Wine, Tarts & Sex

Thirty-three

Who the hell did he think he was, Liv fumed, walking fast toward downtown. Robert fucking Parker? Screw Jake Chambers. She didn’t need his insults. She’d gotten along just fine before she met the almighty, know-it-all, fancy-smancy restaurateur. She’d always hated wine snobs anyway. Most weren’t willing to give their benediction to American regional wines unless they were already vetted by some celebrity connoisseur. They couldn’t think outside the box. Even many of the now-famous California wines had struggled to be taken seriously in the early years.

So to hell with Jake Chambers.

Diss my wines, diss me; that was her motto.

Although it wasn’t as though she was unrealistic about her wines. She understood all the unknowns: the incompatibilities with accepted norms, the rough provincial edges, the variables of weather. Still, she considered her wines promising; in some cases, fairly seamless examples of earthy, down-home, delicate to voluptuous wines. They were not and maybe never would be grand cru quality. But her vineyard was blessed with good terrain and serious slope, often prerequisites for distinctive wines, and in that instance, luck was definitely on her side.

At base though, luck aside, it was simply pure pleasure to produce her own wines.

And she wasn’t going to allow anyone to get between her and her dream.

Squinting into the sun, Liv gauged the distance to Shelly’s office. Another eight blocks or so. Good. It would give her time to cool down-or partially cool down-and disengage from the tumult in her brain. She kept thinking of clever insults and slurs she could have served up to Jake. Wasn’t that always the way, though? You think of the good stuff when it’s too late.

But as the politicians say: we don’t want to talk about the past; we’re interested in the future. In her case, her immediate future required a ride home. She’d ask Shelly. It wasn’t as though the wiseguys were interested in her anyway. She didn’t have anything they wanted, unless they were into Minnesota wines. And with luck, Janie might have hashed out her settlement deal with Leo by now and everyone could-la-dee-da-go their merry ways. Hopefully.

Of one thing she was certain, however.

She wasn’t going back to Deer Lake.

Pulling her phone from her purse, she called Janie to clue her in. Their conversation was short. Liv didn’t mention any Peruvian beauties. She only mentioned Jake’s disparaging remarks about her wine. “So I’m not coming back to Deer Lake. I hope you understand.”

“Of course, darling,” Janie replied. “What a terrible thing to say when you’ve worked so hard on your vineyard. He’s a jerk. Don’t give him a second thought.”

Then Janie had begun talking about something Roman had said that was so utterly sweet she was giddy with joy, and Liv’s problem was sidelined.

Not that Liv had expected more, well acquainted as she was with Janie’s self-centered views on life. Actually, it made the conversation easier. She hadn’t been required to angst over anything or explain her feelings. That was the beauty of dealing with Janie. Everything was always about her.

Shelly was quick to shut her door behind Liv after she walked into her office. Waving her to a chair, Shelly said sympathetically, “You look angry. Need some help?”

“Yes and yes,” Liv muttered, dropping into the chair in front of Shelly’s desk.

“Seeing how you’ve been largely incommunicado of late, I’d venture it’s man trouble.”

“Definitely man trouble.” Liv scowled. “He doesn’t like my wines, the prick. Can you imagine the gall?”

“He said that to you?”

“No. He’s not that stupid. I overheard him talking to someone.”

“How did he respond when you confronted him. Knowing you, I assume you did.”

“Damn right I did. He said he was sorry; it was a misunderstanding. If it was a misunderstanding, why did he have to say he was sorry?” Liv spread her arms wide. “I rest my case.”

“I understand you’re angry, but let me play devil’s advocate for a second. Are you sure his not liking your wine is reason enough to toss away a darling like-I presume you’re talking about the handsome Jake Chambers?”

Liv gave her friend a jaundiced look. “That’s like me asking you if you’d put up with some guy who told you you weren’t capable of making money in the stock market.”

Shelly dipped her head. “Touché. So what can I do for you other than listen to your whining-and I mean that in the nicest way. You heard your share from me about Darren. ” Compared to Shelly’s divorce battles, Star Wars inter-galactic struggles would qualify as a day at the beach.

“If you could drive me home after work, I’d appreciate it. I rode into town with him,” Liv said with disgust, “so I’m without transportation.”

“Will do. I may not be able to leave very early, though.”

“I don’t care. My place is supposedly in a combat zone anyway. Another day to let things cool off won’t hurt.”

Shelly’s brows rose. “The phrase combat zone requires some explanation, if you please.”

Liv rolled her eyes. “This is so far out, I’m not sure you’re going to believe it, but here goes. Think of it as Law and Order meets the mean streets of New York.” Liv went on to explain Janie’s divorce issues that had necessitated Leo sending out wiseguys, which in turn caused their flight to Deer Lake.

“Wow. That’s not business as usual, is it? Everyone’s safe?”

“Yep. And Janie et al. are enjoying their stay at the lake.”

“So your chef has a place on Deer Lake? That’s a pretty nice lake.”

“Don’t say that like I should reconsider my feelings because he has some high-priced property. It’s not his, anyway. It’s his aunt’s. I’m not looking for a man because he has money. Unlike you, I might add,” Liv said with a grin. “And I say that in the most respectful way.”

Shelly laughed. “So we’re looking for different things in men.”

Liv smiled. “Haven’t we always? And it’s not as though your choice of a husband was jim-dandy. Darren might have been a rich, brilliant lawyer, but he couldn’t keep it in his pants.”

“Maybe I’ll have the next one vetted first; you know, have a detective check out his amusements.”

“Whatever. Look, I’m not questioning your life goals. Finding the right man’s a crapshoot however you look at it.”

“You really liked him didn’t you?”

“Yeah, I liked him. Too much.”

“But you just fought over your wines-right? That was it?”

“Hey-that’s enough. It’s not as though I make wines between my duties on the Supreme Court and taking care of homeless cats. This is my life.”

“I know, I know. I was just wondering if maybe there was some other reason you two had a falling out. Like, in my case, other women-lots of other women.”

Liv grimaced.

“I knew it,” Shelly rapped out. “I knew there had to be more.”

Liv put up a restraining hand. “Don’t get all excited. It wasn’t about a woman per se, although, I admit, the reason I even heard him trash my wines was… I suppose… Okay, who am I kidding? I wouldn’t have heard him criticize my wines if I hadn’t gone downstairs because I was worried about this woman who had just come in from L.A. She’s from Peru, absolutely stunning, and is his-I don’t know- personal something or other. Everyone apparently has some speciality in the kitchen. Anyway, she’s the kind of woman who can literally silence a room when she walks in-”

“As if you can’t,” Shelly interposed.

“Believe me, this woman radiates give-it-to-me hot sex. And Jake hasn’t turned it down. I’d bet the farm on that.”

“You could call him, you know.”

“And say what? I forgive you for thinking I make shit wines? Come over and screw me?” Liv snorted. “I’m not that hard up.”

“If you like him, you should at least consider discussing this misunderstanding.”

“Jeez, Louise, since when did you turn therapist? You threw all of Darren’s clothes out the window and set them on fire when you found out about his extracurricular activities. Then, while his designer duds lit up the neighborhood, you called a divorce lawyer.”

“That was one great fire, wasn’t it?” Shelly murmured, her smile one of satisfaction. “And with that memory in mind,” she said a tad more briskly, back on track, “I understand you being pissed. Your wines are really good. And he’s an ass. Maybe we should go out tonight and see what’s out there? You know, get right back on that horse-”

“No way. Right now, the entire male gender is on my shit list,” Liv muttered. “Give me a few days to decompress and reconsider my feelings on the opposite sex. In fact”-Liv glanced at the clock-“I think I’ll do what I like best. I’ll go window shopping at those two new wine shops on Seventh and Eighth and get in a better mood. A little wine tasting, a little wine talk, and life will be good again.” Liv smiled and came to her feet. “What time should I be back?”

“I’ll quit early. Say four.”

“Why don’t I buy you dinner on the way home? Considering the balmy weather, how about somewhere on a lake?”

“That place that makes those fabulous French martinis on White Bear Lake.”

“You got it. See you at four.”