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“It is not!” I say too loudly given the fact that we’re all sitting together, and quickly cut Ellen off by saying, “It’s when someone is really annoying like Jack.” I whip my head back to Ellen, wrinkling my nose at her to show her I won this battle.
But then, just to prove that Ellen is always right, Olivia huffs and says, “Oscar is always flirting with me too, Aunt Lauren.” She rolls her eyes dramatically, as if to say solidarity sister, but all I’ve created now is a mess.
“This is why honesty is the best policy, kids,” Ellen responds, chastising my ability to lie so easily to my niece and nephew.
The rest of the meal goes on without mentioning Jack or his annoying tendencies. We talk about their upcoming vacation to Disneyland and what rides they are most excited about. The conversation is light and fun, and as much as I like my privacy, I’ll miss having them with me every day. Not like they’re going far or anything.
Ellen, her husband Will, and the kids live about ten minutes away, and more than likely will probably spend their whole summer, with the exception of their vacation, here. It’s just been nice coming home to dinner and conversation.
Ellen’s washing dishes, her eyes looking out the window over the sink as I put the leftovers in the fridge.
“He’s not that bad, you know?” she says, and I quickly shove the containers in and move so I’m now looking over her shoulder.
Jack is on the back deck, his feet resting on the table, a glass of wine in his hand, and fuck me if he doesn’t look amazing.
How can someone be so hot and so obnoxious at the same time?
I’m silent, not responding, not wanting to add fuel to her fire.
“You should’ve been a little nicer to him when you were kids. Who would’ve thought he’d grow up to look like that?” Ellen waves a hand at the window and I grab it, pulling it down just in case he happens to look over here. He does not need to know we are talking about him. It will just add more to his already overinflated ego.
“Give me a break, Ellen. He’s still single. Who is thirty and not married? There’s obviously something wrong with him.”
Ellen drops the sponge into the soapy water and spins around to look at me. Leaning up against the sink, she raises an eyebrow at me.
“You can’t be serious, right? You’re single, nearly thirty, and hell, there’s definitely something wrong you.”
“I’m single by choice,” I defend, and I give a little nod of my head.
“I don’t think being left…”
“Too soon, Ellen!” I shout over her and walk out of the room joining Oscar and Olivia on the floor, inserting myself into their game of Uno.
It’s after nine by the time they leave, the kids and I watching theLego Moviefor the millionth time, and my house is now back to being quiet.
It’s almost too quiet, and as much as I know Ellen didn’t mean anything by our earlier conversation, I can’t stop thinking about it.
I like to believe I’m single by choice, but anyone in our family, anyone who works atSomerville’sknows I’m guarded now.
This is not where I expected to end up. I love running the vineyard and the winery, but I never thought I’d be doing it alone.
I step outside into the cool evening air and take a deep breath. One of the greatest things about living here are the warm days and the cool nights, and tonight I need the cool air to clear my head.
I begin to walk, first up one row and then down the next, with each step I feel lighter. The sweet smell of grapes reminding me why I love it here.
The next row I walk up is the one where Jack knocked me down, my entire body covered in mud. I laugh a little at the memory. As much as he pisses me off, as much as I hated having him here that winter, he is in every one of my memories.
I look up at the cloudless sky, each star a bright white, making it look like a scene from a movie. The landscape and the night’s sky working together, and I feel myself settling.
My eyes are closed when I hear the sound of footsteps; each step rustling the grass and the leaves on the vines begin to move.
My eyes pop open and I suddenly wish I’d grabbed a flashlight. This place is deserted and there shouldn’t be anyone on the property, but in the past we have had trouble with local kids coming out here after dark. Playing hide and seek and eating grapes off the vines.
The grapes aren’t meant to be eaten; these aren’t your store-bought variety. And all I can hope is that I don’t have to call the police again.
I call out, hoping to scare off whatever or whoever is roaming about, but the footsteps progress in my direction and my heartbeat quickens.
“Hey!” I shout this time, but it comes out shaky and high, giving the impression that I’m not here to scare anyone off.
