“Honestly, Mom, between you and my girls and their friends ... sometimes I think I have way too many women in my life.” He let out a groan. “Too many nosy women!”
“Oh, Leroy.”
Relieved to see the lights of Damico’s ahead, he slowed down. “I know you’re not trying to be nosy, Mom, but some stones are better left unturned.”
“I suppose.”
“And I’m perfectly happy being a bachelor. I don’t see why everyone is suddenly so intent on changing that.”
“Well, your girls have grown up ... We worry about you being alone.”
“Alone?” He shook his head as he pulled into the round driveway in front of Tony and Sherry’s sprawling home. “I wish I could be alone. My place is crawling with females right now.”
She laughed, but as he pulled up to the house, her expression grew serious. “Take a bit of advice from a lonely old woman, Leroy. You’re not getting any younger, so maybe you shouldn’t be so picky about your companions.”
“What are you saying? You think I should propose to Judith just because she’s a good cook—and that’s in the eyes of the beholder. You’re suggesting I take her for my bride just because she’s convenient and willing—like I did last time?” He instantly regretted those last words. “I take that back, Mom. Marcie doesn’t deserve it.”
“No, she doesn’t. But I understand what you’re saying, sweetheart. Judith just isn’t your type.”
He chuckled. “Isn’t that what I was trying to tell you from the beginning?”
“Well, sometimes you have to drive around the block once to realize you’re home.” She reached for her handbag then paused. “But I’m still curious. Whatisyour type? Do you even know?”
He honestly considered this and for some strange reason, the image of the young woman he’d seen in front of the guesthouse flashed through his mind. Wearing that simple blue dress, in her bare feet, her long dark hair blowing in the breeze as she worked on the flower beds. He knew she must be the new office manager—the one who’d arrived on the back of a Harley—but something about her had really stopped him. Still, he had no intention of admitting this to his mother, or anyone else for that matter.
He sighed. “I’m not sure what my type is. I just know that it’s not Judith. She’s too polished and stylish for me.”
His mother laughed. “Well, that’s a relief. I wasn’t that impressed either. Good night, son.”
He said good night, but as he drove back home, he couldn’t shake the woman in the blue dress from his mind. Oh, he knew he was probably blowing it all out of proportion, but something about that image felt indelible.
Wearing the most businesslike outfit she could find in the bags of cast-off clothing—which was just a khaki skirt and a white blouse along with a blue bandanna she was using as a scarf—Brynna walked over to the winery office the next morning. Sophie had said to meet her there at nine, but Brynna went a few minutes early—just because she was eager. And nervous. What would she do if she crossed paths with Leroy? But to her relief, Sophie’s van was parked nearby, and she was already in the office.
“Hey, Bree!” Sophie waved her inside.
As Brynna greeted her back, she wanted to tell Sophie that she actually went by Brynna, but that might require an explanation and she wasn’t ready for that. Sophie was ready to show her around the office. She started with the front reception area that Brynna would primarily occupy, then they moved on to a windowless storage room for wine orders and file cabinets, and finally the back office that belonged to Leroy.
“But Dad hardly ever comes in here. Especially this time of year.” Sophie ran her finger through the accumulated dust on his big oak desk.
“Well, I imagine he spends most of his time outside in the summer.” Brynna took in the dark paneled walls and the floor-to-ceiling wine rack that was mostly full. Over an antique credenza hung a faded winery map of the world and a wall calendar still on February. She paused to study the photos by the big desk. Most seemed to be candid shots of Leroy’s daughters at varying ages, taken, she imagined, by Leroy.
“It’s a nice space.” Brynna ran her hand over a worn leather chair.
“Nice and neglected. Anyway, you won’t need to be in here much.” Sophie pointed to a basket on the desk. “This is supposedly for important mail, not that he checks it much. So if anything is really important, I usually take it up to the house for him. There’s an old mailbox by the front door specifically for this, and he’s supposed to check it daily, but our real mailbox is down at the end of the drive and the mail is usually here by ten. I used to walk, but lately I’ve been driving.”
“I wouldn’t mind the exercise,” Brynna said. “Or I could ride the bike.”
“Great.” Sophie continued going through the daily routine, explaining everything in detail while Brynna took fastidious notes. And, really, it didn’t seem all that complicated. Even the computer program, almost exactly like the one Brynna used at home, was pretty simple.
Sophie explained how to take orders and how to check the inventory book. “We’re still partly old-school here.” She handed Brynna the black notebook. “I wanted to do it all on the computer, but Dad’s been dragging his heels. Mostly because he wouldn’t be able to access it himself since he’s pretty technology-challenged.”
“It’s probably smart to do both.” Brynna flipped through the pages where wines were listed on computer-printed pages and had handwritten tallies beside them. She pointed to an entry. “So this means you have twenty-three cases of 2010 Syrah?”
Sophie peered down at it. “To be honest, I’m sure we don’t have that many. I’m afraid our inventory numbers are a little behind. And that’s my fault.” She patted her rounded belly. “And little Leroy’s here.”
“Little Leroy?”
Sophie laughed. “That’s what I want to call him, after my dad. But Dad says no way. Anyway, when I should’ve been doing inventory last winter, I had really bad morning sickness. So the countis a little off now. I keep thinking I’ll get around to inventorying, but—”
