Page 53 of Twin Babies For The Grump

Millie Storm, the reporter, is saying, “And of the many wineries that have entered into Grapefest this year, the one that people are watching the most closely would be Delia Winery. Now, for those local to the area, you’ll recognize the name from previous entries into the festival. It had been run by Thomas Bale up until a few months ago, when he tragically passed away.”

“Tess,” I call out. “The winery is on the news. Come watch this!”

“Coming!” She steps out of the bedroom wearing one of my long tee shirts. The pale gray fabric hangs down to her mid-thigh, slightly loose on one of her shoulders. “What are they talking about?”

I give a low whistle. “Well, fuck, now I’m more focused on you. That’s a great look.”

Tess rolls her eyes, leaning over the back of the couch and wrapping her arms around me. Her chin rests on my shoulder. “Seriously, what are they saying?”

I turn up the volume with one hand, reaching up and pressing the other hand to the back of her neck. “Let’s find out.”

Millie says, “After the tragic passing of the original owner, Delia Winery was taken over by Thomas Bale’s oldest child, his son, Owen.”

A picture of my face appears next to the reporter. She’s standing in one of the many stretches of fields somewhere in the valley, though it’s not one that I recognize as actually being near the winery.

“That’s a handsome shot of you,” says Tess, smiling. She presses a kiss to my cheek, then makes a face. “Oh, you haven’t shaved yet!”

“Sorry,” I tell her. “I’m getting there.”

Millie continues, “Before coming to the lovely, peaceful fields of Napa Valley, Owen was the founder and owner of Bale Enterprises, an incredibly successful advertising firm in San Francisco. At first, it seemed as though the man had settled well into his new role. Previous interviews have shown Mr. Bale as having a good set of taste buds and knowing his stuff when it came to the wines that his vineyard is capable of producing.”

“Previous?” Tess asks, frowning slightly.

I’ll agree with her. The moment that the reporter uses that phrasing, I know that something is wrong. I sit up a little bit straighter and so does Tess.

Millie says, “Just this morning, we’ve received information from an anonymous source that might put the winery into a different light. A recent promotion has placed Tess Green as manager of Delia Winery, and while we’ve spoken to her ourselves earlier in the contest season…”

“Oh my God,” says Tess. She clearly knows where this is going, same as I do. “Macy knows. Macy knows, and she told them!”

“You don’t know that yet,” I say, reaching around and catching hold of her wrist.

Even as I try to reassure Tess, though, the reporter announces, “It appears as though directly before her promotion, Miss Green had an affair with the new owner of the winery.”

Tess makes a sound like a wounded animal and sinks down on the couch even more. “No!”

I jump to my feet.

“Resulting in an ill-timed pregnancy,” continues the reporter.

“While we have no verification as to whether the two have plans on staying romantically entangled, Miss Green’s promotion does raise a very interesting question in regard to the contest itself. If her managerial position is based on her relationship with the new owner, can we really expect a good tasting from Delia Winery this year?”

The very premise of this hit piece doesn’t make any fucking sense. Even if it were true, how the hell would that affect the quality of the wine?

I snap the remote up and hit the mute button, dropping it onto the floor with a clatter as I round the couch and sink down in front of her. “Tess, it’s okay! Calm down!”

She backs away from me, wide-eyed. Her feet are flat against the floor, her knees crooked up. She shifts backward, shaking her head. “No, I knew it! I knew we shouldn’t have done anything until after the contest, Owen.”

“It’s fine,” I insist, catching hold of her wrist with one hand. My thumb sweeps over her knuckles. “This doesn’t need to change anything, alright? I’m going to handle Macy, and everything else—”

“They think I’m the manager because I slept with you,” says Tess, sounding miserable. “I knew that’s what Macy thinks, but now everyone in the Valley does, too. No one’s going to have any respect for me anymore.”

“Tess, the only people who are going to think that are the ones like Macy. The idiots. All it takes is one conversation with you to tell that you knowexactlyhow this place is supposed to run. Fuck, I’d say you know just as much about it as I do.”

“The judges are going to watch that. They’re going toseethis and then—” She stands up, shaking her head. “They’re going to go into the tasting already thinking that our wine isn’t going to be good.”

I stand up too, not willing to let her take all of this on her own shoulders; especially when it hasn’t even happened yet. “Tess, you’re getting ahead of yourself.”

“I’m not!”

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