Page 83 of The Sweetness of Life

“What did you think of the wines? The last time I was here, I missed out on the tour, so maybe I can sneak in a few tastes this time.” She glances at me with a sly smile, and my skin crawls. How does this woman have a job? I can’t be the only one who sees how lurid her remarks are.

“I loved the wines,” Shelby replies, her irritation at this chick’s constant behavior evident. “The chardonnay reserve was the first wine I tasted, but the sauvignon blanc stuck as being my favorite—it’s delicious. To keep things fair though, we didn’t rush the tastings. We spread them out over the two full weeks. Turns out there wasn’t one I didn’t like.” She smiles sweetly but tips her chin triumphantly.

I have to bite the inside of my cheek to keep from smiling. Shelby may have come into this interview wanting to get it over with and to get away from me, but watching her spark flare because she refuses to be a doormat for anyone is amazing.

“Well, my, my. I’ll definitely have to sample that one,” Kelly says with a tempered gaze and slight bewilderment.

“Michelle”—Shelby turns to find her by the door—“will you please grab Kelly a bottle of the reserve?”

“Of course.” Michelle smiles, playing along. It seems Shelby is not the only one here put off by this woman.

“Perfect!” Shelby slides around to face Kelly again. “She’ll have that ready for you when we’re done so you can take it home and drink it.” Shelby shifts and crosses her legs in the other direction, ignoring the tension radiating from Kelly.

“I think that’s a great idea,” I chime in. Shelby’s eyes drift to mine; they’ve hardened, and although nothing is being said, she’s screaming a thousand profanities at me. She hates this interview, she hates having to be here, and she hates that I’m smiling at her. “I love the cabernet, so we’ll include a bottle of that as well.”

Her eyes narrow.

“How kind of you. I look forward to drinking every last drop.” Someone in the room clears their throat, which is enough to snap Kelly back into her role. “Zach, tell me, how did it feel to have her here following you around?”

“I wouldn’t say Ms. Leigh followed me around. She dove into the assignment with an incredible level of professionalism and worked tirelessly on what she was hired to do. I was present for the tour, two of the three tastings—the red and sparkling—and other than that, when given the opportunity, I would say I followed her around, waiting for handouts of the next amazing food item she was creating down in the cottage. She’s very talented.”

Kyle murmurs in agreement from his spot in the room, and Kelly glances at him in annoyance.

“So, how did the pairings go?” she asks, tilting her head to the side, pushing the interview along.

“Deliciously well. Many of our patrons were able to taste the ideas Shelby created, and everyone had a hand in choosing their favorites. We’ve all agreed that her final selections are the perfect pairings for our wines.”

“Actually,” Shelby interjects before Kelly can jump in with the next question, “I brought one here today for you to taste. It didn’t seem fair that you’d have to listen to us talk about the food and not get to taste any.”

Michelle walks over and sets a tray down on the table between the three of us. On it are three bowls of peach cobbler, and the admiration I have for Shelby multiplies.

“You never cease to amaze me,” I say softly, leaning over and placing my hand on her knee. Goose bumps run down her leg, and her eyes flare at the contact. Heartache leaks out from behind her structured wall and damn near knocks the breath out of me. I never meant to hurt her.

“Well, look at this! Doesn’t it look tasty and full of calories,” Kelly says snidely as she picks up the bowl and takes a tiny bite.

“Yes, since you were sweet as a peach the last time you were here, I thought this would be perfect. I did consider making the lighter version for you, but all true Southerners know fat equals flavor, and when it comes to cobbler, it’s all or nothing.” Shelby smiles.

Kelly chokes on a half laugh, half scoff, and I reach for my bowl to hide my pleasure at the dig. Never a dull moment with the she-devil.

The cobbler melts on my tongue, and I moan in satisfaction. “Shelby, this is delicious, and unexpected. Thank you.” I give her a small smile, but she doesn’t return it. “Eat up, Kelly. We don’t let good food go to waste around here.”

She takes a few more bites, each one less modest than the last.

“Speaking of unexpected, did you uncover any surprises during your stay?” she asks Shelby before setting her bowl down.

“Yes, actually, I did.” Her eyes sail over me quickly and then fall back to Kelly. “As you may know, my best friend and I own a restaurant back in Charleston called OBA, short for Orange Blossom Avenue. At the restaurant, we have a wall of honey. We love honey of any variety, and I was surprised to learn that Zach is a beekeeper, too. At the bottom of the hill, the bees are working hard to make the most heavenly lavender honey. It’s delicious.”

“Honey. Wow, Zach, don’t you worry about getting stung?” Kelly picks the bowl back up and takes another bite. I wonder if she realizes she’s eating it all. The cobbler is addictive.

“No, we have suits for that. Technically, the bees are my mother’s. She loves them.” I cut my eyes to Shelby; at least she has the decency to look a little remorseful. She knows the honey is private. “Although, we don’t sell the honey. If you look around, you’ll see she’s subtly used the honeybee as a symbol here at Wolff Winery. The honey bee spends its entire life making the honey, and it never stops to enjoy the sweetness of what it’s made. When we see one, we know she wants us to remember that not everything is about work, which we all have a tendency to forget. Sometimes we need to slow down and enjoy the sweetness of life.”

Silence.

I peer over at Shelby. Her eyes are on me, and even though her face is blank and calm like she’s contemplating something, I can see they’ve thawed just a little. I’m not surprised my mother’s words might have meant something to her, nor am I surprised that I’m touched by this.

“How . . . sweet.” Kelly loudly puts her bowl down and drops the fork so it bounces and bangs against the edge, breaking mine and Shelby’s gaze. There’s movement from the people behind us, but Kelly’s petulance has me seething.

“I think so.” The tone in my voice alerts her to my irritation. Her face blanches as I scowl at her, and she leans back in her seat.