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“Why does that sound familiar?”
“I tried to convince you to become a clockmaker. I even took you into San Francisco one afternoon to go to the oldest clock store in the city, to watch the clockmaker do his work.”
“Seriously?”
He shrugged. “You had trouble telling time. I thought at the very least it would help.”
“Did it?”
“Not really.”
He closed his eyes. He was getting tired. I patted his hand, getting ready to leave him, to let him rest, to let my mother come inside and rest with him, the two of them quiet together, the way they belonged.
“So you’re staying? And I’m going. I’m going boating. I’ll hate every second of it, but I’m going.”
I laughed. “Why are you doing that to yourself?”
“It’s the only way to get where we want to be.”
He looked at me, making sure I heard him. They weren’t coming back to Sebastopol, or if they did, it wouldn’t be on the terms I was imagining. The vineyard saved, my father’s legacy, the way it had been, intact.
Then he smiled. “But you’ll be okay. You’re going to be a great winemaker for the same reason you’re a terrible driver.”
“Why is that?”
He shrugged, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “No one else has a clue what you’re doing, but at the end of the day, you get to where you want to go.”
I smiled, leaning in toward him, starting to cry.
“Okay, let’s not get dramatic. You really do have to work on the driving.”
He motioned toward the doorway, where my mother was walking down the hall toward us. “Are we not going to talk about the other guy?” he said. “Before your mother gets here?”
“What guy?”
He tilted his head. “Your mother will make a big deal about it.”
“Who?”
“Jacob. I’m talking about Jacob, of course.”
I pointed at him. “Don’t cause trouble.”
He smiled. “Look, if you don’t want to talk about it, just say that,” he said. “Just say, ‘Shut up, Dad.’ ”
“He’s not the reason.”
He shrugged. “In a way, he is. Actually, he’s the reason for all of it. A guy decides to buy a vineyard from a winemaker. Weddings get cancelled. The daughter goes crazy.”
“You’re talking crazy.”
“I’m not saying you’re going to marry him or anything,” he said. “Calm down.”
“That’s good.”
“We do have that tent, though,” he said.
I leaned in and hugged my father. I hugged him and felt it. The strength that came from him, that you couldn’t get from anywhere else.
