Rhett had understood, had even told David he would see about sending consulting gigs his way, ones where he’d travel for a week or two to help restaurants with their lists. David could do all that while staying on at Aspire. Living at home.
Being happy.
David sighed and rested his forehead against the cool window, staring out at the snow.
He could’ve been studying his flash cards one last time, or tasting a few more wines, but a strange calm had settled over him, dancing across his skin. He’d done the best he could to prepare. And he was going to do the best he could downstairs, when it was finally his turn. He was proud of himself.
He knew this wasn’t the end for him, just the beginning. There was more to life than wine, and tests, and work. There were people he cared about.
A man in Kansas City he was determined to win back.
Next to all that, what did six little glasses of wine really matter?
“How’re you feeling today, son?” the master somm across the table asked. He was an old white man, easily sixty-five and maybe pushing seventy, with the sort of tall snowy haircut that old white guys in suits seemed to favor.
“Feeling good,” David said, though being calledsonby an old white man didn’t exactly feel great. He’d dealt with worse, though. “Feeling ready.”
“Good,” the guy said. “Nothing to be nervous about. You’ve studied hard. You’ve practiced. And now here we are.”
He set his phone on the table, the timer app already open.
“I’m sure you know how this goes. You’ve got twenty-five minutes. I’ll start the clock when you pick up your first wine. Whenever you’re ready.” He gave a kindly smile, pale blue eyes twinkling. “Good luck.”
David took a deep breath. Stared down the six wines in front of him, three whites and three reds, shining in the harsh light of the small hotel meeting room. Light jazz from the lobby filtered past the closed door.
Three whites. Three reds.
Twenty-five minutes.
He reached for the first wine and began.
fifty-three
Farzan
All right,” Reza said, shuffling the papers from Arya over to Ramin. “Now you.”
Ramin nodded, biting his lip as he signed with a black and gold fountain pen he’d gotten from work as a five-year gift. He signed his name with a flourish, then offered Farzan a warm smile. “Done.”
“All you, then,” Reza said.
Farzan swallowed away his fears. Ignored the sound effects running through the back of his head, ringing alarms like his hit points were low and he was about to get a game over.
This felt right.
This felt good.
This felt like a beginning.
Farzan signed his own name with a plain Bic from the mug on Reza’s desk.
And then it was done.
“All set. Congrats, you three.” He shook Farzan’s hand, then Ramin’s, then Arya’s. “So about my lifetime discount…”
“What discount?” Arya sputtered.
“Should’ve read the fine print,” Reza said, sliding their new partnership agreement into a folder. “Don’t worry, I promise not to abuse it.”
