Page 9 of A Taste of Chardonnay

“I had to sprint to the phone because I knew it was you, and if I didn’t answer, you’d be calling your father’s phone next and then panicking that we were incapacitated.”

“If you knew I was going to call, then why not keep your phone near you?” I always had my phone close by.

“I didn’t think I had to take the phone to the bathroom with me.”

“Oh.”

“Shouldn’t you be on your way to the office?”

“I’m leaving now. I figure once I get to work, I won’t have time to check in.”

“And you needed to cross us off your to-do list.”

“Exactly.”

“She should throw those to-do lists in the trash and live dangerously,” Dad said in the background.

“Tell Dad if I did that, then the winery he spent his entire life helping to maintain and expand would flounder.”

“It didn’t when I was in charge,” he chimed in, making me realize Mom had me on speaker.

I held my phone with my chin while I placed my planner in my work bag, then grabbed my lunch bag and travel mug.

“Did you take your vitamins today?” I asked Mom. Her last bloodwork showed she’d been low on Vitamin D and B12.

“Yes, Char.”

“And Dad. Did he take his pills?” He had high blood pressure and high cholesterol, thanks to genetics and his love of ice cream and cake.

“I ate bacon and eggs and downed it with a bottle of wine.”

Mom sighed. “Don’t listen to him. He ate a healthy breakfast and took his pills and vitamins.”

“With wine,” Dad added. “Had to get some of that fruit in my diet you’re always insisting on.”

“As long as it was good wine,” I said with a laugh.

“Always.”

Dad would never let bad wine touch his lips. He’d know whether it was suitable by the color, the legs, and smell alone. Everything I knew about wine I learned from my parents and my grandfather. When Grandpa was alive, I’d wager to say he was one of the most, if notthemost, knowledgeable on all things wine.

“I know you are more than capable, but I’m going to ask one more time,” Mom said, and I sighed, knowing exactly what she was about to ask. “Are you sure you’ll be okay with us gone and Laurent leaving for his honeymoon?”

Laurent was great in his role as President of Sales, but as President of Operations, I was hands-on across the board, checking in with everyone from the warehouse manager all the way to Nero in the tasting room. I had a system that worked.

“I’ll be fine,” I assured her, though they knew damn well I could handle it. “Laurent tied up all his loose ends and let everyone know he will be unavailable for the next two weeks, though we both know that’s a lie. He can’t help himself.”

“I think he might surprise you,” Mom said. “He’s on his honeymoon with the love of his life. I think work will be the last thing on his mind.”

Mom had a point. Laurent was addicted to work as much as his new wife was, but they were also addicted to each other, something I’d witnessed more times than I ever cared to. In love or not, did they really need to constantly be touching each other? How in love could a person be that they couldn’t wait to share a kiss in private? Then again, he learned from my parents.

“As it should be,” Dad said. This time he sounded closer to the phone, and when Mom giggled that was my cue to end the call. They’d been married for over four decades, yet they still acted like horny high schoolers.

Maybe I was cynical. Most of my relationships were short-lived—little moments that barely registered in my life. Just someone to go to dinner with and sleep with at night.

“I’ll let you go,” I said. “Remember to drink water, don’t overdo it, and take your—”

“Vitamins. We know!” Dad’s voice rumbled in the phone.

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