Eight Hundred Grapes
Page 86
“Margaret? Why?”
She shrugged. “Something about being here to help tomorrow. I sent her to Finn’s room so she wouldn’t see Bobby. Is that supposed to be bad luck? It’s silly for me to think of that. But I do.”
“Finn and Bobby are sleeping at Finn’s place anyway, if they even leave The Brothers’ Tavern. They were all drinking pretty heavily when I left them, your daughter included.”
“That’s comforting.”
“Finn was in a mood. He was going on and on about how the barrel room looks ridiculous, but if worst comes to worst around here, we could rent
it out for weddings. Call it the Great Barrel Room and charge fifty thousand to rent it for a week.”
He walked up the stairs.
Jen smiled. “That’s not a bad idea,” she said.
He took a seat next to his wife. “I’m worried about them.”
“All of them?”
“Yep.”
“But I’m the one that worries. You’re the one that says it’s going to be okay.”
“I thought we got to stop thinking about them so much, but this moment feels more important than even when they were young. They are becoming themselves.”
She put more of the place cards in a stack.
“Your sons are good men. You raised them to take care of each other, and your daughter is getting where she wants to go.”
He looked at her. “Are you finding it hard to talk to her?”
She shrugged. “She just likes saying torts. It’ll pass.”
He shook his head. “Bobby doesn’t want to get married.”
She took her husband’s hands. “That will pass too.”
He leaned in toward his wife and said it, what he’d never admitted before, even to himself.
“It makes me sad that none of them want the vineyard.”
She looked up. “We raised them to want their own things.”
He nodded. “I know, but . . .” He shook his head. “It’s silly. I’m being silly. I’m glad that they’re doing what they’re doing. I’m glad for each of them. I’m just feeling nostalgic.”
“I bet that you are,” she said, but she moved closer to him.
“I was the one who discouraged her from staying here. I told her to go explore new worlds.”
“And?”
“She seems like she isn’t happy with the one she chose, not the way I’ve seen her happy.”
“Then she’ll find her way home.”
They heard loud music coming from the guest bedroom, punk rock, blasting downward.
“What’s wrong with Margaret tonight?”