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SERAPHINA
Iwasn’t lying when I said that particular wine was my favorite. It far and away was. However, once I mentioned it, I’d wondered if he’d make the connection to that vineyard and my family. It didn’t appear he had.
My father used to tell me the grapes grown there were magical. “The wine they make will dance on your tongue, Sera,” he’d say, plucking a fruit and giving it to me to eat.
It was Ridge’s vintners who’d coaxed the magic from those grapes, though, not my father. In fact, my dad’s endless experimentation ended up being his downfall. I didn’t remember those days well, but I did recall one conversation between my parents. I was sixteen at the time and had come downstairs for a bowl of cereal before bed.
“You’re obsessed with it,” I’d heard my mother say. “To the exclusion of everything else. Me. The girls. All you care about is that damned vineyard. I hate that plot of land.”
I’d raced back upstairs, not wanting to hear another word. My mom knew what she’d said would hurt him, and she’d done it anyway.
I realized Noah was studying me. “What are you thinking about?” he asked.
“My parents. My father mainly.”
“I don’t know what I’d do if I lost my dad.” He shook his head. “Sorry, I know that doesn’t help.”
I held out my glass, and we toasted. “That’s a really good thing, Ridge. Not everyone can say they’re close to their parents.”
He took a drink. “Ridge, huh?”
“I know it bugs you when I call you Noah.”
“I told you earlier it didn’t.”
“You were being nice.”
“You don’t know me very well if you think I’d do something only to be nice.”
He winked and I smiled.
“I’ll stop calling you Sera if it bothers you.”
“It’s what my dad called me. He was the only one who ever did.”
He took a sip and studied the wine in his glass. “My mother calls me Noah; your dad called you Sera. It’s interesting, isn’t it?”
“You know how you said it doesn’t bother you?”
“I swear it doesn’t.”
“It doesn’t bother me, either.”
“And if I call you Seraphina?”
“It won’t bother me either way.” I set my glass down, knowing as much as I might want to stay right here and talk to Noah as late as he’d stay, I couldn’t. I had to get over to my mother’s, and to do so, I couldn’t drink any more wine.
“I should probably be on my way,” Noah said, perhaps noticing I hadn’t taken another sip for several minutes.
“Me too.” I still needed to talk to my mom about someone looking through Luisa’s room. It wasn’t a conversation I looked forward to having. “I’ll call you tomorrow about my sister’s room.”
“You understand we’d be looking for clues as to who her boyfriend is or anything else that might help us figure out where she might be?”
“I do.”
I walked him to the door and thanked him for lunch and what ended up being dinner too since he’d insisted on sharing half of what was left with me.
When I arrivedat my mom’s apartment, she was in the living room, watching television. She didn’t turn it down or get up like she always did when my sister or I came home.
