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“Wine?! Wine!?” Oscar began to bellow before dashing off into the house with his hands over his head.
“Shit.” Ma sighed. “Okay, I’ll go calm Oscar. See if you can get Dingo under control and just think about what I said, Phil. Henri ain’t as exuberant as you are. He’s got rich blood.”
She kissed me on the cheek and went off to scold her sister more and then find and calm Oscar. Given the way the sky had darkened and the winds were picking up, a bolt from the sky could very well happen. I stood there thinking until the first drops began to fall from the sky. With Henri out of sight but still heavy on my mind, I crawled into a small pokey bush, fished out Dingo after he snapped at me a few times, and carried him—chewing on a grasshopper leg—into the chalet.
Maybe my mother was right. Maybe I did need to give Henri some space to process all the goodness that he had just fallen into. I’d see him at dinner. This was something I also needed to check on because if all the women in my family started giving Madame their thoughts on how she should cook, there could be more to worry about than a dog with insect breath.
***
My birthday fell a day before Labor Day, but to save Madame and Ma from the strain of two big feasts, we combined the two days. It was amazing how funny my mother and Madame were. It was like watching two hens bickering over the same nest when Ma entered the kitchen the day after she had arrived, an apron around her neck, ready to start making my favorite things to eat. Thankfully, Henri arrived bright and early—I was out searching for Dingo at the asscrack of dawn so Cousin Oscar wouldn’t have to as he was terrified of putting a foot into the grape fields—to calm the old gals down. Ma said Henri had been kind to them both, suggesting that they work together to create a picnic that would be the talk of Watkins Glen for years to come.
They did, and now that the food was out and the hundred or so guests were filling up on the grub, both of the cooks were looking damn proud. Oscar and Dingo were in his room. The dog was now on ultra security lockdown as I’d found him trying to nip the ankles of guests touring the vineyard. Probably for the best. I wasn’t sure Oscar would ever talk to me again for the fib about the grapes being for jelly. Oh well, I had bigger fish to fry than one relative who was scared of being zapped.
My party, while being loud and filled with friends and relatives, was missing one key person. Henri. It was a pattern of his over the past few days. That disappearing into thin air act that he was so good at. If I’d not seen him out in the sun, I would swear he really was a sexy French vampire and not just a sexy French vintner.
Moving through the small clusters of people, I kept searching the grounds for him. I found all of my Gladiator teammates. Everyone was back in Watkins Glen for training camp which opened in two weeks. Just about the whole team was here, even a few of the coaches. August Miles was here with his husband as were the other queer guys on the team. Bean with his guy Criswell were chatting it up with Basky while DJ, Pastor Gabe, and the pastor’s son, Cliff, were sitting on a blanket with plates of food scattered around them. Ma had asked for Gabe to say a blessing before the wolves descended on the buffet, and the good pastor was happy to oblige.
Fossie had found a chair under a tree and was stuffing manicotti into his mouth as if he’d not eaten in months. Probably had been surviving on fish and bear meat all summer up in that cabin of his in the wilds of Canada. By the looks of his wild beard, he’d been full-blown Mountain Men cast member. Smiling at my aunt Sophia and aunt Maggie inspecting the baked goods on the dessert table, I made my way to Sunny, standing all by himself looking down at the lake, a can of some lemon-lime soda in his hand.
“Hey, Sunny,” I said to Liam as I walked up to stand beside him. He gave me a weary smile. “The fireworks over the lake won’t be for a while yet. You bring that man of yours?” I asked, leaning up and then back to scope out the people milling around. No sign of Tarcy or Henri. Huh.
“No, he’s in Florida now, then Kansas and Tennessee and Texas. The playoffs are starting,” Liam replied by rote, his tone more than a little flat. I knew the kid pretty well, I thought, and he wasn’t the best at hiding his emotions. I could read the sadness in his green gaze.
“That sucks,” I said because it did.
“Yeah, summer was amazing being able to travel with him around the country. Now I’m back on the ice soon and he’s still on the road. Then when he gets his winter break, I’m traveling. It’s really hard to build a solid relationship when we’re both on the road so much.”
I nodded in silence. We all could relate. I’d dated a few people kind of seriously, and most couldn’t handle the road trips of a professional hockey player. It was tough.
“Sorry,” Liam said, pulling my sight from the FLEURINE resting at the dock. Henri had mentioned taking it out at night to watch the fireworks from the water. The town was humming with some sort of end of summer festival, and the wine owners’ association had chipped in to supply the light show come dark. I’d been wrestling with going out with him on the sailboat but opted to let the family go instead. They were going to enjoy it more than me. I couldn’t pull the captain down into the berth and ravish him to take my mind off all that water just waiting to swallow me down like a capon. No, not a capon. That was a chicken. Canelés. That was the tiny treat that Madame had made along with a ton of other French delights. “I didn’t mean to dump my relationship worries on you. This is a great party. Oh, and happy birthday! Are you like getting mail from AARP now?”
I thumped him playfully on the bicep. “Wise ass kid,” I grunted and got a short chuckle from our goalie. Well, one of the goalies. He and Basky were a tandem team and roomies, so they were closer than two cannoli. My stomach rumbled at the thought of Aunt Mona’s sweets, imported all the way from Flushing. “You eat?”
“Yeah, I’m good, thanks.”
“Okay, well, I’m going to get my feed bag on. Listen, I know I ain’t no great shakes at love and romance, but from where I’m standing, you and Tarcy are solid. You’ll work things out. Ma always says that absence makes the heart grow fonder, so there’s that to go on. Trust me, my ma knows about love. And cooking. You two bachelors make sure you take some of that lasagna home. Hand to St. Peter, she made enough to feed an army.”
“Thanks, we’ll fill up. Now go eat.” He nudged me toward the buffet table. I ambled off, leaving him to his soda and his concerns. Young love. It sure was grand. And angsty. I moved through the line, pausing to talk to all my aunts, my mother, and Madame, as well as Barney at the end of the line supervising things. Just like always. In a suit and tie when the rest of us were in shorts and tank tops. You had to love the guy.
“Barney, hey, you can go sit down and have a beer.” I jerked a thumb over my shoulder to indicate where a gang of hockey players were conversing with the gardeners. Kids raced past, ages from three to probably sixteen, pulling Henri’s equerry’s—a term Barney had asked me to use when I introduced him to whomever—attention from me. “Has Henri eaten?”
“I’ve not seen him, although the setting sun might have driven him inside for a bit. Children, please do not run through the daylilies,” Barney called and then set off to chase the kids out of the flower bed. So, I filled up another plate and went in search of Henri. Took me some time to locate him, but I finally did, sitting inside his father’s Cabriolet, in the cool, dark garage.
His eyes roamed over me as I approached, not exactly wary but not overly warm either.
“Bonjour,” he called to me.
“Bonjour yourself. I brung you some food,” I offered as I closed the distance, the faintest sound of some spinet shit that he so loved floating on the air as I neared. “You need to eat. Ma says you’re too skinny.”
He opened the passenger side door, which was on the right side, and I carefully handed over the glass plate. No paper plates at a Gaudion fete, Madame had informed me earlier.
“Your mother is quite kind to worry about me,” he replied as I pulled some silverware from my back pocket. He gave it a look of subtle disgust.
“It’s fine. Not like you ain’t never had your mouth on my ass before. Also, my shorts are clean so just use them.” He smiled just a tad. That made me feel a little better. “You come in here to get out of the sun?”
“Oui, it was very low and quite bright.” He placed his plate on his thighs.
“Yeah, and my family is very loud,” I tossed out as I juggled my plate on my lap so that I could unwrap the flatware from the cloth napkin. The poor staff were going to be doing dishes and wash for days after this soiree.
