Chapter 3
Ivy circulated through the party with Bennett, chatting with old friends and meeting new people.
“Having a good time?” Bennett asked, tapping her glass.
“Wonderful,” she replied. “It’s good to see everyone here.” She was sure that whatever Emilie and Tristan planned as a surprise for the evening would be fun.
The breeze carried aromatic scents from the vineyard and garden beyond the patio, along with the aroma of grilled seafood and barbecue. Just outside the area set up with dining tables was a wide vat of grapes from the recent harvest. She wondered what they would do with that.
All around them, guests were chatting and laughing.
She and Bennett spoke with Carol Reston, the Grammy Award-winning singer, and her husband Hal.
Indie filmmakers Megan and Josh Calloway were also there.
Megan filled her in on new research she’d discovered about Amelia in Switzerland for the documentary she’d been working on about her.
Bennett was deep in conversation with their friends when Mitch’s phone buzzed.
He pulled it from his pocket. “Hey, Darla. What’s up?” He paused and wrinkled his brow. “Are you sure?”
Immediately, a look of concern filled Shelly’s face. “Is Daisy okay?”
Ivy pressed a hand to her sister’s arm, hoping this wasn’t anything serious.
Mitch raised a finger. “I thought Shelly brought the diaper bag in when we dropped off Daisy. Have you looked in the kitchen?”
“No, I thought you took it inside,” Shelly said.
Mitch shook his head as he continued speaking with Darla. “If you’ve looked everywhere, it’s probably not there. Maybe we forgot to bring it inside with us.”
“We should go back,” Shelly said, biting her lip. “Daisy needs her diapers and baby food and clothes. And her binky and panda. She’ll be upset without them. I was afraid it was too early to leave her overnight.”
“She’ll be okay,” Ivy said, trying to soothe her.
Mitch frowned at Shelly and went on. “She is? Sure, if you don’t mind.”
Growing agitated, Shelly reached for the phone. “I’ll tell Darla we’re leaving now.”
“Sounds good. Thanks.” Mitch tapped the phone and hung up. “Relax, babe. Darla has extras of everything there. She can call Louise to pick up anything she might need after the laundry closes.”
Shelly pressed her fingers to her temple. “I wish I could’ve talked to Daisy. Is she upset?”
“Not at all.” Mitch grinned. “She’s happily eating berries. Darla is a pretty cool grandmother to Daisy. She’s got this.”
Ivy smiled and put an arm around her sister. “I know how hard it is to leave your baby girl alone the first time, but Daisy will be fine. Darla raised a son, remember?”
Slowly, Shelly nodded. “I just wanted Daisy to have everything she needed. What if she can’t sleep in a strange house?”
“She knows Darla’s place, and she can sleep anywhere now,” Mitch said, kissing Shelly on the cheek.
When Shelly looked doubtful, Ivy said, “You can trust Darla to care for Daisy. She loves her and wouldn’t let anything happen to her.”
“I guess you’re right,” Shelly said, taking a sip from her glass.
A moment later, Emilie joined them again. Taking Shelly’s hand with a wink, she said, “You should see my garden. Come with me.”
“Go,” Ivy said to Shelly with a reassuring look.
As Emilie led her away, Mitch turned back to Ivy. “Thanks for reassuring Shelly. She wanted to come, but I could tell that letting Daisy stay overnight was a big stretch for her. I didn’t expect that. I miss the kiddo, too.”
“It’s another first,” Ivy said, fondly recalling when her daughters were that age. Although her sister had always been spirited and carefree, she had grown into a concerned mother now.
A few minutes later, Ivy spied Shelly gripping her phone, so she started toward her.
Frowning, Shelly asked, “Be sure to get the right size diapers.”
Ivy could hear Darla’s gruff voice scratching over the phone. “If I run out, I’ll pin a dishtowel on Daisy. I’m kidding, of course. Go have a good time.”
Click.
Shelly stared at the phone. “I can’t believe she hung up on me.”
“That was the second call within ten minutes. Daisy will be fine. Darla and Poppy practically fought over who would babysit.”
“I just wanted to tell Daisy good night.”
“And did you?”
Shelly nodded with a little smile and slipped the phone into her purse.
“Time to return to the party, then.” As she spoke, Ivy caught Bennett’s eye across the tent and smiled. He was talking to Tristan and Mitch near a cluster of wine barrels.
As she and Shelly walked back to the patio, her heart went out to her sister. Ivy understood what she was going through.
Shelly sniffed. “You think I overreacted, don’t you?”
“I think it’s a natural reaction for your first overnight alone since Daisy was born.”
“I trust Darla, but I was mad at myself and Mitch. Neither one of us remembered what was important for Daisy. I was so wrapped up in the plans for this weekend.”
“We all make mistakes. Sounds like Darla is handling it, and Daisy is safe with her. Let it go.”
“How did you manage with two kids?”
“Having children is like juggling. Sometimes you drop a ball, but you pick it up and keep going.” Ivy hooked her arm through her sister’s. “Crisis averted. Let’s celebrate.”
She steered Shelly toward the buffet tables arranged under canvas sailcloth stretched overhead. Lanterns hung from posts, illuminating platters of crusty breads, assorted cheeses, and vegetables roasted with rosemary. The earthy, musky aroma of wooden wine barrels rose in the air.
“We’ll feast tonight,” Shelly said, relaxing as they sampled the cheeses. “Emilie said most everything came from their garden or other farms around here. She harvested the tomatoes this morning.”
Ivy selected a fig wrapped in prosciutto, enjoying the fresh harvest and artisan creations.
As the sun sank toward the horizon, the clink of glasses punctuated conversations. A trio of musicians with a vocalist nearby began a soulful rendition of “La Vie en Rose,” and several couples danced on the patio.
Hal and Carol chatted near the musicians. Her emerald silk outfit caught the light of a chandelier suspended overhead.
Ivy drank in the moment. After months of managing renovation crises and guests, being here was like surfacing for air. While Ivy loved managing the inn, this was rejuvenating.
Bennett joined her. He looked more like the man who’d wooed her on sunset beach walks than the mayor who’d spent the summer mediating disputes and planning budgets for the coming year.
With a soft squeeze of her shoulder, he asked, “Still enjoying yourself?”
“Even more now,” she replied with a kiss. “Any idea what the surprise is?”
“Not a clue.” Emilie signaled for everyone to move to the tables for the harvest celebration dinner, so Bennett took her hand.
The spirited conversations continued as they found their name cards and took their seats. Ivy and Bennett sat at a table with new faces, while Shelly and Mitch were at a table behind them.
The dinner began with the season’s first pumpkin soup sprinkled with pepitas and swirled with herb-infused olive oil.
Tristan opened more of their cherished wine from prior harvests to complement the grilled shrimp, barbecue, and vegan pasta they served.
A salad consisting of late-summer tomatoes and cucumbers followed, along with a final course of cheese, fruit, and chocolate pot de crème.
After dinner, couples drifted to the dance floor again.
Bennett reached out to her. “Dance with me?”
“Always.” She let him guide her through the other couples. Carol Reston sang one of her popular love songs, and Shelly and Mitch twirled past.
When the song ended, Tristan stepped forward. “We have a tradition here at Chateau Boivin for the harvest crush. We invite you to gather around the grape vat and the fire pit for a special surprise.”
“This is it,” Shelly whispered. “Get ready.”
Outside the dining area, stars blanketed the vineyard, where old, twisted vines looked like an army of wrinkled gnomes in the moonlight.
The vat stood at the center of a circle of torches, their flames dancing in the light breeze.
It was larger than Ivy had realized, reaching her shoulders, and the wood was worn smooth from years of use.
Grapes filled it nearly to the brim. Deep purple clusters caught the firelight, gleaming like jewels, while the aroma rose thick and sweet in the night air.
Tristan stepped forward, grinning in a way that suggested he’d been waiting all night for this moment. Emilie joined him, slipping her hand into his. The torchlight played across their faces.
“This is the highlight of our harvest crush,” Tristan said, his voice carrying across the gathered crowd. “This year, we wanted to honor the old method of how wine used to be made in small villages.”
Emilie’s eyes sparkled. “Which means these grapes must be crushed. With the feet.”
Tristan held up his arms and stomped the ground. “Who is brave enough to join us?”
Uneasy laughter rippled among the guests.
“We have togas inside,” Emilie continued, gesturing toward the chateau. “It’s good luck to crush the first grapes of the season.”
Ivy laughed. “This reminds me of an old ‘I Love Lucy’ episode where Lucy and Ethel stomped grapes.”
Several friends laughed and nodded while Emilie turned toward Ivy, her gaze landing on her and Bennett. “I think I know who our first volunteers should be.”
At once, Ivy realized what Shelly and Emilie had planned. She clasped Bennett’s hand for strength.
Emilie smiled. “Tradition usually calls for the youngest maidens, but we’ll make exceptions tonight. Who’ll be our first volunteers? How about the mayor?”
The crowd started chanting his name.
Raising his hand, Bennett shook his head. “I think there are more deserving people here. Mitch, how about you?”
But their friends kept up the chant.
Realizing the inevitable plan was afoot, Ivy tucked her arm through her husband’s. She wouldn’t let him do this alone. “Come on, Mr. Mayor. Let’s show them how it’s done.”