“Come on, we have plans!” Pat grinned, handing her her coat.
“Plans doing what? And what about finishing up with closing?” she asked, slipping into her purple raincoat andpulling the hood up, shielding herself from the gentle rain outside.
“Don’t worry about that,” Sean said, pulling his own hood up. “We’ll come back and take care of it later.”
“We told Oliver we’d be the first to swing by to try his new reserve wine,” Pat chimed in, guiding them down the walkway in the direction of town.
“And who is Oliver?” Beth asked, the name not ringing any bells.
“Oliver Rousseau. I don’t think you’ve met. He and his wife just opened up Grapes of Wrath, the new wine tasting room bookshop combo off Main Street.”
“They officially open at the end of the month, but they’ve been inviting people to swing by early to try some wines,” Sean added. “Oliver’s wife also happens to be a big fan of your art. Remember that series of paintings you did the winter before last? Those abstract birds on the water with the houseboats? She bought the whole collection.”
Beth’s mind stalled as her legs continued to carry her further, following along behind Sean and Pat. She remembered the collection. It had been the last thing she had painted before Jamie died.
The last thing she had painted—period.
Her pulse fluttered at the unexpected introduction of Jamie into the moment, but grief, she had learned, had a habit of doing that. Inserting itself anywhere it wanted. She took a deep breath, acknowledging the moment and the feeling before setting it aside.
They reached the tasting room, a small building with wide, weathered plank siding, and ducked inside. Sean waved to a man behind the bar in a green plaid shirt who had a face that looked incredibly familiar.
“Hi. Oliver Rousseau.” He introduced himself with a handshake over the bar.
“Beth,” she said quickly.
“Oh! The artist, right! My wife Sophie loves your work. She’s going to be so excited to meet you. She’s in the back taking care of a quick diaper change. Make yourselves comfortable, I’ll grab a bottle and some glasses.” Oliver gestured to a round high-top table in the corner.
“Alright,” came Oliver’s voice moments later as he set three wine glasses in front of them, uncorking the bottle in his hand. “We’ll start you off with the tasting first. Beginning with a Pinot Gris.”
Oliver passed glasses around before disappearing back behind the bar. Beth took a sip from the glass in her hand, letting the notes of melon and stone fruit sit on her taste buds.
A commotion echoed in the room behind the bar at the same time the front door opened. A high-pitched giggle emitted from a small, wobbly redheaded baby toddling towards the woman who had just entered.
“Delaney, come back here!” Oliver’s voice called after the girl.
“I’ve got her.” The woman crouched down, scooping up the girl and twirling her around, creating even more high-pitched, gleeful screeches.
“Thanks, Liv.”
Beth’s head whipped around at the familiar name, and sure enough, there was her friend standing before her. “Liv, hey.” She grinned, drawing Liv’s gaze towards her, a smile instantly spreading across her face in return.
“Hey! Delaney, can you say hello to Aunt Livvy’s friends?” The toddler gave Beth a terrified, wide-eyed look before burying her face in Liv’s shoulder.
“She’s at that age where she goes from social to shy in an instant.” Liv laughed, cradling her niece’s head.
“My daughter Dylan never really outgrew that stage,” Sean said, taking another sip from his glass. “Damn, this wine is good.”
“Thank you,” Oliver said, returning to the table with another bottle in hand. “Made it myself.”
“Dad jokes, really, Liver?”
“Oliver,” he corrected under his breath.
“You’ll have to excuse my little brother. He can be so crotchety sometimes.” Liv winked at Beth, making Beth roll her eyes, a smile pulling at her lips. “Here, Liver. Trade. Please take your spawn.” Liv handed the baby to Oliver. “And I’ll take that,” she said, reaching for the wine bottle in his hand. “Now go parent or whatever it is you do with my beautiful, darling, favorite niece. And tell Sophie to get out here, she’s much better company than you.”
Liv poured each of them a tasting from the bottle she had grabbed from Oliver. Beth swirled the glass, bringing it to her nose, breathing in the crisp notes.
“Here you have a delightful Chardonnay made only of the finest hand-picked grapes?—”
