Chapter Sixteen Satoshi
Tasting today: Fernet-Branca, Milan, Italy.
A shot of Fernet is typically called a bartender’s handshake, because it’s supposed to shock you awake in the middle of a long shift. Sometimes, though, it just feels like stepping on a rake.
‘No, but you’re on the right track.’ Maxi took the sleeve off the bottle and showed it to me. ‘It’s zinfandel from Sonoma.’
I exhaled. ‘That’s not on the right track at all.’
‘Oh, come off it, you perfectionist.’ Carlton shoved me in the shoulder. ‘Most of your working was right – and warm climate grenache and zin are easy to mix up. If you make a call that close in the Young Somm comp, you’ll be in with a solid shot.’
The high street was starting to bustle as we wrapped up, joggers weaving between people grabbing coffee and lining up at the bakery. ‘Thanks for agreeing to have study group at the crack of dawn,’ I said. ‘This is the only window I have this week and I desperately need the practise.’
‘No worries,’ Carlton said. ‘I wish I could cover for you today. Losing a Saturday’s trade is rough.’
‘Yeah, I’m so sorry about that,’ Maxi agreed. ‘But you’re still on to stage at Filigree on Monday night, right?’
The last thing I wanted to do on my one precious night off was work a demanding shift in a fine-dining restaurant, but I nodded. ‘Thanks for getting your boss to let me.’
Once they’d left, I carried our tasting glasses out into the kitchen. I hadn’t swallowed any of the wines we’d blinded, but I could still feel them heavy on my palate, the tannins sucking all the moisture out of my mouth.
I chugged an enormous glass of water and then made myself an even more enormous cup of coffee, but it didn’t shift any of the fog clouding my brain. I dropped a glass while washing it, and it shattered all over the floor.
I sighed as I went to get the dustpan and brush. This fucking glasswasher was going to be the end of me.
When I was finished, I took a second, equally gigantic cup of coffee upstairs.
My bed looked very inviting, but if I allowed myself even fifteen minutes to lie down, there was a chance I might not be able to get up again – or, worse, that I’d just lie there the way I had last night, repeatedly reliving the horrifying moment I hadn’t been able to get it up for Fiona.
She understands, I told myself, glaring at my reflection in the mirror as I combed product through my too-short hair. She’d been married for years. There must have been times when Matt couldn’t perform.
Although maybe he’d been some kind of sexual machine. After all, he’d managed to keep two women satisfied enough to be clueless about each other for more than a decade.
And there was no skill shortage on Fiona’s end.
The woman was a fucking master at fellatio.
I’d never, ever say it to her, but I’d wondered, after the first time she’d nearly blown the top off my skull, whether part of the reason Matt had strung her along for so long was because he couldn’t bear to give up head that good.
I hadn’t been craving anything carnal yesterday, though. All I’d wanted was to hold her close and snuggle into her. Like a child.
I splashed water onto my face. ‘Shut up, Sato,’ I muttered.
I flicked through the suits in my wardrobe harder than I needed to, passing over my dove grey work suits and a few brightly coloured ones to reach for the charcoal one, pairing it with a dark green tie and glasses.
In the mirror, with my newly black hair and no pins on my lapel, I looked like a banker.
I wrestled Yquem into her carrier, brushed cat hair off me – rookie mistake, not corralling her before putting my suit on – and poured my third cup of coffee into the largest keep cup I owned.
Given her entire family would be present, I doubted Fiona would want to sneak away with me today, but if she did, I couldn’t let my tiredness get the better of me.
When I arrived at the vineyard, I dropped Yquem off with Okāsan and then went up to the cellar door. ‘Okaeri,’ Isamu started to say, and then stopped.
‘What?’ I simply didn’t have it in me to negotiate one of his lectures today.
He gestured to my hair.
‘You noticed.’
‘I might not have your finely honed aesthetic skills, but I know the difference between blond and black.’ He paused. ‘It makes you look…’
‘What? Older?’
It took him a moment before he answered. ‘Like Otōsan.’
Just the thought of opening up that can of worms made me feel even more exhausted. ‘How’s set up going?’
‘Everything’s on track.’ Of course it was. ‘The bride and bridesmaid arrived last night. I took them both a glass of sparkling about half an hour ago.’
‘Which one?’
‘The 2022 blanc de blancs, like you told me. Okāsan has prepared the adjoining room for the rest of the bridal party when they get here – that’s the flower girls and the mother of the groom, correct?’
‘Correct.’ As Fiona was the best man, her mother was on Rosie-and-Georgia duty.
‘The groom’s party will get ready in the library.’ Isamu nodded in the direction of the lounge next to the bar. ‘I thought it’d be best if you looked after them, and I’ll look after the bridal party.’
‘That sounds sensible.’ I resisted the urge to take my glasses off and rub at my scratchy eyes.
‘Otherwise, we’re good to go. The cellar door is ready for the reception. The tech is sorted for the brother to Zoom in. We just need to set up for the ceremony – I’ll pull a couple of the waitstaff to help with that – and I thought you’d want to prep the bar.’
It was unusually sensitive of him to allow me that level of control; and yet, if he had prepped the bar himself, I might not have complained too much.
‘You thought correctly.’ I took down a bottle of Fernet-Branca. ‘Bartender’s handshake?’
Isamu raised his eyebrows.
‘It’s going to be a big day,’ I said.
He looked at me, and for a moment, I thought he could see right through me, but, ‘All right,’ he said.
I poured us each a shot, and we clinked our glasses together before knocking them back. I winced at the taste – like bitter mouthwash – but Isamu didn’t. ‘I’m just going to check with Chef that everything is on track in the kitchen,’ he said, taking out his phone.
Then, of all things, he smiled.
I blinked. The Fernet had clearly not done its job. It was supposed to be a shock to the system, a way to jump-start your brain – there was a reason shotting it was a sadistic hospo ritual – but if Isamu was smiling, there was a strong chance I was hallucinating. ‘What is it? Is Chef done?’
‘No, no, sorry.’ He put his phone back into his pocket. ‘Something else. Can you grab me a bottle of sparkling? I’ll go and top up the bridal party.’
I passed him the last bottle of the 2022 blanc de blancs from the fridge, as well as one of a lightly flavoured sparkling mineral water from the beverage carry-case I’d brought with me. ‘For the B&B fridge. The flower girls will want to be included.’
I stood there for a long time after Isamu left, hands braced on the bar, letting it take my weight. Maybe it was just my haze of tiredness, but I couldn’t remember the last time I’d seen my brother smile like that.
Gravel crunched under tires outside. I considered doing another shot of Fernet but decided against it. The last thing I wanted to do was get tipsy on top of tired and make a bad first impression on Fiona’s parents.
Fiona and a pale-looking Jonah were unloading her car when I went outside to meet them. ‘Satoshi!’ Georgia squealed.
‘Hello, Miss Georgia.’ I submitted to her hug. ‘I’ve heard a rumour that you and your sister are going to be the two most elegant young ladies at the wedding today.’
‘We are!’ Her eyes were alight, her resemblance to Fiona so clear. ‘Grandma’s going to help us get ready! My dress is green and Rosie’s dress is pink and—’
‘Georgia, leave the nice man alone,’ an older woman who must be Fiona’s mother said. Rosie was clinging to her wrist.
‘He’s not just a man, Grandma.’ Georgia rolled her eyes. ‘He’s Satoshi.’
‘Satoshi Tsukamoto.’ I pasted my customer service smile to my face as I offered her my hand to shake. ‘Welcome to Bibliophile.’
‘So you’re the one responsible for the bookshop my grandchild won’t stop talking about.’
The man who was surely Fiona’s father took my outstretched hand before his wife could, nearly crushing my fingers in his sweaty palm. ‘You and I need to have a chat about the books Lex is acquiring from you.’
‘I told you, Grandpa,’ Lex said. ‘I like the books I get there.’
‘They’re not going to push you, though – not like the classics will. You’re about to start high school. You need to think about your future development. Improving your mind.’
‘Lex’s mind is perfect just the way it is,’ Fiona said. ‘Hi, Satoshi.’
She was laden down with garment bags, and my head was full of fog, but when her eyes crinkled at the corners, I had a moment of blessed relief. ‘Hi, Fiona. Let me take some of those for you.’
She surrendered some of the bags to me, and I led the family into the cellar door. ‘The groom’s party will get ready here,’ I said, opening the concertina doors to the library. ‘If you want to make yourself at home—’
‘Can I get a red wine?’ Fiona’s father plonked himself down in one of the leather armchairs.
‘Of course. What would you like?’
‘Barossa shiraz. Three ice cubes.’
It was hard to imagine a more ridiculous order than South Australian shiraz in a Tasmanian winery renowned for its pinot – like ordering a Big Mac at a French restaurant – but I nodded. ‘Jonah, let me get you a drink too. You look like you need it.’
Jonah nodded, half-sitting, half-slumping into a corner of the sofa. ‘Um – silly question – Sadie is here, right?’
‘Yes. She and Chess are getting ready in the B&B.’
‘Okay.’ He swallowed. ‘Good.’
‘I don’t want to sound unsympathetic, Jonah, but she did already marry you once.’ Fiona patted Jonah’s shoulder. ‘I’m going to take Mum and the girls down to the B&B. Back in a bit.’