Lol. I realize i don't really have a title for this piece. Maybe after you read it you can send me title suggestions for this little vignette.
Speaking of! Thanks for the book recs so far! I am psyched.
Enjoy. Curl up with a cuppa somethin nice cuz it is lengthy, but I hope it flies by and leaves you smiling.
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She was just adding stock to the walk-in freezer when she heard the electronic ding-dong of the shop door. She stopped what she was doing and emerged to greet her customer warmly. It was somewhat early for a customer, but—She stopped in her tracks. He was back.
He flashed her that bone-melting smile and she thought she saw his eyes flick over her from head to toe. She blushed. It had been very cold in the freezer. She had the urge to cross her arms in front of her chest but made herself smile pleasantly instead, as if her obviously erect nipples were not thoroughly embarrassing.
“Hello again.” He said and his voice was even better than she remembered. After he’d left last week she thought maybe she’d imagined how dreamy it was, misremembered it as something more perfect than it actually was. But she hadn’t made it up or embellished. He had the sexiest, most wonderful sounding voice she’d ever heard.
“Welcome back.” She answered.
“Any dangerous beasts for me to deal with this morning?” He asked her, a playful tilt to his brows.
She laughed and captured her lower lip in her teeth. “No, no, not today.” She said, playing regretful. They smiled at eachother.
He moved into the store and she had a flutter of panic. It looked as though he were going to walk right up to her, and, and, well, she didn’t know what, but it was alarming, so she headed to the sales counter for safety.
“How did you enjoy the wine?” She asked conversationally, hoping he couldn’t hear the tightly coiled nerves behind the chit-chat.
“I decided to save it.” He answered, changing his original course to follow her toward the sales counter.
Holy Mary, what did he intend?
She tilted her head to the side. “Save it?” It was a nice bottle, she supposed, but not a particularly singular one, nothing one might save for an event or special occasion.
“Until you’re ready to open it with me and have a taste.” He answered, unblinking.
She felt her eyes open wide and his mouth reacted to her shock with an effortless smile. She didn’t know what to say, didn’t know what to do. Holy Mother, had she heard him correctly?
“Um.” Her mind flipped through possibility after possibility and rejected several before finally settling on something appropriately mundane to say to him. “Well, can I help you find anything today?”
He cocked an eyebrow. “Please.” He responded most cordially.
Oh. She realized now that she’d talked herself into a trap. Now she had to get out from behind the sales counter. For the moment she remained planted. “What are you interested in this morning?” She asked sweetly, trying hard to ignore how hot and uncomfortable her face felt.
He cast his green gaze down at the floor and smiled. He looked so adorably humble and charming she thought she was in danger of sighing cartoonishly and batting over-large lashes dramatically. Were there pink hearts bubbling over her head, and harp music? She tried to get a hold of herself.
“Honestly?” He asked her, almost sheepish.
“Yes?” She was breathless.
His face still tilted down he lifted only his eyes to find hers and she thought he looked almost dangerously attractive. Something thrilling flashed behind that incredible pale-green stare before he was all earnestness and charm. “I want you to choose another selection.”
She blinked very slowly. She hadn’t woken up this morning. That must be it. She was still tucked in bed waiting for the alarm clock. She was dreaming this man just as she had every night since he’d walked into the wine shop last week.
“I haven’t tried too many.” She said slowly.
“No, no.” He laughed lightly and shook his head. “No, I’m not interested in ones that you have tried.” He explained. “I want one that you haven’t yet sampled, but, that you’d like to.”
She wasn’t sure how she was subsisting on the meager amount of air she was pulling in. Her chest was far too constricted to allow proper air-flow. She hoped she didn’t faint or something dreadful like that. She’d never fainted before and it occurred to her that she might not see it coming, might not recognize the warning signs, and that thought consternated her.
He took in her furrowed brow and laughed charmingly. “Oh, come on now, there must be some you’ve had your eye on.”
His laugh made butterflies swarm and flutter in her belly. “Oh.” She joined his laughter but hers was tighter, more nervous. “Well, yes, I suppose.”
His brows flicked once and he grinned. “Good.” He made a sweeping gesture with his hand and made a shadow of a bow. “After you?”
She forced as deep a breath as she could manage and, exhaling shakily she turned her feet toward the sales floor. Caution told her not to let herself get too near to him, but something warm and insistent deep in her core seemed to pull her right toward him. “White? Red?” She tried to sound professional. Tried to think of all the tips and pointers Mr. Delaney had given her about assessing people’s tastes when they themselves hadn’t a clue.
He cocked his head and narrowed his eyes. “Uhn, uhn.” He said, the sound deep in his throat. “Don’t worry about me.” He told her “I want whatever you choose.”
Her eyelashes fluttered and she wished she were better at flirting, just a little bit more practiced, just enough to appear less of an idiot. “You’re sure?”
He nodded assuredly.
She sighed. “Well there isn’t just one…” She said, to which he responded with an appreciative laugh.
“Oh, taking advantage of me are you?”
She gaped. “No, no, no—I didn’t mean—“
He waved his hand. “I was kidding.” He assured her. “Please, I’m sorry, just--” He exhaled on a short laugh “Just show me.”
She nibbled her lip. There were many bottles she’d noted in the time she’d been working at Delaney’s Wine Shoppe, many she’d been curious about, but she was getting the feeling like he might just buy everything she pointed at and despite his assertion that he’d been kidding, she didn’t want to appear to be taking advantage of him. So she decided to select her top three, the three wines that had captured her imagination over the others.
She walked slowly toward the German wines and felt him following, not too closely, behind her. She was nervous and tingly but also a little exhilarated and as she approached the rack her confidence began to build. She felt bolder. Playful. She ran a giddy finger over the row of reclining bottles and then, having hit upon the one, she spun around to face him, an excited smile stretching her lips.
“This one.” She said pointing at a Riesling with a very clean, attractive label with a curling silver filigree tree emblazoned as the winery’s symbol.
He watched her carefully for a long moment before nodding and turning his attention to the selection. “Why this one?” He asked softly. It wasn’t a challenge, it was interest. He wanted to know what attracted her to it. She felt her heartbeat flicker and her lashes mimicked the rhythm.
“I’ve tried Rieslings and I’ve liked most of them.” She said quickly. “But this one looks so…” she didn’t know just what the word was that she needed. “perfect.” She finished, but really she thought she’d rather have said ‘magical’. She was glad, actually, that she hadn’t said ‘magical’.
He lifted the bottle from its cradle rather gently. “Perfect.” He responded sweetly.
She bit the insides of her cheeks. He raised his eyebrows expectantly. “What else?” He prompted.
Ok, so he’s really doing this. Ok.
With a half-laugh she moved past him, toward the South American wines. She’d never even tasted one South American wine, and that seemed almost like a sin. She walked along the rack slowly, shrewdly deliberating between a few different ones. He was patient. He didn’t say a word while she debated. He waited.
“This one.” She said, finally resting her fingers on an achingly beautiful bottle. He didn’t look. He kept his eyes on her.
“Why?” His low voice sent a thrill all over her skin and she felt goosebumps raise on her arms. He kept his eyes on her.
“This is a Malbec.” She said, her voice embarrassingly breathy. His smile quirked to the side. “I’ve never had one before.” She said simply. “And people are buzzing about them.”
She saw a muscle tick in his jaw and she got the sense that he was trying hard not to laugh at her. She felt like such a child. “Have you? Had one?” She asked timidly. Next to him she felt inexperienced and green.
He shrugged, non-committal. “This isn’t about me.” He said smoothly. He reached over and wrapped his long fingers around the bottle, brushing her fingers where they still rested lovingly on smooth glass surface. “What else?” He lifted it from its place and she pulled her shaking hand up to her necklace and busied her fingers with the repetitive twisting of her saint’s medal. He was standing very close to her now and she breathed in his fresh, clean smell, and the subtle scent of that maddeningly erotic cologne.
She pushed a puff of air out through her lips in a small ‘whoosh’, brushed a lock of hair back from her face and screwed up the courage to go after the last bottle. She was practically vibrating with anticipation. She made her steps deliberate and even and more confident than she felt. The resulting sway of her hips made her blush and she realized she felt sexy. She wondered, pridefully, if he might be watching the swivel of her hips, the curve of her backside as he followed her. She couldn’t help grinning and was glad he couldn’t see her face just then.
When she reached the large wooden, glass-front case she composed her features before turning once more to face him.
He made a low ‘hmmmmm’ in his throat and looked the case up and down.
“It isn’t because they’re expensive.” She defended quickly.
He cocked an eyebrow and glanced at the wines he was already carrying. “No.” He agreed. “So far you’ve been pretty modest in your selections.” They weren’t over-priced choices at all.
“Mr. Delaney tells me that price shouldn’t be a factor in wine tasting.” She said. “You like what you like.” She parroted with a firm nod.
“And yet.” He said, a slow smile creeping across his face. He threw his glance back at the special case and lifted an eyebrow playfully.
“And yet…” She admitted with a sigh. “There’s one in here that I would never dream of buying.” She looked longingly at the exquisite French words scrolling meticulously and gracefully across the warm orangey liquid trapped within.
“Which one?” He asked, leaning closer, trying to follow her gaze.
She felt terribly guilty. But she slowly opened the case anyway. Mr. Delaney didn’t keep it locked. What was the need in a Cedar Falls wine shop? Then, taking a breath, she started to point, but it almost felt rude to point, so she placed her fingers just below the bottle’s base to indicate her intended. She was afraid, even to touch it. It was so expensive it was almost absurd.
“Tell me.” He said and she felt her lips tingle inexplicably. She absolutely could not seem to stop blushing. What was it about this man?
“It’s a Sauternes. From France. Bordeaux Region.” She gulped. “They’re legendary.”
He chuckled so softly she wondered if she was hearing things. “Troubadours and tapestries and sweet French wine?” He asked in an electric purr that made her pulse jump at her collarbone.
She wondered again if he’d been raised in European boarding school. How in heaven’s name did he know all that? Well, maybe he was a wine connoisseur. She’d only just met the man, after all, she knew nothing about him. Maybe he was a very experienced and learned oenophile and she was making a complete ass out of herself.
“It’s, um, it’s a premier, first-class designation—“ She added, her voice thin and waver-y, she was having trouble focusing on the wine. She kept finding her eyes drawn to his. What business did any man have having those big beautiful eyes?
“Is it a good vintage?” He asked, unable to keep the teasing note out of his low murmur. She didn’t notice him doing it but he was now leaned in quite close to her.
“I don’t have a clue.” She answered honestly. Her chest was rising and falling quickly and she thought he might be able to hear her heartbeat. He was leaning in closer still.
“And you want to taste it?” He asked her, his voice a husky whisper.
She knew in her gut that he meant something more than wine and she was reminded of a renaissance painting of a serpent and an apple, but she nodded and whispered “I do.”
He was so close to her now that her breasts were grazing his shirt front. His head was bent low to hers. Their noses touched, just barely, and she made a tiny gasp. She saw the corners of his eyes crinkle. “Then I’ll take it.” He said, and she felt his breath on her lips and just about swooned.
She closed her eyes and held her breath.
And nothing happened. She opened her eyes, a little non-plussed, to find he’d straightened back up. He smiled at her, a knowing smile that made her feel pinpricks all over. He tucked the Riesling under his arm casually and reached for the Sauternes.
She chided herself for being so obvious. Suddenly Maggie felt like she might cry. She pushed an errant curl behind her ear and studied the floor by his feet. What had just happened? He was going to kiss her, wasn’t he? He could have kissed her. She obviously wanted him to kiss her. But then he hadn’t. She wanted to shriek. Why? Why hadn’t he kissed her? Her eyes flew open in a panic and she reached up to touch her face, hastily trying to discern if there was something unsightly thereupon. Nothing seemed out of place, but she’d need a mirror to be sure. She licked her lips and tried very hard not to dissolve into a mess of insecurities and suddenly his fingers were under her chin, tilting her face upward.
She was so surprised, so caught off-guard that she allowed him to do it, to lift her face up. And then his lips were on hers and her brain stopped working altogether. He kissed her softly, so tantalizingly softly, and she was a bundle of nerve-endings clamoring for more of what he had to give her.
He deepened the kiss, then, and she felt her toes melting away from her body. His fingers moved from under her chin to slide up her jawbone and he was holding her face and neck in his large, masculine hand. She parted her lips and sighed and enjoyed the hungry pressure of his mouth on hers. And she kissed him back. She heard a soft moan escape her throat and was surprised and a bit excited by the evocative nature of the sound.
And before she was ready he slowed the kiss to a stop. She had never really kissed anyone, not like that, and she wanted more. She wanted to go further, to maybe feel his tongue on her lips and in her mouth—she’d never had anything like that before—but he was wrapping it up, pulling away. He placed one last feathery kiss on her lips before moving his mouth away from hers.
When she met his eyes this time they seemed to be glowing and she wondered if her own mirrored that same banked-down fire. Her nostrils flared and her lips were enflamed. He kept his gaze locked on her as he reached once again toward the cabinet and retrieved the enchanting French wine. Once he had it in hand he stepped back, allowing her room to re-close the glass-front doors. She did so with trembling fingers and then moved shakily down the aisle toward the front of the store, toward the register. Her toes still hadn’t quite rejoined her body, it felt like, and the middle of her knees seemed to be made of water or something. She prayed she didn’t fall over.
“What time is the tasting?” He asked in a suave voice as he followed her to the front.
She furrowed her brow and tried to force her brain back up to speed. “Um. There isn’t a tasting tonight.” She said. “They’re every other Friday, so next week. They start at five and—“
“I meant what time is good for our tasting?” He said with unruffled purpose.
She stepped behind the counter and braced her trembling hands on the smooth surface to steady herself, to ground herself to something real and tangible and solid. “Our? Tasting?”
He allowed a small smile but his eyes were serious. “This makes four bottles in total, counting last week’s purchase.” He said reasonably. “I think that makes enough for a private tasting, don’t you?”
She raised her eyebrows and gulped. “Uh, yes, yes, that’s a good amount.” What was she doing? All her joints tingled and she pushed down against the counter top, trying to fight the feeling of weightlessness that was spreading over her like a warm blanket.
“So what time?” He repeated, placing first one, then the second and finally the third bottle on the counter deliberately.
“I’m done here at six.” She told him. She was supposed to be to Los Tres by six-thirty but she knew in that moment that she would move heaven and earth and even lie to her father in order to see this man tonight.
“How does six-thirty sound?” He asked with a very adorable smile.
She nodded, grinning.
“Meet me in the park? By the gazebo.”
Silently she thanked him for being so thoughtful. Because she didn’t yet feel comfortable getting into his car. The park was perfect. Of course alcohol wasn’t strictly allowed on town property, but she’d seen plenty of couples with wine on picnics there. She looked at him and knew he’d be the type who could get away with bending municipal rules.
“Are we having a picnic?” She asked, startled that she had some flirting in her after-all.
He chuckled. “We are.” He answered. “And there’s a film tonight, on the green by the library, if you’re interested.”
Maggie knew the man to be sheer perfection. He wanted to woo her with wine and a picnic and a black & white film under the moonlight in the park? He was a dream come true. “Yes.” She answered guilelessly.
Along with the wine he purchased a few other things; a very nice high-tech corkscrew, a pair of wine glasses, some very high-end bottle stoppers and then he bought the entire picnic set-up. It came with a great big picnic basket designed specifically for a wine & cheese sort of picnic, complete with cheese knives and plates and cloth napkins and everything you could think of, even a silver bucket for chilled wines. The set-up also came with a large checkered picnic blanket. Maggie laughed as she rang it up for him. “You’ve never been on a picnic before?” She asked him. “You don’t have any of this stuff at home?”
He laughed and shook his head, a little rueful. “Maybe I like the shopgirl here.” He said in answer. And she blushed.
“I don’t make commission.” She told him apologetically.
He laughed again. “I know.”
She bit her lip. He’d just wanted to linger, to hang out in the store a while longer. After she’d rung up his purchases and bagged the wine (scraping off the price sticker on that Sauternes had made her nearly dizzy), and he had paid—to her enormous surprise he’d paid in cash—who carries around cash like that? After all that she’d helped him carry his purchases out to his car and been suitably impressed by the sleek BMW.
“See you tonight.” He said to her with a nod and walking backwards down the block—he was headed to the cheese shop.
“See you tonight.” She’d affirmed and walked backwards toward the wine shop.
Finally he laughed, neither one of them seemed to want to turn first, but finally he did. With one last grin he turned and strode confidently toward the imported cheese store and though she waited for it, he didn’t turn back again. After a moment she sighed and went back to her job.
Customers came and went throughout the day and every time the electronic ding-dong sounded she looked up eagerly, expecting to see him and realized she was more disappointed each time it wasn’t him in the doorway. She admonished herself for it and told herself to be patient. She’d be seeing him tonight.
She’d had to call her sister and beg the girl to take her shift and to tell their father that something had come up at school. Essie was still in high school and working a Friday night was the absolute worst thing Maggie could ask of the girl but she’d finally agreed, but warned that her sister owed her big-time.
The day seemed to crawl by and by five-thirty she was irritable and antsy and ready to break out of the quiet little shop like a steam train. The electronic ding-dong turned her head from where she’d been trying to keep herself busy by dusting off rows of bottles for the fifth time and she smiled at her boss.
“Hey Maggie.” He greeted her warmly. He had a tiny little beauty on one hip and on the other he was balancing a half-case of wine. She hurried over to meet him and take the case from him.
“Good afternoon Mr. Delaney.” She said as he shifted the case into her hands.
“Thanks. You can call me Nolan. Say hi to Maggie, Lola.”
Maggie smiled at the raven haired girl. “Hi Lola, I’m Maggie. It’s nice to meet you.” Maggie had seen the pictures of Mr. Delaney’s beautiful family in his office, but seeing his daughter in real life made her feel unexpectedly warm and maybe a little sentimental.
“Hi!” She bubbled and reached out her tiny hand for a shake. Maggie obliged while Mr. Delaney watched, grinning. After the shake he pretended to drop the girl, causing Maggie to gasp and Lola to shriek delightedly. Then he tossed her slight little frame up in the air before depositing on her feet amid a flurry of jubilant giggles.
Nolan held out his hands for the small case once again. “I’ll take that.” He said. “How was business?” He called over his shoulder as he carried the case toward the tasting bar and set it down.
“Decent.” She replied with an unstoppable smile. She watched Lola trail after her father.
“Yeah?” He asked, pulling out an attractive bottle. “From Len.” He told her, twisting it to read the back. Mr. Delaney’s good friend Lennox owned and operated the Winery up past Cedar Ridge. “New line. Reserve.”
“What’s reserve?” Lola piped up.
“Means it’s supposed to be very, very good.” Her father responded, reading the back label.
“Is it?” the girl asked bluntly.
He chuckled. “Dunno. Haven’t tried it yet.” He ruffled her hair with one hand. “Go get your markers.” He told her and she giggled and bounded toward the back room.
“If I open this now will you try it with me before you go?” He asked Maggie, spinning the bottle again to look at the front label. It looked similar to the Winery’s main product line, but distinctly more expensive, sleeker, more luxurious in its clean simplicity.
She swallowed. “I’d love to.” She said, thinking wistfully about her date later.
Nolan nodded decisively and moved around the counter for a corkscrew. Maggie watched him cut the dark copper foil and peel it off deftly before arranging the contraption over the mouth of the bottle. Once he got a bite and lowered the handles he glanced up. He didn’t need to look at what he was doing. Maggie imagined this man had opened thousands of bottles of wine in his lifetime.
“Hey.” He said, pausing. He was looking past Maggie’s shoulder at something. “You sold the picnic set-up?!” He gave her an open-mouthed smile. He’d spotted the large empty spot in the Accessories section.
Maggie laughed at his astonishment. The set-up had been her idea. They sold all the components separately, but she thought if they made a packaged deal it might entice buyers, might stimulate their imaginations a little better than all the pieces sold separately. “I did.”
It had sat there for more than a month with no nibbles. He looked impressed. “Who bought it?”
Um. She smiled. “A young man.”
Nolan pulled up on the cork and slid it out, then removed it from the contraption. “You find ‘em Lo?” He called to the back.
“Yeah!” Lola’s high, clear voice called back. “I’m getting my dolls!”
He lifted the cork to his nose. “A regular?” He asked.
“Um. I’m not sure.” She said, doing her best to stay neutral. “He was in last week too so, maybe?”
Nolan handed the cork to Maggie with a sly smile. “He was in last week too, this young man?”
She sniffed the cork, but she wasn’t really sure what she should be looking for. It smelled like the sacrament to her. Holy. “Yeah. He’s probably a Friday regular. I’m not sure.”
“He pay with a card?” Nolan asked as he returned the corkscrew to beneath the bar.
“Cash.” Maggie knew Mr. Delaney well enough by now to understand his compulsion to know everything about his customers. He wanted to know which Cedar Falls resident had been suckered into buying the romantic picnic set-up. He’d have been delighted if he could have simply looked at the credit card receipts.
“Do you know him?”
“No.”
“But you think he’s a local?” He meant: as opposed to a tourist.
“I think so. But I’ve never really seen him, before last week.”
“Hmmm.” Mr. Delaney liked a good mystery. He moved out from behind the bar and headed toward the back for a couple of glasses. “Grab a little cheese.” He called to her and she went obediently to the walk-in for a bit of aged cheddar.
They both headed back toward the bar together with Lola and her doll, and a coloring book, and a case of markers, skipping along behind.
“Did he buy any wine to go with the picnic set?” Nolan asked curiously.
Maggie knew she couldn’t keep the blushing at bay much longer and wished her employer weren’t so darn detective-like when it came to his customers. “A few bottles actually.” She said casually and reached the bar only to find he’d stopped in his tracks beside the special wooden cabinet with the glass-front doors.
Little Lola was peering up at him and Maggie got the impression that maybe he’d stopped short enough to cause the girl to walk right into him. “What Daddy?”
“Maggie sold a case wine.” He said to his daughter, his voice rather awed but appreciative, and the cocked his head at Maggie, who blushed and crinkled her eyebrows. “To the same guy?!”
Maggie laughed at her employer’s astonishment. “He asked me what I thought looked good.” She said, only comfortable with part-truths.
His face washed over stern. “Maggie, did you up-sell this gentleman?” He’d told her never to do that. Let other wine places do that if they wanted, but Delaney’s wasn’t about selling a customer the most expensive wine, Delaney’s mission was to sell you wine you enjoyed.
“No, no, honestly. I pointed him toward a Malbec and a Riesling too.” She didn’t want him to be disappointed with her.
He frowned. “He’s not buying for himself. He’s buying for a date.” He said with certainty and resumed his course again, crossing to meet her at the bar. He set the pair of wine glasses down and then lifted Lola to the bar-top too.
Maggie focused her attention on freeing the cheddar from its wrapping. “I think he was.”
“You shouldn’t take advantage of lovesick pups Maggie.” He teased warmly.
“Pups?!” exclaimed Lola excitedly.
Nolan laughed. “I mean silly young men who are new to the world of dating and romance.” He told her and the tickled her silly, effectively allaying her inevitable disappointment that he had not been referring to actual puppies.
Maggie raised an eyebrow and thought the young man hadn’t seemed at all silly or new to dating and romance. But she was. She was very silly and very new to all this. Maybe she hadn’t taken advantage of him, but the other way around.
“When I was courting your mother—“ He told Lola once he allowed her to catch her breath “I’d have bought her the moon and the stars If she’d asked me to.” He tapped her tiny nose with his forefinger and she giggled.
Maggie liked seeing him like this. He was so relaxed and easy and playful.
“You can’t buy the moon.” Lectured Lola with a wide smile and a know-it-all tilt to her head.
“Too true.” Nolan conceded. “But it doesn’t stop young men from trying when they want to impress someone.” He told her conspiratorially. He looked at Maggie somewhat shrewdly. “What did he buy the first time he came in, last week, do you remember?”
Maggie sighed. She often got the impression that Nolan Delaney remembered every bottle of wine he’d ever sold and to whom and how they’d like it or not. “An Italian. A Chianti.”
He pulled his mouth to one side, thoughtfully, a frown wrinkling his forehead. Maggie felt guilty. She knew he was trying to solve a puzzle and she wasn’t playing fair. He was trying to figure out who on earth would purchase such a peculiar range of wines and why, and she was withholding information relevant to the case.
“I bet he doesn’t even drink wine.” Nolan finally said and cocked his head to examine a coloring book page his daughter had opened to.
Maggie flushed. “He seemed to know you.” She said quickly.
“Oh?”
“Yeah. Last week. He asked if I was new and then asked if you’d be in at all that day.” She didn’t know why she felt so jumpy. She looked at the large clock on the wall and felt a surge of excitement. It was quarter to six.
Nolan pushed back from the counter and ‘humph’ed thoughtfully. He scanned the air in front of him, searching his mental database of customers, no doubt. After a few moments he shook his head. “This is going to kill me.” He laughed. “Tall? Short? White? Black? Gimme something!” He was glowing with amusement.
She didn’t know why but she didn’t want to tell him everything. She wasn’t ready for him to crack the case. She decided to be vague. “Well practically everyone is tall from where I stand.” She joked. “But, um, yeah, tall, white, well-dressed.”
“Rich.” Nolan added. “Or very dumb.” He gestured toward the wooden cabinet with a grin.
“Rich.” She answered, thinking of the beamer.
“Good-looking?” He asked with a smirk, and she blushed furiously. He laughed at her and Lola giggled, not quite getting the joke but enjoying the revelry all the same. “Ok.” Nolan said with a nod. “Rich, Tall, Handsome, Romantic…and if he’s smart, which you seem to think he is, he’ll take his picnic basket and wine and woo this date of his in the park, under the setting sun, and then stretch out on the blanket to catch the Hitchcock film over by the library.”
Maggie’s mouth fell open before she could collect herself.
Nolan’s jaw fell open too and he looked at her like he’d just found a treasure chest. “No!” He said gleefully. “Maggie!?” He threw his head back and laughed uproariously.
Maggie felt embarrassed and a little foolish. She fiddled with the pendant at her neck and wanted to melt into the floor.
“What?!” Cried Lola brightly. “What?!” She wanted to be in on the joke. Maggie wished she hadn’t played along with this, wished she’d pretended she didn’t know anything at all about the customer and left Mr. Delaney to stew about it cluelessly.
At last Nolan’s hearty laughter wound down and he wiped a tear from his eye. “Oh Maggie.” He said in a commiserating tone of voice. “Ahhhh. I’m sorry. Ahhhh. Hmmm.” He chuckled again and turned his attention to his daughter’s expectant, upturned face. He ruffled her silken raven locks once again. “Maggie has a date.” He told her with an insouciant grin.
Lola turned her head to Maggie and her little eyebrows were up almost to her hairline. “With Who?” The girl demanded excitedly.
Maggie couldn’t help but laugh at the girl’s giddy expression. “A mystery man.” She answered playfully.
“With Mr. Picnic Set & Sauternes.” Said Nolan wryly. Maggie couldn’t meet his eyes.
“You meeting him there or is he coming by here to pick you up?” Asked her boss with a vested interest.
She rolled her eyes. “You’re out of luck.” She told him. “I’m meeting him there.” She wondered how it was he knew so well what the customer had planned. Did all men arrange such similar dates? She shrugged a little. Nolan Delaney was good at people. He often knew what they’d do before they did it and what they wanted before they’d even thought about it.
“Son-of-a-gun.” He played at cursing and, flashing a mock-shocked look at a scandalized Lola, he reached for the Reserve he’d opened. Maggie held up her glass and accepted his pour, but waited till he’d poured his own to reach for a small chunk of cheese.
Nolan popped a small piece of cheese into his mouth and offered some to Lola, but she wrinkled her nose and refused it. “Well.” He said as he swirled the deep crimson wine around in his glass and watched the residue recede slowly. “Let me know how that picnic set works out.” He put the rim of the glass to his nose to breathe in the bouquet and she watched him smile behind his glass. “If it’s satisfactory then I’ll pick up more blankets and we’ll put together a few more of them.”
She sighed and examined the wine for herself. It had decent legs, she thought, swirling and watching the thin red film shrink back to the main body of liquid. It smelled very good, better than the cork had. She thought it smelled a little spicy, and she wasn’t sure, really, but it smelled deep. What makes something smell deep? She didn’t know enough about wine yet to be sure, but she knew she liked the smell of it.
Nolan, after testing it in his mouth for a few moments, swallowed and nodded. “You better hurry up.” He said to Maggie. “You haven’t got a lot of time before you have to meet Mr. Picnic.”
She bit her lip and sipped the wine. She closed her eyes. Something about this wine, about the taste of it on her tongue, made her remember that kiss and she felt a flush bloom hot on her lips, as if he’d just kissed her again. She swallowed a little too quickly and had to clear her throat roughly.
“Shall I tell Len it burns on the way down?” Nolan ragged with a half-smile.
She shook her head, her eyes watering. “No.” She smiled. “I like this wine a lot.”
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