Christmas in Wine Country (22 page)

“I was a little…” she paused, returning the smile shyly, “stressed back then. At the holiday party. It made me a little…crazy.” Jake looked mildly surprised at her voluntary choice of words. “Speaking of which,” Lila plowed ahead, channeling her inner
Gram and doing what she knew she needed to do. “It was a while ago now so I’m not even sure if you remember. I’ve been wanting to say, but I just haven’t seen you in a while...” 

“I’ve been out of town on business,” he offered.

“That night at the bar?” she continued. “I think we were standing over there,” she pointed toward the pool table, knowing she was stalling but seemingly unable to cut to the chase. “We were talking, and, I don’t know, but I think I called you something—”

“Daddy’s little rich boy?” he offered, the insult alarmingly fresh in his memory. 

Lila winced and looked down at the bar. “Sorry.” 

“Don’t worry about it.” He waved it away. “Seriously. It’s not anywhere near the worst anyone’s said about me.” Lila looked up, relieved and wondering exactly what was the worst someone had said and who that someone was. “I wasn’t on my best behavior that night either,” he continued. “So, sorry about that, too.”

“It’s…” she began, nodding dismissively. “There’s no…’sfine.” Forgoing her eloquence on the topic, Lila fell silent and began playing with a bead of condensation sliding down her pitcher of beer. Trying something new, she asked, “So you’ve been out of town?”

“Yeah, my dad and I have been making the rounds. We were in Vegas the last few days.” His tone distinctly lacked the ‘Vegas, baby!’ swagger Lila found typically accompanied mention of the destination. “I know it’s not cool to say,” he continued, “but I hate Vegas.”

“I’ve only been to the airport there,” Lila admitted. Discount flights to Boston always involved stop-overs and Lila had grown familiar with more than a few airports. “Lots of slot machines.”

“When you’re in a casino, there’s no windows, no clocks. They’re designed like mazes so you just get lost.”

“Sounds weird,” Lila agreed, remembering how much her old roommates Venice and Valeria had loved jetting to Vegas. They’d pack only the skimpiest dresses and highest heels, relegate sleeping to cat naps by the pool, and return Sunday afternoon with seriously next-level stories about their exploits. At first Lila had thought about saving up some money and joining them, but the more she’d heard about it all the less she’d actually wanted to go. “What were you doing there?”

“Maintaining our presence. Protecting our market share. Networking.”

“Ah ha.”

“Yup. I’m really outgoing and extroverted so I’m awesome at it.” Lila looked up at him, unsure as to whether he was joking. “I have this effervescent personality,” he continued. “So I’m great at marketing.”

Lila laughed, picturing how many times she’d seen him scowling. Now she knew he was making fun of himself. “Sounds like fun.”

“Goes with the territory, I guess.” Shaking his head, he asked, “What have you been up to?”

“Nothing much,” Lila answered, deciding against ‘making out with guys in the parking lot.’

“Done any trail running lately?”

“Oh yeah, it’s so great to not be trapped on a treadmill in a gym anymore.”

“You’re pretty serious out there.”

Lila glanced down, flushed with embarrassment over how she’d blown by him without much greeting the last time she’d seen him out running. “I get kind-of focused.”

“That trail’s my favorite.”

“Yeah,” Lila brightened. “I’m hoping I can show it to my Gram this week. She’s coming for a visit. She’s 74 but she’s in great shape. She walks her dogs on the beach twice a day, every day.”

“Your Gram? Is that your grandmother?” 

“Yup. She’s amazing and so much fun and it’s a really big deal for her to travel this far out. She’s never flown out to California before, so I’m hoping everything goes OK.” Brimming with enthusiasm and a dash of nerves, Lila found herself telling him all about how she couldn’t wait to show Gram the sea lions and Annie’s daughter, Charlotte, and have her as a special guest for storytime.

“You should bring her by the vineyard,” Jake suggested. “We could show her around.”

“Oh, that’s nice of you.” Pleased but surprised and flustered at the invitation, she then became more flustered at being visibly flustered lest he mistakenly think she’d mistaken his invitation as a date or something vastly more than it was, which was surely simply an invitation to see one of the area’s biggest tourist attractions. “Gram said she’d like to visit it.”

It was true, Gram had mentioned her desire to see Endicott Vineyards more than once. Lila had remained noncommittal, fearing a kind-of Elizabeth Bennett visiting Pemberly scenario all gone wrong. In this version, she and her relation would accidently bump into the heir while touring the family home, only this time the guy would actually be an unfriendly creep and would think she’s crazy.

             
“We’re not open to the public on Mondays, so you two could come by,” he suggested, then adding. “Oh, wait. You have storytime.”

             
“I could probably work something out,” she replied, even more surprised that he’d remembered her schedule. “Maybe Godfrey could fill in.” Flashing on an image of Godfrey reading
Crime and Punishment
and telling the children that, no, there was no Santa Claus, she added, “or I could just move storytime to another day.” 

             
“Don’t worry about it. Come by Tuesday instead. It’s never a busy day.”

“OK.” Lila smiled shyly.

“Great, why don’t you come by mid-morning? We can have a look around and have lunch. I’ll show you our secret tasting room.”

             
“You have a secret room?”

             
“No,” Jake admitted, “but wouldn’t it be cool if we did?”

             
A heavy, tattooed arm encircled Lila’s shoulders like a Python. Inserting his other arm directly between Jake and Lila, Trucker Tom grabbed the pitcher off the bar. “Got us a pitcher. That’s my girl.” Like a mouse trapped by a boa in a cage, Lila froze into a tight smile.

             
Looking to Tom, then back at Lila, then Tom again, Jake gave a brief nod of understanding. Lila wanted to immediately disabuse it, but couldn’t think how without sounding either too rude or too eager.

“Have a good night,” Jake said and made his exit.

*
             
*
             
*

Gram awoke Monday morning at four am; East Coast time was a hard thing to shake. By seven am they’d had breakfast, taken a walk and read the paper—an actual newspaper they picked up at the market at Gram’s request. By nine they were both ready for a nap, but Gram wanted to push through the jet lag so she insisted on coming with Lila to the bookstore instead.

Inside Cover to Cover, Gram and Godfrey hit it off nicely. Lila thought it might be the longest conversation in which she’d ever seen Godfrey engaged. Then again, he didn’t do much talking. When he did speak, it was absolutely clear that they were following parallel lines of thought, the two strands never touching.

“Have you read this one on greenhouse gasses?” Godfrey asked, grave and pale as he held out a book on climate change.

“Oh, you should see the greenhouse Denise keeps,” Gram replied, describing her friend Denise’s hothouse flowers.

When Godfrey suggested another upbeat title on the dangers of genetically modified organisms and started to get animated about the prevalence of corn, Gram agreed that she’d never much taken to either corn dogs or corn nuts, even the ones that were sold in those handy snack packs.

At first, Lila wondered whether she should intervene. Realizing both were enjoying themselves, she simply took her position at the cash register and watched the Gram/Godfrey mashup.

“What a lovely young man,” Gram concluded, eventually making her way back to Lila. Lila just nodded in agreement.

Later that afternoon, after an eventful storytime in which Mr. Meows insisted on asking Gram’s opinion on several topics, and after a nap for Gram, they sat at the edge of town overlooking the surf. The bench they rested on had been dedicated to someone neither of them had ever met. Still, it seemed like a nice way to honor their memory, sitting together admiring the view and enjoying their ice cream cones, double-scooped and bursting out of handmade waffle cones.

             
“Remember how you used to have to make cones?” Gram asked as she licked around the bottom edges of her lower scoop, Pistachio. “You always had little burns on the sides of your hands.”

             
Lila nodded remembering. That damn waffle cone iron had left its mark on half the local girls in Hyannis. She still had a couple of small, old, faded scars she supposed she’d carry with her until the end of her days.

             
“I’m sure that was a fire hazard,” Gram decided, and Lila had agree, though many aspects of her job at The Creamery were obviously not up to code. No breaks allowed during busy times—essentially 11am until closing—would have made the top of her list. “But look at you now, honey. I’m so proud of you.” Gram gave Lila’s leg a pat as she worked on her ice cream.

             
That had to be one of the nicest aspects of hanging out with Gram, Lila mused as she licked her double scoops of chocolate chip and raspberry. She’d arrived two days ago and barely let an hour go by without expressing her delight over how well Lila was doing. She loved the attic apartment, declaring the kitchen “ready for a cooking show” and the view “fit for a king.” She thought the bookstore was charming—“a slice of heaven. And they even pay you to spend time here!” She even praised Lila’s car—‘neat as a pin and all paid off! How can you beat that?’  She knew her Gram wasn’t the most discerning of critics, but did anyone really need that in a family member?

             
The late August weather was cooperating nicely, the morning fog lifting around 10am to sunny skies and a light breeze. Gram had on her windbreaker, LL Bean of course, and socks underneath her sensible sandals.

“I can see why it costs an arm and a leg to buy a house out here,” Gram remarked, looking out at the ocean. “Even with those mudslides this winter.” The mudslides in question had, of course, happened down in Southern California, but Lila
just nodded in agreement, knowing the concept of one state stretching 850 miles was simply never going to take with her New England Gram.

“Your Grandpa would have loved it here,” Gram remarked, looking out over the rocky coast toward the lighthouse. “It’s a lot like home, Lila.”

“It is, I guess,” Lila agreed, thinking how funny it was she hadn’t overtly realized that when she’d impulsively moved to small, coastal Redwood Cove. 

“It’s nice you had your time in the city,” Gram continued. “But I really see you here. And look at you,” she turned and gave Lila’s cheek a light pinch. “You look so healthy.”

“Do you mean fat?” Lila asked with a laugh, feeling like a chunky baby. “I have put on some weight.”

“Thank goodness for that,” Gram agreed, smoothing an imaginary wrinkle in her khakis and attending once again to her ice cream. “You were so pinched and pale for years there. I could barely get you to eat a bite when you’d come home.” Lila could recall many a night when Gram had tried to feed her heaping plates of meat lasagna, macaroni casserole or meatloaf as if preparing a bear for hibernation. Last night they’d agreed on lighter fare, making Chicken Marsala, pounded nice and thin the way Gram liked it, with some grilled asparagus from the farmer’s market where Gram had spent a minimum of five minutes chatting with each vendor. They’d fallen into an easy rhythm together in the kitchen born of years of cooking together. 

Gram watched Lila as she looked out over the water, smooth and glassy. “You’ve been so serious, Lila.” She tucked an errant curl behind Lila’s ear in a motion she’d been doing for going on three decades. “I remember in high school, your light would be on at all hours of the night while you did your homework. And you were always rushing to your jobs.” She had worked a lot of jobs, Lila recalled, all involving food. A couple had required uniforms, the worst of which had involved a three-cornered pirate hat. Try wearing that when your high school crush came by with his friends. “And then you headed off to that fancy college.”

Lila had to smile again, thinking how Colgate might as well change its name to That Fancy College as far as her family was concerned.

“And you worked so hard there,” Gram continued, shaking her head. “Two jobs and still making the Dean’s list. Surrounded by all those rich kids. But you never complained.”

At that, Lila had to laugh. “OK, now you’ve gone too far, Gram. I think I minored in complaining.” She and Annie had made a sport of it, saving the choicest interactions with their wealthy, privileged classmates to recount to each other. On a campus where only having one pair of skis or a five-year-old BMW SUV was considered roughing it, Annie and she had kept each other sane and, thankfully, laughing. No, they were not spending Spring Break sailing in the Caribbean on their father’s yacht, nor were they shopping for the latest fashions in Paris with mom, but they were able to remind each other that next-to-nobody in the real world did, either.