Happy Hour (27 page)

“I didn’t expect you. What’s this all about?” she asked.

He handed her a bouquet of wildflowers and kissed her cheek. “I finished
early for once and thought, what better way to spend my time than to hopefully
spend it with you? I know how busy you are, but I figured I’d take a chance,
see if we could have lunch together.”

She crossed her arms. “Lunch, huh?” She coyly twisted a piece of hair
that had fallen from her ponytail. “What you got in there?” She tried to peek
in the basket, which he placed a hand over.

“No peeking. So, lunch?”

She smiled. “Everyone does need to eat. Come on. I have the perfect spot.
Let me get something real quick.” Danielle hustled into the tasting room and
asked her pourer, Carmella, where a blanket might be.

Carmella was a petite Italian lady of about fifty who had a ton of flair
and exuberance. She outsold the three other pourers who rotated shifts at
Deésse. At that moment she was pouring for an older couple and describing the
nuances of the chardonnay they made at the winery. She shrugged. “I have one in
the back seat of my car out back. You can use it.”

Danielle came around the back of the bar and kissed her on the cheek. The
older couple watched curiously. “Thank you.” She handed her the flowers. “Would
you put these in a vase for me?” She grabbed a bottle of chilled chardonnay
from the wine fridge behind the bar and two Styrofoam cups.

“Don’t mind her. She owns the winery. Owners tend to be a bit wacky in
these parts,” Carmella told them.

They laughed while Danielle formally introduced herself and shook their
hands briefly. Then she sprinted out back for the blanket. How funny that just
seeing Mark there made her behave like a girl again.

“I thought you’d changed your mind,” Mark said when she came back.

“No. I was getting this.” She held up the blanket. “And this.” She
presented the wine with the two paper cups around the top.

“Nice. Good idea. From the looks of it, you’re planning a leisurely
lunch.”

“I could use a break,” she replied, though what she really needed was a
few more hours in her day. But a handsome man with a picnic basket and flowers
didn’t pull up in a gal’s driveway often. At least not in this gal’s driveway.
“Follow me.”

They hiked through rows of vines for almost ten minutes. “Hey, I said
lunch, not a hike,” Mark commented.

She stopped. “I figured if you could go through all that trouble to put
lunch together, then I can go the extra mile for the perfect spot. Don’t tell
me you’re out of shape, doctor.”

“No. Maybe a little.” He laughed. “I could probably spare ten pounds.”

“Couldn’t we all,” she said. “Only a few more feet.” They walked up an
embankment, stopping under an old willow tree.

“Beautiful,” Mark said, setting the basket down and reaching for the
blanket.

“It is, isn’t it?” The view before them was of her property, dressed in
colors of sienna, gold, light and dark greens and browns. “Like an artist’s
painting.”

“It is an artist’s painting, though.” He sat down on the blanket and
patted the spot next to him.

Danielle handed him the wine and corkscrew. “What do you mean?”  Mark put
the corkscrew into the wine and twisted, opening it while Danielle held out the
cups. “High class, I know,” she said pointing to the cups.

“Nothing but the best, baby. That’s what I like about you.” He smiled and
memories of their youth flooded her. It had been his smile that had gotten her
underneath him thirty years ago, and damn if it wouldn’t work again. “What I
mean about the view being done by an artist is exactly that.” He leaned back on
his elbows and turned to his side, holding up his cup. “To a leisurely lunch.”

“Cheers.” She touched her cup to his, and they each took a sip.

“Nice,” he said. “Mhhm, do I taste pineapple? Maybe a little toffee or
hazelnut.”

“Ah, what do we have here, a connoisseur? Very good, Dr. Murphy.”

“I’ll admit I do have a passion for wine, so when you told me you were a
winemaker, I was thrilled, but I was also secretly worried.”

“Worried?”

He nodded. “I couldn’t help wondering what I would do if your wine wasn’t
something I liked.”

“So you’re not a connoisseur, but a wine snob.” She punched him lightly
on the shoulder.

“Maybe a bit, but this,” he held up the cup, “this gets huge points. I’m
thinking a ninety-seven.”

“I don’t even think Parker gives a ninety-seven on anything.”

“He hasn’t tasted your wine yet, now has he?”

“True.” She opened up the basket. “What do you have in here?”

“Let’s see.” He took out two sandwiches on foccacia bread. “My specialty.
Grilled veggies, spicy sausage, and feta cheese.”

“You can cook too?”

“Yes. This. This is what I know how to cook.” He handed her a sandwich.
“And I can scramble eggs too.”

She laughed.

“And, I sliced us some strawberries, a little honeydew melon, and I
couldn’t resist so I stopped by Bouchon and bought some lemon bars for desert.”

“You are after my heart, aren’t you?”

“I am,” he replied, a serious note in his voice.

She hadn’t expected that. Not really. It was good. Heart-racing-and-beating-out-of-her-chest
good, but still, kind of overwhelming.  “This is so nice, Mark. Thank you.”

They sat in silence for a minute, eating. The sandwiches were delicious.
Danielle set hers down, and took a sip of wine. “We got sidetracked, back to
the artist and the view and the painting. I had a feeling we were going down a
Socrates route.”

“I don’t know about that.” Mark laughed. “I was talking about God.”

“God?”

“Yes. I have a lot of faith. After losing my son, I couldn’t find solace
anywhere except for when I prayed. I can’t explain it because I was never a
religious man before that. I’m still not. Not really. I’m a spiritual man, I
guess you could say.” He held out his cup and she poured him so more wine. “I’m
a doctor, I’m supposed to be all about science, but I’m not that guy. You don’t
deliver babies for twenty-some odd years and not come to believe in God. You
just don’t. Maybe it sounds corny, but I see God everywhere I look, in
everything I see. And this landscape here in front of us is His artwork.”

Danielle sat up and took his hand. “That’s beautiful. I, I don’t know
what to say. It’s lovely.”

“What about you?” he asked.

“Me? On God?” He nodded and she sighed. “I still have my faith and I
believe, but I have to admit I struggle sometimes.”

“We all do.”

She shrugged. “I grew up Catholic and now I guess I’m what they call a
cafeteria Catholic, stopping in on holidays, going to confession when I’m at my
rope’s end and know I’ve done something horrible, like kicking Cassie out for
being surly and disobedient. And I’ve alienated my oldest daughter for hiding
the truth from me for so long.”

“Oh yeah, the sin of parenting. That one will get you in a lot of trouble
with the man upstairs.”

She laid back on the blanket and relayed the story to Mark. “I feel so
rotten. Like I’m not being a mother at all to either of my girls.”

He lay down next to her, the two of them looking up under the tree. “I
think you did the right thing with Cassie. That may sound strange coming from
me because I’ve lost a child and I would do anything, tolerate anything, to
have him back with me. But Cassie is a teenager and you’re her mother. If you
allow her to talk to you like that and run all over you, she’s going to think
she can do it to other people who might not be so forgiving. You never know
when her words and actions could get her into trouble. Besides, you’ve dealt
with a hard blow recently and, if you ask me, Cassie is looking for attention
and her timing sucks.”

“You can say that.”

“Not to mention, she does have a father and from what you’ve told me he’s
been less of a father and more of crux—someone she can get whatever she wants
from, whenever she wants. Maybe this time spent with her father will teach him
what it is to be a dad. Or maybe she’ll learn how to appreciate you more. Of
course, I’m a gynecologist, not a psychiatrist, so I don’t know if you should
take my advice on this.”

“Of course I want your advice. Go ahead.”

“Your gamble is a good one and I think it will pay you in dividends.”

“God, I hope so. But what about Shannon?”

He sat up and faced her. “This you may not like as much.”

“I want to hear it anyway.” She’d almost forgotten how good it was to
have someone—a male someone—to bounce things off of.

“Give her time. The young woman I met seemed mature, responsible, and
intelligent. I think you have to come to terms with the idea that your daughter
is an adult and this is
her
choice. You may not agree and you may not
like it, but, if you want to rebuild your relationship you have to love her and
her baby through this. Support and love. That is what it’s all about.”

“How did you learn all of this?”

He took her hand. “When you lose someone you love, particularly a child,
you rethink, reevaluate everything in your life and you do realize that it all
comes down to love.”

Danielle couldn’t speak. Mark brought his hand to her face. Looking into
her eyes, he kissed her softly on her lips. It was sweet, slow, and
understanding, almost as if they had been lovers for decades. She sat up and
leaned her head on his shoulder. “Thank you,” she whispered.

They finished off the wine and food, and lay back down under the tree,
holding hands and talking late into the afternoon.

Tuesday morning felt like a splash of cold water had been thrown in
Jamie’s face. She’d woken up late and had to scramble to get out the door to
work, but just as she was about to leave, Nora stopped her. “Me no mas. No mas
working for you.”

“What?” Jamie shook her head. “Oh, no, you’re not doing this to me today.
I understand and I’m trying to find some more help for Dorothy. This is about
Dorothy?”

“Sí. Dorothy. Mi no quiero cuidado no more.”

“I know it’s hard to care for her, but please! And Maddie will be going
to her friend’s house in an hour so she won’t be here much longer. Skylar’s mom
is picking her up.”

Nora looked at her sympathetically and then spoke in English. “I’m sorry
Señora Jamie. I no more take care of. I afraid. I love her and you and Maddie
but no more. My daughter es have baby and I take care of her now. I go now. You
no needed pay me for last week. I see it not much money for you now.”

“No, no, no. I pay you. I pay you more. Lots more. I’m working on it.
I’ll take care of it.” She grabbed Nora by the shoulders. “Please stay. Don’t
go. Please. I need you today.”

“I sorry. My daughter needed me for the doctor.” She hugged Jamie hard.
“Bye, bye, Señora Jamie.”

Jamie stood frozen as she watched her housekeeper and her mother-in-law’s
caretaker walk out the door. She wanted to cry, scream, and throw something,
but already late for work, she didn’t have time for a temper tantrum. No. She
had to get Dorothy dressed and take her to work with her. First she had to get
Maddie taken care of. She called Skylar’s mother and explained that she was in
a bind. She agreed to let Jamie drop Maddie off as soon as she could.

Jamie got her up, poured Maddie a bowl of cereal, and said, “Hurry, babe.
I’m really late. I’m taking you to Skylar’s.”

“Okay, Mommy. But can I watch
The Saddle Club
while I eat?”

“No time. Eat, dress. We have to go. Chop chop.”

Maddie frowned but did what she was told as Jamie hurried to Dorothy’s
room. “Mom.” Jamie shook the sleeping woman lightly. “Mom?”

Dorothy stirred. “Good morning. How lovely. You are such a pretty girl.
Who are you again? I mix you up with Doris Day and Sandra Dee all the time.”

“Mom. It’s me, Jamie, and we have to get up and get going.”

“Where are we going?”

Jamie thought about this for a minute. What would motivate Dorothy to get
a move on?

“We are going to see a lot of your old friends today. We can have lunch
together and maybe Dean will be there, or Sammy Davis, or who knows?
Who
does really know
? We might spot Frank Sinatra out and about. Let’s just
make it an adventure.”

“How fun! But what will I wear?”

Jamie wasn’t about to let her get into the closet and use up the precious
minutes they had over the day’s attire. She quickly rummaged through the closet
and pulled out a pretty, floral sundress for her. Dorothy was thin and the
dress looked nice on her. Jamie pulled her hair back into a bun, dabbed some
blush on her cheeks, and put lipstick on her. She poured her a cup of coffee in
a to-go cup and handed her a banana and a piece of toast. Jamie checked her
watch and swore under her breath. It was a short week because the Fourth of
July was on Thursday and she had a lot to take care of.

She got Maddie to Skylar’s house and pulled into her parking space in
front of Wine Country Corp., the parent company of her magazine. She spotted
the big boss’ car, and her first thought was that this couldn’t possibly be
good. It wasn’t their quarterly meeting and Evan Michelson was not the type of
man or boss to drive in from the city just to check in. Had she missed
something? Forgotten something? She glanced at Dorothy. Damn. Time to take a
deep breath and get her head on straight.

“Mom, this is
where I work. There are some important things for me to handle and I’m going to
need you to be patient. I’ll set you up with some magazines in our conference
room.”

“Will anyone I
know be in this conference room? I hope Rock is here today. Are we at NBC or
Paramount? It looks so different. What have they done to the place? It’s
smaller. I know Rock is homosexual and all. Everyone knows it but we don’t talk
about it though. He is such a dear. Maybe he could join us?”