one, means so much more to me than just a bottle of wine. It shows how far I’ve come. This wine has been waiting forty-two years, just like I have been working forty-two years. Finally, tonight, we meet.”

  Cooper picked up the wine opener and I felt myself twinge with jealousy. He positioned his opener over the top of the bottle, but the age of the cork, the forty-two years, jumped into my mind. “Cooper?”