Chapter 26
Raffi
Raffi was directing the caterers toward the kitchen when he caught sight of Ani. She had donned a long leather skirt and a black shirt with frilly sleeves. It was an enticing combination of sexy and girly that he would have great difficulty attempting to ignore.
She practically skipped over to him, and they met in a hug. Raffi couldn’t help it, he picked her up a bit. No one currently bustling around knew them. It was fine.
“Hello, sexy,” he said to her, keeping his voice low but not keeping the hunger out of it.
“Hey, Raff,” she said, and he had to keep his shit together. Raff. That’s what she called him in bed. Good God. Today was going to be harder than he thought, in more ways than one.
“Not sure how I’m going to make it through the night with you in a leather skirt. Are you trying to torment me?”
“Maybe,” she smiled. “But it’s pleather.”
He pinched her ass. “Pleather, leather—I’m not convinced you didn’t wear it just to short-circuit my brain.”
“Then my work here is done.”
Ani smirked, then slid an arm around his back as they took in the scene.
The construction was finished, and the fountain was filled since the last time Ani was here.
The water rippled peacefully, lending the entire garden an even more calming effect.
The florist had been by and showered the space with flowers for the hinoum, more restrained than they would be for the wedding, but still impressive.
Although it wasn’t dark yet, string lights ornamented the grounds and gave everything a romantic, intimate feeling.
“We did it, Raffi,” Ani said. “Well, really, Chris did it.”
Raffi chuckled.
“It’s better than I would have ever thought.”
“Me too,” he said. “I’m just glad I listened to you.”
“Or we’d all be covering our eyes right now and cursing the sun.”
He smiled, then said gratefully, “This really is going to help us get so many more weddings at ?.”
Ani nodded, considering. “I’m serious—once people see wedding photos in this garden, it’s going to be the spot in Napa. Nothing else comes close.”
A shiver ran through him. She believed in it, the space they helped create together. “Damn. Well, we’ll see.”
She looked up at him. “Time to get to work.”
An army of Armenian drum, dhol, and zurna players marched into ?, with big camera bulbs flashing behind them, announcing Kami’s arrival.
Kami was brought in on an ornate palanquin, held up by four of her burly cousins.
She was dressed in a mix of traditional Armenian garb, with a red-and-white flowing headpiece and a modern red, white, and gold dress.
Oh, she must have been loving this, Raffi thought. True queen status.
The Armenian folk music blared into the night, and Raffi was thankful they were far away enough from neighbors that they wouldn’t get any noise complaints. And then he stopped worrying for a moment and enjoyed the spectacle.
He loved the sound of the instruments; it brought him back to Armenian Sunday school, the Armenian dance classes he took there years before ballroom dance.
Grace was already on-site and had been waiting for her bride to arrive.
When Grace herself had been driven to the property, Raffi witnessed the reporters and cameras go into a feeding frenzy, the likes of which he’d never seen before.
They stepped all over each other, shouting like mad, all trying to get the perfect shot of her.
He had to say, Grace handled them with, well, grace.
She gave them one look over her shoulder and a closed-mouth smile that he was sure would make the papers the next day.
Now, a couple of paps had climbed the walls of the winery and snapped photos of Grace and Kami holding hands while the band played around them.
He’d hired security for the wedding, as instructed by the couple, but not for this event.
Raffi was regretting not going ahead and doing it anyway, but he thought if Kami and Grace were okay with it, he would be, too.
Maybe they wanted to tease this event so they could get more cash for selling the private wedding photos.
And the shots of ? would be stunning at least.
Kami’s mom breached the circle and fed a spoonful of honey to Grace and then one to Kami. She handed them walnuts as well, which, if Raffi remembered correctly, were supposed to ensure a sweet and happy life for them.
Raffi glanced over at Ani, standing too far away from him on the outskirts of the crowd.
He wanted to do this with her. Have a hinoum.
The whole shebang, too. He could imagine Talar at the front door of the Avakian family home with a saber, not allowing Raffi in until he paid the traditional bribe.
Usually it was the brother of the groom who played this role, but he thought Talar would do formidably.
God, he wanted this with Ani. Three more days. Tonight, tomorrow, then the next day was the wedding and they could really be together, no more hiding.
Grace’s family had entered the circle and were pretending to barter for Kami.
Grace’s brother was promising chickens, lamb, and a whole cow.
It was a good joke because that’s what was on the menu for the feast tonight.
This was Kami’s family’s big chance to showcase Armenian culture, while tomorrow there would be a tea ceremony, and at the wedding, there’d be Californian and Malaysian fusion food to honor Grace’s.
After some dancing and cheering, the guests took their seats for dinner. Server after server stepped out of the kitchen with enormous trays of roasted meats from a well-known Armenian caterer. The air filled with spiced lamb, pilaf, and fire-kissed vegetables.
Raffi stayed on the periphery, although technically Kami had invited him to sit and eat as a guest. Raffi’s father was there, though, seated next to Kami’s father, no doubt talking business.
Raffi didn’t feel like he could just hang out and socialize while so much was happening at the winery, so much potential for things to go wrong at any second.
Besides, Ani wasn’t going to relax for even a moment, so why should he?
Ani was chatting a hundred miles a minute with some vendor, which he was certainly not—not a vendor but her boyfriend. Ani caught his eye and seemed relieved to find him.
“Raffi jan,” she said formally, though with a hint of endearment, since they were in front of the vendor, whoever he was. “This is Dillon. He mentioned that someone tripped over one of the patio lights and the plug broke off but it’s still in the socket. Do you know how we could fix that?”
Shit, he didn’t. But this seemed like a solvable problem and not a party-ruiner.
They had so many patio lights he hadn’t even noticed.
Ani didn’t seem overly worried, either, so they’d take the time to fix this without freaking out.
Raffi mentally patted himself on the back for keeping so levelheaded in the face of a setback.
“I’ll take a look and call the electrician.”
But Raffi did not get a chance to call the electrician.
Suddenly, several guests started screaming, and then more screams joined in.
A cluster of guests were jumping up and Raffi ran in that direction, now fully freaking the fuck out—what was it?
A fire? He didn’t see or smell anything.
Or was it a rat? God, that’d have the wedding shut down faster than he could say “health code violation.” But then he saw it.
Arching over the guests, looping, twisting, and turning like an inflatable tube man outside a car dealership, was a small plastic hose, mercilessly soaking all the guests at his winery.
What. The fuck.
It was one of the fountain tubes, the newly installed fountain tubes that had been working perfectly until this very second.
He saw Ani rushing toward it now, getting splashed by one chaotic swoop, her hair sticking to her face, and she and Raffi raced together, then grabbed it at the same time, wrangling the tube and trapping it underwater in the fountain.
Raffi didn’t register that he’d gotten wet, too, until he and Ani stared at each other, panicked, not speaking, just taking huge, terrified breaths.
Then, pop pop. Flashbulbs flared from over the fence.
Raffi scanned Kami’s guests, all uproarious about the unwanted waterworks.
Fancy Armenian ladies, like cats, did not like to get wet without permission.
Or at all. His mother had never once stepped foot in a pool their entire childhood, although she was more than happy to sit at the perimeter of one.
He spotted aunties with their furs doused, men with their toupees plastered to their heads, and younger guests with makeup running down their faces.
How the hell could this have happened? Chris was flawless in his designing, there was no way he’d let something like this slip. He wasn’t rushed toward the end, not that Raffi could recall. Then Raffi remembered the flower predicament. And how Kami’s alterations went wrong. Could this be related?
Raffi asked Ani as quietly as he could, while still being heard over the din, “What the hell do we do?”
Ani’s eyes were massive, terrified, and he thought that for once, maybe she didn’t know, either. “I—I need a second to think—”
Then, her gaze roamed over to Kami and Grace, who had escaped the impromptu shower. And Kami? Kami was standing up, laughing. Then Grace was laughing. Kami was trying to shout and say something over the ruckus, but it was hard to hear her.
“Hold this down,” she said, then Ani bolted.
Raffi had no idea what she was doing or how to help other than keeping the wiggle-happy hose in place, so he just stood there, hand plunged in the water.
Sanan rushed up to his side then, also half-doused, and grabbed the hose from him.
“I’ve got this. You might be needed elsewhere.
I’ll figure out what to do with this thing. ”
“Thanks, Sanan,” Raffi said with sincerity. He took his hands out, dried them on his pants, and looked for Ani.
Ani had grabbed a mic from somewhere and handed it to Kami.
Kami’s voice boomed, and between her giggles, she said, “Calm down, everyone! This was obviously a gift from Anahit, goddess of water, healing, and…” she waggled her eyebrows in Grace’s direction. “Fertility.”
The crowd quieted and calmed somewhat.
“We’ll get you all towels. But stay, eat, and enjoy a rare blessing from an Armenian goddess!”
Raffi scanned the crowd. It worked. He supposed that if the bride was happy, if she called it a blessing, then everyone had to go along with it. Raffi twisted his mouth. He supposed Kami’s woo-woo tendencies and her charisma did come in handy.
Ani jogged over to Raffi and Sanan now, a roll of duct tape and a napkin in her hand.
“Let’s get that tube stuck in place,” Ani said.
“I can do it,” Sanan said. “You guys should go get the towels.”
Ani nodded. “Good point. Thanks, Sanan. Let me know if it doesn’t work.”
Once Ani and Raffi were inside, Raffi could tell, even though Ani’s mind was working analytically now—likely trying to figure out what to do in the fastest, best order possible—she was not happy.
“Ani, baby, look at me. It’s going to be okay,” he said, not sure if that was true but wanting to reassure her anyway.
“We’ll see,” she muttered. “Do you have towels?”
Now Raffi smiled, trying his best to lighten her mood. “You bet. After the fiasco at DePietro’s, I bought enough ? towels to handle a damn tsunami.”
Ani gave him a weak smile. “Good thinking.”
Raffi and Ani distributed the bushel of brand-new towels, and it proved to be enough to cover everyone. But the last table Raffi approached was his father’s, and he saw Moushegh there, rubbing his ankle, Kami’s aunt by his side.
“Raffi jan,” the aunt said, “Moushegh had a fall.”
“Dad—” Raffi said, with concern at the same time Moushegh roared, “Damn it, Sima, I’m fine.”
Sima repeatedly shook her head no. No, he’s not fine.
Ani materialized then, and Raffi could see a small smile on his dad’s face. “Ani Avakian, yes?”
“That’s me. Can I help you in any way?”
Moushegh tapped the side of his glass. “Another Johnnie Walker, perhaps?”
Ani laughed good-naturedly, but Raffi could see she was trying to hide her concern. “Certainly,” she said in Armenian, and picked up his tumbler.
Sima, angry at Moushegh’s rebuffing, and seeing that all seemed to be well, walked away.
“Dad,” Raffi said.
“I do not want to hear it,” Moushegh said.
“How’d it happen?” Raffi asked.
His father sighed. “The water was everywhere. I tried to get up to move away and then suddenly I was on the ground.”
Raffi nodded silently. “Will you let me look at it, at least? I’m actually trained for it, even if I haven’t been practicing lately.”
Moushegh angrily shook his head. “Not here, not here.”
“Okay, but later?”
His father pursed his lips. “Fine.”
“We’ll get out of here soon. I have a feeling the party’s going to wrap up earlier than expected.”
Then Ani returned with a whiskey for Moushegh and one for Raffi, too.
“Thanks, but where’s your drink?” Raffi asked.
Ani smiled. “I never drink on the job. Though…I may have had a sip of yours.”
“Good on you,” Moushegh said to Ani, then took a swig.
Ani occupied the empty seat next to Moush egh. Uh-oh. Why was Ani sitting next to his father?
“You know,” Ani said quietly to Moushegh, so low Raffi could barely hear. “My grandfather was Toros Avakian, fighter in—”
“My God,” his dad said, his voice softening with recognition. “Toros Avakian. He fought in Artsakh, didn’t he? Under Monte—back in the nineties?”
Raffi blinked. His dad knew her grandfather. The way Dad’s voice shifted, like he was speaking the name of someone sacred, made Raffi sit up a little straighter.
Ani nodded, seemingly thankful for the recognition. “As you may know, he was injured from it. Went everywhere with a cane. But he loved that cane so much—it was made of cedarwood from Beirut—it became part of his silhouette, his presence. He even asked to be buried with it.”
Moushegh made some noises of discomfort, then said, “Well, such a fine cane, I’m sure. And such a man. He could wear that cane with pride.”
“Some might say you’re such a man.” Ani smiled at Moushegh.
And then something wild happened. Moushegh smiled back and said, “I wouldn’t dare compare myself to war heroes, but—”
“But,” Ani said, a full sentence to sit there, for him to consider. Then, she touched Moushegh lightly on the shoulder and added, “I have to go now, clean up this mess somehow.”
“You do that, my girl,” Moushegh said, entranced.
Both father and son stared in her wake. Then Moushegh turned to Raffi, his expression stern but with a flicker of softness underneath. He jabbed a finger in Raffi’s direction, his voice low and gravelly. “You better not do anything stupid. A woman like that doesn’t come around twice.”