Page 129 of The Twelve Dates of Christmas
There were four more wines to taste and none of Kate’s made it into the bucket. Thomas had a confident comment on each wine: the food it should be served with, the optimum serving temperature, and where else in the world he had experienced a wine similar.
His statements with regard to the aromas and flavor notes hedetected in each wine were decisive and at times so surreal that Kate wondered if he’d eaten a stash of magic mushrooms before he’d arrived:
“Warm elastic bands around a postman’s wrists.”
“Poppy nectar on a bee’s wing.”
“Grass squashed beneath tent canvas with a cheeky note of quince jam.”
And: “Cornflowers and Earl Grey tea spilled on hot tarmac at dusk.”
“You should be a writer,” said Kate. “You have a very vivid imagination.”
“I know,” said Thomas. “I’ve written seven books in my head. When I get the time I’ll write them out and get them published.”
“I’ll be sure to look out for them,” said Kate.
Despite his vast knowledge on every subject, Kate found him to be quite entertaining company. And she couldn’t fault his manners. He was attentive and polite and made every effort to ensure that Kate was the benefactor of all his attentions; admittedly he spoke to her as though she were his favorite pet beagle, but he had served as diverting company for the afternoon and at this point in the Twelve Dates proceedings, she’d call that a win.
At the end of the tasting session they were led into the shop, where cheese and crackers—presumably to soak up some of the wine—had been laid out on tables dotted about the room. The shelves were wall to wall and wine laden.
Kate was a little giddy and a lot tipsy. She allowed Thomas to be gallant and take her around the shop and pick out six bottles of wine for her to buy for Christmas.
As they waited outside for the Land Rovers to take them back upthe hill, Kate was comfortably warm in her wine jacket. Thomas offered to drive her home but Kate politely declined.
“Do you think I might see you again?” asked Thomas.
Kate smiled and patted his arm.
“I don’t think so, Thomas,” she said. “But thank you for a wonderful afternoon.”
Thomas shrugged. He didn’t seem overly upset.
One of the reps was heading to Blexford Manor to help clean up after another gingerbread house session, so Kate got a lift with her instead.
“How did it go?” asked the rep as they drove away from the vineyard.
“It was good fun,” said Kate.
“Do you think you’ll see him again?” she asked.
“No,” said Kate. “He wasn’t really my type.”
“How about the twelfth date?” asked the rep. “Have you submitted your final choice yet?”
“Yes,” said Kate. “All sorted.”
“Ooh!” said the rep. “That sounds promising. Could he be the one?”
“Not unless I sprout testicles and a hairy chest between now and then,” Kate replied.
THE TWELFTH DATE OF CHRISTMAS
•••••
Endings and Beginnings
A sharp rap at the front door at seven a.m. found Kate stumbling down the stairs with her fluffy dressing gown pulled tightly around her. It was Andy with her grocery order. He beamed at her. He had the same crooked smile as his father that made the Knitting Sex Kittens swoon. Kate smiled back, making sure she didn’t breathe morning breath over him.
