Page 16 of Love on the Vine
I scoffed. “In case you haven’t noticed we’re in danger of losing a quarter of our contracts. I don’t have time to play games.”
“Huh, maybe if you didn’t always date women who like to play games, you wouldn’t have to worry about that. I think you do it on purpose, so you don’t have to get serious.” I glared at him, annoyed that he was probably right. But I didn’t have time to think about that right now with the threat of Thomas and Sungate looming over me.
“You should try a new type of woman. A little less vinegar, more honey,” Jin purred, clearly pleased with his metaphor. “Or maybe you should get a dog or a goldfish. Aren’t you lonely?”
“Why would I be lonely when you’re here? You count for at least three people—Weekend Jin, Business Jin, and now Psychoanalyst Jin. That’s a full house.” I made light of his comment because it was not the first time that he’d razzed me about my nonexistent sex life.
I’d known Jin for at least six years. We’d met when I’d officiated a sommelier competition in Boston that he’d won. I’d hired him on the spot. Back then he was about as uptight as they came—fresh out of Harvard with an MBA in the pocket of his Patagonia vest, miserable, but crazy about wine like I’d been at his age. It was only in the past two years that he’d felt free enough to explore other facets of himself. And since then, he’d been nagging me to loosen up too.
“Don’t forget Miss Olivia.” Jin winked.
“As I said, a full house.” I ignored him and pretended to concentrate on the spreadsheet in front of me.
“So when do I get to put Olivia to work? I need help with the new stock we’re receiving this week.”
“How about tomorrow? I’d also like you to give her an overview of French wines.” I didn’t want her to get nothing out of this experience. She was serious about learning, and even if I didn’t have the time or the inclination to teach her, Jin could.
“Uh, shouldn’t you be doing that? You’re the master,” he teased.
“I don’t have time. And you’re just as qualified.” I scowled at him, then looked again at the clock. I really didn’t want to be alone with Olivia. “Do you have any plans for dinner?”
“Are you asking me out? I never thought this day would come.” Jin batted his eyes at me.
“Come on, Jin. I promised Olivia I’d have her taste the new bottles we got in.”
“And why don’t you want to be alone with little Miss Olivia?” He cocked his head.
Ignoring him, I said, “I would think you’d take some professional interest in your wine. Don’t you want to know what you’re selling?”
“If you remember, I was the one who selected those bottles.” I hadn’t forgotten. Those bottles and all the wine we’d bepurchasing over the summer were the reason I’d wanted Jin to come to France in the first place. I hadn’t told him that though, because I couldn’t admit the reason to myself, let alone anyone else: I couldn’t taste anymore. The weird numbness that I’d started to feel last winter had gotten worse over the past six months.
Oh, I could taste some things. Food was still okay, I guess. But wine? Whenever I tried to taste, it was like I’d burned my tongue with mouthwash and couldn’t make out the complexity anymore. I was relying on taste memory and a whole lot of bluster at this point.
My nonexistent taste buds were also why I was mad at myself for proposing this tasting to Olivia. Besides just not wanting to be alone with her, I didn’t want to confront yet again the loss of that part of me that had been so central to my identity.
“Well, I’m off,” Jin announced, making a beeline for the door.
I followed him down the hallway, dragging my feet like a sulky kid. After he’d disappeared into the kitchen, I heard him say, “Oh hi, doll. Jake’s on his way out for your wine tasting. Enjoy! See you tomorrow.”
Great. So much for delaying the inevitable.
“Oh, bye, Jin. I’m sorry we didn’t get a chance to talk today,” Olivia replied, then went silent when I rounded the corner, and I wondered if this situation weirded her out as much as it did me. She probably would have preferred to continue her summer trip across Europe with her friends rather than hanging out with her dad’s old friend.
“You’re in the same spot I left you in this morning. Please tell me that you haven’t been in the kitchen all day,” I said.
“No, of course not.” She gestured to the colorful array of vegetables on the cutting board. “I went to the market with Chantal.”
“Chantal. My housekeeper?” Not the answer I was expecting. Chantal was a small, bossy woman in her sixties who’d been working for me since I’d bought the place. She was very opinionated and talked a mile a minute. I couldn’t imagine the two of them spending the day together.
“Yes, we met this morning. She invited me to go to the market with her—or at least I hope she did, otherwise I foisted myself on her. She’s lovely, but does she ever talk a lot! I didn’t understand much of what she was saying, so I just nodded and said ‘oui.’” She scrunched up her face. “I hope I didn’t agree to anything weird. I just figure, in life, it’s better to say yes rather than no, right?”
“Depends on who you’re saying yes to.” I would have liked to agree with her, and maybe when I was younger and more optimistic, I would have. But lately, I’d gotten a perverse pleasure from saying no.
Except when it came to her. For some reason, I was incapable of saying no where she was concerned.
Despite my determination to keep my distance from her, my feet seemed to have other ideas and suddenly, I was standing right next to her, so close I could smell her linden blossom scent. Her hair was up in a loose bun, but one long tendril had escaped and fallen in front of her face. I had to resist the temptation to sweep it back behind her ear so that I could see her face better. When she stopped slicing her tomatoes, I realized how inappropriately close to her I was.
“Excuse me, I just want to get a. . .” I tried to cover myself by pretending that I needed something from the drawer in front of her. Luckily, I found one of my wine keys shoved between rolls of parchment paper.
