You Had Me at Merlot: Part 2 Read online

  ‘Morning,’ Laurie called to them.

  ‘All right?’ one of them called back. ‘Where are all the men this morning, eh?’

  ‘Can’t handle their drink, I guess,’ I quipped, which totally must have cemented me as the ‘cool older girl’ in their eyes.

  But, actually, by the time we all congregated outside the front door ready for the vineyard tour the men were looking sharp and dapper, a lot more beauty-slept than quite a few of us women. We greeted one another with polite hellos and a few lingering looks, and my stomach flip-flopped about while I waited for Donna to join us. Which she did, at the last minute. She gave me a curt nod, but didn’t make eye contact with anyone else.

  I heard Annette, the woman in the pink dress who’d been all over Marco the night before, stage-whisper to one of the others, ‘There’s the crazy one,’ and I winced. It wasn’t often Donna was the target of someone’s snide comment. Perhaps the odd ‘slave-driver’, but never something belittling. It didn’t seem right.

  Sebastian and Sofia appeared, full of smiles and charm, and went around to every guest wishing them a good morning and checking that they had slept well. Sofia was watching everyone carefully, no doubt making guesses as to who would make a good pairing with whom.

  When they reached Laurie and I, Sebastian had a huge, know-it-all grin on his face. ‘There’s my son’s favourite girl, Bella!’

  Sofia thwacked him. ‘You take your nose out. Let them come together naturally.’

  ‘You’re one to talk; you started this whole company. Looking forward to seeing Jamie at work today, Bella?’

  I laughed. ‘I can’t wait; he’s all I can think about.’

  ‘Talking about me again, honey?’ said George, appearing out of nowhere as usual.

  Sofia moved on behind me and I heard her ask Donna in hushed tones if everything was satisfactory.

  Donna answered quietly, ‘Yes, thank you. I’m sorry if I damaged your door at all last night, I wasn’t quite myself. My flight was horrible and—’

  Sofia shushed her. ‘No need for an apology, as long as we can make the rest of your stay just wonderful.’

  If Donna was in a better mood maybe I could relax, stop standing up poker-straight like I was about to give a presentation.

  The perfect reason for me to loosen my stance then rounded the corner with Jamie – the big brown bear of a dog, who took off and bounded straight over to me and Laurie, tongue out and begging for a hug.

  Laurie and I wrapped ourselves around the dog and he shuffled from paw to paw, unsure who to squash into the most, while we sunk our hands into his fur and pressed our faces into his ears. A shadow fell over us, and I squinted up to see Jamie beaming.

  ‘Ciao! You two aren’t afraid of dogs, then. Is anyone else?’ he asked, turning to address the group. They shook their heads, George looking positively attention-deprived. ‘This is Enzo.’

  ‘He’s cool,’ I cried, not even minding that his thick fur was like a fleece blanket on my legs in this weather. ‘What is he?’

  ‘He’s a Leonberger. And a menace to society. Enzo, leave these ladies alone.’ Enzo obliged and went back over to wag his tail next to Jamie, probably causing a tidal wave somewhere in the world. ‘Buongiorno everybody, how did you all sleep in your first night at Bella Notte?’

  ‘It was amazing,’ drooled one of the Bristolians, the one in the pink shorts. I think she was Jane. She stared at Jamie so hard he gulped and had to look away.

  ‘Fantastico. Are we all wearing comfortable shoes and ready for the walking tour?’ Most were in smart leather loafers, high heels or sparkly flip-flops, but no one disagreed with Jamie so off we went. I was in the sparkly flip-flop club, but in this heat I wasn’t about to put trainers on, even if it would save a few scratched toes.

  We followed Jamie, single file, down through the vineyard between rows of grape-gifted vines.

  ‘You have a lot of good grapes this year,’ Jon called out timidly. ‘Can we help you out and pick any on the way?’

  Jamie stopped and we all gathered close to him to listen, which, of course, meant George was by my side in a second and very much within my personal space. ‘Thank you for the offer, but these are still growing at the moment, becoming the best grapes in Italy so Bella Notte can be the best wine.’

  ‘So if we came back later in the summer there’d be even more?’ Laurie asked. ‘The vines already look like they’re about to topple over.’

  ‘There will be hundreds more, so when you stand up at the main house and look down the fields it’s like there’s a purple mist covering them. And as for sturdiness, you can grow a whole vineyard from one single vine, if it bears a fruit you fall in love with. They are strong. Now, turn around and look back up the hill, please.’

  We all rotated on the spot and saw with surprise how much of a slope we’d walked down. The vineyard stretched back up before us, rows of vines spreading to the left and right, all basking in the morning sunshine like holidaymakers around a swimming pool, while the main house stood at the top, its terracotta roof sparkling. As far as they eye could see, the world was green and purple and red.

  I glanced at Donna; she was standing with her eyes closed. To the others it probably looked like she didn’t want to be there, didn’t want to appreciate it, but I wondered if, like me, she was just soaking in the lack of noise from Tube trains, mobile phones, Outlook calendar alerts.

  Jamie went on to explain the different vines and the wines they produce, and how soil, sunlight and the steepness of a hill can affect taste. Out here, he seemed far more animated and alive than when he’d entered the room full of guests at the meet-and-greet last night. Winemaking was his passion, and I wondered if he felt like we were all intruders.

  We strolled – a slow train of people who had given in to ‘holiday time’, where nothing has the need to be rushed – back up the hill where Jamie was to show us the cellars and explain more about how wine was actually made. I caught up with him, which probably made me look a bit eager, but if neither of us were here to play love games then what did it matter?

  ‘Hey.’

  ‘Hey to you.’ His eyes crinkled at me.

  ‘I just wanted to say thanks, and sorry, for turning into a bit of a crybaby last night.’

  ‘It’s fine. How are you feeling now?’

  ‘Much better. It was just a shock to see her here.’

  ‘I know. Sometimes it can be overwhelming to step away from something that feels like your whole life, even if just for a short time, and you think you’re okay until something reminds you of it.’

  ‘Do you ever feel like that?’

  He walked on, thinking.

  ‘Like, when you’re in your vineyard and you look up and see a bunch of singletons trying to fondle each other among your vines?’ I pressed, gently.

  He looked at me in surprise, a smile forming on his lips. ‘Maybe. I don’t know …’

  I decided to change the subject. ‘I’m looking forward to seeing those cellars and getting out of this heat for a little while.’

  ‘The sun is strong today, huh? Are you okay?’ He shielded my eyes with his hand for a moment, a warmly intimate gesture that made me feel a bubble of what it must be like to have a partner. Maybe it wasn’t all bad.

  ‘I’m okay, thanks.’

  ‘So, have you found anyone you like?’

  ‘No.’ I intently studied the vines we were passing. ‘Though the American guy, George, seems to think we’re made for each other.’

  ‘I suppose it’s flattering … but he doesn’t make you smile?’

  ‘Not intentionally.’

  ‘I think he seems like a catch. He owns this huge company in Miami, all about … Hmm … hairbrushes or something.’

  ‘Does he indeed?’

  ‘He does. And I’ve seen him looking at you. It’s like when Enzo wants my breakfast.’

  ‘Ha – now that’s flattering!’

  ‘He could be your silver fox.’

 
‘Maybe you should ask him on a date.’

  ‘Maybe I will,’ he laughed. ‘Maybe I’ll date your boss.’

  ‘Go ahead.’ Although I hoped he wouldn’t. There wasn’t a lot of space in between the rows of vines, and as we walked our arms kept brushing together. I folded mine across my chest, acutely aware of how my dangling hand might look like a desperate invitation to be held.

  ‘You’re really not going to fall for the charms of You Had Me at Merlot?’

  ‘Bella Notte I’m already in love with. I’m just not that into the other guests.’ I chose the word ‘guests’ carefully.

  ‘Um, Jamie?’ called a voice from behind. We all turned to see Vicky straggling behind, her deadly weapon Kurt Geiger heel wedged firmly into the soil. ‘I think I’m stuck. Can I go back and change into some more comfortable shoes?’

  Once Vicky was comfortably in a pair of wedge trainers and we’d had an alfresco lunch break followed by a tour of the cavernous secret cellars of Bella Notte, everybody was itching to start sampling the selection of wines.

  This was Sofia’s turn to shine. She’d laid out the wine-tasting room with dozens of glittering glasses and countless bottles in all shapes, sizes and hues. The lighting was low, just enough to supplement the afternoon sunbeams that peered through the windows and the open door, and soft Italian opera played in the background. I was loving this holiday so far – boss showing up and ancient American stalker aside – because life on a Tuscan vineyard was everything I’d imagined it would be. Then I saw the stack of grape-purple, velvet sleep masks and remembered the downside of the trip.

  ‘Ciao everybody, please take a mask and a glass and spread out around the room,’ Sofia called. ‘Don’t stand near to people you want to romance, because once we start you will have no control over your own bodies.’

  ‘I know whose body I’d like to control,’ leered George, with a wink in my direction.

  Do we have to do this? I thought.

  ‘Do we have to do this?’ Donna sighed, suddenly next to me.

  It struck me that maybe I was coming across just like her to the others so, although I’d been thinking exactly the same thing, I felt the need to distance myself. ‘At least we get to try all these different wines. That’s why I’m here, to be honest. I mean, just to broaden my knowledge, not to get drunk or anything.’

  ‘You know that wine they always serve at the end-of-month drinks? As long as this is better than that I’ll be happy.’

  ‘I’ve never really thought about it, but I guess that’s not the best wine.’

  ‘They keep the red in the fridge. Did you go to last month’s?’

  ‘No, I was finishing up a project at my desk. I didn’t really have time.’ I looked back at the table of wine and at Sofia, chuckling away with Sebastian as she set everything up. That project was done, finished, and I really didn’t want to think about it right now.

  ‘The Groovy Muesli project?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘How did it go?’

  ‘Well, thanks, the client was happy.’

  ‘Good. Good work.’ She was trying, and isn’t this what I’d always wanted? Donna to notice me and my work?

  ‘Everybody!’ Sofia tapped on a wine glass, making an angelic ting ring out across the room. ‘Put on those blindfolds and then we’ll begin. The rules are simple: you smell it, you taste it, you tell us if you like it, and we will shuffle you around the room depending on your preferences. This afternoon we’re working on matching up your taste in wines, and then we’ll see if it is the same as your taste in each other.’

  I glanced around for Jamie before putting on my mask, but he seemed to have gone. As long as I didn’t end up being paired with George or Donna it wouldn’t be too bad. Laurie and I had shared a fondness for Blossom Hill since university, so maybe we’d end up being matched.

  ‘Hold out your glasses please, our first wine is a bianco, best served extremely cold and made with delicious white-skinned Vermentino grapes.’

  After a moment I heard the deep slosh of wine being poured into my glass, and I lifted it to my nose. I’m not a big wine smeller, or taster, for that matter. It tends to go straight in and, if it’s a goodie, will be followed with an ‘Mmmm, that tastes Christmassy.’ But being blindfolded was definitely tuning my senses, or else I’d just always been drinking very inferior wine (highly possible) because I actually felt like I could pick out scents other than ‘wine’. This was citrusy – definitely some lemon in there.

  ‘I smell lemon,’ said an unknown female voice.

  ‘Me too!’ I yelped. I guess she and I were meant to be.

  ‘And what do you taste?’ asked Sofia.

  I took a sip and swished it around my mouth. ‘Wine,’ I sighed. And I thought I was doing so well.

  ‘Are we supposed to be spitting?’ Laurie called out.

  ‘That’s up to you, you do what you want; you get a fresh glass with each wine either way.’

  I went to spit and audibly missed my glass, hearing and feeling a splat on the ground next to me. Maybe I’d just drink up from now on.

  ‘Now tell me, do you like it?’

  There were choruses of ‘it’s okay’, ‘mmm, hell yes!’ and ‘not really’. I was in the ‘it’s okay’ group. White wine just wasn’t my favourite, though I could appreciate this was a nice one. Strong hands that I guessed were Sebastian’s clasped my shoulders and gently moved me a few metres to the left.

  My glass was taken from my hand and a new one put in, with my helper wrapping my fingers around the stem for me.

  The next taster was another white, this time a super-sweet ice wine which Sofia explained to us was made when the grapes were frozen while still on the vine, allowing the sugars to concentrate and the flavour to intensify. It was syrupy and honeyed, and I decided I wanted to drink it all day every day, so I told her so: ‘This is just yummy. I feel like I want to pour it on vanilla ice cream.’

  ‘That’s a wonderful idea. It also makes a beautiful vinaigrette for a salad of prosciutto, melon, artichoke …’

  We moved onto the reds – hurrah! – sampling delicious wine after delicious wine, each with its own history, flavours, grapes and location out in the vineyard. I learnt that anything with hints of blackberry and chocolate were just fine in my books, but that grappa really wasn’t my cup of tea.

  We were shuffled this way and that like human chess pieces, Sebastian becoming more careful as the tasting went on and the blood alcohol levels went up. I was intrigued to see who I’d end up being matched with.

  Finally, nine wines in and a lot of hazy heads later, the tasting was finished – our ‘pairings’ to be revealed. I removed my mask and was faced with none other than a beaming George. I turned to grumble at Sebastian, only to find Jamie behind me wearing a barely concealed smirk. He’d been the one moving me? His hands on my arms, his hand on my hand?

  ‘Baby, we are meant to be. You can’t argue with love and alcohol.’ George went to caress my cheek and I backed away, eliciting a snigger from Jamie.

  ‘Really?’ I asked, then turned to Jamie. ‘Really?’

  ‘You two are the most beautiful couple here.’

  ‘Isn’t she a princess? When I first lay my eyes on her I knew I was looking at my future ex-wife.’

  ‘Nope. No you didn’t.’

  ‘She likes you, George, I can see it in her eyes.’ Jamie’s eyes locked with mine. I was trying to look defiant but he could easily have beaten me in a staring contest because the longer he held my gaze the deeper I blushed. Eventually I looked away.

  ‘George, I’m sorry, I just don’t see us being a great couple.’

  ‘That’s amoré, Bella. Love is blind,’ insisted Jamie.

  ‘You, come with me,’ I said, passing my glass to my apparent future ex-husband and dragging Jamie into a corner. We stood close, and he smelled like the honey-scented ice wine, which I tried to ignore. ‘I don’t believe for a second that my “perfect match” just happened to be George.’


  ‘Hey, don’t blame the wines, blame the drunk people.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘It’s not my fault you two like the same things and have everything in common.’

  ‘You know that’s not true. I don’t even like his trousers.’

  ‘But Elle, you’re not here to find love, right?’ he said, his tone teasing.

  ‘That’s right.’

  ‘So I can’t take other men away from the potential loves of their lives.’

  ‘Damn it … you’re right. I wish I wasn’t so nice.’

  ‘It’s your downfall.’

  ‘But wait: by pushing him on to me, a rendezvous that will never happen, you’re stopping George from falling in love with someone for real. Which makes you a very bad host.’

  ‘Damn it … you’re right. But I think it’s too late for him. I hear George is besotted with you.’

  ‘No he isn’t, he’s just besotted with …’

  ‘With?’

  ‘I don’t know. My Englishness. Maybe he thinks I know Kate Middleton.’

  ‘Is it so hard for you to believe he might actually find you special? Just because you don’t want to be with someone doesn’t mean someone doesn’t want to be with you.’

  He was standing close to me now, our hushed conversation causing a smile to play on his lips, which were close to my eye level.

  I cleared my throat. ‘I thought Sofia was the one into all this schmaltz and setting-up? Sebastian told me you find being in love a chore.’

  ‘I don’t know. I guess it’s only a chore if you can’t handle the work.’

  ‘Oh, bleurgh, your lines are as bad as George’s.’ But, truth be told – and the last person I wanted to admit this to was my stubborn, set-in-her-ways self – I didn’t mind them one bit.

  The following day was activity-free, but we were encouraged to spend time in the communal areas, getting to know one another and making use of the amoré-steeped setting. And after a morning of avoiding the clutches of both George – whose research on ‘European women’ must have come from hours of watching Carry On movies – and Donna – who I was beginning to suspect must really fancy our PR agency like a teenager because she seemed to want to drop it into every conversation. I was ready to hide out.