Chapter 6
JAKE
W hen our last conference call of the day ended, Jin snapped his laptop shut and groaned like he’d just run a marathon. He hated Zoom calls almost as much as I did. No wonder business was suffering.
“God, I’m exhausted,” he said through a yawn. “Can we call it a day now?”
“You can, sure.” I glanced at the clock. Fuck. Why had I promised Olivia a wine tasting tonight? Hadn’t I decided it was best to keep my distance while she was here? The problem was, whenever I spent time with her, my best intentions seemed to go flying out the window.
Now that I was faced with the prospect of more time alone with her, I was in no hurry to call it a day. “I’ll just take a look at these figures first.”
As if that would change anything. No amount of shuffling around numbers would change the fact that we now had major competition in the Asian market from supergroups that were buying up smaller distributors like ours.
And the competition had taken on a more personal character this past year when my former friend and business partner, Thomas Brinkley, had become a consultant for our chief rival, the Sungate Group.
Just thinking of that traitorous asshole was enough to set my teeth grinding. It was one of the reasons I was up at 5:00 a.m. this morning, trying to blow off steam by changing the carburetor on my car. That and having woken up hard as a fucking rock from an erotic dream about my friend’s daughter.
I’d made the mistake of going to check on Olivia when Ben had called last night and found her in bed with her robe bunched up around her thighs and her hair spread out on her pillow. I’d gone to bed with the image in my head and hadn’t been able to shake it since.
“You’re obsessed,” Jin said as if reading my thoughts.
“What?” I asked.
“With work. Now more than ever.” He stood and stretched dramatically, arms akimbo. “When you gonna live a little, Jake? Always so serious these days. No time for the ladies anymore.”
I scoffed. “In case you haven’t noticed we’re in danger of losing a quarter of our contracts. I don’t have time to play games.”
“Huh, maybe if you didn’t always date women who like to play games, you wouldn’t have to worry about that.
I think you do it on purpose, so you don’t have to get serious.
” I glared at him, annoyed that he was probably right.
But I didn’t have time to think about that right now with the threat of Thomas and Sungate looming over me.
“You should try a new type of woman. A little less vinegar, more honey,” Jin purred, clearly pleased with his metaphor. “Or maybe you should get a dog or a goldfish. Aren’t you lonely?”
“Why would I be lonely when you’re here? You count for at least three people—Weekend Jin, Business Jin, and now Psychoanalyst Jin. That’s a full house.” I made light of his comment because it was not the first time that he’d razzed me about my nonexistent sex life.
I’d known Jin for at least six years. We’d met when I’d officiated a sommelier competition in Boston that he’d won.
I’d hired him on the spot. Back then he was about as uptight as they came—fresh out of Harvard with an MBA in the pocket of his Patagonia vest, miserable, but crazy about wine like I’d been at his age.
It was only in the past two years that he’d felt free enough to explore other facets of himself.
And since then, he’d been nagging me to loosen up too.
“Don’t forget Miss Olivia.” Jin winked.
“As I said, a full house.” I ignored him and pretended to concentrate on the spreadsheet in front of me.
“So when do I get to put Olivia to work? I need help with the new stock we’re receiving this week.”
“How about tomorrow? I’d also like you to give her an overview of French wines.” I didn’t want her to get nothing out of this experience. She was serious about learning, and even if I didn’t have the time or the inclination to teach her, Jin could.
“Uh, shouldn’t you be doing that? You’re the master,” he teased.
“I don’t have time. And you’re just as qualified.” I scowled at him, then looked again at the clock. I really didn’t want to be alone with Olivia. “Do you have any plans for dinner?”
“Are you asking me out? I never thought this day would come.” Jin batted his eyes at me.
“Come on, Jin. I promised Olivia I’d have her taste the new bottles we got in.”
“And why don’t you want to be alone with little Miss Olivia?” He cocked his head.
Ignoring him, I said, “I would think you’d take some professional interest in your wine. Don’t you want to know what you’re selling?”
“If you remember, I was the one who selected those bottles.” I hadn’t forgotten.
Those bottles and all the wine we’d be purchasing over the summer were the reason I’d wanted Jin to come to France in the first place.
I hadn’t told him that though, because I couldn’t admit the reason to myself, let alone anyone else: I couldn’t taste anymore.
The weird numbness that I’d started to feel last winter had gotten worse over the past six months.
Oh, I could taste some things. Food was still okay, I guess. But wine? Whenever I tried to taste, it was like I’d burned my tongue with mouthwash and couldn’t make out the complexity anymore. I was relying on taste memory and a whole lot of bluster at this point.
My nonexistent taste buds were also why I was mad at myself for proposing this tasting to Olivia. Besides just not wanting to be alone with her, I didn’t want to confront yet again the loss of that part of me that had been so central to my identity.
“Well, I’m off,” Jin announced, making a beeline for the door.
I followed him down the hallway, dragging my feet like a sulky kid. After he’d disappeared into the kitchen, I heard him say, “Oh hi, doll. Jake’s on his way out for your wine tasting. Enjoy! See you tomorrow.”
Great. So much for delaying the inevitable.
“Oh, bye, Jin. I’m sorry we didn’t get a chance to talk today,” Olivia replied, then went silent when I rounded the corner, and I wondered if this situation weirded her out as much as it did me.
She probably would have preferred to continue her summer trip across Europe with her friends rather than hanging out with her dad’s old friend.
“You’re in the same spot I left you in this morning. Please tell me that you haven’t been in the kitchen all day,” I said.
“No, of course not.” She gestured to the colorful array of vegetables on the cutting board. “I went to the market with Chantal.”
“Chantal. My housekeeper?” Not the answer I was expecting. Chantal was a small, bossy woman in her sixties who’d been working for me since I’d bought the place. She was very opinionated and talked a mile a minute. I couldn’t imagine the two of them spending the day together.
“Yes, we met this morning. She invited me to go to the market with her—or at least I hope she did, otherwise I foisted myself on her. She’s lovely, but does she ever talk a lot!
I didn’t understand much of what she was saying, so I just nodded and said ‘oui.’” She scrunched up her face.
“I hope I didn’t agree to anything weird.
I just figure, in life, it’s better to say yes rather than no, right? ”
“Depends on who you’re saying yes to.” I would have liked to agree with her, and maybe when I was younger and more optimistic, I would have. But lately, I’d gotten a perverse pleasure from saying no.
Except when it came to her. For some reason, I was incapable of saying no where she was concerned.
Despite my determination to keep my distance from her, my feet seemed to have other ideas and suddenly, I was standing right next to her, so close I could smell her linden blossom scent.
Her hair was up in a loose bun, but one long tendril had escaped and fallen in front of her face.
I had to resist the temptation to sweep it back behind her ear so that I could see her face better.
When she stopped slicing her tomatoes, I realized how inappropriately close to her I was.
“Excuse me, I just want to get a. . .” I tried to cover myself by pretending that I needed something from the drawer in front of her. Luckily, I found one of my wine keys shoved between rolls of parchment paper.
She didn’t seem to notice how quickly I moved away and continued in a rapt voice, “The village is postcard perfect. That gorgeous fountain in the town square! All those narrow stone passages leading out from the ramparts! And the market square with its ancient columns. If I had your talent for photography, I’d be out there every day.
” She peered at me from lowered lashes. “Of course, you don’t need to me to describe the charms of your own village. ”
“Hmm,” I mumbled. Sadly, I couldn’t remember the last time I’d taken a leisurely stroll through the village or the market. Chantal did all my shopping and cooking these days, though I used to enjoy it.
“I went a little crazy at the market.” She waved her hand over the sliced tomatoes, ruby red and glistening beneath a sprinkling of sea salt. “It was like Christmas in July. Just look at these tomatoes! They taste like candy.”
“And here I was worried that you’d be bored.” I found myself smiling at her infectious enthusiasm. Maybe this wouldn’t be such a bad experience after all. “Do you still want to try some wine?”
“Yes! I’ve been looking forward to it.” And weirdly, now so was I, if only to watch her experience the wines I used to love for the first time.
There was something in her enthusiasm that made me want to try to taste again. That made me want to say yes rather than no.
* * *
“Watch your head,” I said as I ducked under the stone arch at the bottom of the cellar stairs and flipped on the light switch.