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He leads me into the last shed on the left, which I remember contained all the tanks the wine was left to ferment in before barreling and bottling. My memory is right, and as soon as I walk inside, the familiar sweet scent of wine and sugar-filled grapes fills the air. I can’t stop myself from taking a deep breath as I push my sunglasses onto my head so my eyes can adjust to the darkness.
“Good?” a voice asks.
When I look over, a woman, maybe a couple of years older than me and casually dressed in jeans and a white t-shirt is smiling at me, an amused look on her face.
“You must be Jack?” she says.
I nod. “Ellen?”
“Yes,” she says, walking toward me. “Welcome toSomerville’s.How was your flight?”
I shake the hand she offers me. “Long, drove straight up here too.”
“Wow, okay, let’s get you settled first,” she says. “And then I can show you around, introduce you to everyone.”
She leads me back out of the shed and indicates my car as if to suggest wherever we’re going, I’m driving. I nod, opening the driver’s side door this time, thank fuck, and get in.
Ellen slides into the passenger seat while the smart-mouthed kid jumps in the back, smirking at me in the rearview mirror.
“You’re going to want to head down the back, take a left at the fork,” she says, gesturing to the dirt road behind the shed.
“Yeah I’ve actually been here before,” I say. “As a kid. I remember we stayed in one of the cottages down the back of the property.”
“Is that so,” Ellen says and when I glance over at her, she’s got a strange smile on her face as she stares out the front window.
“So, this is your place now then?” I ask, wondering how it is Lulu’s parents ever decided to sell the place. From what I remember, it had been in their family for years and considering how famous it was in this region, I have no idea why anyone would choose to let it go.
“Here, last one on the left,” she says, gesturing to the smaller of the two cottages.
It’s exactly as I remember it and I’m glad this is where I’ll be staying for the month or so I’m likely to be here. Even though the winery might have changed hands, nothing about the place is different.
“Key’s in the door,” she says, opening the passenger door. “Get yourself settled and then come next door and we’ll go over everything,” she says, smiling at me. “Oscar, let’s go,” she adds, glancing at the kid in the back seat.
The kid gives me a dramatic eyeroll as he gets out of the car before offering me a wave and a “Later,” over his shoulder as he walks into the cottage next door as though he lives there.
Ellen follows him inside, calling out “Only us,” at the door as though it isn’t where she lives. I don’t hear a reply, but figure I’ll meet whoever my new neighbor is soon enough.
Grabbing my bags, I head inside the limestone cottage that I’m now calling home. Inside is exactly as I remember it, the door opening to a front living room that’s dominated by a large stone fireplace. The décor has been updated though and I’m grateful for the corner couch and large flat screen TV.
Heading toward the back, I pass the small, but newly renovated kitchen, the bathroom, my old bedroom and eventually the big bedroom my dad used when he worked here.
Throwing my bags on the large bed, I walk back to the bathroom, stripping off the clothes I’ve spent the last thirty-six hours in before jumping in the shower.
Afterward, I pull on a clean pair of jeans and a t-shirt, leaving my feet bare before heading into the kitchen. The fridge has been filled with food and drinks and I grab a coke, knowing I can’t afford to sleep my jetlag away. Cracking the tab, I take a long sip before heading next door.
I knock on the front door, unsure exactly who lives here and not sure I can just walk in. The kid, who I now know is called Oscar, appears behind the screen door, staring up at me as though he’s never seen me before.
“Come in,” he eventually says, as though I’ve passed some sort of test. “They’re in the kitchen,” he adds before walking back into the living room and resuming his seat on the couch in front of the TV. Beside him is a girl who’s about the same age as him and I watch as he leans over and pulls the remote from her hands and changes channels without asking. She turns and punches him in response and I have to bite my lip to stop the laugh.
Fuck me if this whole scene isn’t straight out of mine and Lulu’s playbook.
Shaking my head, I walk down the hall to what I assume is the kitchen at the back. The house has the same layout as mine, only bigger and decorated with a distinctly feminine touch. Not over the top girlie or whatever, just softer, vases of flowers and shit that suggests a female presence.
When I walk into the kitchen, Ellen is sitting at the large island, a glass of wine in front of her.
“Hi,” she says. “Feeling better?”
I nod. “Definitely, thanks.”
