The Gift, page 12
“No worries, friend.”
What an interesting word choice.
He continues, “I don’t mind at all. I haven’t been there in a while, but when I dated Kim, we came a few times to visit her family.”
“What winery did you say you visited?”
“It’s not there anymore. I looked when we spoke about coming last week at school. It’s sad, too, because it was a good one. Well, it’s the only one I’ve ever visited, so I have nothing to compare it to, but I liked it.” His laugh is more genuine this time.
“What did you like about it? Just in case I do this thing, I should start asking these questions.” I imagine taking out a voice recorder like the old reporters on TV, so I go with it. “Tell us what you loved, David.” I hold up the imaginary recorder near his mouth and put on my best journalist voice, comically deep and serious.
“Um…for one, I love wine.”
“That helps. Go on, sir.” My head dips lower, as if able to deepen my tone.
“I liked tasting different types of wine. I didn’t, and still don’t, know the names of most of them, but learning a little while I was there was fun.”
I break character and return to being Toni. “Putting your teacher hat on, I guess.”
“Yup. I asked about the history of the winery, and the person pouring was more than happy to fill me in. Kim was also new to the wine world, so it was great to learn together.”
I sense grief in his voice. “Why did you two stop dating? I don’t think you ever told me…but only if you want to tell me.”
“We sought different things in life. She wanted kids, and I didn’t want to have kids of my own—I have enough kids at work. Can you picture coming home to more kids after dealing with them all day long?”
“I don’t even like thinking about dealing with them all day long as it is!”
But the wanting different things part strikes me. I never told Christian that David and I are exploring Temecula Valley today, because he’s already put stipulations on my dream, and that’s if he ends up accepting it at all. What if we don’t last either?
Whoa, stop. We’ll be fine. Everything will come together, and we’ll be back to normal before I know it.
I inhale a huge breath and let it out a little too loudly.
“You aren’t at school right now, Toni. There’s no stress in this car. It’s alllrighhht.”
“Ha, no, thank God. Anyway, I’m sorry it didn’t work out with you two. She was nice. I enjoyed when we double dated that one time.” Ah yes, back when Christian liked David.
“Thanks, but guess what?”
“What?” I brace the edge of the seat near the door, out of his view, feeling something in transit from his shaky tone.
“Isla and I broke up.” He crinkles his nose and grits his teeth.
“Oh no, what happened?” And a bigger oh no for Isla being a great reason to prove he has no romantic interest in yours truly. Crap.
“She kept blowing me off, so I called her out on it, and she ghosted me. I figured that meant we broke up.”
“I’d say so. What the hell, Isla?” My heart goes out to David. Nobody should hurt such a sweet man.
“I tried to contact her to officially end it once I got the picture, but I can’t make her respond, so that’s it.” The hollow look in his eyes say it all.
“You deserve so much better. You deserve the world!”
“I guess she wasn’t the woman for me either. It feels like I’ll never find her.”
“Don’t lose faith, David. She’s out there. I know it,” I add, frowning.
“Do you knowww it?” he asks in a preacher voice, turning the mood once again.
I repeat in the same manner, “I knowww it.”
Talking about the past and future ends as the car rolls into sprawling rows of vineyards on the sides of the road in my present. Vines grow right up to the pavement, cradled by brown and green mountains that appear painted rather than real, as their leaves cradle the bursting purple grapes. They’re so close, yet so far, and all I want to do is open the door, jump out of the car, and run toward them, popping one in my mouth. Vines, I’m coming for you!
I barely hear David saying something about the song on the radio. Though he’s closer than the vines I want to touch, they have my attention. “David, look.” I point as if he’s not viewing them too.
“It’s beautiful here,” he replies, meeting my eyes for a second.
Eek, weirdness.
“I didn’t expect to be surrounded by so much land covered in vines. It’s all we can see for miles. And it’s so different from the Malibu wineries.” My speech rate probably exceeds the speed David is driving.
“Yeah. I can’t say I’ve paid much mind up in Malibu, but coming here seems like true wine country.”
“Me too. It’s like a mini-Napa Valley but much closer to home.” My lips tilt to one side. “Malibu is too close to the city. This is more of what I imagined for my own land, a little more wide open with room to grow.”
“Look at the main house of the winery over there.” He points in my direction at a two-story white stucco building in the design of Spanish mission architecture.
“Now that’s quintessential Southern California.” My heart beats in screams of excitement. “The style here is distinct from Napa but with the same magic, if that makes sense.”
“Yeah, I can see that. Anywhere in particular you want to visit?” he asks.
“Just pull in somewhere, and we can go from there. Here, on the left. That looks like a good first stop.” Have I even blinked yet?
“Your wish is my command.”
Shutting the car door once both feet are firmly planted on the dirt of the parking area, I’m speechless. Turning around three hundred and sixty degrees to observe every grape and leaf possible, my mind also twirls in possibility.
When I have my land, I’ll make sure to place the parking lot for visitors neighboring my vines too. I want people to immerse themselves in the experience from the first second of their arrival. They can be one with the grapes, seeing where their favorite wine starts before it's poured into their glasses inside. Oh yes, my wine will be their favorite. Didn’t you know?
Look at me, speaking to myself as if it’s all happening. Using when not if feels natural, though. And, of course, my brain reminds me of the nights of practice this past week for the audition as well. That also feels natural but in a dried-flowers sort of way, whereas being here is like a flower bud opening to enjoy its time on Earth.
“Toni, want to go in and have a tasting?”
“You know it. Let’s go.” I grab David’s arm, linked elbow to elbow, as we walk toward the tall front wooden door.
When we enter the tasting room, the smell of oak enters my nostrils as my eyes take in the decorative wine barrels at the large entrance of the barnlike house.
“Welcome to Little Street Wines.” The man behind the counter with curly brown hair, shaved on both sides, greets us with a generous smile.
“Thank you,” we say in unison and unlock arms.
He continues, “Have you been here before?”
“Not to this winery, but I’ve been in the area,” David replies, walking toward the counter.
“Not me.” I draw my attention away from the merchandise wall, including T-shirts, wine glasses, and suitcases. Suitcases? Interesting. The glimmer in the man’s welcoming caramel-brown eyes strikes me with warmth in my chest. “I figured it was time to come to Temecula Valley, having lived in LA my whole life,” I say, joining David. The fresh, clean smell of the room almost puts me in a trance.
“Well, you came at a wonderful part of the year for your first time. The harvest is happening for our whites but is about to happen for the reds. So, you still get to see some grapes on the vines.” He slides a menu our way on the counter.
Can my eyes grow any wider? “I already love it here.” I examine the tasting options and choose the biggest one without hesitation. The frantic nature of my everyday life fades away within these walls, in this other world. “I’ll try the flight of chardonnay, malbec, cabernet sauvignon, and cabernet franc please. David, are you getting your own too?”
“Since I’m driving, maybe I’ll have this tasting.” He points to a three-glass version.
The man cuts in, “I’ll get that started for both of you.” As he prepares the wine glasses lined up in front of us, he says, “I never assume about a person’s experience level for wine tasting, but in case you don’t know, there’s a spit bucket right here if you can’t or don’t want to finish your wine.” He pats the tiny silver bucket nearby.
“I have to admit, I haven’t formally had a wine tasting in a while, and never in the US, so I’ll take any tips possible.” I don’t mean to avoid eye contact with the kind man, but I can’t help staring at the glasses filling up before me with liquid treasure. One by one, he opens the coinciding bottles and pours bountiful amounts.
“I didn’t remember about the bucket, but that’s good to know,” David adds. “Although, I’d hate to waste wine.”
“I’m Gio, by the way.” He peeks up as he pours.
“Toni.” I nod, mesmerized by the vibrant array of red and white hues before me, as I say my name.
“David.” He extends his hand to shake Gio’s hand.
Gio continues, “Toni, where did you wine taste, then?”
“In Italy, a few years ago, with my husband, while we visited family.” Why did I feel the need to say I have a husband?
“Italy. That’s the dream right there.” Gio finishes his pours for us, leaving an extended rainbow of colors waiting to be consumed.
“It always is when we go.” Except this last time. My chest deflates.
Gio’s eyes sparkle from the glow of the industrial light bulbs dangling above his head. “Do you want tasting advice?”
“Sure, I’d love that,” I say.
“Yes, we could use it,” David adds.
Gio pours himself a small volume of chardonnay and holds the glass up to the ceiling, the new sparkling feature in view. “You can start with appearance. Tilt the glass, notice anything of interest, like its clarity and color.”
I pick up my own chardonnay and rock the glass back and forth slowly as I hear strings play in my head. Gently adjusting its angle, I admire the golden tinge.
David is following the instructions next to me, moving his glass in a slo-mo circle.
“Now,” Gio continues, “bring it up to your nose and swirl the wine in your glass a few times. Not too much, but just enough where you can smell the aromas releasing while it aerates.”
As I make the motion, I don’t know what I’m smelling, but I enjoy the sweetness.
“It’s like listening to music,” Gio says.
What? Is he in my head?
“There’s soft and loud notes, so you may hear a little of each, making a song in your glass that’s just right for you,” he continues.
What are the odds he chooses music to compare wine drinking to, huh? Maybe he’s psychic. Or maybe this is all meant to be.
“Now, take a small amount into your mouth, but swish it around, covering your entire tongue to gain the whole experience for your palate. Then swallow and enjoy.”
“Or spit,” David jokes.
Gio laughs. “Yes, if needed. We don’t want anyone driving under the influence.”
As the chardonnay glides down my throat, its coolness refreshes my body and awakens my senses. The finale of the process matches the finale of the concerto in my head, be it the fastest concerto of all time. But there’s no doubt in my mind that I want to know every last detail about this industry.
After about an hour, we’re ready to visit another winery. “Thanks for your guidance, Gio.” I wave as David and I approach the door.
“Anytime. Hope to see you in the future.” Gio waves in return.
David grins in my direction. “I think you will.”
Our next stop offers a large patio to enjoy the vineyards while tasting. I like Gio, but being outside can’t be beat. “David, this is everything.” The feast for my eyes spreads out in front of us in perfect rows of gorgeousness I want to consume.
“Agreed.” He gulps down water on this above-eighty-degrees day.
The canopy eases the heat for me but not my hunger. “Let’s have a snack. I like how they offer food here.”
“Of course you do.” David laughs and takes the menu from my side of the table. “What about a charcuterie board?”
“Ah, you mean antipasto. Just because the world has caught up to having my people’s tradition, we don’t have to go along with the new name.” I roll my eyes for effect and prop my feet up on the chair next to me, crossing them at my ankles and leaning back in my own chair.
David looks up and to the side. “I guess I would think it was strange if Americans called sushi another name.”
“I was kidding, but you do have a point.” I put my hands on my hips and smile. “Alright, what’s on the board?”
“Water crackers, toasted bread, marinated olives, goat cheese, honey, raspberry jam, prosciutto, mortadella, and brie cheese.”
“Sold.” I sip my riesling and notice intense fruitiness for the first time. Before thinking about a shift in my life, I merely drank and enjoyed wine. Now, my thoughts about it are as complex as my life.
“So how are you and Christian doing?”
The question, asked in the most relaxed tone, almost knocks the air out of my chest, leading me to dribble wine and cause instant sweat under my knees in these mid-calf-length leggings. “Uh, we’re okay.” Wiping my mouth with my wrist, I catch my breath again.
“Toni, you need complete support for whatever you want to do as a career. Seeing your enthusiasm here today is wonderful, so I just have to tell you that. And I want you to know I’m here for you.” As he makes eye contact from across the wrought-iron table, his expression is as serious as his stiff black hair trying to move in the wind, restricted by his beloved gel.
I smile a smidge. “I know that. You’re always here to listen, and I appreciate it. And I hope you feel the same from me.” God, please let this not be what I hope isn’t happening. Let this just be David being my kind, dependable friend and not what Christian thinks.
He looks down. “I do. I guess more of what I’m trying to say is… I want you to be happy, and I really can’t stand when I hear the things you tell me Christian has said to you over the years, including about having a winery. I’d never suffocate my partner.”
Breathe.
“He’s been better recently.” We have been on an upswing. See, yeah, it’s the truth. “You know, a little more into this winery idea, but as I told you, I didn’t want to push when he didn’t want to consider this area. I needed to see it for myself first.”
“I know, but as a powerless outsider, I get protective of my friends.” David leans over the small table, as close to me as possible. “I’m just going to say it.”
Run while you can, Toni.
“If you ever think about leaving Christian, I’m here for you—in any way you want. You aren’t alone, and when people are going through tough times, it’s nice to hear those words.”
I look down and furrow my brow. Now, the comfy chair has turned into iron digging into my back. “I—I’m not sure what you’re saying, David.” I’ll play dumb, especially since I am totally confused and feel dumb. Looking back up at him, I continue, “You are here for me. But I haven’t said anything about Christian and me splitting up, so don’t even go there.” Okay, I made my position known. Christian and I may have issues, but every couple has problems.
“I didn’t mean to upset you at all.” He pulls back in both words and his seat.
“You didn’t. I just don’t want to think about any negatives that come along with this idea, especially while surrounded by such heaven.” I glance beyond David and remind myself of the lightness of the day. The reason for the trip. The real aim of the outing.
“I get that. Just know you have a friend. And you always know where to find me.”
Yes, Christian must’ve been wrong about him. All David is trying to be is a good friend. I think. There’s no way he meant anything other than that.
“Yeah, I do!” Too animated? “Now let’s order that food. The wine is begging for something to absorb it.”
“You got it.”
What I need is some distraction. Let’s focus on how I know this is the area I want my vineyard. Yes, focus on enchanting Temecula Valley and nothing else. Nothing else.
Chapter
Twenty-Three
After David’s questioning of my marriage, the state of it hasn’t left my mind. Is it better to stay with the devil you know instead of the devil you don’t know, AKA single life in your thirties? I don’t mean Christian is a devil, obviously, but sometimes the way he talks to me makes me want to…never mind. Don’t even entertain the thought of not sticking it out with him through this rough patch. It’s not that bad.
“Ms. Agosti?”
My student breaks my daze. “Yes?” The clashing sound of all the students practicing their parts at once is always a recipe for me to tune out.
“Can you help me with this run? I can’t keep the timing.” She looks up from her chair, blue eyes glistening in youthful hope with her whole life ahead of her.
I walk closer and look at her sheet music. “Let the music play you, not the other way around. Try it again, allowing it to move you.”
She looks off to the side then back at her cello and attempts again. Nailing it this time, she screams over the bustling sounds around her, “How’d I do that? Your advice didn’t even make sense.”
Leave it to kids to tell you how they really feel.
