by Emma Powell
She rubbed her face hard and took a deep breath. ‘Ok Mum, time for this little black duck to hit the hay.’ Her mum had already dropped into sleep, her breath soft and light and with the hum of the morphine pump it created the bizarre soundscape that Laney had become so used to.
Removing the supporting pillows she settled her back down onto the bed, giving her a final kiss on the forehead. ‘Love you Mum.’
She walked back down the hallway to her little room with the lumpy bed, glass in hand and tears streaming down her face.
‘Happy Birthday, dear Laney… Happy Birthday to you.’ Chorused Nerida and Ryan in perfect harmony.
Laney smiled at them although she’d have much rather disappeared into the car upholstery than have ‘Happy Birthday’ sung to her. No matter how in tune it was. And it was the fifth time they’d sung it to her during the forty-five-minute trip. Each time in a higher key as if they’d given themselves a challenge to see how high they could go. Knowing them and their impressive vocal range, they’d be singing at a dog’s pitch if the trip went any longer.
It was a joy and curse having friends with careers in music theatre. They broke out into song and dance in the most random of places. She’d met them when she’d been working in a city bar where the cast of the latest hit musical hung out and the three of them had clicked.
Once, when they’d hit a karaoke bar together, and she’d banged out a pretty good version of a Whitney classic, they’d tried to convince her – in song – to audition for the next big show coming up. Laney loved singing but she was purely an around the house, shower and the occasional drunk karaoke singer. She thanked them for their encouragement and told them never to mention it again.
They didn’t.
‘Okay, that’s the fifth rendition.’ She covered her ears. ‘Are we there yet?’ she whined in the voice of a three-year-old.
Ryan patted her knee. ‘Sorry, hun, we know you hate it but it’s gotta be done. One day we’ll be too old to remember how to sing it and then you’ll really be disappointed.’
Laney rolled her eyes and took Ryan’s hand. ‘I doubt that. You’ll never get old, Ry.’
‘Why thank you.’ Ryan pursed his lips, highlighting his impressive cheekbones.
Laney pushed her fingers gently into his cheeks. ‘Not with all those fillers.’
Nerida giggled. ‘Oh, burn,’ she exclaimed from the driver’s seat.
Ryan put his arm around Laney and gave her a kiss on the cheek. ‘Well, at least I’ve got something worth filling.’ He snapped his fingers in triumph.
Laney pulled back and landed a playful punch on his shoulder. ‘No fair! It’s my birthday. You HAVE to be nice to me. Say something positive.’
‘Ok… if I must.’ He flicked his head and let out a dramatic sigh. ‘I’m POSITIVE you don’t have anything worth filling.’
Laney squealed in mock horror as Nerida stifled a laugh then pointed to a sign on the road ahead. ‘We’re here!’
Ryan clapped his hands and Laney poked her head in between the front seats to see where her friends were taking her for her surprise birthday lunch.
Nerida turned into the driveway of Xroads Winery. Laney let out a soft ‘Oh’, and butterflies started to flutter in her tummy.
Sharing a birthday with the Baby Jesus had always meant that Laney only ever got one major present. The Bday-Xmas combo, her brother called it. ‘Just like a KFC combo meal deal.’ He had a way with words. And he loved KFC.
Added to that, she had never had a party on her actual birthday. It always had to be the week before or the week after. And even then, many of her friends went away over the Christmas break so when she had parties it was usually a miserable turnout. She could never have a party the day after either because it was a public holiday and EVERYTHING was closed.
Her mother, the optimist, insisted that it meant it was the Festival of Laney because there were little mini celebrations across the whole month, but what Laney wanted most of all was the kind of adoration on her birthday that Baby Jesus got on his—which anyway, wasn’t his real birthday.
So, when her two best friends had delayed their respective holidays just to take Laney for a surprise birthday lunch only two days after her birthday, she was secretly chuffed they’d thought ahead.
And now she was a passenger travelling down the kilometre-long driveway of Xroads Winery. She took a moment to get her wits about her lest her gorgeous, generous friends think she was unhappy with the surprise.
‘It’s beautiful, guys,’ she gushed.
And it really was. It was a stunning day. Fields of leafy green vines rolled on into the horizon, peppered with geranium and rose plants in front of the rows. Laney buzzed her window down and tipped her head out to feel the warm breeze and fresh country air. She looked up into the bright blue sky, so bright she had to close her eyes and take a deep breath, imagining that she’d been looking into Rich’s bright blue eyes instead. Unsettled by the impact the memory had on her and the potential he might be at the winery, she snapped her eyes open and wound the window back up.
‘Why did you guys pick this one?’
‘Five stars on TripAdvisor.’ Nerida slowed down to avoid a pothole in the dirt driveway. ‘Although they could do some work on the bloody driveway. I just got my wheel alignment done.’
‘We’re in the country, Nez. The country has dirt and potholes. It’s like we’re on a four-wheel driving adventure!’ Ryan leaned against the door, held his phone at arm’s length, pouted and took a selfie, making sure he was the focus of the obligatory vineyard shot. He bounced in his seat as Nerida, accidentally on purpose, sped up out of the pothole.
‘Biatch!’ Ryan shifted back into position and continued paparazziing himself as Nerida shook her head and rolled her eyes.
Laney watched as the main building came into view. It wasn’t really a building as such. They’d gone with the trend of using shipping containers and turning them into high-end architecture. She liked the look of the dark red-rust exterior with floor to ceiling windows. Set high at the top of a hill, visitors had 360 degree views of the vineyards and the valley from the restaurant and cellar door. A manicured bright green lawn framed the structure with a sign that read, Xroads only uses recycled water. Protecting the environment one drop at a time.
Laney was sure Rich had something to do with the sign. It was his vibe. Although she’d only spent twenty minutes with him, so in all truthfulness she probably didn’t really know his vibe at all.
‘Well, if the food is as good as this bitchin’ architectural style I’ll be a happy queen, I can tell you,’ Ryan gushed. ‘Loving. It!’
Nerida pulled into a spot in the almost full parking lot. It was a popular place. Laney felt a touch of pride that she knew – well, had met – the owner of such a popular and beautiful establishment.
As they followed the signs to the Incrocio Restaurant, the butterflies in her tummy went ballistic. Was he working there? Would she see him as soon as she walked in? She put her hands on her solar plexus and breathed deep into her diaphragm to calm the fluttering to at least a mild flap.
He was the boss. As if he’d be working in the restaurant. He’d be in the boss room slash area where winery boss things happened. Surely.
They entered the dining area and were not disappointed. The view from inside was even more spectacular. All three of them gave an ‘Ohhhhh’ in unison.
‘Hash tag no filter,’ Nerida gushed.
Ryan, unable to take his eyes off the never-ending vineyards, nodded his head. ‘Welcome to nature, Nez.’
The maître d’ approached, menus in hand and a satisfied look on her face as if agreeing with their reaction.
‘Ciao. Welcome to Incrocio.’ She was Italian. Of course. She’d pulled back her dark hair, streaked with a smattering of impressive silver-grey, into a low ponytail. A striking figure. Her black trousers and crisp white shirt were pristine and Laney imagined that she had a stock of freshly ironed replacements hidden somewhere in cas
e there was a food or wine mishap. Her apron cords wrapped around her tiny waist twice or maybe even three times, making a short knot at the front. This was one classy chick. Her nametag read ‘Dee’.
‘Ciao. Booking for Gallagher for three.’ Nerida, the queen of accents, added a tinge of Italian to her response.
Dee nodded. ‘Of course, right this way.’
They followed her through tables full of happy, smiling diners enjoying themselves. Laney could see an empty table right at the window and hoped it was theirs. Sure enough, it was.
Ryan and Nerida insisted that as she was the birthday girl, she took the seat with her back to the restaurant so she got the best view. Once they sat down, Dee handed them their menus and placed a drinks menu on the table.
‘I’ll give you a few moments to peruse the menu and your waiter will be over with water and bread and to take your drinks order. Buon appetito!’ She turned to Laney, smiled and dipped her head. ‘Happy Birthday, señorita.’
Then she dashed across the restaurant to greet another party of diners who had just arrived.
Laney looked from one of her friends to the other and started to tear up. She reached across and took their hands in hers.
‘For the first time in, oh…decades…ever actually…I don’t feel like I’m competing with the Son of God for my birthday. I can’t thank you enough. And with everything with Mum...’ She had so much more to say but a lump of emotion stuck in her throat, forcing her to squeeze their hands tighter and let tears slide onto her cheeks.
Ryan, as expected, cried along with her. He was a classic sympathy crier. Nerida, more the maternal type, released Laney’s hand and dug into her handbag, pulling out a travel pack of tissues.
‘Oh hun. It’s our pleasure. You deserve it.’ She handed a tissue to Laney and then to Ryan who blew his nose at full volume.
‘We’re not in a pub, Ry.’ Nerida berated him with a stage whisper across the table.
He sniffed in response, screwed up the tissue and held it up. ‘Waiter! Waiter! There’s a booger in my soup.’
Laney yanked his arm down, by now in fits of laughter, her melancholy well and truly gone.
Nerida wasn’t as amused and she smiled at a waiter who was bearing down on the table and shook her head at him to let him know it was a false alarm. He smiled back at her and nodded, the message received. ‘Oh, God, Ry. You haven’t even had a drink yet. We’re in a five-star restaurant so can you please at least pretend to be a five-star person.’
‘Why yes, madam, I do believe I can,’ Ryan replied in his best Downton Abbey impersonation.
Nerida rolled her eyes but wasn’t able to hide the smile that tugged at her mouth. ‘Good. Now I’m hungry. Let’s order!’
They picked up their menus and studied them.
‘Shall we start with an antipasto platter?’ Nerida asked. It was rhetorical. Laney and Ryan nodded their approval.
‘Ohhhhh, handmade gnocchi with burnt butter and sage.’ Laney’s mouth salivated at the thought of that in her mouth and she noticed with relief, the butterflies in her stomach had morphed into a hungry grumble.
Ryan placed his closed menu on the table and rubbed his hands together. ‘Well, I’ll be partaking of the Arrosto Di Angelo.’
‘Lucky Angelo.’ Laney winked at him and Nerida giggled.
‘I wish!’ Ryan sighed. ‘But it does sound better than sex. It’s slow-cooked lamb in red wine with roasted potatoes. What about you, Nez?’
Nerida drummed her fingers on the menu. ‘Hmmm, I can’t decide between the Barramundi or the Duck.’
Laney glanced at Ryan over the rim of her glasses and raised her eyebrows as he rolled his eyes.
‘I saw that!’ Nerida snapped her fingers at them. ‘I know I can never decide. But it’s hard. It all looks so good. I’ll ask the waiter for their recommendation.’ She snapped her menu closed and swapped it for the drinks menu. ‘Now. Drinks.’
Laney already knew which wine she wanted. Unfortunately, the delivery method would not be Rich’s thighs.
Rich
Rich knew he was driving his Jeep Renegade way too fast. The driveway wasn’t wide enough for two cars to pass each other. One would always have to give way and move across onto the shoulder and at the speed he was doing he knew it would not be him.
He’d argued with his dad about it when they’d had the dirt driveway graded a year ago. Rich had wanted to have it totally re-done. Widened and paved. The main building and the restaurant had been renovated, and they’d gone out of pocket and out on a limb to poach chef Marco Russo from Bella Cosa in Sydney, where he’d been for fifteen years. It had paid off because he’d turned Incrocio into a popular restaurant with the winery tripling its visitation numbers in just one year. They had even made it into the Age Good Food Guide that year. Rich smiled to himself at their success as he whizzed past a car that had moved over to let him pass.
But Rich knew that city folk driving their city cars would not appreciate a dusty, bumpy driveway and, with the number of visitors, it would have to be graded at least twice a year and that all added up. He had tried to convince his dad it was better economy to spend more now to save later down the road. His dad hadn’t appreciated the pun and refused to sign off on it.
As Rich pulled into his reserved parking spot, he knew he was lucky to have scored as many changes as he got. His dad had almost had a heart attack when he floated using shipping containers for the upgrade. Rich showed him pictures of how Christchurch in New Zealand had totally rebuilt their CBD with shipping containers after a 7.1 magnitude earthquake had almost demolished it. They’d turned them into shops, cafes and office spaces with incredible ingenuity and guts.
His father had agreed to let Rich take the reins on the upgrade, but not until he’d had an actual heart attack and his doctors ordered him to take a step back from the running of the winery. He hadn’t agreed to fix the driveway though. Rich let it go, for the time being.
He jumped out of the Jeep and muttered an expletive under his breath at the amount of dust that had collected on the black duco. He’d just given the car a spit and polish.
He was lucky that he didn’t have to come out every day, as he’d put together an incredible team to run Xroads who were as loyal as you could get and cared about their jobs. It helped that he’d sweetened the deal by giving them a handful of shares in the company, all the way from his top viticulturist to his wait staff. Being an only child, not having a close emotional relationship with his father and his mum having passed away a few years ago, these people were his Xroads family.
He was looking forward to treading the waitering boards again and in truth he didn’t have anything better to do with his time over the Christmas and New Year period anyway. Charlotte had sent him a ‘Have a nice Chrissy’ message. He replied ‘You too. Hope to see you soon.’ It could have been a reply to all the other happy holiday messages he’d been getting. Not to the woman he’d just slept with and had been sleeping with for six months. In all honesty he’d been thinking more about Laney than Charlotte anyway. Lots of thoughts. They weren’t naughty racy thoughts. Well, not all of them.
They involved him daydreaming about having a meal together or watching a movie on the couch and just snuggling. He wondered what it would be like just to kiss her. Soft at first, then removing her glasses, they would explore each other and that would be it. Just a night of kissing as the movie played on in the background. He thought how much he’d have loved to have shown her the winery and get her opinion on the new blends he had in mind.
Locking the Jeep with his remote and shrugging off the what if’s, he strode into the restaurant, stopping a few times to pick out a few tiny weeds he noticed in the footpath.
He stood at the entrance to the restaurant and took in the scene before him. It made his heart fill with pride. The chatter and laughter buzzed around the room telling him people were having a lovely time. There were up to a hundred people in the dining area but it wasn’t ridiculously loud like
other places. He had worked hard with the architects to make sure the acoustics were perfect and that people who were dining together didn’t have to yell to be heard, maintaining a quiet hubbub throughout. If he were a composer, that balance of sound would be his opus.
Dee approached him, relief washing over her face.
‘Oh, Gracie, Mr De Luca. I’m so sorry I had to call you in. You were my last resort, I can promise you.’
‘It’s absolutely fine Dee. And please call me Rich.’
After running the joint for two years she still hadn’t called him by his first name. He respected her for that. It was totally professional, but she had been there during the upgrade and assisted him with all things restaurant, even down to how important new cutlery was for the new image. He trusted her.
‘Signore, you know I probably won’t be doing that.’
Rich shook his head at her. ‘You’re right. Now where do you want me?’ He grabbed an apron from behind the bar and wrapped it around his waist.
‘Tables four through sixteen. I know that’s a lot but we’re two down today.’
‘All good, Dee. We got this!’ He picked up a pencil and notepad and tucked them into his pocket.
Dee pointed to a block of tables. ‘Table four…’
‘I remember where they are. We designed it together, remember.’ He placed his hand on Dee’s shoulder to assure her he knew exactly what he was doing. Except it had been so long since he’d waited tables he metaphorically crossed his fingers and toes and hoped it would all come flooding back. The last time he was on the floor was as a teenager when he’d helped at the winery cafe because that’s all it had been back then. Sandwiches and coffee. Now it was Saltimbocca and Cuvee.
‘No. Table four, three pax, need their water and bread and drink orders taken. They’ve been waiting for ten minutes.’