Page 29 of Whisking It All

“No grapefruits either,” Jamie replied.

She smirked, her eyes sparkling, and he found himself holding his breath waiting to hear what she’d say next. Out of purely professional curiosity, of course. Not because the light streaming through the high windows of the tasting room had changed, reflecting and refracting and highlighting every shade of blue in her eyes.

“Cranberries,” she said at last. “A take on an Indian pudding with a cranberry sorbetto made with the Vidal. Maybe with whole cranberries candied in a ginger simple syrup as a garnish.” She tapped her finger against her mouth, and he forced himself to look away from the soft give of her lip beneath the slight pressure. “That could be something.”

He cleared his throat and nodded once. “Good. We’ll keep both the Vidal and the chardonnay. Eighty-six the blend.”

“Agreed.” She took the bottle of Nuthatch’s house white blend and moved it to the reject section of the table. “Doesn’t seem like enough.”

“It’s plenty for the opening dinner. But we’ll need a plan for the rest of the festival,” Jamie agreed.

“We need something unusual. Something different.” Tessa pushed away from the table, getting to her feet, and began walking in wide arcs around the other side of the table. Back and forth like she was on some kind of loop, her gaze locked on the line up of wines. “We need to get out of this room. Get inspired.”

“The wine is supposed to be the inspiration.”

She spun around in a circle, gesturing to the dark wood and leather décor of the room. “I need light. Sunshine. Maybe some music.”

“Or some glitter?” he mumbled.

She shot him a withering look. “Something other than this country-club-meets-secret-society room.”

Indignation flared on his best friend’s behalf and Jamie began to rise from his seat. “This is the premiere vineyard in the area. Your father—”

She sighed, waving her hand at him. “Down, boy. I know this place is great.”

“Did you just talk to me like I was a dog?” He clenched his jaw to keep his mouth from kicking up at the corner because there was nothing amusing about her tone of voice. And certainly nothing attractive about the way she cut through all his shit.

“My father doesn’t need you to protect him from me,” she said, her voice steely in a way that wiped any sense of fun away.

“Right. Sorry,” he mumbled. He hadn’t meant to offend her.

“It’s fine.”

She turned her back to him again, staring up at the photograph from her grandparents’ wedding that hung on the opposite wall. The huge gilt frame took up half the height of the room.

“Henry and Louise loved this festival,” he said, looking up at the photo of the two people who had become like second parents to him after his own parents had died.

“That’s what Ethan said.”

“How’re they doing?”

She glanced at him over her shoulder. “You probably know better than I do. I haven’t spoken to them in a while.”

“Why not?”

She was quiet for a long time, long enough that it was clear she had no intention of answering his question, though she kept her eyes on the photograph.

“We need to try it from another angle,” she said, almost to herself. “The dinner is basically set, but we still need to come up with brunch and the small bites for the tasting. Let’s go see what local ingredients spark something and then try to pair those with the wine. Maybe take a walk on the beach? Nature’s always good for inspiration.”

“That’s a wild goose chase.”

“But how will we know that we’ve picked the best options if we don’t see what’s available to us?” she asked.

“Because I know.”

She threw up her hands and turned to face him again. “Fine. Then how will I know? We could go to that art gallery downtown and see what calls to us. Peruse the fish market? The worst thing that happens is we waste an afternoon.”

Jamie pushed back from the table. He needed distance, not another day spent watching the light play across her skin. “I don’t have another afternoon to waste with you, Tessa.”

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