Chapter 21
Chapter twenty-one
CITRUS BOMBS OF DEATH
“I mean, seriously, what was he thinking?”
I nod in agreement as Leah continues her hushed rant while Judith narrows her eyes at us from across the table.
Apparently, before coming up to my guest room, Cameron agreed to let her be part of our wine tasting, even after she almost started a fire and had that huge blowout with Delaney.
If I had known, I would have challenged him on it, but by the time I walked into the formal dining room and registered what was happening, Cameron had already stepped into the kitchen to help Ollie with the final preparations.
“If Judith makes one comment about what I’m drinking, or not drinking for that matter—”
“She won’t,” I say, and sneak a glance at Cameron as he pushes up his sleeves to put the finishing touch on one of our tasting plates.
Leah looks unconvinced, so I continue. “I’ll be drinking all of the non-alcoholic drinks with you, so you won’t be singled out, remember?
” Leah wrings her hands under the table, and I reach over to put one of mine on top of hers. “I’ve got you. I promise.”
She meets my eyes and lets out a breath. “Thank you.”
Val’s face is unreadable, as usual, from across the table from where she sits next to Judith.
There is one seat empty between them, but Judith still leans away from Val, as if the space between them isn’t enough.
The table comfortably seats three people on each side, with two more at each end, so at least Delaney has options other than the space between them if she decides to join us.
I haven’t seen her since Ollie showed up at the front door, and she stomped away to tell Cameron to stay in his lane.
I wouldn’t be surprised if she doesn’t show at all, since I doubt she was on board to let Judith join us.
Delaney and Cameron are clearly in some sort of power struggle, but I still can’t fathom why he would take Judith’s side over hers.
Unless he thinks that Delaney should have just sucked it up and not been so affected by Judith’s antics, since she is the host. To be honest, I can see it from both sides, but if it were up to me, I would have asked Judith to sit this one out.
Cameron did mention on the ride over that he was here this weekend to decide if he wanted to start being more involved in the retreats. Maybe this is his attempt at that.
I glance over the menu until Ollie comes out of the kitchen to stand at the head of the table. He claps his hands together to get our attention, as if his sheer presence isn’t enough to pull the gaze of everyone in the room.
“Hello again, ladies. I wanted to let you know before we start that there has been a slight change to the tasting menu.” He holds up one of the pieces of printed cardstock and points to it.
“Our nonalcoholic pairing was supposed to be our signature sun-brewed teas, but our cashier accidentally sold off the last case that I had set aside for our group, so I had to replace it with our lemonade pairings instead. Delaney mentioned earlier that one of you is allergic to citrus, so I just wanted to make that clear before we begin.”
I stiffen as everyone looks around the table for who the person with a citrus allergy is and join in when I realize that I can’t admit that it’s me.
I promised Leah that I would help cover for her being pregnant by drinking the nonalcoholic drinks with her, and I can’t imagine backing out now with Judith watching our every move.
I am going to have to find a way to pretend like I am drinking these citrus bombs of death or actually ingest a little and hope that I can tolerate it.
I wish I could say that this turn of events was unexpected, but I am actually not surprised at all.
When no one speaks up, Ollie’s brow knits together. “I could have sworn Delaney indicated that there was a citrus allergy in this party.”
“Maybe it’s Delaney,” Val suggests, and I nod vigorously in agreement because she isn’t here to correct the wrong assumption.
Ollie laughs. “It’s definitely not Delaney. She always insists I bring a bottle of our lavender lemonade for her to take home.”
Val and I lock eyes across the table, and she tilts her head a fraction. Apparently, I am failing at looking nonchalant, so I avert my gaze back to Ollie.
“Maybe I am misremembering,” he says. “Either way, I just want to reiterate that the wine and food are all citrus-free, but the lemonade is not.”
I start to panic as Ollie uncorks the first bottle of wine at the front of the table.
“Here we have our Sauvignon Blanc, with notes of lemon, grapefruit, and pomelo, but as a reminder, there is no actual citrus in the wine. It is all a result of the natural compounds in the grapes that I will go into further detail about a little later.” He puts down the uncorked wine to hold up the glass carafe of lemonade.
“This is our classic lemonade. Both options work to balance the saltiness of the goat cheese toasted crostini that Cameron will be bringing around in just a minute.”
Ollie starts with Judith, who requests the wine.
Then moves to Val, who does the same. Every muscle in my body tenses as he comes around the table to me, and I request the lemonade.
He fills the glass, and I flinch when he accidentally overpours and some spills down the sides.
I use my napkin to wipe it off as best I can, not wanting to come into contact with it until I absolutely have to.
Leah also asks for the lemonade, as planned, and Ollie takes his place back at the head when we are all served.
“By a show of hands, how many of you have been to a wine tasting before?”
Judith and I raise our hands, and then I zone out as he goes into the five S’s of assessing a wine, since I know them all by heart, and instead focus on finding a way to get out of this.
I haven’t had any citrus since I was ten, so I consider the possibility that my allergy may have magically gone away with time but promptly dismiss it.
With my luck, it will be the opposite and be a million times worse since I have avoided citrus for so long.
A bead of sweat drips down my back as Cameron places a tasting plate in front of me.
His eyes widen at my expression, and he leans down close to whisper, “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing,” I squeak, and turn away so that he keeps moving. There is nothing that he can do to help me other than somehow drink the lemonade for me, and there is no way that he can do that discreetly. I need to figure this one out on my own.
Ollie moves the women to step three of the five S’s and asks them to sniff the Sauvignon Blanc.
Thankfully, there is no point in smelling plain lemonade, because the thought alone makes my stomach lurch.
Instead, I pretend to be engaged while Ollie leads Val and Judith through identifying each note of their wine.
I only have seconds to find a way out of this before he moves to the fourth S, which is to sip, but the best ideas I’ve come up with so far are to somehow knock over the glass or throw the lemonade over my shoulder when everyone goes to drink.
Since knocking over a glass would only prompt Ollie to pour me another one, and throwing the lemonade over my shoulder is just plain rude, I have no choice but to test the strength of my stomach.
Ollie proposes a toast to our night together, and I am out of time, so I join in with the others and clank my glass against theirs and say a prayer as I lift the lemonade to my lips.