Page 23 of A Taste of Chardonnay

Sherry clutched at her necklace, a thin gold chain with the letter S hanging from it. “It’s wedding season. In a month or two, things will slow down, and I’ll finally have more of a life, but you don’t have a slow season. You’re always, go, go, go.”

“Someone has to run the business.” With Mom and Dad in Italy and Laurent spending more time on sales calls, I was the sole person to keep the place afloat. I was the only person who knew how every sector of the company worked.

“Grandpa, Mom, and Dad did an amazing job of setting a foundation for the vineyard. It is a well-oiled machine. You can call out sick for a week tomorrow, and the business would not implode.”

I’d never risk it. The vineyard was our family’s legacy, and I would always make it a priority. It’s possibly why my relationships never lasted. Men wanted to be my priority, and when they quickly discovered that would never happen, they left.

Who needed a man, anyway? I had my job, my family, and my vampire sex novels. There wasn’t much else I needed.

“In other words,” Rose said, “live a little. Put a costume on and come to Brady’s Halloween party. Or you can always go to Gold Crest Winery’s party. I hear they’re having a live action Haunted Vineyard Tour.”

“Doesn’t hide the fact that they make subpar wine,” I said.

Rose shrugged. “It’s not bad.”

“It’s generic.”

“I’ll be there,” Sherry said.

“At Gold Crest?” I exclaimed, glaring at Sherry as if she was a traitor.

“No, Brady’s. I’ll be flying solo since Lainey and Nero are attached at the hip.” Her lips curved down. “Don’t get me wrong, I’m so happy for them, but I feel like I lost my best friend to my brother.

“You did,” Rose said. “It happens.”

“No, she didn’t,” I interjected. “You’re still Lainey’s best friend. She’s just a little preoccupied right now. The honeymoon stage will wear off. It always does.”

“Speak for yourself,” Rose said with a wink.

I shook my head, thinking of Rose and Wyatt and how they continuously broke the mold of everything I thought about when it came to relationships. “You and Wyatt are anomalies.” If Wyatt believed in the concept of marriage, they would have already been wed, proving that college sweethearts can be forever. But they didn’t need a piece of paper to prove their love. It was obvious in the way they looked at each other. It was kind of sickening, to be honest.

“Come to the party and be my wing woman,” Sherry said. “It’ll be fun.”

I wanted to say no. The word was on the tip of my tongue, but Sherry felt like she’d lost her best friend, and as her older sister, I had to step up. It’s what I did. It’s what I have always done and will continue to do until we are all in our eighties and nineties.

“Fine, I’ll go. But I’m not going to be happy about it.”

Sherry squeed and clapped, and Rose smiled at me—the same smile she used as a kid when she knew she did something bad but didn’t care.

“We’ll see about that,” she said.

***

The distillery was decked out in all its Halloween glory. Rose was right—the entire town was here. The place wasn’t nearly as big as the winery, but with bonfires going and heating lamps set up across the property, it gave people plenty of places to spread out. It was smart, not that I would ever tell Brady that. But then again, it’s not like he didn’t know he was smart. He always had been. If it hadn’t been for his upbringing, he could have gone to an Ivy league.

I tried to imagine him in a college classroom, listening to professors give a lecture, and I just couldn’t do it. Not because he didn’t belong, but because it wasn’t who he was. Brady was always meant to carve his own path in life.

I glanced at my costume and sighed. When Sherry told me she had a pirate costume she could loan me, I expected a long, flowing skirt with a leather belt and a corset top. I did not expect the too short skirt that barely covered my ass, or the corset top that dipped dangerously low. This wasn’t a costume; it was lingerie.

“Stop fidgeting,” Sherry said, yanking on my hand and pulling it away from the hem of the skirt. “Tugging on it isn’t going to make it any longer.”

“Well, you’re four inches shorter than me, and nothing is making that more abundantly clear than the length of this skirt.”

“You look amazing, so knock it off.”

“Ms. Grasso, it’s nice to see you,” Ben, a man who had just applied for the warehouse manager position, said. He was dressed like the Mad Hatter. Pretty ironic, considering Alice in Wonderland was standing right next to me.

“Please don’t call me that. There are too many Grasso’s in this area. Chardonnay is fine.”

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