Page 59 of The Christmas Express
‘Trés noir,’ I add, which sounded better in my head.
Ned, unimpressed with our lack of being able to distinguish an aged oak overtone from a mellow ambience of cacao beans, decides to cut to the chase and tell us all about its origins and what we are, in fact, tasting and smelling, before moving onto wine number two.
‘Next then, we have a Merlot which was produced in the Okanagan Valley in British Columbia—’
‘Ooo, you had me at Merlot!’ I quip. Am I drunk already? Beside me, Luke laughs, side-eyeing me and raising his glass in honour of my pun.
We sniff and we sip and we think and we drink.
‘I love this one,’ states Joss after she’s finished knocking it back. ‘Lovely and dry.’
‘Like you,’ snorts Joe, earning himself a death stare.
‘Why do you have to ruin it?’ his sister demands, and so begins a fierce little mini squabble, while Logan and Ned try and distract us by pulling out a hefty bottle of ice wine in a long, thin glass bottle.
‘Now, Canada is the biggest maker of ice wine, and most of Canada’s ice wine is made in the chilly hills of Ontario,’ says Logan over the raised voices.
I hold out my glass, keen to try the amber-hued ice wine, but don’t take my eyes off the siblings, who are getting more heated by the second. ‘You guys, let’s not—’ They ignore me. I’d bet there’s a red wine flush on my cheeks already, and my fingers move to pick at a cheeky chin spot I can feel pulsating. ‘Come on, we’re having a good day.’
‘Give it a rest, Cali, this isn’t about you,’ Joss snaps, shutting me down.
I shrink back, stuttering. ‘I-I was just saying, let’s just enjoy the wine tasting . . .’
‘Ice wine?’ Ned asks us each in turn, as if nothing is happening. ‘Ice wine?’
‘You can’t force it, you know what they’re like.’ Sara sighs, slumping back in her seat and getting her phone out, gulping down the ice wine and holding her glass out for a refill, without even waiting for Logan to give his spiel.
I’m stung, but I paste on a smile which I know doesn’t hit my eyes and try and reel everyone back in, taking a large glug of the ice wine and following Sara’s lead by holding out my glass for more. My heart is thudding, and behind my façade I feel myself shrinking, fading. We were having such a nice time . . .
‘What do we think of the ice wine?’ Logan asks. ‘Any smells hitting you? Any flavours you’d like to share with the group?’
‘Sweet, isn’t it?’ says Luke, taking the reins on the conversation while Sara makes a mild attempt at mediation and Ember and Alex make flirty little eyes at each other over the tops of their glasses.
Right, let’s get back in the game. I’m not going to let those two rain all over my snowy Christmas Day.
Using the hairband on my wrist I pull my curls back and secure them in a messy bun at the nape of my neck, shaking free a couple of tendrils, especially on the left-hand side to hide my big, picked chin spot, thank you.
I look up and Luke is watching me. ‘What?’ I ask.
‘What?’ He blinks, blushes, and looks away.
Oh my God, he was staring at me. I hope in a good way. Am I buzzed from the wine or are we science nerds because I’m feeling some chemistry?
Yeah, I might be a little buzzed from the wine. That ice wine though, mmm. Logan and Ned are facing away trying to uncork a stuck cork from a bottle of white without us noticing, so I reach over and sneak myself some more. I raise my brows at Luke and he nods, so I slosh some in his glass too.
Giving up on the white, and the group, Logan suggests they simply leave us with the remainder of the bottles and their copies of the tasting notes, and says we can come and find them in the bar car later if we have any questions.
The other passengers who’d attended have filtered off, perhaps to get some lunch, or just to get away from us.
Joss and Joe have shut up, finally, but there’s a tension in the air, like we’ve taken a step backwards again. I swirl my latest glass of wine, watching those drippy legs and trying to remember what I once heard they indicated. Was it that the wine was good quality if it had lots of legs? Or high alcohol? Or that the glass is real crystal?
‘Cali, did you speak to Luke today?’ Joss asks me. It’s a pleasant enough question, but coming from her, I still can’t tell. There’s something about her tone, the way her smile doesn’t meet her eyes. I guess maybe we’re still swimming in the mild confrontational part of the afternoon after all. ‘Your boyfriend, I mean,’ she clarifies.
Fake Luke! I nearly forgot about that guy. ‘No.’ I shake my head. ‘He’s, well, we’re having a rocky patch, actually. And here I am in the Rocky Mountains, hahaha!’
Ember and Alex are kind enough to pretend to laugh, at least.
‘Well, just be careful. You don’t want this Luke to start thinking you’re single again.’
