Josie #2
Once they’ve showered and dried off, Eloise and Zara tell us they’re headed to the restaurant in the hotel to sit at the pizza bar. They’ll make their own pizza and watch it go into the wood-burning oven. And they have plans for multiple games of Uno.
Alex approves this plan, and they head out into the hallway. “We won’t be late,” he tells Zara as they go.
I’m still wearing a robe after my shower, and when he comes back into the suite, Alex gives me a look that stirs some ideas in my head.
But then he clears his throat and seems to pull himself together.
“We have a reservation,” he informs me with a smile.
“Please dress as fabulously as you’d like.
Some people will be fancy and others will be casual. ”
“Sounds like home,” I quip.
Fanciness is not the norm for me, but when you wear jeans and shorts to work, any kind of skirt is fancy.
I do have a few dresses in the back of my closet, and thankfully they made it into my suitcase.
I choose the one that’s done the best job not getting wrinkly on the trip, and once I’m dressed, Alex joins me in the living room wearing pants and a neatly pressed shirt.
Outside the hotel the evening air has cooled, the valley now bathed in sunset. Alex leads us out to the Meritage’s waiting car service, which then drives us a short distance to The French Laundry.
I gasp. “We’re eating here?” My pulse kicks up. I’ve always dreamed of eating at a five-star Michelin restaurant.
Inside, the host leads us to a small table near the window before pulling out my chair. Alex thanks him quietly, the faint scent of roasted garlic drifting through the room.
I look around the space, taking it in while trying not to gawk. “I’ve heard about this place for years,” I say. “I just never managed to get a reservation.”
Alex smiles. “The hotel concierge was very motivated.”
“I’m impressed.”
A server appears beside the table a moment later, placing two menus in front of us.
“Good evening,” he says. “Welcome to The French Laundry. My name is Daniel, and I’ll be taking care of you tonight.”
“Thank you,” Alex replies.
“Would you like to look at the tasting menu first, or would you prefer to speak with our sommelier about wine?”
Alex raises his eyebrows, looking at me.
“Wine first,” I say.
Daniel nods. “I’ll send him right over.”
Shortly thereafter, another man approaches the table carrying the wine list. His jacket is darker than the server’s and a small silver pin glints on his lapel.
“Good evening,” he says, placing the wine list between us.
Then he pauses. His gaze moves over my face with a flicker of recognition. “Forgive me,” he says after a moment. “Are you Josephine Dempsey?”
I smile slightly. “I am.”
The sommelier’s expression brightens with professional enthusiasm. “Your Black Bear Reserve was on our winter list. It was one of the fastest-moving bottles we had.”
Alex leans back in his chair beside me, watching the exchange with quiet amusement.
“That’s good to hear,” I tell him.
“It’s an excellent wine.” He seems almost star-struck and unable to continue.
Alex taps the edge of the list. “I’m debating between the Rutherford and the St. Helena Cabernet.”
The sommelier nods, refocusing on the task at hand. “Both are strong tonight.” He looks back at me. “If you were choosing?”
I study the list for a moment before pointing. “The Rutherford.”
He nods. “That’s exactly what I would have suggested.”
Alex grins across the table. “Good to know I was close.”
The sommelier chuckles. “You were.” He collects the wine list and steps away.
When he returns with the bottle, he presents it to Alex before turning the label my way.
“Rutherford Cabernet,” he says.
Alex nods toward me. “You should approve this.”
The sommelier pours a small taste into my glass.
I lift it, swirl once, and take a careful sip. “That’s lovely,” I say.
Alex raises an eyebrow. “That sounded official.”
I shrug. “Occupational hazard.”
The sommelier pours for both of us before leaving the bottle between our glasses.
We’re halfway through the first course when the sommelier returns to the table. “Chef asked me to stop by again,” he says.
A moment later another man approaches from behind him, tall and composed in a chef’s jacket.
The sommelier gestures politely. “Chef Keller, this is Josephine Dempsey.”
Keller offers a brief handshake. “I wanted to thank you for coming tonight,” he says. “Your cabernet is exceptional.”
“That means a lot coming from you,” I answer.
He smiles. “We’ve enjoyed pouring it.”
“I’m enjoying your exceptional food,” I tell him.
Alex watches the exchange quietly.
“Thank you for joining us tonight,” Keller says again. “Please have a wonderful evening.”
The two men step away, moving back toward the kitchen.
Alex studies me across the table. “You didn’t mention that your wine was on their list.”
I take another sip of the cabernet. “Honestly, I didn’t know. The distributors don’t always tell us. But the cab they’re talking about won several gold medals at the International Wine and Spirits Competition.”
Alex laughs softly, lifting his glass. “I have a case of it at home.”
The candlelight flickers between us as we return to our delicious meal. Warmth rushes through me. I can’t imagine a better evening.