Page 24 of Sweet Escape

It is a heady duality, and I hate how much I enjoy it.

Refusing to spend any more time tonight thinking about Vivian, I head toward my office. I need to finalize my selections for the temporary hand applications from the ones our HR manager sent my way.

On most nights, I help staff the restaurant. I fill in where it’s needed—like last night at the bar, or last week when the kitchen needed extra hands and I stood at the pass to expedite orders.

Tonight, though, my presence isn’t needed. Things are running smoothly, and I don’t need to spend my night arguing with Vivian at the bar.

Even though that’s exactly what I want to do.

When I stop in the kitchen for a snack before getting back to work, I find Micah, my father, my aunt Sarah, and our two full-time hands, Naomi and Edgar, at the table eating dinner.

“Memphis!” my aunt calls out to me, cheerfully waving me over. “Are you joining us?”

I pause for a second, considering the work waiting for me.

“It’s been months since you’ve had dinner with us. We’re having chicken chili.”

I step all the way into the room, ultimately deciding that the applications can wait.

“It hasn’t beenmonths,” I tell her, grabbing a bowl off the counter. “Maybe a few weeks.”

Moving quickly, I dish out some food and take a seat at the table next to Edgar, then dive into my meal as conversation at the table swirls around me.

For as long as I can remember, we’ve had family dinner with the employees that work the land and live in the cabins on the other side of the property. The full-time staff has grown over the past twenty or so years, expanding from just the family and vineyard team to include people who do things like marketing, compliance, and customer service. But the vineyard crew has always been like extended family.

When I was a child, there were maybe fifteen people around this dinner table at any given time. My aunt and my grandmother alwaysmade enough to feed our family, the full-time crew, and the hands that took on longer stints of work during busier months.

During the two long months of harvest season, trays overflowing with food are laid out on the counter at every meal, and a line of temp hands stretches out the door. People know that they get treated well when they work for us, and it’s a point of pride for our family. One we won’t soon let go of.

“There’s nothing so important that we can’t all take time to be together for a meal at the end of the day.” It was something my grandmother always said, and something my aunt has echoed a few times over the years.

The sentiment was actually what inspired the restaurant, the idea coming to me after a busy day when I was sitting at this very table. I figured that coming together for a meal might actually be something important enough that it could save the vineyard.

Ironic, then, that the very thing inspired by these dinners is also the responsibility that so regularly keeps me away from them.

I don’t really come to family dinner anymore because I’m always at the restaurant in the evenings. I’m up with the sun, sitting at my desk or moving around the property, keeping on top of all the moving parts that keep this place functioning while simultaneously trying to figure out what we can cut or trim back to save extra here and there.

It would be nice if I could take a break and join everyone and revel in some of the camaraderie that makes the burden of this job feel less daunting. Unfortunately, that’s not the reality of where we’re at right now.

It’s exhausting. And lonely.

But it has to be done.

“How’re things going at the restaurant?”

The question jerks me back to the table, and I look to my aunt, finding her gaze on me, soft and open.

“Good,” I answer. “They’re going good. Numbers have been staying up from summer, which is great since most restaurants have a falloff during autumn for a little bit. The harvest is a big draw, so it’s nice tosee the impact it’s having. We might actually increase the number of tours we offer each week through Thanksgiving.”

She nods, a bright smile on her face. “That sounds wonderful. And how’s it going for Murphy?”

I blink. “What do you mean?”

My aunt laughs. “I mean ... how’s your sister doing, leading the front of house? I ask her all the time, but I don’t head over there too often, so I don’t really know.”

Sitting back in my chair, I cross my arms, thinking it over. “She’s doing great, actually. The servers know the menus and do a great job of upselling the wines. The hosts are friendly and competent.” I shrug. “She’s amazing at things that are forward facing, so ... it’s been going really well.”

Sarah beams. “I love hearing that.” She reaches out and pats my hand lovingly. “Great job, Memphis.” Then she turns and asks Naomi about her mother, the two of them falling into an easy conversation that reflects years of friendship.

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