Uncorking a Lie

by Nadine Nettmann

  I hadn’t dated in a long time because there wasn’t room for someone in my life. Not with work and studying. But I knew there could be, if I made an effort. Instead I usually pushed people away. Like Dean. He was kind, made me laugh, and even saved my life. He also let me be myself and managed to overlook my past. Not that we had ever dated but there had been something between us until it ended. Because of me.

  The group conversation continued as it had at dinner with Leanor recounting her summers in Italy and the rest of the guests listening or at least pretending to listen. The whole evening seemed to be a masquerade of appearances. Even by me.

  four

  pairing suggestion: torrontés—salta, argentina

  An aromatic and perfumed white wine with a dry finish.

  -

  Anna brought in slices of coconut cake, several layers high, while Paul poured glasses of Château d’Yquem, the only Premier Cru wine in Sauternes and the most expensive.

  “Sauternes. It’s a very French evening,” said Roberto.

  “I love sweet wine,” said Leanor. “It matches my disposition.”

  Simon rolled his eyes and I held back a laugh.

  “Leanor, are you free on Tuesday?” said Alicia as she poked a fork at her cake.

  “I believe so.” She removed her phone from her large purse. “Yes.” She smiled.

  “Want to meet for lunch?”

  “Always,” replied Leanor as she entered the date in her calendar. “Where?”

  “How about the Fremont Diner? I’ve been wanting to go back there for a while.”

  “Splendid.” Leanor finished entering the information and put her phone in her purse.

  “Where’s Cooper? He’s missing dessert,” said Paul with a hint of disdain.

  “He’s always excited by the cake,” said Alicia.

  “Cake enthusiast,” said Leanor. “Not like him to miss the baked goods.”

  “Maybe he’s in the bathroom?” said Martin.

  “Please,” exhaled Leanor. “Everyone is allowed his or her privacy.”

  “We all have to go sometime,” said Martin.

  “Not Leanor.” Simon smirked. “Isn’t that right, darling?”

  Paul glanced around. “Does anyone know where he is?” His face was mixed with worry and annoyance.

  I knew it was time for me to say something. “I think he went to the wine cellar.”

  Paul motioned to the bottle of d’Yquem. “I have enough wine here.”

  The group shifted their focus from Paul to me, as if they were waiting for my next move.

  “I’m not sure,” I replied. “I think he wanted to get another bottle?”

  “Can someone go get him? I don’t need him wasting time in the wine cellar when we’re enjoying a party up here. He should know better.”

  Alicia swirled her fork around her cake, Leanor sipped her wine, Simon sat back in his chair, Martin had a blank expression, and Henry continued eating.

  Paul looked around the room and then walked toward the hallway. I didn’t want him to leave his party and I also didn’t care to be alone with the other guests.

  “Wait.” I jumped up from the couch. “I’ll go. You stay with everyone.” I glanced down the hall. “Where is the cellar?”

  “It’s the second door down to the left.” Paul picked up the bottle of Sauternes. It was nearly empty. “In fact, Cooper was probably right. We’re going through this faster than I expected. Can you get another bottle of d’Yquem while you’re down there?”

  “Absolutely.” I felt the eyes of the group on me as I left the room.

  The door Paul pointed out was cracked opened two inches, but no light shone from the inside. I pulled it open enough to peek my head in. It was pitch black. Surely Cooper wasn’t in there. I looked around at the other doors in the hallway, but Paul had specifically directed me to this one. I looked inside again.

  “Cooper?”

  Stairs descended into the darkness with the faint scent of wine. This was definitely the cellar. Now to find the light.

  I felt along the wall at the top of the stairs, but the switch was nowhere to be found.

  “Cooper?” I repeated but was met with silence.

  I debated going back to the lounge and asking Paul for help, in particular in finding the light switch, but I didn’t want to bother him when he was with his guests. I stared down the stairs. There was no way that Cooper would be down here in the dark, but I had to make sure so I could go back to Paul and tell him. I pulled the door all the way open in an effort to illuminate the area with the hallway light.

  “Cooper, are you down here?” I took one step at a time as my heart began to pound. Ever since I had been accidentally locked in a closet when I was little, the dark terrified me. “If you’re down there and you’re hurt, give me some kind of sign, okay?”

  I waited for a response, but there was none. I didn’t have my cell phone since I generally left it in the car to avoid being disturbed, but I did have a lighter in my pocket from the decanting. I hadn’t meant to keep it, but it was a force of habit to keep the wine tools out of the way of guests. I would make sure I put it back in the dining room later.

  I struck the lighter and the flame came to life, shadows dancing along the wall. My chest tightened and my breathing became shallow, but I also knew this was ridiculous. There was nothing to be afraid of, but it was the “what if” that always got me.

  “I’m coming down the stairs,” I called out. I took one step at a time, the light illuminating a few inches in front of me. The stairs creaked and I shuddered with each sound. I was on the last step when the lighter went out. My thumb ached from holding it for so long. I switched hands and lit it again, the shadows flickering on the concrete floor.

  That’s when I saw the shoe.

  It stopped me at first, the sight of a brown leather loafer on the concrete. Then I stepped forward, the dim light outlining the ankle, the cream-colored pant leg, and finally the rest of Cooper’s body. He was splayed near the bottom of the steps as if he had fallen.

  I scrambled to him and put my hand on his back. His body was warm and he was still breathing.

  “Cooper, can you hear me? You’ll be okay. Don’t worry, you’ll be okay. Everything will be fine.” I wasn’t sure if I believed the words I was saying, but I knew you should give an injured person comfort. Words were important, especially at a time like this.

  I looked up the stairs toward the lit hallway. “Help!” I screamed. “Help!” I repeated. “Paul! Anyone!”

  There was the sound of pounding footsteps and a blast of light as the steps of the cellar became illuminated with the overhead light.

  “Katie?” said Paul. “Why are you in here in the dark?”

  “It’s Cooper. He’s hurt. Call 911.”

  five

  pairing suggestion: vinho verde—minho, portugal

  A refreshing white wine with low alcohol,

  meant to be consumed young.

  -

  The ambulance took Cooper away as two deputies entered the lounge where we all sat in silence. My lungs tightened and I had trouble breathing until I had a close look at them. Neither one of them was Dean. I had met John Dean, a Sheriff’s detective who goes by Dean, during an investigation at Frontier Winery a few months ago and although there had been some flirtation, it had stopped there. He had phoned a few times since then, but I was focused on my Certified Sommelier Exam and failed to return his calls. Now that the test was over, I should call him back, but I worried too much time had passed. Part of me worried about other reasons. That I didn’t want someone getting too close. That I didn’t have room in my life for distractions on my journey to Master Sommelier.

  “I’m Deputy Adams, this is Deputy Garcia. Was anyone else hurt?”

  “Don’t be silly,” said Alicia. “He fell down t
he stairs. We were all in here.”

  “Who found him?”

  “I did,” I replied.

  Deputy Adams approached me as I stood up from the couch.

  “You can stay seated.”

  I hesitated, not wanting to be ordered to do something, but also not wanting to seem difficult. I returned to the couch.

  “Tell me exactly what happened.”

  I repeated the story, that Paul had wanted someone to go check on Cooper in the cellar and I had found him at the bottom of the stairs.

  “He obviously tripped,” said Paul. “I’ve told him not to take those stairs so fast. And in the dark, too. I just don’t know why he was down there. We were in here and I had enough wine out. There was no reason to go into the cellar.”

  “He wanted to look at a bottle,” I added. I felt everyone in the room turn and stare at me.

  “What bottle?”

  “The other one that you bought at the auction.”

  “Why?” asked Simon.

  “How do you know all this?” remarked Leanor.

  I put my game face on. “I was sitting next to him at dinner.”

  “Why would he want to know about the other bottle?” asked Alicia.

  This was not something I wanted to reveal to the group and I felt the tension in the room had shifted to me. “I have no idea,” I replied calmly.

  “Mr. Rafferty, can you show me the stairs where he fell?”

  Paul stood up, almost unsteady on his feet, his face pale. “Of course,” he said. “Follow me.” The three of them left the room as the rest of us sat there in silence.

  “What’s this about another bottle?” asked Henry after a long minute. He looked at me but then glanced at everyone else around the room.

  “Maybe he was an alcoholic,” replied Leanor. “Couldn’t get enough.”

  “I don’t understand why he would go look,” said Alicia.

  I kept my mouth shut. Something inside told me to keep my cards to myself.

  Deputy Garcia returned to the lounge and stood near the wall.

  The continued silence unnerved me and I turned to him. “Do you know Detective Dean from Napa?”

  He shook his head. “Can’t say that I do. We work with Napa a lot, but Dean doesn’t ring a bell.”

  I nodded as my heart fell a little. It would have been nice to know how he was doing.

  “Sorry about your evening,” said Deputy Adams as he came back into the room. “We’ll be in touch.”

  “You’re leaving?”

  “We’ve completed our primary investigation. It appears that it’s an unfortunate accident.”

  “Thank you for coming,” Paul said as he walked the deputies out. When he returned to the lounge, he stared at the rest of us. “I don’t know what I should do now. Would Cooper want us to keep the evening going? I’m sure he feels bad for tripping and falling.”

  “I’ll have another drink,” said Leanor. “We can toast to Cooper.”

  “Leanor,” replied Simon, “Cooper has been seriously injured. I don’t think we should keep drinking.”

  Paul looked at each of our faces, but I kept mine emotionless. I was the new person in this group, the one who didn’t belong. I wasn’t about to share my opinion.

  “Simon’s right,” said Paul. “We should probably call it a night. I’ll go to the hospital now to check on Cooper.”

  I stood up but the ringing of the house phone made us all stop. We stared at the phone on the side table but no one moved.

  “Shouldn’t someone get that?” I finally managed to spit out.

  Henry picked it up as Paul watched, not moving.

  “Paul, it’s the hospital.”

  He ambled over to the phone. “Hello? Yes, this is Mr. Rafferty. Yes. Yes. Wait.” His hand covered his face. “Wait. No. No.” He stood holding the phone, saying nothing. “Okay,” he finally replied in a voice that came out as a whisper. “Thank you. Okay.” Paul’s hand shook as he put down the phone and his knees began to buckle.

  Henry took Paul’s arm and led him to a chair. Paul sank down with his head in his hands.

  “What is it?” asked Alicia. “What did they say?”

  “Cooper. Cooper didn’t make it. He’s gone.”

  Leanor walked swiftly to Paul, leaned over and wrapped her arms around him. I stayed on the couch and watched as Henry, Simon, Martin, Roberto, and Alicia one by one stood up to hug Paul. I would have hugged him, too, but I didn’t feel it was appropriate. I was the outsider here.

  While the rest of the group comforted Paul, I returned to the wine cellar stairs. The top stair was a little loose, but not enough to make someone fall down a flight unless they were super drunk. Which Cooper was not. But I couldn’t see any other reason for him to fall.

  six

  pairing suggestion: lambrusco—emilia-romagna, italy

  A sparkling red wine that ranges from sweet, Dulce, to dry, Secco.

  -

  When I returned to my apartment near Golden Gate Park in San Francisco, the first thing I saw was the vase of half dead flowers still sitting on the counter. My dad’s new wife, Natasha, had sent them when I passed the Certified Exam as a way to reach out and mend the relationship. It was a sweet gesture and although she had signed his name, I knew there had been nothing from my father. After learning a few months ago that it should have been me who was jailed as a teenager instead of my friend Tessa, he had stopped speaking to me. A cop’s daughter didn’t get arrested, but more importantly, a cop’s daughter didn’t break the law in the first place.

  We didn’t have the best relationship to begin with, never quite seeing eye to eye since my mother passed away, but his silence about the exam definitely stung. Even though I knew in my heart that he was proud of me for becoming Certified, until I had confirmation with a call, an email, or even a text, I couldn’t be sure. At least Natasha had reached out, which is why I couldn’t bear to throw away the flowers even though they were past the wilted stage. They were a constant yet almost sour reminder. And maybe I needed that. A reminder that not everything is perfect. Everything needs work.

  Though I would never tell them, I always compared people in my life to wine. My dad was a Barolo, a wine with gripping tannins, due to his strong and stoic disposition, and my best friend Tessa was a Merlot, thanks to her previously damaged reputation. But I was still figuring out Natasha. I had only met her a handful of times, three to be exact, and I didn’t really know her. The first time was when I went to Los Angeles and my dad invited her over to dinner and shared that they were dating. The second time was when they visited San Francisco and my dad announced that they were engaged. And the third was at my cousin’s wedding, months after their own wedding which had taken place in Santa Barbara. Apparently it had been a small occasion at the courthouse. One might think even a small wedding would be a family affair, but I was the family and I wasn’t invited. My dad said it was easier for everyone involved if they just got married at the courthouse. So they did. An elopement, so to speak.

  Our three interactions had given me enough of an impression that Natasha made my dad happy and was in no way trying to replace my mom.

  I stared at the white lilies, or at least what was left of them. My dad mentioned Natasha had come from a tough life, yet I hadn’t found out what exactly. But she was very sweet and she accepted me immediately.

  Riesling. Natasha was a German Riesling. Grown in the steep slopes of the Mosel in slate soil. Sweetness born out of rocks. And definitely a strong contrast to Barolo. A contrast that I welcomed.

  I moved the flowers a little closer to the edge, in front of the stack of bills, two in the dreaded red envelopes that signified final notices. If I didn’t get a handle on my finances, I would be forced to move away from the city. I loved San Francisco, I loved my job, and I loved my blind tasting group. Moving was
not going to happen. Not if I could help it.

  My eyes drifted to the Certified Sommelier certificate on my bulletin board. It signified the victory after studying so hard for the test and not passing it the first time. Next to it was a yellow stickie note with Dean’s number.

  Dean. Even though I had never called him back, I had taken the time to write down his number from his messages. And even though I had kept it, there was something to be said that I never entered it in my phone. It remained on a piece of paper, easily lost or thrown away. Always keeping a distance from everything.

  I took the brightly colored index cards out of my purse and placed them on top of my flash card binder in the bookcase. And then there was Cooper. A gentle and compassionate guy I had never really taken the time to get to know, now vanished from this world. My breathing became uneven and I knew anxiety was rearing its ugly head.

  I needed something to calm me but the only thing that usually worked was to go to a vineyard and stare at the organized lines of the vines, ready to create the magic that becomes a bottle of wine to be uncorked, swirled, sniffed, sipped, and eventually savored. But I didn’t have a vineyard nearby; I was in the middle of San Francisco.

  I had an idea. I pulled out the binder and started flipping through the pages of flash cards until I reached my hand drawn maps of the wine regions. But the tightness in my chest remained.

  I continued to the photos taken during my travels in France. There were the organized rows I needed. I stared at the pages and then closed my eyes, imagining I was back in the vineyards with the smell of the vines, the warm sun on my face, and the breeze in my hair.

  My breathing calmed until my memory returned to the events of the evening. The Chateau Clair Bleu and Cooper. I told him there was something wrong with the wine, he went to investigate and ended up dead. Part of me didn’t believe it was a coincidence.

  seven

  pairing suggestion: primitivo—puglia, italy