having chicken."
I nodded, "I'll think about it."
She tapped the folder, "Maybe I can help you write a business proposal for the vineyard while we are flying."
I rolled my eyes, "You are so bad."
I couldn’t sleep that night, even though I was exhausted from working all day. The vineyard and the possibilities, and my dying father plagued me. I woke, stressed, puffy, and fully convinced Muriel was right. I would never have proper closure if I didn’t say goodbye to him, even if he had already said goodbye to me. I scrambled to get dressed and pack my bags. I knew I most likely wouldn’t be coming back, that bothered me.
I ran across from the staff housing to the main house. Rita's maid answered the door. I breathlessly explained my situation and left her a note for Rita, who was still sleeping.
Francis, the driver, was awake when I got to the car barn.
I slumped my bags over my shoulder, and walked into the barn, "Can you call me a cab? I need to go to the airport."
He scoffed, "It is too far. I will drive you."
He was a grumpy man with terrible social skills but he had warmed, slightly. I stuffed my bags in the back and climbed in the front seat. He started the car, "How fast we need to go?"
His thick accent made me smile, that and his dark mustache. I nodded, "Pretty fast."
He nodded once and raced from the barn. He didn’t speak until we were at least half an hour into the drive. Then he gave me a serious look, "You go to America?"
I nodded "My father is dying."
He shook his head, "They will miss you, at the house."
I smiled, knowing he meant he would miss me too. "I'll miss you too."
He scoffed, "Not me, the house. Rita, she likes you a lot. She never likes anyone."
"I know. I'll miss this place a lot. It's been an amazing spring."
"The summer will be hot and the grapes will be sweet. It will be a good year."
I frowned, "How do you know that?"
"Lots of rain in the spring means lots of sun in the summer. Hot spring means rainy summer and the grapes are not as sweet. We will have a good year."
He drove into the small airport and stopped at the private jet. "Thank you for the ride. Tell everyone I said goodbye." I got out. He got out too and passed me my bags. When I took them, he wrapped his arms around me once, hugged tightly and then turned and left without saying another thing.
Muriel walked off the jet, "Well, look what the cat dragged in."
I sighed and climbed aboard.
Wednesday
The hospital smelled funny. I hadn’t been there since my bachelorette party, but it made me feel gross and sad. That party had been the beginning of the end in many ways.
I had come directly to the hospital from the airport, fighting Muriel on it the entire drive over. She felt I should have showered and changed and looked the part, but I liked the new me. I was strong by myself.
I stopped at the nurses’ station, "Hi. I'm looking for my dad, Peter Croix."
Her eyes were panicked for a second. She shook her head, "I am so sorry. He passed about two hours ago. He's still in his room if you want to go and say goodbye. To the right, room 708."
My heart stopped beating. I turned and ran. My mother and Brandi were standing outside of the room. I dropped my bags, ignoring them and walked into the room. He was still on the bed.
I had nothing. A vast emptiness. Seeing him made me want the little blue pills and a dark room to hide my shame. I hadn't made it. He died, thinking I hated him but I didn’t, not anymore.
Silent tears fell, blurring my vision. I walked to his bedside, placing my hand over his cool one. He was gone.
I lowered my face, scanning it over his. He looked the same, like Victor from The Young and the Restless. He hadn’t aged a minute since I'd gone. There was, at long last, peace on his face. I lowered my face to the blankets on his chest and searched my brain for a happy memory.
The best I had was when I was nine and he took me Christmas shopping for my mother. His assistant had gotten sick and was unable to buy the gift, so he brought me. We walked the shops. I tried