Josie
Twenty-five
The first thing I notice the next morning is the quiet weight settling onto the mattress. I open my eyes to find early morning light filtering through the curtains, soft and pale across the room. Eloise leans against the bed for another moment before climbing up beside me with determined focus.
She crawls across the covers without hesitation, her small knees pressing into the mattress until she reaches the pillow. Her stuffed Hello Kitty comes with her, clutched firmly under one arm. When she finally snuggles into the blankets, she looks pleased.
“Good morning,” I murmur.
Eloise studies me, the room quiet around us.
A moment later the bedroom door opens behind her.
Alex steps in looking calm and put together.
He’s already been awake for a while, though the faint rumple in his hair suggests his day started earlier than expected.
“Well,” he says as he takes in the scene, “someone made a new plan for the morning.”
Eloise turns toward him immediately. Alex crosses and lifts her from the bed, the Hello Kitty dangling from her arm as he nestles her against his shoulder.
“Sorry about that,” he says with a small smile. “She’s an early riser.”
“I noticed,” I reply, pushing myself up against the pillows.
He carries Eloise toward the door as she tells him something I can’t quite catch. He closes it behind them, but this movement has shifted me from sleep to wakefulness, even if it’s still early. The morning is beginning to gather around us.
By the time I join them in the living area of the suite, there’s a breakfast tray on the small table near the windows. Zara moves easily between the table and the adjoining room while Eloise waits in a chair beside the food.
I can spot coffee, pastries, fruit, and a small plate of scrambled eggs. Yum.
Alex pours coffee into two cups while Zara passes Eloise a small bowl of fruit.
“Sleep alright?” Alex asks as he hands me a cup.
“Better than I have in a while,” I answer, curling into the chair beside his.
Eloise begins eating with the single-minded focus of someone who woke up hungry. Zara watches her with quiet attention, adjusting a napkin across the child’s lap.
Outside, the early sunlight brightens the vineyards as they stretch across the valley in long green rows.
After a while, Alex helps Eloise into her shoes, even as she continues eating, the process happening with the steady patience of someone who has done it many times before.
I find a small hairbrush from the counter and smooth a loose strand behind Eloise’s ear. She barely pauses while chewing a piece of fruit, accepting the help without protest.
Across the room Zara checks something inside her bag before closing the zipper again. “The pool is open,” she says casually.
Eloise looks up immediately. “Pool?”
Zara nods. “If you finish breakfast.”
That settles the matter.
An hour later, Alex and I step into the quiet lobby while Zara and Eloise head toward the courtyard with towels and sunscreen.
“Text if she falls asleep,” Alex tells Zara.
“Have fun,” she replies.
The Meritage driver greets us outside and opens the rear door. “Winery?” he asks.
Alex nods.
The car rolls easily into the valley, and lush vineyards pass on either side of the road.
Twenty minutes later, the driver turns through a stone gate and slows.
He leaves us at the edge of the property, the gravel drive curving toward a low stone building that sits just above the vines.
The air carries the warm, dry scent of sun-heated earth and crushed leaves.
Alex thanks him while I pause at the edge of the small vineyard. Even from here I can see the structure of it—the tight spacing, the careful canopy management, the deliberate way the rows follow the slope instead of cutting straight across it.
“This is a serious operation,” I say.
Alex looks over the vines and then back at me. “You can tell already?”
Nodding, I step off the gravel and into the first row.
The soil is lighter than ours in Paradise, looser under my shoes. I crouch briefly and pick up a small handful, letting it fall back through my fingers. “Sandy loam,” I tell him. “Drains fast.”
Alex watches me, seeming amused. “You look like you’re conducting an inspection.”
“I am.”
He laughs softly and follows me between the vines.
Up close, the vineyard reveals the kind of discipline you only get from years of careful work. The shoots are trimmed neatly along the wires, the fruit tucked beneath the leaves to protect it from the worst of the sun.
I run my fingers along one of the leaves. “They’re managing the canopy aggressively,” I say. “Probably to control heat buildup.”
Alex studies the row beside us. “Is that good?”
“It depends on the year.”
The breeze shifts, carrying the faint sweetness of ripening grapes. I straighten and look down the length of the vineyard again. “They’re pushing for concentration.”
Alex raises an eyebrow. “Meaning?”
“Smaller berries. More flavor.”
We walk along the narrow path between the rows, the leaves brushing softly against our arms as we pass.
Alex studies the hills beyond the property. “You ever get tired of looking at vineyards?”
I smile back at him. “Never.” After the last few weeks, just standing among vines again feels like remembering how to breathe.
He nods. “Good. Because I feel like you’re reading this place the way other people read a novel.”
I grin. “I suppose I am.”
The slope rises ahead of us, and from higher ground the valley opens wider, neighboring vineyards forming a patchwork across the landscape.
Alex stops beside me. “Well?” he asks.
I take a long breath. “They know exactly what they’re doing.”
“I’m glad to hear that,” he says. “Because I figured if anyone would notice, it would be you.”
For a moment we simply stand there, looking out across the valley while the vines move softly in the breeze. Then we follow the signs to the tasting room.
The space feels dim and cool after the direct sun outside. Long wooden counters stretch across the room while rows of bottles catch the light behind the bar.
A staff member greets us, makes small talk for a moment while we decide what we’d like to do, and before we know it, she’s poured the first wine.
Alex lifts his glass and glances toward me. “What do you think?”
I taste it slowly, admiring the deep red. “Balanced.” I take in the hints of blackberry and peach. “But they’re holding the fruit back.”
Alex studies the glass thoughtfully. “I like it. Is it worth the cost to import it and bring a case home?”
I nod. “Oh, it might be.”
I can’t remember the last time I tasted wine without a goal in mind.
Usually I’m evaluating structure, balance, acid, tannins, and trying to decide if we need to tweak the blend.
Tonight, Alex keeps sliding glasses toward me with an easy grin, reminding me that I’m allowed to simply like a wine without turning it into work.
By the sixth pour, I've narrowed my favorites to two. Alex reaches for the order form. “Let’s take a case of each.”
I laugh and catch his hand. “You know we’re flying home, right? Importing wine isn’t cheap.”
“It’s worth asking, though,” he counters.
“Maybe a bottle of each,” I suggest. “We’ll save the cases for the next trip.”
He nods in agreement, and with that, we’re off.
By the time the hotel car brings us back to the Meritage, the valley has shifted into evening. The sun sits low behind the hills while the rows of vines fade into darker green shadows. Alex thanks the driver, and we step into the cool lobby.
“Good timing,” he says as we cross toward the elevators. “If Eloise is still awake, it’ll be just for a few more minutes.”
I smile. “Pool days tend to do that to kids.”
The elevator carries us upstairs, and then Alex unlocks the suite and pushes the door open.
Inside, we find Zara sitting on the couch with Eloise curled against her side beneath a light blanket. The television plays softly while the child fights sleep with stubborn determination.
Eloise lifts her head when we walk in. “You’re back.”
“How was the pool and your taco dinner?” Alex asks.
“Good,” she mumbles.
Zara smiles faintly. “She swam until she couldn’t keep her eyes open, and she had one meat and cheese taco.”
Alex crosses to brush a hand lightly through Eloise’s hair. “Sounds about right.”
Eloise gives him a sleepy wave before letting her head fall back against Zara’s shoulder.
“Okay, kiddo. Now it’s time,” Zara says quietly.
Alex nods, and Eloise seems to be done resisting.
Zara lifts her carefully and maneuvers through the adjoining door, the Hello Kitty still tucked beneath the child’s arm. The door closes softly, leaving the suite quiet.