Page 31 of Kiss My Glass
Corner of Cam’s mouth lifts. “Not sure a work scheduling meeting is going to help with that.”
“Oh, it will,” insists Shelby. “It’ll be like listening to a meditation guide, only without the weird ‘om’ sounds.”
Turns out she’s not wrong. There’s something immensely soothing about listening to three people who know exactly what they’re doing, and who get on and do it without fuss. Cam and Doug have slow bass voices, while Javi has a sharp, quick tenor. It’s like lying on your back in a grassy field, staring at the sky, while two bulls and a goat have a friendly conversation over the nearby fence.
Every so often, kindly, and unnecessarily, one of them will turn to me and Shelby to get our opinion. The meeting takes around forty minutes, then Doug and Javi say their goodbyes and leave us. Javi probably has to source a bottle of 1945 Romanée-Conti, or a new identity for an international art thief. Doug will have something to mow.
Shelby and I are left with Cam. Who obviously has something on his mind. I suspect I know what, and reallywish I wasn’t around to hear it.
Sure enough…
“Have you heard from your mom yet?”
As I said, I’m pretty convinced Cam and Mom never got it on, but he was like her faithful dog for years and that’s a hard habit to break. I wonder how Ava deals with Mom being a third wheel in their relationship. Probably ignores it. Good approach. I should try it some time.
Shelby glances at me before answering. I make sure my face doesn’t give anything away.
“Nope,” Shelby replies. “And I don’t expect to. She’s doing that big spiritual pilgrimage walk, the one that’s, like, three hundred miles across France and Spain. She even refused to take her phone. Said she’ll call from a hotel if there’s an emergency.”
“Debra’s death really hit her hard, didn’t it?” says Cam.
“I think it wasn’t so much her death as the fact Mom never knew she had a half-sister,” says Shelby. “Mom always prides herself on being kind of intuitively connected, and my guess is she feels like she’d failed Debra.”
“By not sensing her presence somewhere in the universe?” I have to comment, because … come on!
Shelby scrunches up her face in embarrassment. “I know! It sounds crazy! But … well, you know Mom.”
“Do I?”
It’s out before I can stop it. Cam’s attention turns my way. He has big brown eyes and most of the time, they’re calm and gentle. Now, I catch a flash of emotion. I look away before I can identify it. To be honest, I don’t want to know what he’s feeling because I don’t care.
But it’s Shelby who responds first, of course. “Oh, Frankie. You and Mom are just so different. You were always destined to butt heads.”
Cam’s still staring at me. Is this news to him? If he’d had eyes for anyone but Mom, he might have noticed what was going on. But then again, if he had, he would have sided with Mom because he worshiped her. So perhaps it was for the best that Cam stayed oblivious? Means I only resent him a little instead of hating his guts.
I’ve got to get out of here before I say something I regret. Shelby and Cam can talk about Mom all they like, but not with me around.
“Shel, are you okay if I take a walk?”
“Sure!” she says, slightly startled. “Meet you back at the house for dinner? I thought we might start rewatchingGilmore Girlsafter?”
I manage a smile. For her. Cam, I ignore.
Outside the shed, I gulp down air. And berate myself for getting over-emotional. It’s ridiculous that my mother has this effect on me all these years later. I’m a grown-ass woman and my childish grievances should all be behind me.
I’m walking but have no idea where. Maybe out of the winery and down the road a while. It’s quiet and rural and I’ll be all alone.
As I round the corner that will take me past the house, I spot Danny coming out of the office and hang back to spy on him. He crosses the gravel where the cars are and starts up the path through the trees that leads to the workshop. He’s walking jauntily, with a swing in his step, and I think I can hear him singing.
I blame a recent excess of emotion for what I do next. If I were in total control, I’d keep on going down the driveway and out onto the road. What I do is follow Danny. With not a cluehow I’ll explain my presence when I end up at his front door.
ChapterEighteen
DANNY
All up, it’s been a pretty good day. Nate was genuinely impressed with my suggestions for improving his customer data, and I felt like he saw me with new respect. That’s the thing with my family – the Durant career path as laid down by Dad is traditional and well-worn. No surprises, and not a lot of new thinking. My own career path has been forged through trial and error, but on the whole, my instincts have served me well. I focus on what really matters to people, not what theythinkmatters. Or what family or society has always told them matters. Today, Nate suddenly understood that distinction and saw how it could help Flora Valley Wines forge stronger bonds with the customers they have and connect with new customers who share the same values.
Of course, his response was the usual low-key Durant one of, “Good job.” Like I’m a little kid who’s managed to tie his shoelaces. But Nate’s never been one to gush, so I’ll take it.
