The Truth is in the Wine (26 page)

“The car is leaving in thirty seconds. I'd like you all to be in it when I pull off,” he said. “But if not, I know where to find you after I eat.”

“I guess it's time we get in the car then,” Brenda said.

Everyone piled in, and Ginger turned and looked at her mother-in-law. “You think you're slick, don't you?” she said. “You never told your embarrassing story.”

And everyone reiterated Ginger's point. “OK, OK,” Brenda said. “I wasn't trying to get out of telling it. I just forgot.”

“Well, remember now,” Madeline cracked.

“OK, so, as cute as I am now, I was even more cute when I was younger,” Brenda began. “I was in my early twenties and my hair was pretty long. But it wasn't long enough for me, so I got this long, flowing wig that went almost down to my butt, girl.”

Madeline laughed.

“And there was this guy I really liked. His name was Peter Richardson. All the girls liked him but I heard he liked me, too. We were going to meet at this club, this beautiful place with really high ceilings, candles burning on candelabras, velvet drapes, dancers in cages, the works. We were in New York.

“I have on this chiffon dress that's falling off my shoulders—really sexy and cute but not too revealing. And so Peter is there, looking handsome and in charge. And my friends tell his friends
I'm there looking good and his friends tell my friends we should meet up near the bar area.

“So we do, and it's like a movie, like he's moving in slow motion toward me and I'm moving in slow motion toward him. The crowd parts and it looks like everyone in the club, hundreds of people, has their eyes on us and excited about us finally coming together.

“Now, I'm a little nervous but not that nervous because I had a few drinks—top-shelf Long Island Iced Teas. Yeah, I was drinking big girl drinks back then. So, anyway, I get closer to Peter, about five feet away, and all of a sudden, he has this strange look on his face. Then he starts backing up and pointing at me and the whole place gets loud and I'm looking around like, ‘What the hell is going on?'

“Then I started to smell something; smelled like something was burning. I looked around and didn't see anything, but my friends were pointing at me and screaming. Finally, I felt this heat—my wig was on fire.”

Ginger spit out the ginger ale she was drinking and Paul and Madeline were in stitches.

“And I'm not talking about a little flicker; my wig was an inferno. I pulled it off and threw it and it landed on one of the drapes and set the drape on fire.”

“Get outta here,” Madeline screamed.

“Someone threw something on the drapes before the whole building burned down. But I was standing there with the stocking cap on my head looking crazy. Peter tried not to laugh, but he couldn't hold it back.

“One of my friends came over and grabbed me and rushed me to the bathroom…I was never so humiliated. But I was lucky that fire didn't catch my chiffon dress. I could been a crispy critter.”

They all laughed a good long time. “That was a good one, Ma,” Paul said. “And it didn't involve someone's bodily function, either.”

“I'll be sure to look out for candles tonight,” Madeline said.

“Huh?” Ginger said.

“We have dates tonight, remember?”

“I'm not sure about this,” Paul said.

“You don't have to be sure about it,” Brenda responded. “We're more grown than you are. We're not some rookies trying to find our way. How do you all say it? We got this.”

“Well, we need to know where you're going—and I want to meet them before you go.”

“I want you both to meet Mitch and Lionel—that's his friend,” Madeline said. “He's a nice man.”

“Yeah, well, we'll see,” Paul said.

They arrived at Bistro Jeanty and were attracted by its charm outside with beautiful flowerbeds on either side of the entrance, under red and white striped awning. Inside, it had the feel of a French bistro, cozy with wicker-backed chairs, food specials written on a blackboard, French art and waiters clad in long white aprons.

The menu was expansive and pricey, but no one fretted over it, especially after indulging in the delicious treats and wine. Ginger had water with lemon, green bean salad with warm goat cheese over roasted tomatoes and honey vinaigrette.

Brenda had the short rib, roasted carrots, pearl onions and buttered egg noodles. Madeline had the chicken, mushrooms, black and red wine sauce and Paul had the grilled rib eye with fries and a side of Brussels sprouts.

There was not a lot of talking during lunch. Every so often someone would throw out a random comment, which usually was about how outstanding the food was.

“Ginger, I can't believe you're passing on the great wine,” Paul said. “It wasn't as great as the Caymus I had last night—that was the best wine I ever had—but this Syrah, Novy Family, it's good.”

“My stomach still isn't right,” she offered. “The doctor said I probably should lay off the wine for a few days.”

“Damn, baby, that's too bad,” he said. “We're in Napa, for Christ's sake.”

“You haven't called me ‘baby' in so long I can't remember,” Ginger said.

“Well, it's a new me and we have a new marriage, as far as I'm concerned…baby.”

“I read on Facebook on a post that said what your man should do,” Ginger said. “I can't remember everything, but it said a few things like: ‘A man should make a woman laugh and he should call his woman ‘baby.' I do remember that.”

The bill came and the women started digging in their purses for their wallets.

“Let me get this, baby,” Paul said, smiling. “We're celebrating my freedom, our last full day in Napa and family love.”

They agreed with Paul. But when Madeline and Brenda went to the bathroom, Ginger said to her husband: “You know, when I went to the ATM with your card to get some bail money, the balance said forty-something thousand dollars.”

“What?” Paul said, trying to act surprised. “Is that all?”

“I'm serious,” she said. “It was crazy.”

“That's happened to me before,” Paul said. “Not that much of a difference in the balance, but a few hundred dollars. I even tried to take out the money I knew wasn't really there. It didn't work.”

“Same thing happened to me once,” she said. “Anyway, you should check it when you get a chance.”

“I will,” Paul said. He felt he quickly needed to change the
subject, so he said, “I'm kinda glad our moms are going to dinner. We can have one night out by ourselves at a nice restaurant. It will be nice.”

Almost immediately they both thought the same thing: To share their big news over dinner instead of at the winery. It would be more private, more personal.

And then we can tell our parents the great news together,
Ginger thought.

And then we can share the news with our parents together,
Paul thought.

“I can't wait,” Ginger said.

“Me, either,” Paul said.

“When was the last time we looked forward to spending time together?” she asked.

“That's part of the proverbial marriage trap,” Paul said. “You're married long enough, you start taking some things for granted. Some things, not people. It's not intentional. It just happens.”

“Well, I don't want that to happen with us anymore,” Ginger said. “I want something different.”

“And that's what you will get because that's what I want, too, baby,” Paul said. “I mean that.”

Ginger smiled at him.

“Now let's go taste some wine,” Paul said.

And so, they did. They cruised to Sterling Vineyard, where the line to get tickets for the tour was long. But Paul had paid for theirs online in advance, so he went to the Will Call window where their passes awaited them. He chose Sterling as one of their stops because of its reputation of having the best view in Napa Valley.

Problem was, getting to the top of the mountain required a two-minute ride in a small tram that swung back and forth in the
wind. For someone who was afraid to fly, it was not comforting to step into that little carriage-like contraption suspended in the air by a cable.

It only sat four, so they went in as a group. Each of the three women paid Paul special attention. “It's going to be fine; it's a short ride up. Enjoy the view,” Brenda said. “Right, Vino?”

Paul took a deep breath. He said, “I'm all right,” but he didn't feel all right. He felt uneasy, like he was confined.

“Should we really be on this thing?” Madeline said. “I mean, there are a hundred wineries here. Why are we at the one that he has to go up in the air to get to it?”

“It was my choice, Miss Price,” Paul said. “I'm OK. It'll be all right. It's not like we're flying.”

“Look at that little boy,” Brenda said, pointing to a kid around eight years old who was in the tram behind them. “Look at him. He's perfectly fine. So why aren't you?”

Mother knew best. She knew how competitive Paul was, so to be compared to a kid, well, that ate at his pride.

“Trust me, I am good,” he said. “Let's go.”

And up they went, ascending above the earth at a methodical pace. The view got more and more beautiful the higher they rose. “Oh, my, look at that,” Madeline said, pointing down at the fountain that spouted out water into a pond.

“And look over there,” Ginger said, pointing. The sun illuminated the full, green trees, the vineyard below and the prodigious mountains that virtually surrounded them. “Just beautiful.”

Paul looked out briefly, but quickly turned back to the kid, who was posing for photos and having a good time.

“Where's the camera?” he asked. “Let's capture all this beauty.”

And so, Ginger, who had the camera around her wrist, began firing away, documenting the beautiful nature all around them.
Paul relaxed some and while he was not as carefree as everyone else, he did not have any overblown anxieties, either.

“That wasn't bad,” he said as he stepped out of the tram. “But do we have to take it back down, too?”

He was joking, but figured he'd worry about that an hour or so later, when they would be ready to leave. It was on to the tasting.

Sterling Winery was ideal for the gorgeous, sixty-five degree, clear afternoon on the expansive deck that overlooked the valley. They made they way there after tasting three different wines that they all seemed to enjoy but were not particularly excited. The chardonnay poured on the deck, though, was light and fresh and went with the day's weather.

And although they were only tastings, the sum total of the wines provided a nice buzz—not that Madeline and Brenda didn't already have one since before lunch.

They walked back into the building to read some of the history of the winery and to get another look at the huge barrels where the wine was fermented.

Paul and Ginger stayed outside. They found a corner overlooking the valley and beautiful landscape, an image a painter would put on canvas. “Maybe we should take you back to the doctor. You love wine, and yet you're feeling so bad that you can't even taste some?” Paul said. “That's not a good thing, especially where we are. This is the purpose for coming here.”

“I thought the purpose was for us to find our marriage, Paul,” she said.

“That's the main reason we came here,” Paul said. “But we could have gone anywhere to try to reconnect. We picked Napa because we love wine so much.”

Ginger, with her right hand over her stomach, nodded her head. “Gin, what's wrong?” Paul asked.

She could not wait any longer. Holding it in another few hours would have been torture. She looked around at the wonderful setting and looked up at the man she loved—the man she crushed when he learned she had aborted his child. It was time to share her wonderful news.

“God is so good,” she said, shaking her head. “God is so good.”

Paul just looked at her, concerned. Confused.

“Honey,” she said, “when I went to the doctor last night, he told me the news. I was in shock.”

Paul was clueless. It was not registering for him. “What?”

“I'm pregnant.”

It was as if Paul was frozen stiff by a genie. He didn't move. He stared at her, as if he was waiting for her to say something else. But she had said enough.

“What do you mean?” Paul asked.

“What do I mean? I'm pregnant,” she said, smiling.

He looked down at her stomach. “But you said you had an abortion.”

“Paul, that was four months ago,” she said.

“You mean, you're pregnant
again
?” he asked, still not quite getting it.

Ginger smiled and nodded her head.

“Are you serious?”

“
Yes
, Paul.”

“Oh, my God,” he said as he hugged her. Then he pushed away from her. “Oh, I'm sorry. I don't want to hurt the baby.”

“It's OK. It's not a baby yet,” she said. “I'm in the first trimester.”

“I can't believe this,” he said. And then he did something Ginger had never seen: He cried.

“Baby, this is crazy…crazy in a good way,” Paul said. “I can't believe it. I mean, I believe it, but…I guess I'm shocked. Oh, my
God. God knew we wanted a baby. He knew we
needed
a baby.”

Ginger started crying again, profusely.

“Through all this, you're carrying our baby. This is God's will. This is God's will.”

They hugged and cried and would not let go of each other. In the distance, Madeline and Brenda, returning to the deck, could see them embracing.

“Oh, Lord, what's going on with them now?” Brenda said.

“Come on, let's go find out. But let me get another shot of this wine here before we do,” Madeline said. “I might need more of a buzz.”