“I own Lit Wines. We’re a fairly new winery with an almost all-female staff. Our wines are named after famous women writers.”
“First of all, I love that idea,” I said. “Second, you don’t look a day over twenty-four, so I’m feeling both old and like an underachiever.”
She blushed a little. “You’re kind, but I’m almost forty. I’m Marisol, by the way.”
“Vivian.”
We shook hands, and I paused, not sure what to say next. Finally, I decided to focus on the wines. “What’s the story behind this one?”
“It’s a chardonnay. We call it the Dorothy after Dorothy Parker because it has a ‘clean acidity.’”
I had to chuckle at that, even though I really only remembered the poem Dorothy Parker wrote about guys not making passes at girls who wore glasses.
“And the pinot noir is named after Shirley Jackson because it’s dark and layered,” she said with a waggle of her eyebrows and a grin.
“Oh! They made a movie out of one of her books, didn’t they?”
“More than one,” Marisol said. “I likeThe Haunting of Hill Housebest, though.”
Wines all named after women? It made me want to pick up a bookandhave a glass of wine. “If I have time, I’d love to tour your winery.”
The smile left her face. “Oh, we’re not set up for tours yet.”
“That’s cool,” I said. “Would you mind doing a brief video interview, then? I really like your wines and what you have going.”
“Sure,” she said, raking a hand through her hair. Despite her quick agreement, I sensed she was hesitant about being put on the spot.
I’d just pulled out my phone when Donna clinked a fork against her wineglass. Apparently it was time for the formal introductions. I turned around to pay attention. Larry, Curly, and Moe were still gathered together, as were Luisa and Lorena, the two Spanish speakers. The lady who’d reminded me of Abi was named Venzia, but she’d had a prior engagement and would be back tomorrow.
When it was my turn to speak, I tried to use my outdoor voice. “I’m Vivian Quackenbush of the Mom Scouts YouTube channel.” The minute I said “Mom Scouts,” Luisa and Lorena murmured to each other in a way that reminded me of the Three Stooges earlier.
And that was that.
When I turned around, the owner of Lit Wines had left. How odd that she was the owner, the person who made the magic happen, yet she had been standing behind that table as if invisible. Even worse, the other women had treated her as if she were. They didn’t care who stood behind that table, just as long as the bottle tipped enough to fill their glasses.
A group of women making excellent wines named after women? That was the energy we needed.
I kicked myself for not getting her contact information because she was, by far, the most interesting person I’d met that day.
My new acquaintances and I walked down the street a little way to a restaurant, where we had more wine and each picked a dish from a prix fixe menu. I tried to join in the conversation, but I was tucked inside a booth. It felt as though everyone was actively leaning away from me. I did a discreet smell check of my armpits just to make sure I didn’t reek of travel funk.
To make matters worse, the time change was catching up with me, and I almost collapsed nose-first into my chicken Alfredo. Mercifully, everyone decided to skip dessert. I didn’t even have the energy to be mad at all the “oh, I just couldn’t eat another bite” from women who looked sharply around to make sure they were winning the let’s-see-who-can-eat-the-least contest. I ate my meal with reckless abandon, not caring what they thought—especially since they weren’t paying attention to me in the first place.
The earlier wine on an empty stomach combined with the wine we’d had at supper had given the world a hazy glow. I followed the group back to our hotel, reveling in the now chilly air.
Only then did I realize I’d left my folder in the courtyard.
I didn’t want to admit this to Donna unless I absolutely had to, so I entered the lobby to see if maybe, just maybe, someone had put the folder into a lost and found.
“An orange folder?” the lady behind the desk asked.
“Yes!”
She produced the folder in question, and sure enough, there was my name printed at the top.
“Bless you!” I said.
I was halfway to the door when another thought occurred to me. “Do you have the information for the Lit Wines lady who was here?”
