Page 19 of Love on the Vine
“You’re an amazing cook. Are you sure you want to go law school?” I asked as I reached over to pour her another glass of wine.
“Actually, I’m not.” She bit her lip, perfect white teeth sinking into pillowy flesh as delectable as the ripe plums on my plate. “I was accepted to Ferrandi for the upcoming year.”
Ferrandi was one of the best culinary schools in France. It made perfect sense. I sat back and crossed my arms. “Have you told your dad?”
“Not yet. He’ll think it’s impractical. His big dream is that I’ll one day become a partner in his firm. So it’s complicated.” She took a deep breath. “You won’t tell him, will you?”
“Of course not. Look, you’re an adult. You should do what you love, impractical or not. Whatever the fuck that means.” Her determination impressed me. She already had the talent to pursue a career in food, and she seemed to have the drive as well.
“Yeah, that’s what I’ve been telling myself. My dad is just really overprotective. I think he feels guilty.” She stared down at her plate, long eyelashes fanning over her cheekbones.
“For what?”
“For not being around for the first ten years of my life. It wasn’t really his fault. He didn’t even know about me.” She smiled uncomfortably, and I could tell we were getting into sensitive territory. Still, I was intrigued. Ben and I had lost touch once he left for college, and after Charlie died, Janet had sold their house. I had no idea what his life had been like since then.
“What do you mean?” I asked.
“My mom never told him about me. It was actually one of my mom’s boyfriends who found my dad when she was in the hospital, and he couldn’t take care of me.”
“Holy shit.” I tried to imagine the shock of discovering you had a child. “And your mom, is she . . . ?”
“She’s fine. She had problems with drugs for a while. Anyway, I don’t want to talk about all that.” She stared at the stem of her glass as she tapped at it nervously. I recognized her need to avoid a difficult subject.
“Okay, well, we should talk about how I’m going to pay you if you really want to work while you’re here. Do you have a French bank account?” I needed to get that sorted immediately. Maybe if she was officially working for me, I’d see her in a more professional light and stop fantasizing about her.
“No.” She shook her head vigorously. “You’re already letting me stay here. You don’t have to pay me.”
“Listen, a little advice. Never work for free. Especially as a woman. And especially in this industry.” I held her gaze, so she knew how deadly serious I was. “Jin will help you set up an account tomorrow. You’ll need one for Paris.”
She hesitated, but I was not going to let up. “If you insist . . .”
“I do.” I stood and started to gather up our plates. She touched my arm, sending a jolt of electricity through me, and I stilled.
“Thank you again, Jake. I can’t tell you how grateful I am to be here,” she said softly.
“I’m glad to help.”
It was true. I did want to help her, even if it meant more sleepless nights for me.
Chapter 7
OLIVIA
Hey Chickadee, Any progress with Hot Boss? Guess I’ll see for myself when I bring your phone this weekend. Buying my ticket as I write. XOXO Callie
No progress here. It’s like he’s avoiding me. On a positive note, I am now a corkscrew ninja. Can’t wait to show you my mad skills! XOXO Liv
Ihit send on my message to Callie, then went back outside to the terrace where Jin was cleaning up after our latest wine tasting. We’d just finished a lesson on minerality, during which he’d made me hold a clamshell on my tongue for thirty seconds.
Over the past few days, I’d learned he was not only particular about his tea, he also took meticulous care of his wine tasting materials. In this case, a box with dozens of glass vials filled with common wine aromas, a detailed map of French wine regions, a blindfold, and a blank notebook.
“For your tasting notes,” he’d explained the first time he’d shown me the contents of his little black case. “At Jake’s request, I’m taking over your wine education.”
I’d tried to hide my disappointment at the news. It’s not that Jin wasn’t an excellent tutor—he was—but after my first lessonwith Jake, I’d hoped that dinner with a wine tasting was going to be a regular occurrence with him. We’d had a nice discussion and he’d even—gasp!—revealed some personal information, providing me with small pieces to the puzzle that was Jake Vos.
But then I hardly ever saw him again. The only puzzle pieces I was getting these days were the hard edges, wisps of cloud against the sky, the grassy foreground of a distant landscape; the central image remained a mystery.
In the ten days I’d been here, I’d hardly spoken to him, except to say hi in passing or to show him the progress I’d made with the system I’d devised with my app to organize his inventory. He’d seemed impressed, pleased even, and I was relieved to be able to contribute something to his business this summer.
