“And did you?”
Shelly nodded with a little smile and slipped the phone into her purse.
“Time to return to the party, then.” As she spoke, Ivy caught Bennett’s eye across the tent and smiled. He was talking to Tristan and Mitch near a cluster of wine barrels.
As she and Shelly walked back to the patio, her heart went out to her sister. Ivy understood what she was going through.
Shelly sniffed. “You think I overreacted, don’t you?”
“I think it’s a natural reaction for your first overnight alone since Daisy was born.”
“I trust Darla, but I was mad at myself and Mitch. Neither one of us remembered what was important for Daisy. I was so wrapped up in the plans for this weekend.”
“We all make mistakes. Sounds like Darla is handling it, and Daisy is safe with her. Let it go.”
“How did you manage with two kids?”
“Having children is like juggling. Sometimes you drop a ball, but you pick it up and keep going.” Ivy hooked her arm through her sister’s. “Crisis averted. Let’s celebrate.”
She steered Shelly toward the buffet tables arrangedunder canvas sailcloth stretched overhead. Lanterns hung from posts, illuminating platters of crusty breads, assorted cheeses, and vegetables roasted with rosemary. The earthy, musky aroma of wooden wine barrels rose in the air.
“We’ll feast tonight,” Shelly said, relaxing as they sampled the cheeses. “Emilie said most everything came from their garden or other farms around here. She harvested the tomatoes this morning.”
Ivy selected a fig wrapped in prosciutto, enjoying the fresh harvest and artisan creations.
As the sun sank toward the horizon, the clink of glasses punctuated conversations. A trio of musicians with a vocalist nearby began a soulful rendition of “La Vie en Rose,” and several couples danced on the patio.
Hal and Carol chatted near the musicians. Her emerald silk outfit caught the light of a chandelier suspended overhead.
Ivy drank in the moment. After months of managing renovation crises and guests, being here was like surfacing for air. While Ivy loved managing the inn, this was rejuvenating.
Bennett joined her. He looked more like the man who’d wooed her on sunset beach walks than the mayor who’d spent the summer mediating disputes and planning budgets for the coming year.
With a soft squeeze of her shoulder, he asked, “Still enjoying yourself?”
“Even more now,” she replied with a kiss. “Any idea what the surprise is?”
“Not a clue.” Emilie signaled for everyone to move to the tables for the harvest celebration dinner, so Bennett took her hand.
The spirited conversations continued as they found their name cards and took their seats. Ivy and Bennett sat at a table with new faces, while Shelly and Mitch were at a table behind them.
The dinner began with the season’s first pumpkin soup sprinkled with pepitas and swirled with herb-infused olive oil. Tristan opened more of their cherished wine from prior harvests to complement the grilled shrimp, barbecue, and vegan pasta they served. A salad consisting of late-summer tomatoes and cucumbers followed, along with a final course of cheese, fruit, and chocolatepot de crème.
After dinner, couples drifted to the dance floor again.
Bennett reached out to her. “Dance with me?”
“Always.” She let him guide her through the other couples. Carol Reston sang one of her popular love songs, and Shelly and Mitch twirled past.
When the song ended, Tristan stepped forward. “We have a tradition here at Château Boivin for the harvest crush. We invite you to gather around the grape vat and the fire pit for a special surprise.”
“This is it,” Shelly whispered. “Get ready.”
Outside the dining area, stars blanketed the vineyard, where old, twisted vines looked like an army of wrinkled gnomes in the moonlight.
The vat stood at the center of a circle of torches, their flames dancing in the light breeze. It was larger than Ivy had realized, reaching her shoulders, and the wood was worn smooth from years of use. Grapes filled it nearly to the brim. Deep purple clusters caught the firelight, gleaming like jewels, while the aroma rose thick and sweet in the night air.
Tristan stepped forward, grinning in a way thatsuggested he’d been waiting all night for this moment. Emilie joined him, slipping her hand into his. The torchlight played across their faces.
