ticking off all the reasons why this new chapter in his life was going to be a good thing. But before he could change his life completely, he had to get through harvest. Daniel would be there in a week or so to help out. That had been their agreement. As soon as Angela was in college, Daniel would come back to Cordero Vineyards, assume responsibility for the family business, and carry on the tradition Marc had guarded all these years. Once his brother took over, Marc intended to hop on the Harley he’d spent the past several months restoring and hit the open road. Where he’d go, he didn’t know. That was the most amazing feeling of all. He didn’t know. To have his whole life ahead of him virtually unscripted was something he couldn’t have imagined when he’d changed his first diaper eighteen years ago.
To kick things off, at eight o’clock tonight he intended to jump headfirst into the life of bachelorhood that being a father at seventeen had never allowed him to live. He was going to sit in his brand new La-Z-Boy recliner in front of the 60-inch LED TV he’d bought last weekend and watch a preseason football game. But first he was going to stop at the Pic ’N Go and buy as much junk food as he could get his hands on, crap he rarely kept in the house because parents who put sugar and trans fats in front of their kids these days were evidently going to hell. But if he chose to get a little diabetes and heart disease himself, that was his business. And, by God, he was buying a six-pack of beer. Heresy for a winemaker, but sometimes a man just had to have a cold one.
It wasn’t as if he hadn’t watched a ball game in the past eighteen years, but tonight was different. He didn’t have to worry that Angela was out with friends and she hadn’t come home yet, or that he’d turn around to see an army of teenagers traipsing through his house, or that he needed to put a decent dinner on the table for his kid so the Food Police didn’t come after him. Tonight it was just him alone in the house with no responsibility for anyone but himself, with nothing to do except cheer on the Cowboys and clog his arteries. And he was going to make the most of it.
Then he thought about Angela and felt a flicker of worry, along with an empty spot inside him that came from missing her already. He thought about calling her, then thought again. You taught her right. Now let her live her own life, and you live yours.
It was still a few hours until kickoff. He looked at the horizon, where dark clouds churned against a gray sky. Even though a heavy rainstorm was predicted, he’d be home before it hit. In his recliner. In front of his television. Living it up. Rain or no rain, nothing was going to screw up his good mood tonight.
Absolutely nothing.
He was only thirty-six years old. He’d paid his dues. Now it was his turn. As of tonight, he was starting a whole new life.
Marc checked his watch. It was almost eight. He took the jar of gooey fake cheese crap he’d microwaved and poured it over the tortilla chips, then threw a handful of jalapeño slices on top. Ah. Food of the gods.
He stuck a package of Double Stuf Oreos under one arm, then picked up the nachos and a beer and headed into the living room. He put the food on the end table and collapsed in his recliner, tipping it back to maximum comfort level with his feet up and his head on the pillowy back rest. Then he reached for the remote and turned on the game.
Outside the rain came down in buckets. Thunder boomed. Lightning crashed. And Marc couldn’t have cared less, because he was inside this house where it was warm and dry, and tonight, right there in his living room, the Cowboys were going to beat the daylights out of the Steelers.
To complete the picture of total decadence, Brandy lay on the rug at his feet. He’d given her way too many of her favorite dog treats, and now she was lying upside down, asleep and snoring, her bushy golden retriever tail flicking back and forth as she dreamed of chasing rabbits through the vineyard. Marc took a long