Chapter 28 #2
“There were a few rainy days, but otherwise the weather was picture-perfect,” my dad said, then launched into the thrilling tale of discovering the most idyllic vineyard in all the valley.
I tried to listen, but I only caught the words vine and barrels and delectable cheese plate.
We were walking through the house and I was distracted watching their faces, trying to read if they could tell something was off—if they could see that something had happened here last night.
My spine straightened when my mom sighed.
“Audrey, sweetie, thank you,” she said. “It was so thoughtful of you to have the house cleaned for us.”
Oh my god, how does she know? I wondered. I didn’t—
“It was me.” My dad smiled sheepishly. “I let it slip.”
Okay, phew.
Now I had to stop them from looking out the French doors. I didn’t want them to see the tire tracks yet; I needed to buy a little more time.
“Did you bring back any wine, Dad?” I asked. “I can help you put it in the cellar.”
His face lit up. “I did bring back a couple of bottles. The cases I ordered should arrive this week.”
My mom followed us down to the wine cellar. She updated me on the Gallants, and I nodded along as my dad stopped in front of the cellar’s French sector. “Audrey,” he interrupted news of Marc and Stacy’s elder daughter’s recent engagement, “what happened here?”
Huh? I thought. Something had happened in Italy, not France.
He pivoted and gestured to an empty cubby. “Where is the Bourgueil Franc de Pied?”
Oh. The back of my neck heated. Oh, shit.
That was the cabernet Henry and I had drunk after my party. When we’d finally kissed. The cellar went fuzzy at the thought.
“I drank it,” I heard myself admit. “I was bored after you left, and got curious, so…”
Yeah. So, yeah.
My parents exchanged a look.
“Did you drink it yourself?” my mom asked.
“Mmm.” I kept my lips zipped, not wanting to narc on Henry.
But she nodded once, like she knew.
“Well, in any case,” my dad said somberly, “it’s gone.” He raised an eyebrow, then started to smile. “What did you think?”
I wanted to use some of his wine terms, but for the life of me, I couldn’t remember what the bottle’s label had said or what the wine had tasted like. Were there some fruity notes in it?
In the end, my review sounded like how my mom described wine. “It was the perfect choice for a night in with friends,” I said. “Cozy and comfortable, but still full of life and laughter.”
He nodded thoughtfully. “Probably due to the cherry notes,” he said, then snapped his fingers. “I think you’ll like this cab I ordered.”
“I sat next to a nice woman on the plane,” my mom said once my dad had put away his new acquisitions. The three of us settled on the velvet couch near the golf simulator. Hopefully my dad wasn’t keen to play St. Andrews anytime soon; Griff had beaten his record.
“Oh, yeah?” I asked cautiously.
“Mm-hmm.” She touched her necklace, which I realized was the mermaid teardrop pendant. “She complimented my necklace.” She smiled, almost proudly. “I told her my daughter made it and showed her Golightly Glass’s Instagram. She thinks you’re incredibly talented for blowing less than two years.”
“That’s really cool,” I said as every fiber in me screamed, This is the moment! Tell them you’re going to Blue Ridge! Tell them you’re actually doing it! Tell them you paid for it!
But instead, I asked: “Mom, why don’t you want to be an interior designer?”
She cocked her head at the seemingly out-of-left-field subject.
“I mean, you are an interior designer,” I clarified.
“You renovated our entire house, and I know you’ve helped friends with theirs, but why don’t you make a website?
People would hire you left and right. You’re so talented!
” I swallowed. “And I saw the house instead, she answered my question.
“You’re right,” she said, “that folder is my first attempt at a portfolio. I have thought about launching a firm, but…” She pivoted a little.
“I work at Bedtime Stories because I love to read, and I love helping others discover their love for reading. I feel professionally fulfilled.” She took a breath.
“Interior design and decorating are my passion, Audrey. Excluding you and your dad, nothing makes me happier than seeing a space live up to its full potential. I love it.” She hesitated.
“But I worry that if I do it professionally, I won’t love it that way anymore.
That it will become work and someday I will never want to look at fabrics or wallpaper samples again.
It’s a real fear of mine, as silly as it may sound. ”
“Oh,” I said, puzzle pieces unscrambling themselves in my head. Could that have something to do with—
“And that is why I am hesitant about your glassblowing,” she admitted. “Your father and I support you so much…”
I glanced over to see him give me a thumbs-up.
“… but the last thing we want is for you to fall out of love when you professionally pursue it.” She smiled wistfully.
“You are so gifted, Audrey, and you have one of the greatest work ethics I’ve ever seen.
Friends have marveled to us about how talented you are, and it takes a lot not to outright brag about you.
What high schooler builds a hot shop? Has a successful Etsy store?
We are so proud.” She paused. “I’m just nervous. There’s no pressure with hobbies.”
I was speechless. Really? All this time? I knew on some level my parents were proud, but they were truly that impressed? They wanted to brag about me?
A lump rose in my throat. “I never thought about it that way,” I said quietly. “I think that’s a rational fear. But I’m never going to know if I don’t try, right?” I gave my mom a look. “And neither will you.”
“Touché,” she acknowledged.
“I really want to go to North Carolina next month,” I said, seizing my moment.
“Golightly Glass had a flash sale recently, and combined with my Constellation money and savings, I can afford Blue Ridge’s tuition.
After that, I have some thinking to do.” I paused, then took a breath. “Maybe I could at least do a gap year?”
I’d been turning it over in my head ever since my fight with Henry, and the idea had taken root after talking with Trina. Would going to Wharton and blowing glass at Temple be right for me? The best balance? The perfect match?
Teary-eyed, my mom nodded. “We were actually going to bring that up with you,” she said. “We spoke with the Gallants, and it turned out Marc took a gap year once upon a time to live in France and work on his grandparents’ vineyard. He swears it helped shape him into the person he is today.”
“And it was only for twelve months,” my dad added teasingly. “He did go to Michigan after that.”
“So it’s a yes?” I asked, hope flaring in my chest. “You’ll let me go to Blue Ridge?” I held my breath as my parents held each other’s gazes for a beat, then turned back to me in unison…
And nodded.
“Yes,” my mom said, smiling. “It’s a yes.”
“Thank you!” I grinned. “I love you so much.”
“We love you, too, Audrey.” My mom laughed. “You might be our only child, but you are also our favorite.”
“I’ve visited every continent,” my dad mused, “but I’ve yet to see the Blue Ridge Mountains.” He chuckled. “This should be an adventure!”
I GOT IN TROUBLE FOR THE TIRE TRACKS IN THE backyard right after James and Isa returned with coffee and muffins.
I couldn’t in good conscience throw Griff under the bus, but before I could cop to it solo, James stepped in: “I egged her on, Aunt Monica. She took me on a ride in the golf cart one night, and I dared her to do doughnuts.”
My mom rubbed her eyes, exasperated. “James…”
You owe me, he mouthed at me. Big-time.
My cousin might’ve let my mom down, but the guilty party was funding the lawn repair.
Thanks for the Venmo, Joel!
What I didn’t expect was my dad calling me into his office later, while my mom was cozy on the couch and exploring the many wonders of Squarespace on her laptop. We were trying out different templates for house & home by monica. “What’s up?” I asked.
“I wanted to reiterate how proud of you I am,” he said, holding a Golightly Glass tumbler of scotch and leaning against his desk.
“I’ve been reading up on Blue Ridge and these other glass schools, and then fell down the Corning Museum’s YouTube rabbit hole…
” He shook his head. “Congratulations on your fellowship acceptance, Audrey. I’m sorry it took me so long to really tell you that. ”
“Thank you,” I said. “That means a lot, Dad. I mean, better late than never!”
He laughed. “I do want to add that I still think Wharton is too good an opportunity to pass up. A business degree opens all kinds of doors.”
I nodded. I’d emailed Trina’s sister earlier to inquire about Temple’s art school. After a year of exploration, could I really combine Penn and glassblowing?
“For example, if glassblowing doesn’t work out,” he continued, “I believe you have a promising future in luxury property management.”
Luxury property management? I thought, before my blood pressure skyrocketed into space. LUXURY PROPERTY MANAGEMENT!!!
My dad took a casual sip of scotch, but there was a twinkle in his eye. “Wouldn’t you agree?”