“I don’t watch Oprah,” Kat said, pouring herself some more wine.
“That’s obvious. You really should. You don’t need more wine, honey, you need a lot more nooky. It’ll help you burn some of those extra pounds in the hip area.”
“Thank you, Dr. Ruth. And how the hell do you suppose I make that happen? There are three kids in the house, and then there’s you, in and out all the time. We have no privacy.”
“Lock your bedroom door.”
“Easier said than done. I, for one, don’t feel like hanging from the chandeliers while Snoop Dogg is playing from one room, and Papa Roach from the other. And as far as Amber goes, I think she needs a little security right now. I’m not going to lock our door because she may need us.”
“I think she’s a buffer between you and Christian because you don’t want to deal with how angry you are at him for not stepping up and being the dad to the boys that you wanted. So now you’re going to be the mother to Amber that her mother hasn’t been to her, so you can one-up your husband.”
“And I think you’re full of shit. You and all your theories. Just because you ran off and went all Hare Krishna on us, certainly doesn’t qualify you as having a degree in psychiatry. Maybe you should analyze yourself, Mom, and all the ashes you left in your wake when you decided to go and find yourself.”
Venus sat back and smiled. “I will think about that. Thank you for pointing that out.”
“Oh Mother!”
“What?”
“Nothing.”
“You should consider a lock on that door and start having more sex. Look at your friend. She’s happy as a clam. She must be getting it a lot, and recently too, I’d say. Maybe three or four times this week, right?” Venus leaned her elbows on the table. “Which is it, love. The magic number. Three or four?” She looked directly at Jamie who turned bright red.
“Me?”
“Yes, you. Of course you. Not my daughter. From what I can tell you appear to have harnessed your inner sex goddess and you’ve done it quite well, I might add.”
“I, I…” Jamie couldn’t say anything. Everyone was staring at her.
“Jamie? Is there something you want to share with the rest of us?” Danielle asked, a smile spreading across her face.
Jamie put her face in her palms. “Oh, God,” she groaned. Looking up, she nodded and said, “Yes, okay, yes. It’s true. I am having sex everywhere and all the time.”
There was a collective gasp.
“For how long?” Kat asked.
“With who?” Alyssa asked.
“I think I can guess,” Danielle said. “It’s with Tyler Meeks.”
“The cowboy?” Alyssa asked.
Kat nodded. “The younger cowboy.”
Jamie closed her eyes and leaned back in the chair, allowing everyone to toss out their questions. She opened her eyes and slammed her hands down on the table. “Yes, yes, yes. Okay. It’s with Tyler. And it’s the best damn sex I’ve ever had. We did it in his office the other day and then in every room in his house and even in the hay barn, and I love it. I really love it, but I am so damn miserable I don’t know what to do.”
“What?” Venus asked. “I’d say you’re doing it. Don’t do anything else, but it.”
Kat shot her a look. “Pipe down and listen for once. Otherwise you can walk home. I don’t want another word out of you tonight.”
Venus frowned, dejection all over her face, but she kept quiet.
“Details,” Danielle said. “We want details.”
Jamie told them about the fall off the horse and what had ensued directly after in Tyler’s office.
“You little hooker, you,” Danielle said. “Huh. I love it. Cool. Okay so that was the first time. The sex guru here says there’s been at least three or four times this week.”
Jamie felt the heat rise to her cheeks. “More like seven or eight. I am a little hooker, aren’t I?”
“Girl! Oh yeah you are,” Alyssa squealed. They all laughed.
“When did you find time for all that?” Kat asked.
“She made time,” Venus cut in. “It was important.”
Kat shot her another dirty look.
“The night after the first time, he invited me to his place and…”
“What’s his place like?” Kat asked.
“It’s nice. It’s clean and lots of Western art and all rugged-like with leather sofas and chairs. And he can cook, too. I mean it all smelled great, but we didn’t exactly eat dinner.”
“Who gives a shit what his place is like! What’s he like?” Danielle slurred.
Jamie knew she had to be bright red by now. “He’s wonderful,” she whispered. “Oh my God, he’s amazing. I think I’ve lost my mind.”
“This is great,” Kat said. “Good for you.”
“No. Not really.” They all looked at Jamie, waiting for her to continue. “It’s these nightmares I’m having. One minute I’m in bed with Tyler, the next I’ve lost Dorothy again. In the worst one, I lost Dorothy because I was busy, you know, being with Tyler and Nate came home and caught me in bed with the cowboy. Horrible! It’s Nate. I feel like I’m cheating on him.” Jamie took a long drink from her wine.
“Nate is gone, sweetie,” Danielle said.
“I know that! Don’t you think I know that?” Jamie snapped at her. “Everyday I wake up and I think maybe it’s all been this horrible nightmare and then I roll over and the man I planned to spend the rest of my life with is not there. I know better than anyone else that he’s gone, but I don’t want him to be gone. I want him here where he belongs. Where I can hold him and make love to him, not Tyler. I want Nate here to kiss Maddie good night and tell her bedtime stories. I want him here to help me make decisions about Dorothy and to tell me what to do while I’m financially going down the drain. Don’t you think I don’t know that he isn’t here? But he’s here.” She pointed to her heart. “I’m sorry, I am so sorry.” She looked down, shaking her head. “I feel so, so guilty.”
Danielle finally spoke. “Of course Nate is in your heart, and feeling guilty is understandable. You’re not the kind of woman who goes to bed with any man. You know we were all teasing you, honey. You are not a little hooker. Not at all. We were funning.”
“But I don’t love Tyler.” She sniffled. Alyssa handed her a tissue and she blew her nose.
“I don’t think you have to love him,” Alyssa said.
“Think about this for a minute.” Kat set down the bottle of wine. “What if the tables were turned? What if you were the one who had passed away?”
Jamie looked up at her, mascara smearing on her face. Danielle wiped it away with her fingertips.
Kat nodded. “Yes. Say it was you and you’re living on the other side. Heaven or whatever you want to call it.”
“Nirvana,” Venus piped in.
“Whatever. There you are with your pretty angel wings.” This got a smile from Jamie. “You’re dancing around and things are pretty good in this new place, except for one thing. Every time you check in on Nate, he’s miserable. He can’t let you go. All he does is think about you. He cries himself to sleep, he wakes up needing you. He pretends that everything is fine. He takes care of Maddie and his mom, and for their sake pretends that everything is fine. But he is not fine. He is miserable.”
“It would be awful for me.”
“Even with your angel wings in your happy heaven, it would be awful for you to see the man you loved so bound up in the past that he could no longer live in the present. And say, he meets someone. A nice lady who treats him well, and who really likes him. Someone who could probably take good care of him and Maddie. And he likes her and they get together and their sex is fantastic and a little bit of Nate starts to let go of a little bit of Jamie. Wouldn’t you want him to continue having the happiest, most positive human experiences he could? That’s what he would want for you. Don’t you owe it to yourself, to Maddie, to Dorothy and especially to Nate?”
Jamie stared at Kat
.
“I know I am supposed to be quiet,” Venus said with tears in her eyes, “but, bravo! Bravo! Oh, my girl, you do get it. You really do.”
Jamie stood up, walked over to Kat, and leaned over her to hug her. Kat stood and hugged her back. “Thank you,” Jamie said.
“It’s okay to live and love again. It really is,” Kat said.
Jamie pulled away, wiped her face, and looked at her friends. “I think I needed that.” She drank a little wine and then asked, “Now who wants to hear about the hot sex?”
Everyone laughed and Venus popped open a bottle of champagne. “You can count me in.”
***
Wine Lover’s Magazine
Summer Love
By
Jamie Evans
Living in Napa Valley during the summer is HOT. I’m not only talking about the weather. The wine country is full of new loves and old loves, as tourists flock here to our quaint valley to wine taste and experience the allure and romance that Napa is known for.
Summer loving has become a popular topic for my friends and me lately. What exactly is love? How do you fall in love and then keep it? Everyone has a different idea on how that’s done. Some think sex is the answer, others believe it is all about communication and family bonds. We haven’t come up with any solid answers, but the conversations have sure been fun!
In this month’s issue, take time to read over our Summer Loving section, find romance in your home, add some spice to your sex life, and, as always, have a good bottle of wine with you while falling in love and staying in love. This month’s wine pairing and recipe comes from my kitchen and it’s one of my favorite summer meals; Salmon in Miso Sauce with a refreshing glass of Viognier.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
Danielle
Danielle had done it to herself again. Taken on more than she could chew. Why had she agreed to help organize the Harvest Festival? Her official role was to put the media and marketing together between the wineries and the consumers who would be paying top dollar to come and taste the finest Napa and Sonoma had to offer. It entailed talking with each winery owner or their winemaker and organizing their marketing pieces. She would then condense down the information to a paragraph for each one, and put them together in magazine format. She also had to hire someone to do the graphics. This would be no cheap endeavor. Her budget for it was three grand, not a big budget considering the expectations involved so each winery would have to pitch in. She looked at the list of her contacts, she spotted the one name she knew would be there but had hoped wouldn’t—Al Bastillia. Of course The Bastard would be entering Bastillia wines. Their wines had been in the festival for the past twelve years. Why would this one be any different? One could hope though, right?
Danielle traced the outline of the design of her Deésse label. The artist had done a splendid job. The label showed the profile of a beautiful woman, her naked backside exposed, long red hair flowing over her shoulders, and a strip of gold coming up from the bottom of the label and encircling the Goddess. It hadn’t been cheap, but it was a work of art. Danielle loved the concept of the Goddess idea so she’d penciled out an idea and then taken it to an experienced artist. She would have asked Alyssa to do the artwork, but between flying back and forth to Los Angeles to see her son, Alyssa was already bogged down.
In some ways, having to do so much herself was working out well. During the day, Danielle was able to busy herself with the festival and keep her mind off of her own difficult issues. But at night, there was nothing she could do but think about those issues.
Cassie was still out of the house and she missed her terribly, but knew that her daughter needed to get the message loud and clear that Danielle was done taking her crap. Did that make her a cop-out or a bad parent because she’d sent Cassie over to Al’s so he could deal with her?
The other situation keeping her up at night, and keeping her on the verge of a migraine, was that she longed to support Shannon and understand her better. She wanted to reestablish the connection that they once had—that incredible bond that she missed so much. She still had not been able to tell her friends about the baby’s condition. It was all a bit too much to deal with. Telling them would make it fact and Danielle didn’t know if she was ready to accept any of this situation for the reality that it was.
She took a stroll through the small winery warehouse. French Oak and steel barrels were stacked on one side of a long row and the other side contained boxes of her first vintage that was already packed and ready to go. She smiled and said hello to a handful of employees working there. They were a good group who respected and cared for her as she did for them. Most of them left Bastillia after the divorce and came to work for her.
The warehouse smelled of must, oak, and fruit—smells she’d never tire of. They were of the earth. Harvest would begin next month and Danielle would be right in the midst of the workers. It was an exciting, if exhausting, event.
She walked outside and headed over to the main building where daily wine tastings were offered. She’d just opened up this area and, because her place was off the beaten path and because one had to pass Bastillia to get here, many tourists didn’t make that extra mile to her place. Compared to Al’s Disneyland of wineries, hers was small potatoes. But! But she’d still won the best crops and she would use that to her advantage. Better believe it. Once oenophiles started tasting the wine, Deésse wines would no longer be small potatoes.
Danielle stopped and admired the small but elegant building before reaching it. It had an Old World, Tuscan feel to it and replicated her home on top of the hill. She recognized a car pulling up and smiled. Mark.
He got out of the Audi with a picnic basket and Danielle couldn’t help feel the smile on her face spreading. The man was full of surprises. She’d been distant when she had first heard the baby had Down Syndrome, but Mark he’d called daily. Somehow he managed to be supportive without being pushy and she’d grown to rely on his calls. Then one day last week he hadn’t called and Danielle missed him, wondering if she’d finally pushed him away. It turned out that he’d had a difficult delivery and was in the hospital all day and had gone to bed there, exhausted. He’d sent her roses the next day.
“I didn’t expect you. What’s this all about?” she asked.
He handed her a bouquet of wildflowers and kissed her cheek. “I finished early for once and thought, what better way to spend my time than to hopefully spend it with you? I know how busy you are, but I figured I’d take a chance, see if we could have lunch together.”
She crossed her arms. “Lunch, huh?” She coyly twisted a piece of hair that had fallen from her ponytail. “What you got in there?” She tried to peek in the basket, which he placed a hand over.
“No peeking. So, lunch?”
She smiled. “Everyone does need to eat. Come on. I have the perfect spot. Let me get something real quick.” Danielle hustled into the tasting room and asked her pourer, Carmella, where a blanket might be.
Carmella was a petite Italian lady of about fifty who had a ton of flair and exuberance. She outsold the three other pourers who rotated shifts at Deésse. At that moment she was pouring for an older couple and describing the nuances of the chardonnay they made at the winery. She shrugged. “I have one in the back seat of my car out back. You can use it.”
Danielle came around the back of the bar and kissed her on the cheek. The older couple watched curiously. “Thank you.” She handed her the flowers. “Would you put these in a vase for me?” She grabbed a bottle of chilled chardonnay from the wine fridge behind the bar and two Styrofoam cups.
“Don’t mind her. She owns the winery. Owners tend to be a bit wacky in these parts,” Carmella told them.
They laughed while Danielle formally introduced herself and shook their hands briefly. Then she sprinted out back for the blanket. How funny that just seeing Mark there made her behave like a girl again.
“I thought you’d changed your mind,” Mark said when she came back.
<
br /> “No. I was getting this.” She held up the blanket. “And this.” She presented the wine with the two paper cups around the top.
“Nice. Good idea. From the looks of it, you’re planning a leisurely lunch.”
“I could use a break,” she replied, though what she really needed was a few more hours in her day. But a handsome man with a picnic basket and flowers didn’t pull up in a gal’s driveway often. At least not in this gal’s driveway. “Follow me.”
They hiked through rows of vines for almost ten minutes. “Hey, I said lunch, not a hike,” Mark commented.
She stopped. “I figured if you could go through all that trouble to put lunch together, then I can go the extra mile for the perfect spot. Don’t tell me you’re out of shape, doctor.”
“No. Maybe a little.” He laughed. “I could probably spare ten pounds.”
“Couldn’t we all,” she said. “Only a few more feet.” They walked up an embankment, stopping under an old willow tree.
“Beautiful,” Mark said, setting the basket down and reaching for the blanket.
“It is, isn’t it?” The view before them was of her property, dressed in colors of sienna, gold, light and dark greens and browns. “Like an artist’s painting.”
“It is an artist’s painting, though.” He sat down on the blanket and patted the spot next to him.
Danielle handed him the wine and corkscrew. “What do you mean?” Mark put the corkscrew into the wine and twisted, opening it while Danielle held out the cups. “High class, I know,” she said pointing to the cups.
“Nothing but the best, baby. That’s what I like about you.” He smiled and memories of their youth flooded her. It had been his smile that had gotten her underneath him thirty years ago, and damn if it wouldn’t work again. “What I mean about the view being done by an artist is exactly that.” He leaned back on his elbows and turned to his side, holding up his cup. “To a leisurely lunch.”
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