Chapter 8
EIGHT
BETH
OCTOBER
Beth slid her thumb over the cool plastic of the switch controlling the neon OPEN sign hanging inside the front window of the Grumpy Goat, turning it off as she closed down the shop for the day.
She busied herself with the closing duties, running through the list of items needing her attention.
She had already taken care of the most immediate items, like cleaning the espresso machine.
All she had left to do was sweep and wipe down tables.
The bell over the door chimed—shoot. She thought she had locked the door.
“Sorry, we’re closed,” she said automatically, looking up only to find Sean and Pat smiling at her. “Oh, hey, guys.” She reached for a clean rag and the spray bottle, intending to continue with her task.
“Nope,” Sean said, reaching for the cleaner. “Strict orders from the boss. All work stops now.” He playfully grabbed her by the shoulders and steered her towards the door that Pat was holding open, Beth’s jacket already in his hand.
“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 and pulling 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—”
“None of that is true,” a voice said as a petite brunette appeared beside Beth. “I’m Sophie, Oliver’s wife. And that’s Chenin Blanc.” Just like that, Sophie took over their tasting, Liv grabbing herself a glass and sliding onto the empty stool next to Beth.
They worked their way slowly through the list of white wines.
Beth’s personal favorite was expectedly the Viognier, but there had been a delightful White Mourvedre that was a close second.
Sophie, Beth quickly learned, was more than generous with her tasting pours, and soon enough, she felt that comfortable floatiness of being perfectly buzzed.
“So, Olivia and Oliver?” Pat asked, pouring himself another splash of the Chenin Blanc Sophie had left with them as she went to grab the reds.
Liv rolled her eyes. “Ugh, yes. Six generations of Rousseaus, every firstborn a boy named Oliver. Enter me, lucky generation seven—not a boy. Olivia was close enough. Dad couldn’t let it go; Oliver came along five years later.”
Out of the corner of her eye, Beth caught the flash of a familiar silhouette walking past the window. “It’s Sarah,” she said excitedly, sliding off her stool and moving towards the door.
“Beth, where are you—” Sean started, but she waved him off.
“I’ll be right back,” she called over her shoulder, already halfway out the door before her brain tried to convince her that maybe this wasn’t a good idea.
Now that she was standing, she realized she was slightly more tipsy than she had thought.
And, she realized with one step out the door, it was still raining. “Sar! Hey, Sarah!”
Sarah, walking quickly past the next shop, stopped and turned, somehow managing to position herself perfectly centered under a street light in a way that made the light cut across her body in broad streaks.
She looked like one of those vintage drawings standing there in her trench coat, an expensive messenger bag over her shoulder, and as Beth stepped closer, she caught the glint of gold at Sarah’s wrist—that gorgeous Cartier watch she had started wearing while dating Nell.
“Beth. Hey.” Sarah smiled, her face settling into comfortable recognition.
“Hey,” Beth said, catching up to her and standing a few feet away on the sidewalk.
“You already said that,” Sarah pointed out with an amused grin.
“Oh yeah, I guess I did,” she said airily.
There had always been something about Sarah that stopped her in her tracks, making her forget all her thoughts.
Like everything just halted to a stop, and nothing else mattered when Sarah’s attention was locked on her.
“Are you busy?” she asked. “You should come have a drink with us—Sean, Pat, and me, I mean. Oh, and you can meet my friend, the one with the car!”
“Yeah, okay,” Sarah agreed without missing a beat.
Beth, who was already prepared to need to do a bit of coaxing, was momentarily thrown off by Sarah’s quick acceptance. “No, really, you should—oh? Yes?”
“Yeah. Why not? Sounds like fun.” Sarah shrugged, adjusting the strap of her expensive-looking quilted leather bag.
“Okay then,” she said dumbly, standing there in the rain, looking at Sarah.
“You’re tipsy already, aren’t you?” Sarah laughed, the two of them moving back towards the tasting room as she shot Beth a look that said Don’t even bother trying to hide it from me, I know you too well.
“Just a little.” Beth smiled, holding the door to the wine tasting room open for Sarah. “After you.”
They reentered the warm, dry space, joining the group at the table in the corner. Sean and Pat both stood to greet and hug Sarah.
“Sarah, this is—”
“Olivia,” Sarah said, finishing the introduction for her.
Confused, Beth looked between Sarah and Liv. “You two know each other?”
“We do, yes.” A mischievous grin unfurled across Liv’s lips. “And you two?” she asked curiously.
“Ex-wife,” they said in unison. Beth shot Sarah a quick look that Sarah returned, lips pressed together in amusement.
“Liv is my car friend,” Beth explained to Sarah, trying to connect how she and Liv might know each other. “How do you two...” she trailed off at Sean’s chuckle coming from Liv’s right.
“Oh, I was wondering when this would happen,” Sean said in delight, leaning back and sipping from his glass. “Please, by all means, continue.”
She gave Sean a look that said, okay, weirdo, then turned her attention back to Liv and Sarah. “What am I missing?”