Blood and Wine - Margot Scott Page 0,21
to confirm,” he says and then hangs up. “Good morning, Mariah. I trust Chastity made sure you had a decent breakfast.”
“She certainly did.”
“How are you feeling?”
“Fine,” I say. He continues to stare like he expects a more detailed answer. “What did you want to talk to me about?”
He clasps his hands on the desk blotter. “One of our tasting-room assistants appears to have left us permanently. These things happen, people come and go. However, that means there’s now a job opening assisting the sommeliers who host our winery tours. I’d like you to consider it.”
“Is that even legal? I’m not eighteen yet.”
He bats away my concern. “What we don’t tell Uncle Sam won’t hurt him. Besides, I think you’d be good at it. You have a beautiful smile, a friendly demeanor. I know it’s not the most glamorous position, but there’s always room for growth. And selfishly, I’m hoping it’ll make you feel more invested in this place.”
If he’d asked me this question yesterday, I would’ve respectfully said no. But if what Will says about my mom is true, then I need to start looking for her. Unfortunately, I can only do that when I’m asleep.
In the meantime, I guess I have nothing better to do with my days.
“Sure,” I tell him. “I’ll take it.”
“Excellent.” He seems surprised by how easily I agreed to the whole thing. “Keema knows you’re my first choice so she hasn’t posted the position. You can start today.”
I spend the majority of my first day working the tasting rooms, collecting dirty wineglasses, and scraping crusted cheese off of wooden boards. At the end of my shift, Keema hands me a packet of information about each wine and tells me to memorize it.
Before I can blink, a week has passed, and I can confidently recite the differences between a Cabernet and a Merlot.
Working at the winery isn’t as boring as I thought it would be. Chastity almost never deigns to come out here, and Edward pays me in cash, so he doesn’t have to worry about the fact that I’m underaged. There’s always plenty of extra cheese and prosciutto to go around and getting to meet new people every day is a nice distraction. Keema’s a really great boss, too. She’s hardworking, but not a hard ass. And it’s nice to have someone friendly to talk to during work hours.
In my dreams, Will and I explore the property, and he helps me look for my mother.
So far, we’ve found no sign of her.
After the first couple of nights, I began to worry Will might be mistaken about her presence here. Then I wondered if he was lying about it altogether.
“Are you just telling me she’s here so I won’t go home?” I asked him one night after we’d searched the winery a third time.
He eyed me with a curious expression. “Now why would I do that?”
I didn’t want to say what I was thinking. That maybe he wants me around because he’s lonely, or because he likes me as more than a friend. That maybe these nights we’ve been spending together, lounging in the grass, dancing chest to chest, circling the grounds a hundred times, have inspired more than a fondness for each other.
I’d have to be blind not to see the way he looks at me, like I’m some kind of marvel. And he’d have to be oblivious not to notice the way my breathing changes whenever he touches me. I love the way he touches me, like the simple act of our skin making contact is a miracle.
For the first time in over a year, I feel like I’ve stumbled upon a small, fragile sliver of hope. I have a day job I don’t hate on the most beautiful property I’ve ever stayed on, and I look forward to seeing Will every night.
On my tenth night at the estate, he took me to see the horses.
At first, they were skittish. Only one of them came over to investigate, a gorgeous brown boy with a black mane. Will whispered to him and stroked his flank. I asked how he was able to touch them, when he couldn’t touch anything else—besides me. He said animals are grounded spirits, part of the land in intrinsic ways that people are not.
After a few minutes of trust building, the brown horse let Will climb onto his back.
The sight of Will straddling a horse made me want to rub my thighs together. It was like watching an old painting come