Thirty #2
That was when Fiona realized her parents had always loved her deeply. They just hadn’t known how to show it. But now, she could feel it in their arms, see it in their eyes and she began to think she would not have to fight her battle alone.
That evening, Fiona, her parents and Ivy gathered around the small kitchen table.
The scent of roasted vegetables drifted through the room, tinged with the smell from Ivy’s wilting basil plant.
In pride of place on the table, wrapped in a white linen napkin, was a bottle of Leeuwin Estate Art Series Chardonnay, chilled to just the right temperature.
Her parents had brought it all the way from Australia.
At Fiona’s suggestion, they had built the meal around the iconic wine; she had explained how the creamy texture and vibrant acidity of the wine would balance beautifully with the natural sweetness and umami of roasted vegetables.
Her words flowed freely; she was sharing her passion, not delivering a lecture.
Her shoulders lifted as she watched her parents’ expressions absorb every detail.
Was that maternal pride in her mother’s smile?
Fiona moved quietly, pouring wine with a contented, almost shy smile. ‘I still can’t believe you’re staying all week,’ Fiona murmured, glancing at her parents before taking her seat.
Her mother’s hand found hers across the table.
‘And longer if we need to. We are staying until this is resolved,’ she replied softly.
Ivy had insisted on giving up her bedroom for her sister, content to sleep on the sofa bed – she didn’t need to announce her satisfaction at finally reuniting parents and daughter.
The meal passed with comfortable chatter, her father sharing a spirited debate with Ivy about how to fight ageing, her mother chiming in with her theories. Fiona felt herself relax; she didn’t fear a knock on the door anymore – not with her support team.
Once the plates were cleared, her father’s expression grew serious. ‘Now,’ he said, looking at Fiona, ‘how can we help figure out what really happened?’
Fiona tensed slightly and glanced at her aunt. Was it fair to press Ivy? Only as a last resort.
There was one other person she could try first ... unless he had already gone. She would message him and ask for one final Morning Prayers.
As Fiona was settling into bed, she took a moment to check her emails one final time. Her eyes scanned the subject lines. One stood out, pulling her out of her sleepy haze:
New exam date confirmed
It was from the CMS. She sat up straighter, her heart leaping. This was it – a fresh chance! A rush of excitement surged through her, like the first crisp sip of Sauvignon Blanc on a summer afternoon.
She clicked on the email, a pulse of anticipation in her fingertips.
Her mind leaped ahead, imagining herself being congratulated by Elsa, or better still, Laurent.
But as her eyes traced down the screen, the thrill ebbed, slowly replaced by a creeping doubt.
Her hands hesitated above the keyboard. Could she really go through this again?
All those hours of study, going further into debt, the relentless tasting sessions ... She remembered the quiet dread that had knotted in her stomach just days earlier in the exam room. The thought of returning to that pressure felt suffocating, as if her ambitions were pressing her down.
Fiona took a shaky breath as the joy she’d felt only moments before slipped away like the last drops of a glass of fine wine.
She closed her eyes and leaned back against the headboard, trying to find comfort from her memories of the evening: the gentle laughter of her family, all four of them lingering over the coffee cups, reluctant to end a memorable night.
All evening, she had felt safe, cocooned, untouched by the exalted demands of the CMS.
In her mind, she pictured Josh coasting in on a board, pulsing with the thrill of surfing a perfect wave, and his words that day on the beach came back to her. ‘You only get one life. Live the life you want, not the one someone else dreams for you.’
Fiona felt a tear slip down her cheek, though it wasn’t from sadness.
She brushed it away with the back of her hand.
With a small, shaky sigh, she realized maybe she didn’t need to pursue this exam.
That was a dream conjured by a mistaken need to keep achieving academic milestones.
She loved wine, but there was no need to belong to the CMS to live her dream.
She knew so much about wine already and found genuine joy in sharing that knowledge – in watching people’s faces light up as they discovered a perfect pairing or a hidden gem from a lesser-known region.
Being an Advanced Sommelier might boost her ego and her salary, but it wouldn’t enhance her true passion.
She didn’t need money; her parents had offered to repay her debts, and her job satisfaction had never come from credentials.
She closed her laptop, feeling both lighter and warmer, as if her decision was settling around her like a soft blanket.
Fiona shut her eyes and drifted off to sleep in minutes.
When Fiona arrived at Ru’s early the next morning, a light shone in the bay window.
She stood outside, the wind nipping at her cheeks.
Her gaze lingered on the horizon, where the water met the sky in a dull grey line.
Below her, waves broke gently against the cliffs, but the soft sound did little to calm her nerves.
Would Ru listen to her, believe her, maybe even help her?
Was he inside right now, wrestling with ways to identify the actual thief?
Or had the accusations shattered his trust in her, and his agreement to meet nothing but a nod to their shared romance, a chance to say goodbye politely after their last bitter argument?
The ocean stretched endlessly before her and, in its vastness, she imagined her life stretching out without Ru’s love.
The autumn winds seemed to mirror her thoughts, swirling unpredictably as she stood there, slivers of amber, yellow and red fluttering around her legs before drifting towards the cliff edge.
Uncertain of her reception, she traipsed up and down with her mind whirling, eroding her confidence, like a wildfire spreading across dry grass scorching the vegetation.
As Fiona paced, she thought of the irony: after all these years, she finally felt part of a family.
Her parents’ subtle, quiet pride emerging in their careful questions about last night’s wine, their encouraging nods as she answered their questions about the theft.
Now, just as she was finally embracing their support, she was losing the respect of the man she used to rely on and, despite her best efforts, still adored.
A shiver ran through her, and she wrapped her coat tighter, feeling as though her heart were fraying with each gust of wind.
She glanced upwards and saw him looking down.
His face looked taut. No smile. Her heart twisted.
She had come to terms with the loss of his love, but she had clung to the fragile hope that she could preserve his respect.
Now, even that felt lost. Fiona strode to the door, hearing the buzzer sound on the lock’s release.