Eight Hundred Grapes

Suzannah and I walked through the vineyard. “So let’s start with what matters, okay?”

I nodded.

“What on earth are you wearing and why are you wearing it?”

I looked down at the jean shorts and peasant top I’d found in my closest, my hair in two loose buns. “This is how we dress in Sonoma County. It’s casual.”

She pointed at her own dress. “No, this is casual,” she said. “That is circa 1971. Pull it together!”

I smiled. “Working on it.”

“Good, because I have some advice for you, and it isn’t easy.”

“Okay.”

“I know I said you should marry Ben, but I thought about it and you shouldn’t marry Ben. You’re doing the right thing walking away.”

“What are you talking about?”

She linked her arm through mine. “I’m talking about how Charles cheated on me in high school. I’m talking about how that was its own form of betrayal I had to get over.”

“But that was your evidence for why I should stay with Ben.”

“I know, which is my point. I could forgive Charles because I knew I never would have to compete for him, not really.” She shook her head. “I knew he really believes, as ridiculous as it is, that I’m the most beautiful woman in the world. That I’m his have-to-have.”

She paused.

“I don’t think Ben is yours.”

That stopped me. “Why not?”

She squeezed my arm tighter. “I always thought Ben got you, that you guys got each other. That’s why I’ve given him so much latitude with all of this, but . . I think if you came to that same conclusion, you’d know that you want to stay with Ben.”

“I do.”

“What do you mean you do?” she said.

“We’re working things out.”

She stopped walking. “What are you talking about, working things out?”

I shrugged, thinking about how to explain it to her, which was when she got there.

“He’s your have-to-have?” she said.

I smiled, thinking about how I trusted that he was again. I was letting go enough to do it, to try to be happy.

“So you’re all good?” she said.

“Well, apparently I’m throwing out these shorts, but yes.”

“Good,” she said. “That’s good.

She looked in the direction of her rental car, realizing something else. “I got on a plane and drove from San Francisco for nothing? You’re going to have to do a better job of keeping me posted.”

The Harvest Party

It made me happy and sad at once, looking down over the party.