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“Oh,” I said finally.
“I’m only surprised it didn’t happen earlier. There is a bond, a mutual respect, between you that tells me all I need to know. I practiced for over thirty years.”
I wanted to ask him a question, but what did I say, precisely? He wasn’t a palm reader. I couldn’t ask if we would get married, if Neo and I could work. Wayne wouldn’t possibly know that, but it was the question I wanted answered most. “I see.”
“But there’s a hesitation there.” He turned a bit more serious. “In you.”
“Me? No, not at all. I’ve been...I’ve liked him since I knew boys existed. Just didn’t want to muddy the waters, even before I worked for Grado. His parents are like my own. His sister Min is my best friend.”
“And she doesn’t know.”
“No, she doesn’t.”
He sighed. “I know you didn’t ask for my advice, and I don’t usually give it unsolicited. But I’m going out on a limb here anyway, because I really do think the two of you are meant to be together.”
“Neo and I?” What a dumb question.
“Yes. But whatever the hesitancy, get it out in the open. Talk about it.”
“It’s just, the idea of telling Min about us when we return...I’m so scared,” I admitted. “She’s going to be mad.”
“She might. But if she’s as good of a friend as you say, she’ll forgive you. She’ll understand your reasons for keeping this from her.” He shifted to the car door, seeing Neo walk through the lobby. As he opened it, he lowered his voice and said, “Just be honest with yourself about those reasons before you share them with her.” He smiled. “Neo has my number. If you ever need me.”
I’d never been to therapy. In all my life, I’d never spoken to a professional about my mother’s death, my father’s problems or his death. Everyone said how remarkably well I’d coped with it all.
“Thank you,” I said, sincerely. “But I don’t know if I need therapy,” I countered.
“Everyone does,” he said. “But that’s another matter entirely. I’m happy just to talk, as a friend.”
Brooke believed that if you listened carefully enough to the universe, it gave you signs. That nothing was truly a coincidence. I didn’t know if that was true or not, but the fact that our driver had been a marriage counselor for thirty years seemed pretty coincidental to me.
Hopefully it was a good omen, and the saying “If it’s too good to be true” didn’t apply to Neo and me. Because it really did feel like all of my dreams were coming true right now. The thought of having them come crashing down wasn’t something I wanted to contemplate at the moment. Or ever.
TWENTY-THREE
neo
“I’mgonna need at least a week of eating nothing but cucumbers after this trip,” Thayle said as she pushed her plate away.
“You hate cucumbers,” I reminded her as the waiter came to take our plates.
“I do,” she agreed after he walked away. “Maybe carrots, then.”
“You hate them too.”
“You’re right. Maybe I should just skip dessert.”
“Never skip dessert,” I told her. “Especially the tiramisu at Goodfellas.” They were known for it, all of Seneca Lake in agreement that the Italian restaurant at the southernmost tip of the lake, where they now dined, was one of the best in the Finger Lakes.
“Yeah, it was a terrible idea,” she said, taking a sip of wine. We’d drank lightly today, this last night of our tour, winding down for a full workday just around the corner. Even for a winemaker accustomed to tasting, to pacing himself, this week had been a bit much. But I wouldn’t trade it for anything in the world, obviously.
These past few days had been the best of my life.
“Antonio Grado?”
The voice was familiar, but I couldn’t place it. Turning, I groaned in my head, if not aloud. Just what I needed to spoil the otherwise perfect dinner we’d been having.
Standing reluctantly, I greeted Ava. A chemist who’d moved back to the area to take care of her sick mother, she’d resettled less than twenty minutes from Kitchi Falls and had become an advisor of sorts to many of the vintners. She knew wine, and had grown up in the region, but had the distinct advantage of formal training in the form of a master’s degree in gastronomy from Harvard, which put my own master’s degree in viticulture and oenology from Syracuse to shame.
