“This really means a lot to you, huh?”I said.“This place we’re going to.”
“Some of my first memories are of this place.”He went quiet, and for a second I worried that I’d said the wrong thing, derailed him from his happy thoughts and doomed us to an awkward silence.“I can just barely recall my parents, you know. But I remember the flight here from Australia, looking out the window. And I remember this place. My father would hold my hand as we walked through the rows of grapes, the sun coming through their leaves like the stained glass ceiling of a church, and my mother would sit at the edge of our property making sketches for her watercolors, a glass of lemonade ready for us when we looped our way back to her.”
His eyes glinted slightly, but before I could look closer to see if he were tearing up, he pulled a pair of sunglasses from the glove compartment.
“You miss them?” I asked instead.
“I barely remember them,”he repeated.“I suppose…I miss the sense of purpose they had. That they might have given me. I might have been a better person if…well, my grandfather tried his best. But there was only so much he could do.”
His shoulders were so tight and tense, his tone was filled with such self-loathing that it pierced me to my heart.
I touched his arm.“You’re not such a bad person, you know.”
“‘All that is necessary for the triumph of evil is for good men to do nothing,’”he quoted, his eyes still on the road.“Sometimes it feels as though I’ve spent my entire life doing nothing.”
It was hard to contradict that. But… “It’s not too late. To do something. To do lots of things.”
“I feel…so responsible.”His voice nearly caught in his throat.“For the company. For you. For—for making sure that everything turns out all right. Sometimes it feels like the easiest way to get rid of that anxiety is to avoid the issue altogether.”
“But that only makes it worse,”I said.“Believe me, I know.”
“You, irresponsible? Pull the other one.”
“It’s true,”I said.“Senior year, I was supposed to be planning Kate’s birthday party. But it was right around the time of exams, and I kept putting it off and putting it off the more anxious I got, and eventually, well…let’s just say it’s a good thing Kate’s got a forgiving personality, and a weakness for cheap wine you can buy at the gas station.”I shrugged, suddenly self-conscious that I’d turned the conversation back around to me like a total attention-whore.“Sorry, I know that’s not even remotely on the same scale—”
“Don’t be sorry,”Grant said, and he briefly covered my hand where it rested on his arm before putting it back on the steering wheel.“You’re right, about putting things off, avoiding things. I think I always knew that, deep down. When I inherited everything, I figured I would only mess it up. I had offers to sell, and I very nearly did it.”
His jaw tensed, and I rested a hand on this thigh. To be comforting, of course.
“All that responsibility, and people would pay me money to take it off my shoulders--but the buyers planned to break up the company, move jobs overseas, lower the quality of our products. I just couldn’t do it. Something—”He shook his head, almost in disbelief at his own past actions.“Something in me knew that no matter how afraid I was, I couldn’t let myself walk away.”
I gazed at his profile as he turned another corner, feeling new insight and admiration awakening in my heart. He’d felt the temptation for the easy life, but he hadn’t given in. He had faced—was still facing—his fears. Maybe he wasn’t just an immature playboy after all.
The car pulled into the vineyard parking lot, and the setting sun cast the low hills above in flames, while brightly colored lanterns threw rainbow shadows about the pines and vines, a thousand different shades of green, with orange clay beneath, lit by sparkling bits of light like stars. It took my breath away.
“As I said, it’s a place that means a great deal to me.”Grant turned off the car and covered my hand with his own.“I’m glad you’ll get to see it.
And then he took my hand and pulled me into the fray.
If I’d thought the scenery was breath-taking from far away, it became even more so close up. A lively salsa beat was playing as young couples whirled around the patio, drinks clinked as patrician older couples sipped wines whose subtle perfumes drifted over the night, silk rustled and diamonds rattled. I looked around for Jennings and his wife Patricia, but I couldn’t see them anywhere.
“Grant, I don’t know any of these people!”I whispered.“I don’t think I can pull this off!”
“I’ll get you out if you really need it,”he promised, his arm sliding comfortingly around my shoulder.“Diplomatically, though—can’t afford to burn any bridges. Shall we decide on a code word?”