Rosalyn had wanted a hermitage, and she got it. French countryside style.
She sat gazing out the window, watching as light snowflakes fell in the parking area and on the trees beyond, and fiddling with the empty locket around her neck. She had always meant to find tiny photographs of her and Dash. She always assumed they would have plenty of time.
At midnight, the church bells rang out slowly—one, pause. Two, pause. Three, pause... When the twelfth bell sounded, loud cheers and the honking of noisemakers filled the air.
A new year.
Yet another year further away from her life with Dash. Another year from the person Rosalyn had been with Dash.
Chapter Fourteen
Like Hugh and so many other recent arrivals in Napa, Dash had invested in a winery with money earned in the computer industry, abandoning the high-tech campuses of Santa Clara for the deceptively rural fields of Napa.
Rosalyn had fallen for him the first time she saw him. He and a few other local winery owners had visited Sonoma State University to interview potential interns, who would earn academic credit for their work in the industry. With his brilliant smile and easy laugh, Dash was enthusiastic and inspiring. Competition for the coveted internships was intense, and after applying and interviewing for several, Rosalyn was thrilled to land the one she wanted most: at Dash’s company, Domain Acosta.
But she didn’t kid herself that Dashiell Acosta paid her any particular attention. The dynamic winery owner rarely came into the office, and when he did, Rosalyn was one of a half dozen eager interns. Though he was unfailingly polite and encouraging, she knew he saw them for what they were: enthusiastic but young, inexperienced, unpaid workers.
Rosalyn worked nights busing tables at an upscale restaurant in downtown Napa to help pay her way through school. The first time she saw Dash at the restaurant, two of the waitstaff were out with the flu, and she’d leapt at the chance to pick up a cocktail shift. It was a plum assignment—tipsy Napa socialites and day-trippers from San Francisco tended to be big tippers, and she would end the shift with a nice wad of cash.
That night her mind was on a class project due the next morning, a label redesign that she would have to finish when she got home after her shift. Distracted, she forgot which man had ordered which drink, and hesitated a moment at their table.
Dash looked up at her, his head cocked slightly. “I know you.”
“Just barely,” she said with an embarrassed smile. Figuring she had a fifty-fifty shot at getting their orders right, she set the highball glasses down in front of them.
His tablemate, a hearty-looking fellow she had heard Dash call Hugh, gave her an indulgent smile. She was no model, but she was young, with long hair and big eyes, and older men had a way of gazing at her with a mixture of benevolence and vague flirtatiousness.
The two men swapped glasses.
“Oh, my apologies,” Rosalyn said.
“We’re good. Thanks. Where do I know you from?” Dash asked.
That stung. Rosalyn didn’t expect the winery’s big boss to remember her name, not really, but for him not to be able to place her at all? It was a blow. Apparently she truly was beneath his notice.Rich people,she thought to herself.The rest of us matter, too, you know.
“I’m an intern at your winery, from Sonoma State,” she said, refilling their water glasses. “Anything else I can get for you? Your server will be by in a moment to take your food order.”
“Wait. You’re an intern inmyoffice?” Dash sounded surprised.
“Dash.”Hugh shook his head and let out an exasperated sigh.
Rosalyn nodded, outwardly pleasant but impatient to end this awkward conversation. Table four needed water, and the toddler at table six had tossed several utensils on the floor. This was the bane of anyone in food service: pretending you had all the time in the world as customers hemmed and hawed over the menu or asked you to describe the food and how it was prepared, all while you were acutely aware that others were waiting for your attention.
“For how long?”
“About a month now. If there’s nothing else...? Excuse me.” She rushed off.
As she worked that evening, she kept an eye on the table. The men enjoyed their meal and ordered a second bottle of wine. They were in high spirits, laughing and engaging nearby tables in a raucous discussion. How she yearned to sit at one of these tables, to rest her sore feet, to enjoy delicious food, to relax and be able to order whatever she wanted, to indulge in as many bottles of wine as she wished.
Someday,she thought as she carried a loaded tray of cocktails to a table of rowdy business executives.Though clearly not today.
An hour later she was leaving the women’s restroom after a quick break when she encountered Dash in the narrow hallway.
“Do you have a moment?” he asked politely.
“I’m sorry. I have to get back to work.”
“I’m guessing from your reaction earlier that you’ve been working hard in my office, and I’m a jackass for not realizing that.”
