Page 45 of Gone With the Wine

Was I? I don’t know. Hopefully I sounded strong, but inside I was shaking like that little girl I’m trying not to be anymore. I squeeze out a laugh. “Aw, thanks. But we’ll see, I guess. I tried to appeal to his softer side. But I don’t know if he even has a softer side anymore.” I sigh.

“I think it’s been hard on him,” Rosa says musingly as we drive home. “He’s been in charge of everything for a long time.”

“I suppose. I guess I haven’t given much thought to Uncle Geno’s challenges. Still. He has the wine.”

“Yep.”

“And I’ll let Jansen know that I have conditions for helping him. We’ll see if he goes for it.”

Rosa makes a face. “I have no idea. I don’t know this guy.”

“You will. He’s our next-door neighbor.” I pause. “You fell in love with the last guy who lived there.”

She laughs. “I’m not going to fall for Jansen Beck.”

I want to say the same. But falling for Jansen Beck seems like something entirely possible.

Chapter10

Jansen

I’m driving into town when I get the call from my mom.

“Hey, Mom. How are you?”

“I’m great. How are you? How is that winery?”

“Things are moving along.”

“I’m sure you’re learning that there’s a lot more to it than you expected.”

I purse my lips. “Yeah, there’s a lot to learn.”

“Are you certain you’re not in over your head?” Her tone takes on a fretful edge. “You spent a lot of money on that place.”

“It’s my money, Mom.”

“I know, but you could invest your money in the stock market and make more money over the long term than by owning a winery. It’s not a good investment.”

“Buying stocks and bonds is boring. I want to do this. I want to make something.” That sounds dumb. I know if I tell my mom more about that she’ll be mortified. Hopes and dreams, fear and excitement are not things you talk about.

“Well, it’s good that you’re doing something again.”

I wince. That’s her way of telling me I was an unemployed bum who laid around all day drinking beer and doing nothing after I retired.

Okay, there’s some truth to that. But I didn’t get a lot of empathy from her about what I was going through. One day I told her that I thought I might be depressed, and she shut that down immediately. My dad was even worse. You don’t talk about shit like that. You just suck it up and get on with things.

“Well, you know, I just sit around and drink wine all day. It’s pretty great.”

Silence.

Christ, I’m grouchy today.

I wanted to kiss Bianca last night.

I almost fucking did it, too. Jesus. What was I thinking?

“I think you’re being sarcastic,” Mom says, bringing me back to the present. “You sound out of sorts. Ever since you retired, you’ve been a big grouch.”

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